Romeo loved Juliet, happened to be a greatest love story, all time favorite examples for this world. Mr. Cameroon pictured Jack and Rose’s love, listening to it everyone wills to fall in love again and again, an emperor builds a Tajmahal for his beloved and people still admires him. No offense, no hard feelings but all these examples overshadows the love of an average people ~~ new love stories are dying under the basement of normality, this shouldn’t be~~ absolutely not.

I sometime feel~~ how necessary is it to make a bigger Tajmahal to mark one’s remarkable love? I sometime feel that Emperors not only overshadowed but also undermined a normal citizen’s love by giving a materialistic edge to his love story, no one ever knows apparently the integral part of his love, and just the bricks of his monument are what making his love alive. Let me be sorry for above word but the miserable fact is I can’t make such substantial infrastructure for my lover, may be I am jealous but who cares, I felt so and I am yet not used of controlling my feelings.

Today, with all these words ~~~ feelings~~~ love and belongingness, let me dedicate this article to all average lovers with an above average love. Let me build my Tajmahal of words. Today, I want to talk on the issue of Nepalese love stories which starts with the paddy and maize fields of village and ends with buzz factory aboard.
Fairy wears boots, she wore slippers worth not much than fifty rupees, I bet. But her steps and words were a base of my breathe, she was my fairy, she was my princess and she was my life. People of my generation still remember the love letter in a lined paper torn out from a notebook during school days. Waiting for the reply many of us have scarified our sleep time and again. I still remember the hide and seek my eyes played with her during school class; finally my heart considered that unanswered love is always a yes love. Dear Mark Zukeberg, I wish you had introduced face book during my time, love would have been easier.

Dating never existed, in other words every day was a dating. A half colored bicycle was my fashion which I learnt to ride in different types to impress somebody, sometime without catching handle, sometime opposite and sometime sitting on the back carrier. Those exercises required frequent practices and still back pain reminds me older practices. With the moving pedals, love moved and intermission entered to an average love story of mine. Finished school life, growing age and college life. First cut is yet the deepest one for me; I don’t know how deeper is it for her?

She left me, may be I couldn’t make a Tajmahal for her? May be, I was not an emperor type, may be I was not a Romeo or may be she didn’t wanted to be my Juliet?My love story never had a villain, not even a bird whispered anything against our love? No one ever knew how I first kissed her during the occasion of saraswoti Puja, I doubt if she still has the postcard of Salman khan I gifted to her in New Year before 12 years. I glass of wine, I glass of beer~~ Oh my dear happy new year.

I seriously hate this foreign dreams, migration and planes bigger ones coming down to TIA. Those planes brings a migrant officer who eventually comes to a representative village, finds a girl marries and flies away with her. People like me are then just left with the half colored bicycle and letters with just memories. My heart knows that she loved me, my face is not much good but she must have cried several times remembering my face. Wish she had a perfect combating mechanism with the dreams acquired from abroad, guys you go abroad, earn and learn ~~ don’t come back in bigger planes and snatch our love from us. Life becomes harder thereafter.

Not only me, it’s an average love story of my time. It’s repeating and the worst part is this problem doesn’t have any remedies. History repeats, pain repeats and story remains under the basement of normality. World is round, people say that there are many crossroads and life is longer enough that we will meet someday in one among several crossroads; I will ask you this question? Not only for me but for all of my representative friends, for all average lovers and for all normal Nepalese love story characters, why so?

Life would have been different if you had trusted me? There are just seven oceans in this entire world, I would have taken you there for sure, but you choose wrong hands in hurry. I don’t know how my friends response to this tragedy, I really had a hard time~~ later I realized that this heart do pumps even without her, moon shined perfectly and sun was as warm as those winter school days. Mountains still stand tall and life was not something to stop for her. This is an average love story, a contemporary love story and a real life tragedy from villages, cities and suburbs which no one even cares of? I still ride the same bicycle and yes the sound of that tringling is still the same, hear that you are coming back for a week, I have added you in facebook~~ your habit is still the same my reuest is yet neither accepted nor ignored via facebook. I made a hard decision of living in an unorthodox way for yours name, every time I go to local market I feel like buying a pair of green slippers which now costs double as much price as of that time. Please let me know the date of arrival, I have some preparations to do for your re entrance. Don’t worry, all the evidences of your love specially those letters are burnt already and I don’t even love you these days, I am a Romeo and you are a Juliet but in our story Juliet catches up another fairy.

Written by: Suyog Dhakal