01/09/2025
My First Love Story
Before my SSC exam, I fell in love for the first time. She was from my area. At that time, she was in class five. My friends used to joke and say it was “child abuse.” But even after falling in love, I did not stop reading books. I waited for the exam to finish.
After the exam, I had lots of free time. My friends went here and there, but I stayed home. From my room, I could see the gate of her house. That was my travel.
She went to school by van. I used my father’s Hero cycle and rode on her school road two times every day. When her van came, I acted very busy and passed by. She did not know anything then.
In the evening, I stood in front of her house. She went to her friends’ houses to play and came back in the evening. I waited in the same place. I could not stop seeing her four times a day. If she did not come out, I looked at her clothes drying on the roof. At that age, just looking at her was the most valuable feeling in my life.
Three years passed like this. She came to know that I liked her. But we never talked face to face. I wrote her letters. Very long letters. Her friends carried them to her. Sometimes I threw letters with small stones onto their roof. I used to write questions with numbers (1, 2, 3) and left space for answers. She wrote her answers and threw the letter back to me. We exchanged 80–100 letters this way.
Later we met in a village road far from the city. Once a month. We just walked side by side. We did not talk much. She only smiled. Her smile and her eyes talked more than words.
In 2004, she and her family left for America. Before that, something happened. One day I saw her cousin touching her hair on the roof. I got angry and beat him. After that, her father quickly took the family abroad.
Before leaving, she stopped going to school. She stayed home. Still, I wrote letters, and her friends gave them to her. Before going, she gave me one big letter, a cassette of Kabir Suman’s songs, and a doll.
Four months later, from America, she sent me her first letter. It had only four sentences:
“How are you? I am fine. Do you remember me? No smoking.”
She gave her address below. I replied with a 34-page letter. The post office said it was too heavy, so I paid extra to send it.
She always wrote small letters. I always wrote long letters. She liked reading them. Once she even wrote me an 11-page letter—the longest letter of my life. I carried it in my bag and read it little by little, not wanting it to finish.
Later, she started emailing me. There was no internet at home. I went to a cyber café every day. One hour cost 30–40 taka. I sent many emails and waited for her replies. If she didn’t reply, I felt very sad.
Then I got my own mobile phone. She could call me anytime. She talked with me for hours on her way to class and again while returning. My nights passed without sleep, only with her calls.
Three years passed. But slowly, she started changing. She had many boy friends in America. Our fights increased every day, but also ended every day. One day she suddenly stopped writing, stopped calling. Days, months, years passed. No news. Still, I waited.
After three years, in 2010, she called me again. She asked, “Is this Nadim’s number?” She returned to my life. But I found out she was in another relationship during those missing years. I could not accept that. At that time, I had no other relationship.
I burned all her letters, gifts, and photos on a hill behind the slum. Only a few letters I had scanned are still somewhere.
In 2013, she called me again. She was getting married. She asked me to forgive her. I laughed and forgave her. She got married. Since then, no more news.
It has been 20 years. I never saw her again. Sometimes she came to Bangladesh, but I avoided going home then.
Today is Letter Day, so I remembered all this and wrote it down. Now I feel peace.
✍️ Jayef Khan Nadim
