Thresiamma:The Girl Who Loved in Silence ( Chapter 1)
She was a girl built from fairy tales. The stories were more than escapism; they were her armor, a defense mechanism woven so deeply into her psyche she didn’t even know it was there. It was a necessary fortress, for she found no consistent love in her world.
In childhood, She felt that others loved her clumsily or not at all. Her father’s love was loud and suffocating, poured from a bottle. A bottle of Brandy, which was bitter in taste.Her mother’s love was anxious, a constant fear of society’s gaze. Their home was a land of thunder,of arguments, and from it, Thresiamma learned that love was dangerous and silence was safe.She was introverted, shy but honest, innocent with sparkling eyes, with a soulful deep gaze, which pierce into others heart like a hot chisel. Its colour was that of a deep calm lake.
But there was a secret, a small, hidden ritual. From the age of seven, when the voices downstairs rose to a crescendo, Thresiamma would sneak into her palace kitchens. In the vast, quiet larder, she would take a single, perfect apple from the pantry and sit in the corner, hidden by sacks of flour. She would polish the apple on her nightdress until it shone, then hold it to her nose, breathing in its clean, simple scent. It was the only thing in her world that felt purely her own—a secret sweetness no one could give her, and no one could take away. It was her first taste of nature’s love.
She found a purer love in the tiny, devoted beetles, piercing the soft wood of balck berry tree, she watched from her roof window. The smell was fascinating…She didn’t want to be a princess in real life but a Cindrella in that scent; and she longed to be the wood they cherished—to offer her whole self to a quiet, dedicated love.
Her father was a man of great, clumsy affection, but he drew his strength from a bottle to survive a cruel world. In his liquored haze, his love for Thresiamma would spill over—cloying and suffocating. If she asked for one cup of dessert, he would force ten upon her. His devotion and love felt nauseating.( later, she got anorexia nervose with Charly). Her mother, meanwhile, was perpetually struggling with a husband who didn’t know how to live. And how to love.Though from a noble family, he was a source of shame, and her mother lived in fear of society’s gaze. Thresiamma’s life was a echo of her mother’s—a symphony of arguments and anxiety. Like her mother, she learned to view men with fear and life with a deep, abiding dread.
In her childhood,she fell in love many times —with her brother’s friend, with her art teacher—but her shyness was a cage. These affections remained trapped in her heart, unspoken secrets. Her mother’s warning was a constant refrain: “Men are like beetles. They will flit away… A woman must protect herself.” And so, she waited.At the age of 18 she got married to a Prince Charly. Charly was looking for a charming young girl to keep his monarchy. In reality he was in love with a married lady in his age.Soon after marriage, Thresiamma found a little box with pair of cufflinks, on it, letters: C=C.Later, when a close freind asked her: “How was your married life?
“She replied with deep sadness:”There were three of us in this marriage, so it was a little bit crowded”. She was mentioning the other C: Chamila!.The truth was,Thresiamma was mentally seperated from Charly. But at the same time she was forced to show a fake face of a happy married life. Like many other women, she was a slave to the rules in the powerful company, named, Royal Family.
It was in nintees. Thresiamma was visiting a friend’s husband in the hospital when she first saw him…Her half moon reflected on the green pasture. 🌙 He wasa quiet man, Reserved,with a beautiful smile.A surgeon of heart, who existed completely outside the world of publicity and glamour, silently taking away pains of many hearts. He was a man who worked with minds and hearts.He had no need for newspapers or fame.He was like a “modern world bhudha” from Asia.
Thresiamma saw him, and for a moment, there was a profound silence. She later wispered to herself.
“He didn’t look at me as a princess. He looked at me as a human. That was enough… I could feel my childhood beetle’s eye.” Then the clock was ticking faster. Heart was full of love, also running fast.Her Thoughts about him,were flowing like an opera singers music in a night long concert.She enjoyed each moment of it.
She would come to the hospital late at night. They would sit by the coffee machine and talk.
Their topics were:
Hearts, Humanity, Sorrow, Loneliness, Death, Intimacy, And what real love truly means.They had ” nostalgic’ conversation about beautiful Asian culture, and innovent village culture in U. K,especially, Sandringham.
Oneday,Thresiamma confessed to him:
“The world sees me, but no one really knows me.”
Fahad quietly replied:
“I know.”
Those two words shattered her heart and then made it whole again in joy.
Thresiamma Believed He Was Her True Love.
He did not see her as a icon. He wanted no publicity or money from her. He sought to protect her,not use her. He was genuine and simple.
She said it plainly:
“Fahad was the love of my life.”They exchanged hearts of love in quiet rooms within the hospital. But they were scared C. C. T cameras-they were peeping at them with a sarcasm.And spies of Royal family poped up as nuses, nursing assistants, attenders, even as patients with heart problem.Fahad, was scared about everything.
So the Love Could Not Last more than two years. Fahad wanted his privacy,and an ordinary life, He frequently thought about his past life as heart surgeon, so peaceful. He liked to work as a doctor,surgeon of heart again,with the “peace of a home” in his hospital.
For him, life with Thresiamma meant,…The paparazzi,the hunting dogs; Royal family pressures as the unfit tight suffocating coat; The relentless media spotlight as volcano erruption with so much heat. Fahad was afraid of that life with Thresiamma, being a heart surgeon he broke her heart finally. He said: “I can’t live a life with cameras chasing us every day. and I can feel a ghost of Paranoia,as it is sleeping with me in my bed, Each night. I Cant live with him anymore…And with you too”
In Thresiamma’s eyes, a silent tear gleamed.The sleepless windy nights could not take it away… In the Clouded sky, her moon was struggling to look at her with a pale face.in her dreams,She saw the eyes of a lamb in a slaughter’s farm house in wilderness searching for its saviour.
In the end… the moonlight faded, like a traditional oil lamp losing its glow as the hot summer daylight spills across the veranda.
They loved each other, but life would not allow them to be together, ling enough. She saw him like a summer leaving for its autumn…. He returned to his work like an old clock with friction to keep its pace.
They said nothing more, but their hearts knew the truth…The truth to keep a honest love in this patriarchal glamorous society.
Some loves don’t end. They just remain unfinished… Searching still for full moon.
A quiet truth to read without a smile: Thresiamma loved king Charly like a dream. She loved Fahad like a truth.
( continuing)
Disclaimer:
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
whisperer 