He only remembered her eyes – those large hazel-brown eyes. He remembered how she let him know all she wanted just from her looks through those eyes. Her happiness, sadness, anger, playfulness…all. She, on the other hand, only remembered his hair – those long, plaited dark hair, which when cut became nice curly hair, rolled into hundreds of identical rings. She remembered playing with his hair, while he gazed at her eyes. He was generally a quiet type but full of energy for childhood adventures, and a good sense of humour even at that age. Remembering each other always brought smiles to their faces, and a deep urge to meet each other again. And every time they came back home to meet their parents, they remembered each other and wished they would stumble upon each other, only if at the bus stop or the village temple. This urge became stronger when their parents told them how the other was doing, and how they were like a couple as kids and now probably wouldn’t recognise each other even if they met.
After one such visit to his parents, he walked to the bus stop, where, he knew she waited for her bus as well. It was just a tiny hope of meeting her and nothing more for he didn’t know she had come to see her parents. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to recognise her, especially after his mum’s warning that he might not. It had been years since he last saw her – in fact he hadn’t seen her since their childhood together.
A girl in a beautiful sari walked towards the bus stop from the side of the road where her house was. He couldn’t recognise the girl from afar but deeply wished it was her. She arrived at the bus stop on the other side of the road, across where he was standing. He looked at her, especially at her eyes, but couldn’t find those large hazel-brown eyes he remembered from his childhood. Instead her eyes looked bluish. He couldn’t be sure if it was her, for her face only looked vaguely familiar but not familiar enough for him to muster courage to ask if it was her. She had come to the bus stop hoping he might come here as well, but like him she was worried at not being able to recognise him. She looked at the person standing across the road, especially at his hair, but she couldn’t find those curls any more. In fact his hair was so thin and short that she could see the skin underneath. She couldn’t place his face to that of her childhood friend either, just a vague familiarity but nothing more. He decided it wasn’t her, she decided it wasn’t him – both disappointed.
She didn’t know he was looking for her hazel-brown eyes, which she had now covered with a pair of blue contact-lens. He didn’t know she was looking for his thick curly hair, which has now become so thin, and which, he liked to keep short. They only knew what they were looking for…