Selat Rorrim by Diwakar Ralph

Look, this had to happen someday or the other; I’m just glad we had all the time we could together,” said Zameer in a tremulous voice. “Even an eternity with you would not suffice,” said Sheila, tears streaming down her face in mad torrents.

Zameer looked out at the blue grey horizon of sea and sky, watching the waves roll in inexorably toward the shore with easy, powerful confidence of the kind that accrues from deep unshakeable conviction; conviction that manifests itself in the form of insouciance, bordering on the annoying. Dark tenebrous clouds loomed in the horizon – they just hung there, as if for artistic relief. A streak of dazzling lightning lit up the beach for a moment, rendering the scene frighteningly beautiful. The strong sea breeze which blew in ruffled Sheila’s hair boisterously, sending a lock down her forehead, across her face, making her look breathtakingly beautiful, notwithstanding her teary eyes.

“Hah, isn’t that a wish! But I really think you’d be bored of my company. Imagine having to bear the discourses I torture you with, for ‘eternity’!” said Zameer, smiling.

“Variety is the veritable spice of life, my love. You should try someone else – someone more interesting than me.”

“Must you always talk that way?” retorted Sheila, querulously. “You know very well there’s no one else for me.”

“Aw, poor, poor girl! No one else at all… no one except uninteresting old Zameer.”
Sheila nuzzled up to Zameer, and he took her in his arms and held her tight.

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve had the good fortune of ever meeting,” said Sheila. “I love you so Zameer! Now don’t start off with that – not today. Don’t ask me the meaning of love. Don’t ask me to ‘explain’ to you what love feels like.”

“Did I ask you? Hmm, but now that you’ve brought it up, do tell me Sheila, what do you really imply by that four-lettered word?” said Zameer, with a twinkle in his eye.

Sheila and he had in the past had several discussions on this most all encompassing of emotions. She thought she knew the meaning and context in which she viewed it; he on the other hand, was quite aware of the impossibility of defining the term. Did it mean sacrifice? Empathy? Sympathy? Revenge? Vengeance? Hatred? Or was it a combination of all this and much more? But he knew for sure what Sheila meant when she said she loved him – for it was precisely the same way he felt about her. It was only his wont to launch into philosophical discussions with her. And he got a kick out of seeing her agitated, trying hard to justify her stand in their arguments – the sweet innocence of her beliefs and her eagerness to provide him with an answer.

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