Does love have an age for falling? I don't know the answer. Once I thought it did. But after meeting Araf, I no longer believe that love recognizes any age.
Around us are many men and women who grow old in their hearts by twenty-five. Those who are old within—they're the ones who think love and affection have a fixed age. What storm sweeps through my entire body at just one glance from Araf—I cannot explain it! Is this what they call killing with a look?
That one glance has somehow swept away hundreds of nights of Abir's caresses. Abir is my husband—we married three years ago for love. After marrying him, I learned that all my ideas about love were wrong. His touch, which I used to desperately wait for before marriage, now feels like fire against my skin. His lips, eyes, cheeks, chest—wherever I used to touch and find joy, today that same body repulses me.
Araf studied at the same university as me. After finishing his studies, instead of running after jobs like the rest of us, he rented a tiny closet-like space near our neighborhood and opened a tea shop. He's now a tea seller. Araf's tea shop is just two lanes from my house. He can make all kinds of tea. Combined with his gentle manner, his shop has quickly become the most popular tea stall in our area.
Since the shop is next to a school, it's always crowded. The first day I went to his shop, I was in a great hurry. After running around the office all day, by the time I finished photocopying some urgent papers and taking photos, evening had fallen. Bithi was with me that day. Usually I don't drink tea from roadside stalls—I find it tasteless—but that day, at Bithi's insistence, I entered the first shop I saw.
"What tea would you like, sister?"... After asking Bithi this, Araf looked at me. I still remember that moment. Somehow all the hair on my body stood on end. "Two cups will do." I managed to say just that.
I'd heard about Araf's shop from others, but had never come. I was always afraid that if I went before him, he might understand everything about my love, so I always avoided him.
A young man who didn't sit at home pleading certificates, pleading what people would say, but started whatever work he found to meet his own and his family's needs—thinking of this made me feel even more weak toward him. An intense feeling of love brought tears to my eyes.
No, I must get up quickly. I have to hide my tears before anyone sees. I won't be able to answer why I'm crying. And falling in love with someone after marriage is a greater crime than murder in our society! If everyone knew I loved Araf, they'd all go "tsk tsk." And I'd have to spend my whole life with Abir, sighing inwardly.
This society loves to spin tales about love reaching the heavens, but can never truly accept love. Someone who has never tasted love themselves usually can't bear to see another person taste that love. Most people in our society—high class, low class, all classes—are deprived of love. They accept some fabricated chains as love. If someone wants to live happily by loving in their own way, without wearing those fake shackles, this society cripples them mentally. How thoughtless and cruel this society is.
No, not like this anymore. I can never tell Araf about my love, but I won't return to Abir's household either. I'll live alone, in my own way. Still, I won't remain bound by any social chains.