Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Story of Loving Madam Bella

“She is beautiful,” exclaimed the boys in the class in whispers as she walked into classroom. She was holding our english textbook in her left hand as she thanked male teacher who accompanied her till threshold my classroom. She was most pretty and gorgeous girl I ever saw in my life. Her slender body, shapely bottom, medium height, two melon-like frontal mountains and long silky hair intoxicated my desire and blurred my reasoning faculty. I wanted to hold her atleast once in my arms to see how it felt. I wanted to propose her at first opportunity I get.

She was so young and probably at my age. She walked into the class. Nobody stood up. Few raised their eye brows as students usually do on seeing new student. “Hello everybody, I am Bella,’’ she announced.

“Hell of confidence for newcomer,’’I thought. But her next line jolted me out of dream. “I am your new langauge teacher. I called myself Bella after character I played in High School Drama’’ Everybody stood up amidst rumbling noises of shifting chairs.“Goodmorning Madam,’’ they chorused. I stood up reluctantly after them in show of respect.

My dream was shattered in one cruel moment. She was my teacher and I was his student. That was end of my love story. From that time onwards, whenever she came to class, I lost myself in dream. I couldn’t concentrate on what she taught. She caught me many times inattentive in the class but was forgiven as female teachers usually do.

But one day, she got furious with me. “ why are you always daydreaming?Get out of my class if you don’t want to study.’’

I stood up lazily reluctant to leave the class. “Get lost,’’ she thundered. “Madam,’’ I muttered slowly, “I can’t concentrate because love you. I love you, the moment I first saw you.’’

She looked at me for long time and her expression got softened. “Sit down.Don’t daydream again,’’she said sweetly. “yes Madam,’’ I replied sitting down dejected.

But that whole year I sat in the class dreaming about her. Later, I heard she was married. It broke my heart. But then,it is life. So, now I joined my heart with super glue and am using it. You can still break my heart if you want. It is so fragile.

(it is fiction)

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