I walk on the beach, my feet leaving imprints in the wet sand. Waves lash against my soles, washing the sand from beneath them and then replacing it. I always enjoyed walking here feeling the waves hit me. Sometimes I am feeling too daring I wade in knee length water, testing my guts. The waves were strangely calm today, moving to and fro lazily instead of lashing with vigor. This was another reason why I love this place. The waves constantly matched my mood. When I am sad and troubled, they reflect my anxiety by being furious and threatening, as though my inner turmoil had materialized and dancing in front of me. When I am happy, they dance to my heartbeats, celebrating alongside. I can talk to the ocean forever, receiving silent replies and acknowledgement. This could be called as first symptoms of madness, talking to water, but I resist. The changing shades of the sea- deep blue, green and the strange mixture of red, violet and orange, I could never define, beckon me towards itself.
But the main reason why I fell in love with this particular stretch of coast is you. From all the famous sea shores I have seen in my career of navy, this small, ordinary one is the most special. The magical moments when you held my hand as we walked along the shore seem even more real when I come here. I agree that having you in my life, even though for a few months in my life was a pure stroke of luck. I never thought I would have ever progressed on from watching you discreetly sitting in the high school canteen. You sat at your favorite seat, just next to window, and I used to occupy the one near the door, exactly diagonal. You were quite popular, I later realized but never fell into the category of Casanovas, no matter how many girls tried to woo you. I can’t remember exactly how we became friends but I think it had something to do with a field trip. We had never exchanged spoken commitments but your gestures slowly graduated from being brotherly and friendly to romantic. I went along with everything you offered, without suspecting even once how all those things were my favorites. When we used to walk across this beach, I would keep staring at our interlocked hands, as you recited poems based on the ocean. Your right hand had a small vertical mark I was rather fond of. Your voice deep and rhythmic combined seamlessly with the sound of waves and could beat any kind of music. I used to make it a point to walk a few feet away from the waves then, because I did not like to see the waves wash off our footprints. You found this rather amusing and when you asked me why, my answer was, “Because if I ever lose you, I will come here and follow these footsteps and they will lead me to you.” You gladly distanced from the waves.
Many years have passed since that little conversation. We had parted ways after a year or so when high school ended. It did not hurt much because I think we both knew that we would meet again one day. I have been into many relationships since then, all of them intended to last forever. I don’t know where you are but a strange nostalgia overpowers me whenever I visit this city. I never bothered to go to my old home, or school. This small stretch of secluded beach held magnetic attractions for me. I try to find your footsteps, but fail. Maybe I wasn’t careful enough and the waves did wash them off… I raise my eyes from the sand and look up- to see you standing a few feet away from me, smiling. Spectacles look good on you. My lips form a fascinated smile as you move towards me and hold out your hand. I notice the same mark on your hand. I extend my hand to touch yours and my sudden suspicion of seeing hallucinations fade away. You pull me to your side and we start walking. You look puzzled as I wade into the water fearlessly. I take pity on you and answer, “I am not going to lose you now…” your smile widens.
