The girl

Klin Cheng

Oct 27-30, 2009

      

She came with a charm that people say would captivate all the boys, yet departed with lots of hopes dashed and lots of sorrows left in the minds of those who admired her, as she went away with a guy that nobody thought was her Mr. Right. That, of course, set tongues wagging. One came up with an entirely abrupt remark: “Beauty and Beast.” It hurt me, listening to that kind of silly profiling, as at no moment during her stay at our place I thought she was a girl who had a dearth of rationality. Always, I trusted her to be able to do what she thinks is right for her without any necessity to explain her seemingly stupid act. So, maybe, we were just jealous in our emotional display, envious of the man who beat us to it, who had made us feel humiliated in our failure to notch what we prized. The competitors might feel frustrated, as the episode marred their hearts. But, actually, none were as distressed as those who were too timid to join the fray yet miserably burned by the torch they foolishly carried for her. They were the ones most devastated, and least known of their simmering grief. But, who ever thought of their untold love at young age?  Thirty years after the unfortunate experience by us, some still carried that endless melancholy, taking it as an unfinished romantic movement of epic proportion, trying to find true solace from it, and showing no regrets.

      At the time, you were not spurred into action, even refusing to get involved in such a big scene together with others. That deprived you of the dramatic privilege to offer her dinner invitations and made you lose a chance to see her in privacy. Perhaps, it was because you hesitated and thought it would be complete folly for you to jump on the bandwagon. But, trying not to be one of those dashing guys cost you greatly—it formed a barrier between you and her and decimated all your efforts to impress her as a decent big boy. Such was the punishment you got for your inability to rid your cold feet. Because of it, you were left out in the cold, painfully tasting the bitterness of wounded vanity.

     Admittedly, she was not a raving beauty who had everyone at her feet. But, she held you spellbound and made you eager to lay bare your heart. That was the difference between her and other girls and the main reason we took a fancy to her and fell for her. We, in some way, wanted her to put us in good spirits and help regain our faith—that’s something we can do with a soul mate, and the purpose of our pursuits. No wonder, everybody brought their best out to engage in the battle, without even a bit doubt that   this was made out of our insane obsession or foolish notion.

      Unfortunately, many fizzled in their attempts.

     That was sad tales repeatedly told by our pals. And the cause of those who gloated over it—an outcome I foresaw, and a thing you can never erase. That’s why I chose to keep everything under wraps, and pretended I was an onlooker, an outsider who took no part in any sentimental romance. But, who knew that behind it there was a secret story? Who knew a quiet man other than everybody else could be afire with the same amorous longing and fascinated by the same woman and suffering the same emotional distress? At any rate, that was not a melodrama naïve people envisioned. I, like everybody else, wanted to have a happy ending for my role in this particular play. Yet, too frequently, it ended up as a tragedy and plagued us like a lingering nightmare. It was as if we were facing a woe we can’t address—that, perhaps, was because we never really survived this unfortunate mishap, and never really forgot that young girl who once lived in our minds and ignited all our passions for divine oneness. 

      So, maybe, in the aftermath of all this, we deserved an antidote to our travails. We could try something to resolve our grievances, and let people know that, in our reminiscence of these lovelorn days, we recollected a forgotten past that featured our naiveness and greenness. By reliving that experience, I became simple again. No longer was there any difficulty for me to sing my lyrics, show my mood, and tell my secrets—after all, she was my lady, my goddess, once, we shared a world that was transcendental. You looked at her eyes, and you knew she was telling you her mind. That was when I was holding her hands indulging in her dancing invitation, when I got a glimpse of her soft spot for me on her look, when I felt intoxicated for that glory. Yet, it was the night before she was leaving, the night before we realized what happened between her and that lucky guy, the night before I was able to bid her a fond farewell in my disillusionment. 

      Thirty years after her departure from us, I remained enthralled by her innocent gaze. So, instead of deciding the finale of my story, I continued to search for her soul, hoping it will help find an answer to my forbidden love. Because of it, I was able to lift my existence above my personal destiny and spray my moment’s happiness to those who had hankerings after goodness and refinement. Now, I found myself no longer a solitary fellow who had been sidetracked. It’s not just that I’ve psyched myself up for my dream, but also I’ve made it possible, though, at first, it was but a conscious intention of me to make the girl I adored an eternal love. After all these years, it has miraculously proved to be more than a pleasurable impulse, more than a fanciful idea. So, who can say I can’t handle spiritual things? I can’t give them the form of tangible experiences?  I can’t be an inventor of seemingly real fantastic occurrences? 

      I never regretted having thrown me into a slave to that penetrating gaze of hers, because there was something tempting and seducing in it. You just felt good surrendering yourself to that spell, that dizzy magic. That’s why I made it my most urgent aim to go on the search. Already embracing an opportunity that had seemed unlikely at the start, I don’t think any attempts to unravel the secrets of my sweetheart and get me reconnected to her would make me suffer more—I’ve made myself immune to that agony. The only question: If I can find her and tell her she was the force behind all my efforts.