English Original
Sunrise on the eastern coast is a special event. I stood at Dolphin's Nose, a spur jutting out into the Bay of Bengal, to behold the sun's first light over the horizon. As the eastern sky unfolded like crimson petals, I was overcome by a wave of nostalgia — vivid memories undimmed by the passage of nearly ten years.
Back then, I was a young bachelor in Visakhapatnam. Every Sunday, I would rise before dawn and head to Dolphin's Nose to witness the sun majestically rising from the sea. The fresh, salty breeze was a perfect cure for Saturday night's excesses.
After sunrise, I would walk downhill to the rocky beach for a swim. Each time, I noticed activity around a distant, decrepit building. One day, curiosity led me closer. It was a fish market, frequented by housewives from nearby residences in their "Sunday-worst" attire — a stark contrast to their polished club appearances.
I was about to leave, dejected, when I saw her for the first time. I stopped dead in my tracks. She was tall, fair, and freshly bathed, with lustrous hair dancing on her shoulders. Her large, expressive brown eyes and sharp features were accentuated by the morning sun. An intense yearning ached in my heart — I knew this was love. Yet, I also knew I stood no chance, for she wore a mangalsutra, a sign of marriage. Nevertheless, I approached under the pretense of buying fish. Smiling guardedly, she selected two pomfrets and held them out. Our hands touched briefly — an electric sensation that sent a shiver through me. With a teasing glance, she communicated an unspoken goodbye and walked away. Dazed, I returned to my room and had fried pomfret for breakfast. It tasted delicious.
Soon, this became my Sunday ritual, pursued with religious zeal. She never missed our silent rendezvous — same place, same time, precisely seven o'clock. Not a word was exchanged. I was too shy, and she seemed to cherish this delicate, ethereal connection. Surprisingly, I developed a lasting taste for fried pomfret.
Years passed. I left Visakhapatnam, traveled the world, and met many women, but I never forgot her. A man's first love holds an enduring place in his heart.
Now, almost a decade later, I was back. Walking toward the beach, I could still vividly envision her playful, sublime smile and communicative eyes. My heart pounded with desperate anticipation. Reaching the beach, I saw the sun was already up. It was almost seven. I hastened to the fish market, to the exact spot of our old meetings.
Trembling, I looked around. Nothing had changed — except she wasn't there. Crestfallen, my mind went blank. Suddenly, I felt that familiar electrifying touch and thrill. Jolted back to reality, I found her softly placing two pomfret fish in my hand. I was in seventh heaven.
Looking at her, I was not disappointed. Her beauty had matured. Yet, something had changed. Her large brown eyes no longer danced teasingly; they held a trace of sadness, a tender poignancy, as she bid her silent farewell. Dumbstruck, I stood frozen. Only as she was leaving did I notice: the mangalsutra was gone from her slender neck.
中文翻译
东海岸的日出是一场特别的盛事。我站在伸入孟加拉湾的海豚鼻上，凝视太阳的第一缕光芒跃出海平线。东方的天空如深红色的花瓣般展开，一股怀旧之情将我淹没——那些鲜活的记忆，并未因近十年的流逝而褪色。
那时，我还是维沙卡帕特南的一个年轻单身汉。每个周日，我都会在黎明前起床，前往海豚鼻，观看太阳雄伟地从海中升起。清新咸涩的海风，是治愈周六夜晚放纵后遗症的完美良药。
日出后，我会沿着陡峭的山路下坡，前往岩石海滩游一会儿泳。每次，我都会注意到远处一栋破旧建筑周围的忙碌景象。一天，好奇心驱使我走近。那是一个鱼市，光顾的多是附近居民区的家庭主妇，她们穿着“周日最邋遢”的装束——与前一晚在俱乐部精心打扮的样子形成鲜明对比。
我正沮丧地准备离开，第一次看到了她。我猛地停住了脚步。她个子高挑，肤色白皙，刚沐浴过，光泽的长发在肩头舞动。她那双大而富有表现力的棕色眼睛和清晰的面部轮廓，在晨光中格外突出。一种强烈的渴望让我的心隐隐作痛——我知道这就是爱。然而，我也知道自己毫无机会，因为她戴着象征已婚的“芒加尔苏特拉”项链。尽管如此，我还是假装买鱼走近了她。她谨慎地微笑着，挑了两条鲳鱼递给我。我们的手短暂相触——一阵触电般的感觉让我战栗。她投来一个戏谑的眼神，传达出无声的告别，便快步离开了。我恍惚地回到房间，早餐吃了炸鲳鱼。味道好极了。
很快，这成了我每周日的固定仪式，我怀着近乎宗教般的热情前往。她从未错过我们无声的约会——相同的地点，相同的日子，精确在七点整。我们之间没有交换过一句话。我太害羞，而她似乎也想保持这种微妙、空灵的联系。出乎意料的是，我从此爱上了炸鲳鱼的味道。
岁月流逝。我离开了维沙卡帕特南，周游世界，遇到了许多女性，但我从未忘记她。男人的初恋永远在他心中占据着持久的位置。
如今，近十年后，我回来了。走向海滩时，我依然能生动地想象出她脸上那顽皮而崇高的微笑和会说话的眼睛。我的心因 desperate 的期待而狂跳。到达海滩时，太阳已经升起。快七点了。我加快脚步，几乎是跑着来到了鱼市，来到我们昔日相会的老地方。
我颤抖着环顾四周。一切如旧——除了她不在那里。我垂头丧气，大脑一片空白。突然，我感受到了那熟悉的、触电般的触碰和悸动。猛然回到现实，我发现她正轻轻地将两条鲳鱼放入我手中。我欣喜若狂。
看着她，我并未失望。她的美丽因岁月而愈发成熟。然而，有些东西确实改变了。她那双棕色的大眼睛不再戏谑地舞动；当她无声地道别时，眼中带着一丝哀伤，一种温柔的辛酸。我目瞪口呆，像雕像般僵立着。直到她离开时，我才注意到：那条芒加尔苏特拉项链，已不在她纤细的颈项上。