Rose: I love you, Jack.
Jack: Don’t you do that, don’t say your good-byes.
Rose: I’m so cold.
Jack: Listen, Rose. You’re gonna get out of here, you’re gonna go on and make lots of babies, and you’re gonna watch them grow. You’re gonna die an old… an old lady warm in her bed, but not here, not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?
Rose: I can’t feel my body.
Jack: Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me… it brought me to you. And I’m thankful for that, Rose. I’m thankful. You must do me this honor, Rose. Promise me you’ll survive. That you won’t give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise.
Rose: I promise.
Jack: Never let go.
Rose: I’ll never let go. I’ll never let go, Jack.

I don’t know, why I still remember her even after 17 years. Perhaps the reason being certain similarties between us, the one I like most was we both loved competitions. We both were good students. She was fair white with brown hairs and light brown eyes, like many other muslim girls. We were friends from the first day of our so called school life, she accompany me in my rickshaw. I remember, how i eagerly curious to know whether she was going school or not since the time rickshaw started from my house and the journey between my house and hers was accompanied by so many assumptions and corollaries, and there were unsaid and unexpressable happiness I had on my face when I realised she was coming. It was her mother who came with her to drop her to rickshaw. I remember how her sparking eyes searched her mother as rickshaw moves on.

My Mother used to tell me not to share my water bottle with anybody, but it was she with whom i never fear to share anything. We had been distributed pencils when the day started, but I always brought with me the pencil that my Father once bought for me from Dehradun, while he had gone for some Bank training and I usually gave that pencil to her, so that she shoul be happy. We used to sit together and I never liked when somebody else sitted with her. We usually fought on the stupid topics like if Ghosts exist or not..?, I used to tell her Stories of ghosts, that were created by my Brother to take an undue advantage of me, I remember how my brother asked me to do some task and said if i refused to do so, he would ask his Ghost friend to bite me and I usually told her that my brother had a Ghost friend, but she always told me that her Abbu said there was nothing like ghosts in this world, and then we fought. I once been to her home when it was her birthday, She came with her Elder sister at my home for invitation and then how my mother refuse to send me their because of muslim locality, but my 2 hours long weeping finally won over my mother and I was dropped and picked by my brother.

I don’t know how I still remember all theses things, and why I remembering her after such a long time. Her face was like a dream but still I believe I shall recognise her if she come in front of me. We studied 3 years together and then my Father being promoted and transferred to Farrukhabad, I don’t remember last time I saw her, perhaps that was on the Parents Teachers meeting when we had been distributed our Report Cards, but i never realised on that day that after 17 years I would miss her and write a post for her. That’s life we never know how easily persons come and go leaving their footprints on our heart, Though sometimes they go but we still feel them around us in the fragrance of air and warmth of sunrays. My Old friend I miss you

Though I’m not really a thinker but there are certain adumbrations which really instigate me to think.. In fact there is a meaning to everything, and when we try to find the meaning of such things we really know what really things are. Jealous born from unfulfilled desires; happiness born from dreams and real-time fantasies; hatredness born from the humbug persons;  suspicions born from lacks of trust in love; arrogance born from absence of joy. There is meaning to each and everything, even not only with relationship, emotions, but with each and everything.. We always compare beauty with Moon but ask a suburbinate if he saw anything more in the moon than a white coloured sphere which is not even showing his complete depth. But this is the same moon, which imitate the beauty When lovers are far away from their love, they saw the imitation of their love in MOON.. Surprising  ;P..

We can once compare beauty with Moon.. But Why Rose with Love..?? I don’t understand the ambiguity of representing  Rose with Love, when a rose has to die one or another day.. Might be I’m dishonest with the word ambiguity, In fact I’m.. If a Rose represent a love then their is an old chronic with it and there are reasons for it.. Rose truely represents the love, because rose never dies only its physical presence dies, dying physically doesn’t imply death, When I was kid I used to keep flower in between the pages of my book, I consider it something holy and a way to get good marks in exam but after sometime I found the leaves of flower got detached from it, the fragrance was still in the pages of book and that lived their for forever..  Even when we completely throw away those leaves we could’t remove the essence of that smell, and in fact a rose is not known for its leaves but for its smell.. So is the Love.. Like Rose Love has its way through thorns. Though love dies for the world but deep in the heart of persons it exist and remain forever like Rose we can feel and smell its fragrance. We can still feel the fragrance of the love that exist centuries ago, because it still lingers in the air that we breathe, like the smell of Rose. A Rose is the true symbol of Love, So its not unwise to compare Rose with Love.