Pehla Nasha: 'Her soft hands, twinkling eyes...'

It may all seem a little funny now and may mean nothing to you beyond a fond memory, but it's fun reminiscing all about your first love!

With Valentine's Day coming up, we invited readers to share stories of their first loves with us. Here is the next set of responses!

First up we have Sourya Biswas' sweet little schooltime tale:

Reading stories of unrequited love on rediff makes me walk down memory lane and relive some of my fondest memories as a young boy. I guess every one of us has a story to offer, when the boy/girl of our dreams broke our heart. Here's my attempt to convey the pathos of unrequited love at 16.

At this age, I was conscious of the fairer sex. Actually, I had been aware of their attractiveness much earlier, but somehow cricket and DuckTales always seemed to have precedence over girls. Until 16 arrived, or I arrived at 16 (by the way, I still love cricket AND DuckTales and I am nearing 30).

Suddenly, girls seemed to occupy more and more of my waking thoughts, and sometimes, dreams as well. When a pretty girl walked by the playground (not really a ground, since there wasn't any greenery; more like a glorified courtyard), I seemed to acquire a greater enthusiasm to hit a six or shout out an appeal for LBW. Life, it seemed, meant trying to get the attention of these lovely creatures. Unfortunately, when I did come face-to-face with any, I was left tongue-tied.

So, it was at this stage of heightened awareness that I was selected to represent my school, Calcutta Boys School, at a debate competition. The name of my alma mater must have helped you realise the major reason of my awkwardness around girls; spending the better time of my life with boys doesn't really help when it comes to conversing with the fairer sex.

There were around eight schools in the competition, each one being represented by two students speaking for and against the motion. All the students for the motion were seated side by side at a long table on stage, facing their counterparts on the other side.

I was tense, being listed as the first to speak for the motion. However, my tension increased exponentially when I saw who my neighbour was. She was the most beautiful girl I had had the pleasure of meeting till then, and she was a mere foot away from me. She was from Loreto House, one of the most reputed girls' schools in Kolkata, and she smelled exquisitely nice.

She turned. She smiled. And suddenly, I was not tense at all. I had mentioned how a beautiful girl could inspire me to hit sixes in cricket; now, the most beautiful of them all inspired me to speak fearlessly on stage. When I returned to my seat from the lectern, she whispered a brief "Well said!" I felt I had won first prize!

After my classmate had spoken against the motion, the beauty went up to deliver her speech. I have never listened with so much attention at any class as I did that day. When she returned to her seat, I mustered up the courage to say, "Well said!" I know, I should have used different words, but the brain doesn't often function well in such situations.

She smiled and said, "I'm so tensed, my hands are so cold." I don't know whether insanity seized me or I just wanted to agree with her, but I held her hand and said, "My hands are cold as well." She looked surprised, though thankfully, not offended. She didn't make an effort to withdraw her hand, and as I felt the enormity of the situation, of holding a girl's hand, I forgot to let go.

Ten seconds passed. Twenty. I realised I was on stage holding a girl's hand while she looked at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. I felt awkward and let go. For the rest of the competition, I did not dare look at her. But somehow, my courage gradually returned and I resolved to get her phone number as soon as the event ended.

As the last speaker finished and returned, all the participants stood up and gathered in the middle, waiting for the judges to declare the results. I had mustered up the courage to approach my beautiful fellow participant, and looked around, searching for her. I found her conversing with her friend. They seemed to be looking at me. There were smiles on their faces. My courage evaporated.

Asking a girl for her phone number may have still been possible. But asking her in front of her friend who probably knew of my earlier actions was too much for me. I panicked and ran.

I never got her number. I have even forgotten the name of that girl from Loreto High. But I still remember the softness of her hand and the twinkle of her eyes. First love? Probably not. First crush? Definitely.

Share your 'First Love' stories with us! Write in to us at getahead@rediff.co.in (subject line: 'My First Love'). You can also include a photograph and we'll publish the best entries right here on rediff.com!

And here is Deepshikha Chatterjee's experience:

In October 2010, during the autumn break I had this idea of tracking down my childhood crush. He could have been a childhood sweetheart had I not thrown my tantrums around. But I told myself that it wouldn't be difficult to trace him with social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter around. Since almost everybody is on these sites, I assumed that I would find him there as well. I went to Facebook like I do almost daily and searched his name, but rather than getting a long list I found only two results and neither of the accounts was his. This was certainly not what I had anticipated -- I mean, how could he not be on Facebook?

I then ran up a search on my high school group, but didn't find any results. This was definitely not what I had anticipated. I thought Facebook was the answer to all my questions! I even looked up the friend lists of my school mates, but no luck.

The other option was Google. I immediately wrote his full name, carefully chacking the spelling and pressed enter.

I got a long list of search results; going through each one seemed like a Herculean task. But I was desperate to know at least something about him -- what was he doing, what was he studying, which city was he in -- anything.

Going through the last search result, my heart skipped a beat. I saw his name with a law article he had written. I was so happy when I read his name, but I was still not sure if he was the same person I was looking for.

That evening, my brother asked me to go out with him and his friends. I was not really in the mood, but after awhile I agreed. Not that I had any interest or particular liking for his friends, but I had known some of them since childhood. Since it was supposed to be a reunion of sorts, I thought it would be a good idea to get to know what everyone was doing, how much they had changed over the years and last but not least, I thought some of them may know the whereabouts of him (my childhood crush).

As I reached Market No 2, where everybody had gathered, I was shocked to see someone. His face seemed so familiar, there were 15 other people there whom I had not seen in sooo many years, but I kept looking only at him. My brother's friend introduced me to him. I could not beleive it -- the person I had been searching for all day was standing right in front of me. Not even in my wildest dreams had I thought that this would happen. I mean, I only wanted to know something about him and now I didn't know what to say. As he said hi, a chill went down my spine. I tried to behave as normally as I could. "Long time," I said. "Fourteen years," he replied. "Fourteen or fifteen," I said. He told me that he was studying law in Bhopal.

As I walked back home, I was still thinking about him. I was obviously not in love with this guy, but I realised how special he was to me. What I felt for him at the age of nine was probably puppy love, when I didn't even know what love meant. I found him cute and I still do. He was different from other boys, who were interested only in eating my birthday cake and getting their return gifts. Even today he is very different from others and that's what makes him so special.

Sometimes, we try all we can and still don't find what we are looking for. But at other times, all we need to do is look and it is right in front of us.

Illustration: Uttam Ghosh

Share your 'First Love' stories with us! Write in to us at getahead@rediff.co.in (subject line: 'My First Love'). You can also include a photograph and we'll publish the best entries right here on rediff.com!