Many of you may have already read the following few romantic stories (read as title ‘Romantic India’)but I thought it would still be good to post some of them here for those of you who may not have read them.
I read these stories in Readers Digest India and hope you like them too.
Sunshine and Memories
Debasis was my Sunshine. I called him that because he lit up my life for 32 years. We met in 1975 when I was just 21. He was six years older. I was an air hostess and he a marine engineer. Our backgrounds and attitudes were also as different as the sea and sky. I was a small-town girl from Darjeeling, short-tempered, with an anxious nature. He was from Calcutta, and calm and positive by temperament.
He pursued me in his quiet way, and I would get stacks of mail when he was away at sea. We got married in 1978, despite our parents’ apprehensions. I left my job to sail the world with him. Seated on deck, beneath the stars, we’d just listen to the waves. On full-moon nights it was sheer heaven. He gave up fishing from the ship because of my Buddhist beliefs. Over the years, I learnt to speak Bengali while he picked up Nepali from me.
We wanted a daughter and even planned to name her after our first ship, but we remained childless. Yet, that drew us even closer. If he came across a pretty flower, he’d pick it for me—even from among weeds.
Debasis passed away in November 2007 after a brief illness. I have his old courtship letters. It still makes me laugh when I remember how I used to threaten to read them aloud, if he teased or irritated me! Those letters and memories are what I treasure the most.
Eye of the Beholder
What attracted me to Prasannakumar Wadiyar in college was his sensitive nature. His mother used to be ill then and I saw the pain in his eyes when he spoke about her. We got married in 1997. But soon afterwards, we were involved in a serious bus accident and I had fractures and bruises on an entire side of my face. Although Prasanna had a broken rib himself, he managed to get me to a hospital. I underwent a seven-hour operation—and all this even before our wedding photos arrived.
Relatives and friends, shocked at seeing the way I looked, began to worry about the future of our relationship. But not me, I knew Prasanna too well. I loved socializing, window-shopping and eating out, but now I didn’t want to show my scarred, discoloured face in public. But Prasanna held my hand firmly and took me to all the places I loved. When people stared, he only drew me closer. The years flew by and we became the parents of two lovely girls, who are now eleven and seven years old. I am a teacher at their school.
But things happen when you least expect it. Two days after our 12th wedding anniversary, in November 2009, Prasanna passed away following a fatal aneurysm. He was just 38.
After my accident, we did discuss cosmetic surgery but Prasanna insisted that I should do it only if I felt the need, and not to please him, because, he said, “I love you the way you are.” So I didn’t. My scars have faded with time. But, in all those years, not for a moment did my husband make me feel less beautiful, less attractive or less loved because of them.
You can read more of them at http://www.readersdigest.co.in/romantic-india