...I start to trace the river back beyond the hills. She has taken a U-turn and hidden herself behind the windmill-hill. I walk by her side, backwards, and the moment I took the turn with her, darkness engulfs me. The sun has concealed him behind the hill. I realize its quarter to five and if I don’t start retreating now, by the time I’ll reach the original Bhimkund point it’ll be dark. But the river still allures. Alone, and scared of darkness, I let her enjoy her privacy and start coming back...
"Once, I had a secret love
That lived within the heart of me.
All too soon, my secret love
Became impatient to be free.
So I told a friendly star,
The way that dreamers often do
..."
Sorry, I can't be so haughty to refer this with 'I'. It was we who all had this secret love! The love called 'Ajantrik', the Bengali magazine we used to publish during our college days.
The theme is cliched and the development is weak. But a slight different style of narration has been tried. The overall outcome is still immamture and needs a major rewrite... still
