A love Story-My very first in writing

This story is a dedication to a special friend who came close to me in recent time. I have used a different aproach. Its set in future and still is timeless like all love stories. Also, it is narrated by an old woman. Please be patient with her. She is trying hard to control her rambling.


Prologue

I got down at Karjat station. Hustling and bustling, the station was far cry from what it was in 2005 when Soumya left the college, Konkan gyanpeeth college of engg, fondly called as King George college of engg by the students. I wonder how it was when Soumya first met Aryan. Its hard to imagine that they were friends all through their college life, never felt any attraction and eventually met down the road of life to fall in love. Destiny. It has a different style of operation. Let me stop my rambling and start narrating as in what I was doing in Karjat station on such a wonderful day.


It was an clear sparkling day, not a single bird in the sky. Only little cotton bobs of clouds floating around the wind. The climate was mild, rain had fallen in the night, giving clean and fresh look to the surroundings. As Soumya says, if you want to see paradise on earth you need to visit Karjat in rains. It seems an exaggeration until you really visit it. As I get out of the station I see the car is waiting for me. Dayaram is standing with a large grin on his face, I am his favorite guest. Being with the Bhatalkar family for long I am on good terms with their help.


As we pass through the countryside, the nature's tapestry thats on display affects me even today in the same way as the first time. It seems like I have walked into a different time zone altogether. The lady walking with a haystack on her head, cows lolling on the mud road, everything so charming so old worldly. Now don't get me wrong the place I am taking you all isn't as rustic but nevertheless it has all the charm of this place.


There now, on the hillock I see the estate. Hidden behind the trees is the pearl of the place, the rambling farmhouse of Bhatalkar. It isn't the costliest of all but according to me its the most charming of all. And me being an old woman of 75 should allowed my idiosyncrasies. Ah now I come to the most important of all fact, as in why I actually am in Karjat. Not in Karjat perse, but a small village of Wolha , some 100km away from the station. Ah see I again forgot to tell you guys why we are here! Forgive this old lady. Without much ado I tell you now, I am here to attend 50th wedding anniversary of Mr and Mrs. Bhatalkar!! My loving friend Soumya and Aryan her husband.


And this story is all about their love. Now don't ask me how I know this story. On a warm sunny day like this, the nights get too cold. Especially in rainy season and when you are surrounded by hills you are sure to feel cold. Not to mention the old age.Soumya has asked me to not reveal her age. But then at this old age she is entitled to few eccentricities. I did tell her though that an intelligent reader can still judge her age. Ah the funny soul says, why don't you keep that as an contest like those soap operas?? I wonder if I will ever complete it if i narrate in this pace. Probably this will go on and on like those soap operas.

Back to the story, the cold makes us sit by the fireplace, authentic wooden fireplace, beautiful if i can say so, nothing in this house can ever be described as anything but beautiful. Ah continuing with the story, couple of pegs of champagne makes the tongues loose and the words rolls out faster and this wonderful saga unfolds. This story is for all those loners who have lost love. Ah I can see you losing patience with me! Let me tell the story in their own words. I know you want to know whose tongue wagged? Well that would be my little secret.

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