Custom Search

The First Touch Of Love

by Soma Bose
(Pune, India )

What was I doing on this road in the middle of the night? I should have been in bed, under my blanket, a book with dog eared pages at my side. Sometimes before in the evening, I parked the car and walked through a freeway to enter into the passage where the book festival was rocking on it's way.

Almost two years had passed since I had arrived in such a festival. I was still marveling at its vastness.Beyond every book stall laid another book stall, beyond every food stall another food stall and beyond those more entertaining matters, more people! Enormous lights stretched as far as my eyes could see.

I was going to be a published author.
"Are you writing about any biography?" Some reader asked me.
"No, I write fiction," I said."
Well! People need such stories to divert their minds at difficult time." Reader commented.

I stood near a stall. The stall owner wore a grey sweatshirt and jeans. I searched for my book. Her hair was down.
"I am so sorry,sir," she said."I had no idea about your book." She tried to find out my book but was unable.
"Do you need any other book?"
"No." I came out of the stall.
I found it in two stalls ahead. Very soon an awkward situation happened. Someone tossed his cigarette towards a tanker from which petrol was spilled out. Suddenly the whole area caught fire. The book festival set a mutual profitable arrangement for book guilds. Pointed out the fire and smoke, book stall owners wondered how this happened. They cursed at the person who threw the cigarette.

Very soon some fire brigade tankers arrived. Till then the situation became worse. I discovered the young lady, the stall owner who was unable to find out my book, stood near the wreck of her stall with closed eyes. She was shivering in a shock. I covered her with a wool blanket and took her out from the place. I brought hot tea for her. She smiled and nodded. "I really had no idea about your book." She put her hand on mine.

Our first touch! I took it. Brought it to my face and eyes. I found comfort in her arms. The stories written by me along with other books turned into ashes but my real life story started from here. I was happy to have her. It meant...the world to me.


Click here to post comments

Return to Short Story.