Gehne Naal Taur (Raag.Fm)

Gehne Naal Taur | Hunar Sidhu

The winter light streaming into the classroom during the pair test
was like tiny snowflakes falling one by one,
each singing softly as they descended—
quiet, gentle, shimmering.

Voices, the rustle of turning pages,
a distant chime ringing,
sparkled like bells and made my chest tremble.

“Creating something together…”
It was the first time,
and the warmth swelling in my heart was too much to contain.

“Hey, look, the next problem…
See? I know we can solve it together.”

Each time I pointed,
he smiled shyly and nodded, “Yeah, leave it to me.”

That smile was like the sound of a star opening in the winter sky,
and somewhere deep inside me,
a light kept flickering on again and again.

　　＊　＊　＊

It was only joy,
so why did my chest tighten so much?

“Hey… I never knew.
Just seeing the same thing, hearing the same sound,
aiming for the same place together—
it makes the heart so warm.”

Living, I realized,
must be this rhythm:
breathing in sync with someone, laughing side by side,
walking forward even against the wind.

Today, for the first time, I could admit it.

　　＊　＊　＊

On the desk for the next assignment lay
a red marker, golden clips, winter-patterned sticky notes,
even a notepad with tiny bells drawn on it.

When my fingertips touched the paper,
his shadow overlapped mine,
and that alone made my chest tremble.

“This suits you better.”
“Then let’s swap. It’ll be cute, like we’re matching.”

It was light, it was special,
like walking together through our own Christmas Eve.

　　＊　＊　＊

And then—
my eyes caught a fountain pen.

Deep navy, like the night sky.
A slender line holding quiet light.
I knew at once it could steady his uneven handwriting,
make it more beautiful.

“…This would suit him.”

The words rose in my chest,
warm enough to surprise even me.

　　＊　＊　＊

After the test, on the way home,
the winter sunset reflected off the hallway glass,
casting golden highlights across his profile.

“Hey… that bag, it wasn’t for you, was it?”

He caught his breath, looking at the paper bag in my hand.

“No. This is…
for you. Because you always match my pace.
I wanted to give it to you.”

The winter air swayed,
white breath dissolving into the sky.

In that moment, the tightness in my chest melted into warmth,
and I laughed through my tears.

Joy, tenderness,
and pride—because I had become someone
who could wish for another’s happiness.

　　＊　＊　＊

“Today… I thought, I’m glad to be alive.
Sitting beside you, solving problems,
wishing ‘I hope we do well’—
that wish lit a new flame inside me.”

That flame never went out.
It rang within my chest like a tiny Christmas bell.

He looked astonished,
then gently wrapped my hand in his.

“…Thank you.
Anything you choose for me is a treasure.”

In that instant, I was no longer
someone who only envied from afar.

I was—
“a person who, under the winter sky,
had found love for the first time,
and could weave the same song with someone precious.”

On Christmas Eve, the light swayed softly,
overlapping our shadows,
as if offering its quiet blessing.


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