Hate Story
1
“Tring Tring”.. The phone rang. It hasn’t just stopped ringing
for the last few days. Piyali was too very exhausted to pick up the phone every
5 minutes and listen to heartfelt condolences/burst of tears. So she let the
phone ring its own merry way and came out of her room. This was the 1st Time
in the last 3 days that she had managed to keep her feet outside her own room.
She stepped slowly, somehow dragging her fatigued body towards her mom’s room.
Mom had just kept herself shut the last 3 days, since the incident. None had
been able to make her talk. Even when her own sister grabbed her yesterday and
shrieked “Cry Roona Cry! Diya is No more”, Mom glared at her. Aunt refrained
back with an utter shock at the look in her eyes. Piyali couldn’t see her mom
this way. She had to do something. She slowly crept towards Didi’s room.
A
flashback of memories made Piya stumble on her way to Diya’s room. She stopped.
Stopped as she happened to see clearly the morning 3 days ago. It was 8 ‘o
clock and Didi was not opening the door. Quiet unusual for someone who got up
at the break of dawn regularly. Somehow Dad, after repeated bursts on the
door managed to crack through it just to find DIDI HANGING from the ceiling!
Piya simply couldn’t take the scene! She fainted right out. Even when Didi was
taken for her cremation she dared not step out of the darkest corner of her
room!
Piya
slowly stepped into Didi’s room. Immediately a feeling of emptiness grasped
her. The question that has haunted her every moment, every microsecond, she has
been in her senses.. is “WHY”? Why did Didi do this?? And after thinking for 3
straight days Piya has decide that she has to solve this.. SHE HAS TO! This is
the motive with which Piya has crept into Didi’s room today for a clue! For a
minor clue.. that would give her the slightest scope to find the reason behind
this unbelievable incident..
2
Alas! She found nothing. Absolutely nothing! No hint why such a
cheerful responsible girl suddenly turned her face away from life. Back in her
room Piya picked up the “Gitanjali” , that Diya had gifted her on her 18th birthday.
Since then its poems had been Piya’s support through most of her
depressions and surrenders. But this time.. Piya just could not read any
thing.. She just managed to leaf through the pages of the book, her eyes too
dry to shed tears, her limbs numb with grief! And suddenly at that moment she
found a piece of paper dropping down on her lap from the book. It read
“Don’t Forgive Rahul! He was my
Life. BETRAYAL!- DIDI”
3
“Will
not return tonight. Don’t wait for me!”
Mom stared at Piya. 4 days had passed after Diya’s shocking
Suicide and Piya is going out adored and dressed like a Christmas tree. For the
1st time in 4 days words fell out of her
lips “Never Come Back.” Dad looked for once at Piya. Today she was dressed in
short western attire, quite unusual for a person who is so very attracted to
traditional Eastern wears. Dad looked into her Daughter’s eyes.
“LET
HER GO”.
Piya
came out of her home. She walked past the lane in a jiffy leaving the
astonished and gossiping neighbors behind.! She knew her destination. She
stepped onto the main road and took a bus to Xavier. She had a friend in the
same college and hence faced no hassle in sneaking through the gates! She
entered the campus. Her eyes looking around.. trying to find HIM……. “Ahhh!
There he is! There’s my man!”
Piya
walked up to Rahul.
“ I
don’t know anything about your Didi. Please do not indulge me in these scuffs.
As you know my father is Police Commissioner! You people can prove nothing By
filing a petty FIR.”
“Who
asked you about Didi? What’s the point Talking about someone who is gone?”
“What?????”
“You
have been to our home so many times. Have you ever managed to cast a look upon
me? Have you ever looked deep into my eyes?”
“What
rubbish?! Oh Trash!”
“
Now that Didi is gone, will you still remain engrossed with her or can I take a
chance at my dream man, The man I have always loved madly!”
Rahul
was simply Taken aback at Piya’s words He was swept off his feet!
“I
never realized You were so smart! Dressed in that Brat Salwar?”
“
That’s why I am here today all yours in the attire you want me to be”
“Hotel
India 11 pm. Room No. 842!”
4
“Oh
my! You are looking more beautiful than Morning” exclaimed Rahul as Piya
Stepped into the hotel room.
“Do
you know you are the nth girl I am spending a night with?”
“Doesn’t
matter! I want to be the last! Lets switch off the lights
5
Tring Tring… The phone rang. Rahul somehow dragged himself out
of the bed. The entire room is flooded with bright sunshine! He checked his
phone! 5 missed calls- its Dad! Didn’t feel like calling back! “Ahhh..
yesterday night was something.. perhaps the best night spent in my life! And
look no hangover. This is the 1st time a girl had woken up the next
morning before me and left before I even woke up!!!! Smart girl! No
Hangovers….! Fast isn’t she???” Rahul murmured to himself. “The girl is
really……..
Suddenly
his words stuck…
“What’s
that?” Rahul though looking at a piece of paper stuck to the mirror. “It seems
it has something written on it.. “
What’s
this? How could she do this to me? How?????! My life has ended… oh what’s this!
I am trapped in my own net…. Rahul could feel the world spin around him.. he
felt his blood vessels constricting.. What’s Happening… I cant breathe” That
Brat has finished me She has finished my life…. She has……… she has ruined me….
“How’s
that possible?? How can she be ……???”
Turning
around , he found a needle & syringe lying on the floor.. A cold shiver ran
down his spine.. A voice echoed within himself” is this the source…..???”
At
the very moment he could hear the laughter of that n nos. of girls. He found
himself encircled by them. Though they were laughing, but the vale of
hatred wrapped over their faces.
Rahul
came out of the room screaming. He just wanted to leave that cursed room.
When
he came to the road, he again found those girls standing at the gate.
They all shouted aloud pointing towards him, “u r finished… the society will
hate u..””
“No………….
U all r liars” screamed Rahul.
Panic-stricken
Rahul started running aimlessly.. He could only hear the laughter of
those girls & suddenly everything went black.
Tring
Tring!!
‘Hello!!
Commissioner Gupta speaking”
‘
Hello, Sir! This is Dr.Bhatta 4m South Care Nursing Home. Your son Rahul has
been admitted here”
“What!!!
Why?? I ‘ll b there within an hour”
“
No, Sir. Considering his condition we r shifting him To the Mental hospital Day
Care. If you can, please b there”
3
Days later, at the mental hospital
“
We r sorry, Mr. Gupta. ‘ve tried our best. But he’s in a grave trauma. Can not
assure u..”
Commissioner
Gupta was dumbstruck.
6
From
that day onward, 1 could hear patient no,842 screaming aloud “ don’t want
the pleasure, 4give me.. relieve me….
But
what was that in the room that morning which made him shriek to insanity.
Police searched the room through out for 3 consecutive days but they found
nothing Abnormal except for a piece of paper that was found stuck on the wall
mirror of the room where Rahul had put up for the night in Hotel India. It read
“WELCOME TO THE NEW WORLD OF
AIDS”
The
Girl Who Lived
When
the Anesthesia wore out, nausea took over.
Consciousness
leached in excruciatingly as I turned over and vomited. My lips burnt. So did
my throat. I could feel the tightness of the surgical plaster over my right
elbow, forehead and right leg. My eyelids felt heavy, and I knew there was a
bad cut over one of them. I tried opening my eyes and suppressed the reprising
nausea.
The
white hospital lights were blinding.
‘It’s
ok, you’re fine.’
It
wasn’t Aishani’s voice. It was a middle aged nurse’s. She checked my
temperature and pressure, turned out the lights and left the room. A few
minutes later, she returned with a syringe and a bottle of medicine.
‘This
should help you get some sleep.’ She said as she injected the drug into me
intravenously. She smiled before she left. ‘Your family will be here soon.’
I
was starting to doze off. My thoughts went back to the Forever-after I almost
had.
I
remember reading somewhere that some infinities are bigger than other
infinities. Forevers are like infinities. Some outlast other. Mine lasted for
three minutes and seventeen seconds.
My
mind drifted back to Aishani. The sedation was shamefully failing. It couldn’t
hush my swarming thoughts and put it to sleep.
‘ACP
Indrajit!’ she’d mock at me with her glistening lively eyes. ‘What’s the
procedure to file a complaint for a missing earring??’
It
wasn’t that great of a joke, but I’d laugh anyway. Then I’d think about how I
didn’t know she’d mean so much to me the day I first met her. The laws of
attraction that lured me towards her were way off my level of understanding and
the chemistry of it all completely blew my mind every time I saw her. If
loving her was red, reasoning it was a color that was beyond the visible
spectrum.
***
‘Please?’
I pushed my request. ‘I just want to see her’
‘Not
now, Mr.Indrajit.’ the nurse replied in a regretful voice.
‘She’s
not-?’ I could not even bring the words out of my throat.
‘You
need to rest, Mr.Indrajit’ The nurse said with tight eyes and an even tighter
smile.
I
closed my eyes with anguish. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, if I had
survived without her. Aishani, the twenty one year old with the steel strong
resolution and heart made up of a Platinum-Iridium alloy. She came into my life
like a wild rainstorm. I fell, like a delicate work of origami caught in the
middle of a thunderstorm.
Tragedies
are divine, unless they are happening to you. When I first saw Aishani, I knew
she was one of those fallen angels, struggling to break through the shackles of
predictability with her distinctive spark of extra-ordinariness. I noticed
this, on our very first meeting.
‘Ash’
I saw her mother warn her for the millionth time that day. ‘Put that book
down.’
She
didn’t even slightly budge. Her mother, who was also my mother’s colleague,
shifted uncomfortably as she walked up closer to Aishani. Her eyes looked
serious and her flawless olive complexion had a pretty shine to it. Her long
thick locks of hair matched with the color of her eyes. She was effortlessly
stunning.
‘Our
guests might think you are rude.’ Aishani’s mother whispered to her. ‘Talk to
them and please be hospitable.’
Still
no budging. The twenty year old was deeply buried into the pages of a hard
bound copy of a big book. Her mother nudged her again.
‘Hello.’
She finally looked up and smiled at me.
‘Hey.’
I said, returning that smile.
‘So,
what are you reading?’ It wasn’t just a conversation starter. I really wanted
to know.
‘The
last Song’ she said looking serious. ‘And it’s breaking my heart.’
‘I
know.’ I said. ‘It has a reputation of doing that to people.’
She
smiled and her eyes softened. At that moment I realized that was how friendships
began. A person reveals a moment of strangeness or oddity and the other person
just listens, without exploiting it.
‘What
kind of books do you read?’ she asked, one of her eyebrows slightly arching
above the other. I understood it was a question thrown into the conversation to
judge me.
‘A
lot’ I answered diplomatically. ‘I don’t like to play favorites with good
literature.’
She
appeared too pleased with the answer. Her eyes sparkled as I told her my
favorite was the prisoner of Azkaban. Just when I thought her eye couldn’t
sparkle any further, she beamed when I told her about my job.
‘You’re
a cop?’ she beamed like a child shown a truckload of candy. ‘That’s awesome!’
I
laughed and admitted it was. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t as glamorous as they
depicted it to be on silver screen, but I didn’t, guessing that would spoil the
fun for her. We parted as best friends that evening and it was one very
beautiful evening when I waved her good bye.
We
met very often after that, and gelled instantly.
The
connection that I shared with her was one of a kind. There was an intellectual
tie between our minds, our souls had chemistry and sparks flew in my heart
every time she smiled at me. Although she was twenty one; she looked tiny and
fragile like a school girl. But only I knew how spirited she was. Aishani was
capable of fiercely defending her ideas. What she thought was right was the
only thing that was right and everyone else’s opinions might just as well go to
hell. In fact she had far too many strong opinions and I agreed with most
of them. There was absolutely nothing boring about her. I found her incredibly
exciting and breathtakingly beautiful. I knew just by looking at her and
listening to her that she would have made a great cop herself. Aishani believed
in everything she did and said.
‘I
think this is such a gender biased country.’ She said one afternoon, looking
over at me from a book. ‘What say you, ACP sir?’
I
almost choked out my coffee. Gender bias and safety of women was definitely not
the question that one asks an Indian police officer, because no matter what
happened or how we defend ourselves, people always blamed the cops. I had just
dropped in by her place for a small chat with her mother and I found myself
caught in the dilemma of one of her deep philosophical questions. Answering it
honestly would mean she would judge me and cooking up a diplomatic answer would
be a disgrace to the special bond we shared. I pulled myself out of the sticky
situation by leading her to another question.
‘Why
do you think so, Ash?’ I enquired with a cool tone.
‘Well,
for one, we’re just a messed up bundle of contradictions.’ She sighed. ‘On one
side, we worship a million female deities, boast of having a female Prime
Minister and President even before some First World Countries that have still
not been able to do so. And yet, my mother wouldn’t let me take up jobs that
demanded night shifts. So where exactly do we stand? Do we glorify women or
objectify them or both?’
I
gulped, half transfixed by the depth of her question and half enchanted at how
beautiful she looked in that deep blue shirt and pleated skirt which made her
look like a porcelain doll. There was along awkward pause as I did not have an
answer.
‘Oh
god, how am I ever going to get this girl married?’ I was really grateful to
Aishani’s mother when she interjected. Aishani stuck her tongue out at her much
worried mother and I burst out laughing.
A
few days later, I was in the middle of a very hectic day at the station that I
received a text from her.
Hello ACP sir. Do you have some
time for me? I really hope you can meet me up in a few minutes at the CCD near
your station.
Ten
minutes later, I found myself waving at Aishani. It was a beautiful evening and
the café was almost full.
‘Hey!’
I said as I sat beside her. ‘You okay?’
‘Not
exactly.’ She sulked. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting this guy my mom thinks is
perfect for me. I seriously doubt it, because when God made me, I was limited
edition and I seriously doubt there could be another copy that ought to match
my levels of insane craziness.’
A wave of shock. Aishani was going to be married.
Then a wave of relief. She did not like it.
‘Hahahah’
I mocked at her. ‘So, you wanted me backing you up when you meet your Prince
Charming, huh?’
I
tried to sound as casual about it but I could bet the friction in my voice
showed. She nodded with a bleakly smile. A few minutes later, we were in the
company of a tall, dark guy with a very busty built. The first thing that
struck my mind was that tiny little Aishani might look very vulnerable standing
next to this beast.
After
the very formal introduction session, there was a very uncomfortable silence. I
took out my cell phone and meddled with it randomly to make my presence a
little less awkward. And as I guessed, Aishani broke the silence with her first
question.
‘Do
you read?’ she asked and the guy, who was named Kartik, was quite taken aback.
‘Yeah….magazines…sometimes.’
he said looking at me with a puzzled expression. Aishani was looking with a
cold face at him. I felt a surge of pity for him. I looked down and went back
to my phone.
Another
long silence.
‘Well,
do you like to read Aishani?’ Kartik asked her and coughed to cover up a
giggle.
‘Like
to?’ She repeated with disbelief. ‘I’m a Potterhead, FYI.’
‘Oh…isn’t
it magic and stuff??’ he asked. ‘And….aren’t you little too old for it?’
Ouch.
He had touched a nerve. I mentally knelt down and prayed for the poor boy who
sat in front of me, Amen to his soul.
‘I
think this meeting is over.’ She said tightly through her clenched teeth. ‘It’s
not happening between us.’
‘What?’
he sounded flabbergasted. ‘Over a book?’
‘No,
not over the book. Over the fact that you are just a fully grown man untouched
by the spectacular magic of the story of the boy who lived and that’s going to
make things really complicated for us in the future.I’m sorry, Mr.Kartik,
Potterheads don’t marry Non-Potterheads as a protocol.’
‘You’ve
got to be kidding me.’ He said dumbstruck with disbelief. ‘It’s just a book!’
‘And
you’re just a sack of flesh and blood.’ She snapped back.
And
then, all of a sudden, the huge Kartik looked like a defeated weakling and
little Aishani was easily overpowering him. Real strength had nothing to do
with size, I guess. After yet another long pause, Kartik spoke.
‘Harry
Potter isn’t even real. It’s fantasy.’ The guy was starting to fret. This time,
I had to fake a chain of coughs to cover up my very untimely burst of laughter.
‘Maybe
Harry Potter is real, and you’re not.’ Aishani glared back at him. She got up,
grabbed her sling bag and marched out of the glass doors. I frantically
followed her.
‘Aishani!’
I called out to her. ‘Slow down, I’m coming with you.’
She
stopped and I finally caught up with her. Her face was tight, and she looked
pretty annoyed.
‘You
didn’t possibly think you could let me alone with that freak show, did you?’ I
said trying to lift her mood. It was pitch dark and we were standing alone in
the long deserted street.
‘I
bet he said the same thing about us.’ She sighed.
We
looked at each other for a minute, and then burst out laughing.
‘If
you want to get married, you’ve got to stop frightening boys away like that!’ I
said after a while. ‘You can be pretty scary for a person with such a tiny
frame work, I’m telling you.’
She
sighed again. ‘Single forever, I guess.’
‘Don’t
worry, I’ll ask aunty to find potter head guys next time.’ I said. ‘Yes, you
are limited edition, but I’m sure God leaked out one more copy just so that you
can be in company.’
‘It
wouldn’t work, anyway.’ Aishani said looking up at me. ‘I don’t like normal
boring guys.’
I
laughed again.
‘ACP
Indrajit’ she said, suddenly looking deep into my eyes, and taking me by
surprise. ‘I have a thing for cops.’
I
was stunned, and froze in my place, as if I was struck by a lightening. It was
a fearless proclamation. Her eyes smiled and I knew that I had been searching
for her all my life and now that she was standing right in front of me, I was
rendered speechless. It seemed like forever that my heart began to beat again.
And
my forever lasted for almost three minutes ninety seconds. A huge truck
with blinding lights appeared from out of nowhere, and threw me out. I crashed,
and the last thing I heard was a shrill scream that pierced through my skull
and I was knocked out forever.
I
opened my eyes to face an age old cliché that had been tormenting love stories
since Shakespearean times. The solid plot line of all great tragedies.
Death.
Our
story ended even before it began. Death doesn’t wait for you to sing duets and
waltz around the Swiss Alps. It can happen even at the middle of a sentence. I
had my whole life ahead of me and I was supposed to face the harsh reality that
she just wasn’t there anymore. I saw her in my dreams and in my nightmares. I
felt her warmth every time I walked into her empty room. The walls echoed of
her lost voice and she might not return, but I knew she was around when I
collapsed on her bed and cried. She was gone, but her spirit remained. She was
in me.
Her
heart might’ve stopped, but Aishani continued to live.
Deep in the Woods
The fire hardly glimmered. It cast only the faintest
illumination now. The evening was late, very late, but Roland and Jethro would
stay up into the deepest hours. Neither would be able to sleep if they both lay
down, and neither would be able to stay awake if they took it in turns to
watch, and so they both remained up: glazy eyed, half conscious, but ready.
Around their small clearing, the impermeable forest held its shadows. Roland
stretched out an arm, his gauntlet and mail tinkling slightly, and grabbed a
handful of twigs. He cast them onto the fire, and it dimly flared in
acknowledgement of the offering. Its warmth did not seem to reach him. He felt
cold, colder than he had ever felt. This was the darkest place he had been in
all his searching. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the end of him, just as
it had been the end of the Edgar.
Deep in the Woods
The fire hardly glimmered. It cast only the faintest illumination now. The evening was late, very late, but Roland and Jethro would stay up into the deepest hours. Neither would be able to sleep if they both lay down, and neither would be able to stay awake if they took it in turns to watch, and so they both remained up: glazy eyed, half conscious, but ready. Around their small clearing, the impermeable forest held its shadows. Roland stretched out an arm, his gauntlet and mail tinkling slightly, and grabbed a handful of twigs. He cast them onto the fire, and it dimly flared in acknowledgement of the offering. Its warmth did not seem to reach him. He felt cold, colder than he had ever felt. This was the darkest place he had been in all his searching. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the end of him, just as it had been the end of the Edgar.
The fire hardly glimmered. It cast only the faintest illumination now. The evening was late, very late, but Roland and Jethro would stay up into the deepest hours. Neither would be able to sleep if they both lay down, and neither would be able to stay awake if they took it in turns to watch, and so they both remained up: glazy eyed, half conscious, but ready. Around their small clearing, the impermeable forest held its shadows. Roland stretched out an arm, his gauntlet and mail tinkling slightly, and grabbed a handful of twigs. He cast them onto the fire, and it dimly flared in acknowledgement of the offering. Its warmth did not seem to reach him. He felt cold, colder than he had ever felt. This was the darkest place he had been in all his searching. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the end of him, just as it had been the end of the Edgar.
‘It will be twilight soon,’ Jethro said from the other side of
the fire. His voice was hoarse, and dry. He’d swaddled a filthy cloak around
his shoulders, but he was still shivering. The futile light made his face
almost skull-like, the sockets like basins filled with midnight ichor.
Roland nodded. ‘You should sleep. I’ll keep watch.’
Jethro shook his head. ‘You know I won’t be able to. Besides,
what if you fall asleep when it comes?’
The thought made Roland shudder. Yes, it was coming. It was
always coming. It had chased him over boundaries and borders and countries and
continents. And it never stopped. At first, it had been merely the inkling of a
presence at his back, of something dogging his steps, but then it had come
closer. It attacked his dreams. In reality, he was sometimes sure he had seen
it, not absolutely of course, but indefinitely, slinking through shade as
though born of it, and as formlessly terrifying as God. It always had eyes on
him.
‘I won’t fall asleep. I am too afraid.’
‘It will be twilight soon,’ Jethro said from the other side of
the fire. His voice was hoarse, and dry. He’d swaddled a filthy cloak around
his shoulders, but he was still shivering. The futile light made his face
almost skull-like, the sockets like basins filled with midnight ichor.
Roland nodded. ‘You should sleep. I’ll keep watch.’
Jethro shook his head. ‘You know I won’t be able to. Besides,
what if you fall asleep when it comes?’
The thought made Roland shudder. Yes, it was coming. It was
always coming. It had chased him over boundaries and borders and countries and
continents. And it never stopped. At first, it had been merely the inkling of a
presence at his back, of something dogging his steps, but then it had come
closer. It attacked his dreams. In reality, he was sometimes sure he had seen
it, not absolutely of course, but indefinitely, slinking through shade as
though born of it, and as formlessly terrifying as God. It always had eyes on
him.
‘I won’t fall asleep. I am too afraid.’
His eyes stung painfully, but he was so used to the sensation he
blinked it away. His aching limbs lay at odd angles as he was slouched by the
fire, almost like the splayed contortion of a dead man. But his head was awake.
It had to be. To dream was to allow it to come.
Roland looked up to see that Jethro was looking at him intently.
The grey hairs of his beard caught the dim light. He had not been grey when
they had embarked on this journey.
‘Have you ever wondered where this thing came from?’
Roland looked at him. ‘It comes from hell.’
‘Then how did it get out? And why is it following you?’
Roland was silent. Jethro shrugged and stared into the fire.
There was a drawn quiet between them.
‘It started just after Belinda died,’ Roland said, suddenly. He
wondered why he had never told Jethro this before. His friend nodded, as if he
had already known the answer.
‘Have you ever wondered whether it was just, well, a dream?’
Roland sat up, sharply, a snarl coming to his lips. Jethro
regarded him calmly: his brown eyes each capturing a glimmer of the flame.
‘And Edgar? That was just my imagination was it?’
Jethro considered. ‘Things that we dream can become reality
sometimes.’
‘So I’m responsible for this? For his death?’
‘It is your demon, Roland.’
He sat back, and turned away from him and the flame to look out
into the folds of darkness. Somewhere, out there, he knew the creature was
hunting for him. ‘I don’t think the demon is mine. I think it is a guardian.’
‘Of what?’
‘We seek something that no one is permitted to possess. Perhaps
the creature was sent to stop us?’
Jethro pursed his lips as he was wont to do when thinking. He
scratched the grey stubble and frowned. ‘You are the only one that dreams of
it.’
Roland sighed. ‘Get some sleep, Jethro. I shall keep the light,’
he said.
Jethro nodded and lay himself down on his side, his ramshackle
armour creaking and groaning. He placed his head on a sordid wrapped cloth, and
closed his eyes. Roland could tell by the shallowness of his breath that he was
not asleep. The fear was too vivid and too deep for that. He watched him for a
few moments: the colours of the flame, the dun silver of his armour, and the
surrounding shades of tenebrous foliage all melting into one dizzying haze of
strange colour. Things started to fall away. The crackle of the flame grew
eerily quiet. He felt his head loll back. As it did so: briefly – just briefly
– amidst the blur, a part of the shadow of the forest seemed to move.
Roland blinked rapidly and pulled himself upright. He reached
into his pouch and drew out a knife. He lay it across his palm with the sharp
edge pressed to his skin and positioned his elbow on it. If he started to slip,
the pain would wake him.
When Roland roused Jethro in the twilight hours, his hand left a
mark of blood on his pauldrons.
They had learned to travel in the twilight after Edgar. It was
in the liminal place between day and night and night and day when the demon
came. If they were on the move during these times, then they could stay ahead
of it.
The two set off wearily in the pale half-light, its glow only
feebly reaching them through the canopies of intertwined boughs. The dark
lustre of the forest seemed an obstacle to all that shone. Tired, aching,
stretched, they walked for what felt like hours, the light never increasing,
only appearing to change colour until it grew from purple into a red so deep it
looked like unnatural blood.
Then they saw it.
‘What is that?’ Jethro said, squinting.
‘The end,’ Roland replied. He looked hard through the tangles
and nets of blackened branches, and saw its walls beyond. Through the shroud of
the canopy, he could see it reaching into the sky.
They pushed through, their bodies drenched and clammy, and their
armour dirtied from the clinging tendrils of vine and branch, finally breaching
into a clearing. Now they could see it clearly.
It was a tower. Surprisingly small, and wide, but impressing
upon them both in a way that no mountainous structure ever could have. It was
onyx, blacker than anything they had seen, and devoid of windows or of any mark
or design across its surface, save for a single door.
‘Is this it?’ Jethro breathed: eyes wide.
‘It must be,’ Roland said.
The door swung open silently, as if the tower itself was holding
a gargantuan breath, bated with expectation. Inside, a staircase curled
upwards. Roland drew his great-sword from his back, as did Jethro. The sound of
their metal boots against the hard rock seemed deafening. Roland felt as though
he was defiling something, his filthy armour noisome in a holy place.
His eyes stung painfully, but he was so used to the sensation he
blinked it away. His aching limbs lay at odd angles as he was slouched by the
fire, almost like the splayed contortion of a dead man. But his head was awake.
It had to be. To dream was to allow it to come.
Roland looked up to see that Jethro was looking at him intently.
The grey hairs of his beard caught the dim light. He had not been grey when
they had embarked on this journey.
‘Have you ever wondered where this thing came from?’
Roland looked at him. ‘It comes from hell.’
‘Then how did it get out? And why is it following you?’
Roland was silent. Jethro shrugged and stared into the fire.
There was a drawn quiet between them.
‘It started just after Belinda died,’ Roland said, suddenly. He
wondered why he had never told Jethro this before. His friend nodded, as if he
had already known the answer.
‘Have you ever wondered whether it was just, well, a dream?’
Roland sat up, sharply, a snarl coming to his lips. Jethro
regarded him calmly: his brown eyes each capturing a glimmer of the flame.
‘And Edgar? That was just my imagination was it?’
Jethro considered. ‘Things that we dream can become reality
sometimes.’
‘So I’m responsible for this? For his death?’
‘It is your demon, Roland.’
He sat back, and turned away from him and the flame to look out
into the folds of darkness. Somewhere, out there, he knew the creature was
hunting for him. ‘I don’t think the demon is mine. I think it is a guardian.’
‘Of what?’
‘We seek something that no one is permitted to possess. Perhaps
the creature was sent to stop us?’
Jethro pursed his lips as he was wont to do when thinking. He
scratched the grey stubble and frowned. ‘You are the only one that dreams of
it.’
Roland sighed. ‘Get some sleep, Jethro. I shall keep the light,’
he said.
Jethro nodded and lay himself down on his side, his ramshackle
armour creaking and groaning. He placed his head on a sordid wrapped cloth, and
closed his eyes. Roland could tell by the shallowness of his breath that he was
not asleep. The fear was too vivid and too deep for that. He watched him for a
few moments: the colours of the flame, the dun silver of his armour, and the
surrounding shades of tenebrous foliage all melting into one dizzying haze of
strange colour. Things started to fall away. The crackle of the flame grew
eerily quiet. He felt his head loll back. As it did so: briefly – just briefly
– amidst the blur, a part of the shadow of the forest seemed to move.
Roland blinked rapidly and pulled himself upright. He reached
into his pouch and drew out a knife. He lay it across his palm with the sharp
edge pressed to his skin and positioned his elbow on it. If he started to slip,
the pain would wake him.
When Roland roused Jethro in the twilight hours, his hand left a
mark of blood on his pauldrons.
They had learned to travel in the twilight after Edgar. It was
in the liminal place between day and night and night and day when the demon
came. If they were on the move during these times, then they could stay ahead
of it.
The two set off wearily in the pale half-light, its glow only
feebly reaching them through the canopies of intertwined boughs. The dark
lustre of the forest seemed an obstacle to all that shone. Tired, aching,
stretched, they walked for what felt like hours, the light never increasing,
only appearing to change colour until it grew from purple into a red so deep it
looked like unnatural blood.
Then they saw it.
‘What is that?’ Jethro said, squinting.
‘The end,’ Roland replied. He looked hard through the tangles
and nets of blackened branches, and saw its walls beyond. Through the shroud of
the canopy, he could see it reaching into the sky.
They pushed through, their bodies drenched and clammy, and their
armour dirtied from the clinging tendrils of vine and branch, finally breaching
into a clearing. Now they could see it clearly.
It was a tower. Surprisingly small, and wide, but impressing
upon them both in a way that no mountainous structure ever could have. It was
onyx, blacker than anything they had seen, and devoid of windows or of any mark
or design across its surface, save for a single door.
‘Is this it?’ Jethro breathed: eyes wide.
‘It must be,’ Roland said.
The door swung open silently, as if the tower itself was holding
a gargantuan breath, bated with expectation. Inside, a staircase curled
upwards. Roland drew his great-sword from his back, as did Jethro. The sound of
their metal boots against the hard rock seemed deafening. Roland felt as though
he was defiling something, his filthy armour noisome in a holy place.
The door closed stealthily behind them, sealing out what little
light there had been so that they were cast in an absolute blackness. Roland
felt his leg trembling beneath him as he placed a first, tentative foot on the
stair. He let out a long exhalation. For a moment, he could not summon the
courage to ascend. He remained with one foot on the stair, daunted, staring up
into impossible shadow above, like a starless sky only amplified.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ Roland said, swallowing a lump in his throat. He
began to climb. The clanking of his plate-mail rebounded irritatingly, adding
to his feeling of intrusion. He clutched his sword tighter than he had ever
grasped it, and yet the calloused flesh on his fingers meant he hardly felt it.
So many years, so many hardships, so much suffering: all for this one end. His
mouth was dry.
He reached the top and came out into a circular chamber. In its
centre lay a basin filled with an oily liquid across which a small, tiny
flicker of fire danced. Despite how small it was, the flame was jubilant,
writhing, twisting and contorting faster and more violently than any fire he
had ever seen, and yet no wind penetrated into the room.
Jethro came and stood beside him. ‘This is it?’
‘This is it,’ Roland repeated, softly, eyes transfixed on the
small, vibrant glimmer in the midst of the blackness. ‘Life itself.’
Roland took a step forward, and pulled a small, glass vial out
of his backpack. Without letting his skin touch the oily liquid, or the flame,
he scooped up a quantity into the vial and placed a cork in it. The glass grew
warm, but it didn’t melt or shatter. The flame licked at the inside harmlessly.
He stood for a moment, looking at his prize. In the glow of the fire and the
reflection of the glass he saw his own, haggard, worn face. How many years had
it been since Belinda passed away? Ten? Twenty? But now he had finally achieved
his goal. Suddenly a thought filled him that perhaps she would reject him; he
would raise her in her youth, and she would see his old, beaten body and loathe
him. He remained, holding up the vial, staring into its potent contents until a
deep, low murmur shattered his dream. He looked up sharply.
‘What was that?’
Jethro’s face changed from one of wonderment to wide eyed panic.
‘It has found us.’
Roland wheeled around. The demon?’
Jethro nodded solemnly.
‘How can you be sure?’
‘It was only a matter of time.’
The low murmur sounded again, only this time it was more of a
dark, primordial roar. The tower seemed to quake slightly, as if a massive
creature was wrapping its body around its base.
‘It cannot come in here while there is light,’ Roland said,
holding up the flame.
‘We do not know that. The light has held it at bay before, but
we are trapped here. Sooner or later it will close the noose. We cannot wait in
here forever.’
‘I have not come this far to fail!’ Roland growled.
‘You’ve given everything on this quest, Roland, everything.
You’re a shadow of the man that set out on it and all because you couldn’t let
go of Belinda! Christ, I must be the greatest of all fools for following you:
but now I have gone far enough. Give up the flame and it may allow us to
leave.’
‘You were not a fool for following, Jethro, but you are a fool
now. Give up what we have spent all these years, have traveled all these miles
to find, at the very moment we find it? That is the real folly. No one would
have believed that we could have found the dark tower, but we did, and inside
it, we have found life –’
A third, deep, knell-like roar broke Roland’s speech, and made
both of them rush to the stairwell. They could see nothing but ecliptic
darkness at the bottom, but Roland sensed the presence of the creature: the
monster of shadow. It was coming. It was inside the tower.
‘I’m not going to sit here and wait for death!’ Jethro spat.
Clasping his sword in two hands, he let out a howl so violent and piercing that
Roland felt a tremor pass through his whole body at hearing it. His friend
leapt down the stairs into the blackness and was swallowed by it, his screaming
proclamation still reverberating around the tower as if a hundred thousand
soldiers were holding in a broken stand.
Roland darted back into the chamber. It seemed to him like every
injury he had ever had had been reopened, or else made sore again. His entire
body ached, his finger joints clicked with arthritis, his knees clacked as he
moved towards the basin, and his skin around his stomach felt red as old scars
glowed.
He turned. There was a darkness at the door that even the light
of the eternal fire could not penetrate or alleviate. It was solid blackness,
not the absence of something, but a full, glorious destructive energy. In
desperation he hurled the vial of flame towards it. It shattered and the fire
burst over an invisible surface. Unearthly clamour sounded as the flame licked
around a form that had previously been hidden. Roland looked on the shape of
his stalker, of the demon that had followed him ever since Belinda had been
taken. It licked along a weird frame that was both human and inhuman, a
silhouette of seething black framed in ecstatic fire.
The shadow lurched forward. Roland sensed its triumph. It too
had waited for this moment, had hungered after him for years on end: frustrated
at his evasions and escapes.
In the fractional instance as it surged toward him, he knew he
had a choice, and that was to die for the secret or live.
He grabbed the basin behind him and flung it headlong at the dim
shape. For a moment the incandescent flame cascaded over it like an opulent
shower of manna, and then a shriek split through the air, so loud that he heard
the onyx tower crack down to its foundations. A spear of dazzling light fell
into the chamber as a cut in the stone opened like a mouth. He ran for the
stairs, the tower fracturing and rending apart.
Flinging open the door he came out just as the whole squat
turret crumbled and sank into the earth, accompanied by the unholy scream of
the demon within. Flames licked around the stones and then finally dissipated,
leaving nothing. When the noise died, only a pile of rubble remained. The
shadow had abated.
There was no sign of Jethro.
‘I have lost the secret,’ he said, to a still and eerie space.
‘I’m sorry Belinda. I’m sorry.’ He thought of Edgar, Jethro, and all those that
had perished before them. Was it all for nothing? The tower lay dismantled,
like a shattered tombstone. It was finished.
The door closed stealthily behind them, sealing out what little
light there had been so that they were cast in an absolute blackness. Roland
felt his leg trembling beneath him as he placed a first, tentative foot on the
stair. He let out a long exhalation. For a moment, he could not summon the
courage to ascend. He remained with one foot on the stair, daunted, staring up
into impossible shadow above, like a starless sky only amplified.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ Roland said, swallowing a lump in his throat. He
began to climb. The clanking of his plate-mail rebounded irritatingly, adding
to his feeling of intrusion. He clutched his sword tighter than he had ever
grasped it, and yet the calloused flesh on his fingers meant he hardly felt it.
So many years, so many hardships, so much suffering: all for this one end. His
mouth was dry.
He reached the top and came out into a circular chamber. In its
centre lay a basin filled with an oily liquid across which a small, tiny
flicker of fire danced. Despite how small it was, the flame was jubilant,
writhing, twisting and contorting faster and more violently than any fire he
had ever seen, and yet no wind penetrated into the room.
Jethro came and stood beside him. ‘This is it?’
‘This is it,’ Roland repeated, softly, eyes transfixed on the
small, vibrant glimmer in the midst of the blackness. ‘Life itself.’
Roland took a step forward, and pulled a small, glass vial out
of his backpack. Without letting his skin touch the oily liquid, or the flame,
he scooped up a quantity into the vial and placed a cork in it. The glass grew
warm, but it didn’t melt or shatter. The flame licked at the inside harmlessly.
He stood for a moment, looking at his prize. In the glow of the fire and the
reflection of the glass he saw his own, haggard, worn face. How many years had
it been since Belinda passed away? Ten? Twenty? But now he had finally achieved
his goal. Suddenly a thought filled him that perhaps she would reject him; he
would raise her in her youth, and she would see his old, beaten body and loathe
him. He remained, holding up the vial, staring into its potent contents until a
deep, low murmur shattered his dream. He looked up sharply.
‘What was that?’
Jethro’s face changed from one of wonderment to wide eyed panic.
‘It has found us.’
Roland wheeled around. The demon?’
Jethro nodded solemnly.
‘How can you be sure?’
‘It was only a matter of time.’
The low murmur sounded again, only this time it was more of a
dark, primordial roar. The tower seemed to quake slightly, as if a massive
creature was wrapping its body around its base.
‘It cannot come in here while there is light,’ Roland said,
holding up the flame.
‘We do not know that. The light has held it at bay before, but
we are trapped here. Sooner or later it will close the noose. We cannot wait in
here forever.’
‘I have not come this far to fail!’ Roland growled.
‘You’ve given everything on this quest, Roland, everything.
You’re a shadow of the man that set out on it and all because you couldn’t let
go of Belinda! Christ, I must be the greatest of all fools for following you:
but now I have gone far enough. Give up the flame and it may allow us to
leave.’
‘You were not a fool for following, Jethro, but you are a fool
now. Give up what we have spent all these years, have traveled all these miles
to find, at the very moment we find it? That is the real folly. No one would
have believed that we could have found the dark tower, but we did, and inside
it, we have found life –’
A third, deep, knell-like roar broke Roland’s speech, and made
both of them rush to the stairwell. They could see nothing but ecliptic
darkness at the bottom, but Roland sensed the presence of the creature: the
monster of shadow. It was coming. It was inside the tower.
‘I’m not going to sit here and wait for death!’ Jethro spat.
Clasping his sword in two hands, he let out a howl so violent and piercing that
Roland felt a tremor pass through his whole body at hearing it. His friend
leapt down the stairs into the blackness and was swallowed by it, his screaming
proclamation still reverberating around the tower as if a hundred thousand
soldiers were holding in a broken stand.
Roland darted back into the chamber. It seemed to him like every
injury he had ever had had been reopened, or else made sore again. His entire
body ached, his finger joints clicked with arthritis, his knees clacked as he
moved towards the basin, and his skin around his stomach felt red as old scars
glowed.
He turned. There was a darkness at the door that even the light
of the eternal fire could not penetrate or alleviate. It was solid blackness,
not the absence of something, but a full, glorious destructive energy. In
desperation he hurled the vial of flame towards it. It shattered and the fire
burst over an invisible surface. Unearthly clamour sounded as the flame licked
around a form that had previously been hidden. Roland looked on the shape of
his stalker, of the demon that had followed him ever since Belinda had been
taken. It licked along a weird frame that was both human and inhuman, a
silhouette of seething black framed in ecstatic fire.
The shadow lurched forward. Roland sensed its triumph. It too
had waited for this moment, had hungered after him for years on end: frustrated
at his evasions and escapes.
In the fractional instance as it surged toward him, he knew he
had a choice, and that was to die for the secret or live.
He grabbed the basin behind him and flung it headlong at the dim
shape. For a moment the incandescent flame cascaded over it like an opulent
shower of manna, and then a shriek split through the air, so loud that he heard
the onyx tower crack down to its foundations. A spear of dazzling light fell
into the chamber as a cut in the stone opened like a mouth. He ran for the
stairs, the tower fracturing and rending apart.
Flinging open the door he came out just as the whole squat
turret crumbled and sank into the earth, accompanied by the unholy scream of
the demon within. Flames licked around the stones and then finally dissipated,
leaving nothing. When the noise died, only a pile of rubble remained. The
shadow had abated.
There was no sign of Jethro.
‘I have lost the secret,’ he said, to a still and eerie space.
‘I’m sorry Belinda. I’m sorry.’ He thought of Edgar, Jethro, and all those that
had perished before them. Was it all for nothing? The tower lay dismantled,
like a shattered tombstone. It was finished.
But the sun was shining. For the first time in as long as he
could remember, he felt like its warmth was actually touching his skin. He
pulled off his pauldrons and greaves and helmet, and flung them onto the rubble
of the tower along with his sword. He turned. Blank walls of forestry lay all
around.
‘How can I find my way back, if I don’t know where I am?’
He looked back at the shattered remains of the tower. In the
hunks of black, scarred rock, he had buried the answer to life’s greatest
riddle, along with the shadow of death. Perhaps that was the answer? Bury it
all.
Smiling weakly, he adjusted his backpack and set off once more.
He would find his way out from under the canopies and back. He was sure.
Roland looked up at the sun. The light coming from it seemed
stronger than it had ever been.
But the sun was shining. For the first time in as long as he
could remember, he felt like its warmth was actually touching his skin. He
pulled off his pauldrons and greaves and helmet, and flung them onto the rubble
of the tower along with his sword. He turned. Blank walls of forestry lay all
around.
‘How can I find my way back, if I don’t know where I am?’
He looked back at the shattered remains of the tower. In the
hunks of black, scarred rock, he had buried the answer to life’s greatest
riddle, along with the shadow of death. Perhaps that was the answer? Bury it
all.
Smiling weakly, he adjusted his backpack and set off once more.
He would find his way out from under the canopies and back. He was sure.
Roland looked up at the sun. The light coming from it seemed
stronger than it had ever been.
By society’s standards, the couple sitting across from me is
perfect. Gracefully crossing her long legs, Mrs. Garner is a picture of
generous curves and blond hair, her exactly symmetrical brow implants
accentuating her sparkling purple eyes. Mr. Garner’s just as impressive, all
muscle and jaw, subdermals accentuating his broad shoulders, his pants bulging
where they should. The file on my desk says they’re richer than sin, he a big
shot in sales and she a fashion consultant. In short, they’re everything most
people want to be. They’re perfect.
Except they’re in my office. Customers only come see me when
there’s a problem.
“The situation is entirely unacceptable and we want to know what
your company is going to do about it.” Mrs. Garner starts.
I open the file and make a show of flipping through the pages I
memorized before they came in. Myparents
opted for cognitive enhancement rather than physical.
“Mrs. Garner, it says here you only gave birth two weeks ago.
It’s awfully early to be dissatisfied, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t
give birth and no it isn’t too early. Clearly there’s been a mistake.”
I knew they’d used a surrogate but I didn’t expect her to be so
open about it. It takes serious money to look like she does and it’s not
surprising she’d want to protect her investment. Personally, I see nothing
wrong with cosmetic surrogacy. The practice of paying a woman to carry your
child simply to avoid the more unpleasant physical side effects of motherhood
has been used by the affluent for decades. But since the recent string of
celebrity confessions, backlash from the public has been severe.
By society’s standards, the couple sitting across from me is
perfect. Gracefully crossing her long legs, Mrs. Garner is a picture of
generous curves and blond hair, her exactly symmetrical brow implants
accentuating her sparkling purple eyes. Mr. Garner’s just as impressive, all
muscle and jaw, subdermals accentuating his broad shoulders, his pants bulging
where they should. The file on my desk says they’re richer than sin, he a big
shot in sales and she a fashion consultant. In short, they’re everything most
people want to be. They’re perfect.
Except they’re in my office. Customers only come see me when
there’s a problem.
“The situation is entirely unacceptable and we want to know what
your company is going to do about it.” Mrs. Garner starts.
I open the file and make a show of flipping through the pages I
memorized before they came in. Myparents
opted for cognitive enhancement rather than physical.
“Mrs. Garner, it says here you only gave birth two weeks ago.
It’s awfully early to be dissatisfied, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t
give birth and no it isn’t too early. Clearly there’s been a mistake.”
I knew they’d used a surrogate but I didn’t expect her to be so
open about it. It takes serious money to look like she does and it’s not
surprising she’d want to protect her investment. Personally, I see nothing
wrong with cosmetic surrogacy. The practice of paying a woman to carry your
child simply to avoid the more unpleasant physical side effects of motherhood
has been used by the affluent for decades. But since the recent string of
celebrity confessions, backlash from the public has been severe.
I pull a page from the file and set it in front of her. “You and
your husband chose the Hercules package, correct?”
“With the athletic upgrades,” Mr. Garner adds.
“Well, your child’s only two weeks old. The first signs of
increased size and muscle development won’t be visible for at least a year,
probably longer.”
Mrs. Garner shakes her head. “That’s not the problem.”
“Well then, what is?”
She shifts in her chair. “Is there someone else we can talk to
about this?”
I force a smile. Her nervousness explains everything. Even in
this day and age most white people don’t want to have this conversation with a
black man.
“I’m the Director of Customer Satisfaction, Mrs. Garner. There’s
nobody more qualified to address your concerns than me. Please, what exactly is
the problem?”
“Our son, he’s…” she leans toward me and lowers her voice, “he’s
the wrong color.”
I leave my expression blank. “The wrong color?”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t mean the wrong color. I mean a
different color. I mean he doesn’t look like us. We’re both fair skinned. I
burn if I’m out in the sun more than ten minutes. But our son, he’s, well-“
“He’s black.” Mr. Garner finishes for her.
“He’s not very black,” Mrs. Garner continues hurriedly. “He’s
actually a lovely caramel tone. Really, he’s a beautiful baby. And we’re not
saying there’s anything wrong with being…his being…darker skinned. We just
don’t understand…”
“Listen,” Mr. Garner interrupts, “My family’s been up my ass as
it is. For months all it’s been is ‘When’s the baby due?’ and ‘How’s the
nursery coming?’ She hasn’t left the house for three months to keep the
surrogate a secret from the neighbors. How’m I gonna explain a kid that doesn’t
look like us? You know how people feel about genetic enhancement. We’ll be
driven out of the neighborhood!”
“And how did this happen in the first place?” Mrs. Garner squawked.
“Well, some of the enhancements you wanted couldn’t be derived
from either of your DNA sequences. Some of your son’s DNA came from a donor, a
professional athlete of considerable skill, you’ll be happy to know. Of course,
I’m not allowed to say who. You understand.”
“Donor DNA?” Mr. Garner asks.
I nod. “You can only build a machine if you have all the parts.
Sometimes the parents’ DNA doesn’t give us all the raw material we need to get
the results they want. When that’s the case we supplement their DNA with a
donor’s.”
“So our son isn’t all ours?” Mrs. Garner looks on the edge of
tears. It strikes me as an odd reaction from a woman who chose not to carry her
child in order to avoid stretch marks.
“The supplemental DNA makes up only a fraction of your son’s
genome, less than ten percent.” I try to reassure her. “And it’s necessary to
get the results you want.”
Mr. Garner stands up and leans threateningly over the desk.
“You’re saying my DNA isn’t good enough?”
“Not your DNA dear, our DNA.” Mrs. Garner lays a calming hand on
her husband’s arm.
He shrugs it off. “No, you heard him. Considerable skill or not,
I’m raising ten percent of some other guy’s kid!”
“Actually, Mr. Garner, the deficiencies we encountered weren’t
from your genome.”
They pause and look at each other, obviously confused. “What do
you mean?” Mrs. Garner asks.
“I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but the professional
athlete that served as your son’s donor was female.”
Comprehension dawned on Mr. Garner’s face. “So it wasn’t my DNA
that was the problem.”
“No.”
“What?” Mrs. Garner shrieks as she stands.
“Now dear,” Mr. Garner sits, taking her hand and pulling her
back into her seat, “your side of the family is all short. Your mom’s shorter
than your dad and he’s four inches shorter than you are.”
“Which probably explains the donor DNA we found in your genome.”
I interject.
Mrs. Garner pales, her eyes wide. “What?” she asks in a whisper.
I pull a page from the file and set it in front of her. “You and
your husband chose the Hercules package, correct?”
“With the athletic upgrades,” Mr. Garner adds.
“Well, your child’s only two weeks old. The first signs of
increased size and muscle development won’t be visible for at least a year,
probably longer.”
Mrs. Garner shakes her head. “That’s not the problem.”
“Well then, what is?”
She shifts in her chair. “Is there someone else we can talk to
about this?”
I force a smile. Her nervousness explains everything. Even in
this day and age most white people don’t want to have this conversation with a
black man.
“I’m the Director of Customer Satisfaction, Mrs. Garner. There’s
nobody more qualified to address your concerns than me. Please, what exactly is
the problem?”
“Our son, he’s…” she leans toward me and lowers her voice, “he’s
the wrong color.”
I leave my expression blank. “The wrong color?”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t mean the wrong color. I mean a
different color. I mean he doesn’t look like us. We’re both fair skinned. I
burn if I’m out in the sun more than ten minutes. But our son, he’s, well-“
“He’s black.” Mr. Garner finishes for her.
“He’s not very black,” Mrs. Garner continues hurriedly. “He’s
actually a lovely caramel tone. Really, he’s a beautiful baby. And we’re not
saying there’s anything wrong with being…his being…darker skinned. We just
don’t understand…”
“Listen,” Mr. Garner interrupts, “My family’s been up my ass as
it is. For months all it’s been is ‘When’s the baby due?’ and ‘How’s the
nursery coming?’ She hasn’t left the house for three months to keep the
surrogate a secret from the neighbors. How’m I gonna explain a kid that doesn’t
look like us? You know how people feel about genetic enhancement. We’ll be
driven out of the neighborhood!”
“And how did this happen in the first place?” Mrs. Garner squawked.
“Well, some of the enhancements you wanted couldn’t be derived
from either of your DNA sequences. Some of your son’s DNA came from a donor, a
professional athlete of considerable skill, you’ll be happy to know. Of course,
I’m not allowed to say who. You understand.”
“Donor DNA?” Mr. Garner asks.
I nod. “You can only build a machine if you have all the parts.
Sometimes the parents’ DNA doesn’t give us all the raw material we need to get
the results they want. When that’s the case we supplement their DNA with a
donor’s.”
“So our son isn’t all ours?” Mrs. Garner looks on the edge of
tears. It strikes me as an odd reaction from a woman who chose not to carry her
child in order to avoid stretch marks.
“The supplemental DNA makes up only a fraction of your son’s
genome, less than ten percent.” I try to reassure her. “And it’s necessary to
get the results you want.”
Mr. Garner stands up and leans threateningly over the desk.
“You’re saying my DNA isn’t good enough?”
“Not your DNA dear, our DNA.” Mrs. Garner lays a calming hand on
her husband’s arm.
He shrugs it off. “No, you heard him. Considerable skill or not,
I’m raising ten percent of some other guy’s kid!”
“Actually, Mr. Garner, the deficiencies we encountered weren’t
from your genome.”
They pause and look at each other, obviously confused. “What do
you mean?” Mrs. Garner asks.
“I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but the professional
athlete that served as your son’s donor was female.”
Comprehension dawned on Mr. Garner’s face. “So it wasn’t my DNA
that was the problem.”
“No.”
“What?” Mrs. Garner shrieks as she stands.
“Now dear,” Mr. Garner sits, taking her hand and pulling her
back into her seat, “your side of the family is all short. Your mom’s shorter
than your dad and he’s four inches shorter than you are.”
“Which probably explains the donor DNA we found in your genome.”
I interject.
Mrs. Garner pales, her eyes wide. “What?” she asks in a whisper.
“Supplementing genomes with donor DNA has been around for
decades.” I pull a brightly colored diagram out of the file and point to a
portion of Mrs. Garner’s DNA map. “This portion of your genome is from a donor
of Scandinavian decent, probably to supplement your height.”
Mrs. Garner pales further.
“And Mr. Garner,” I reach for the file but before I can open it
his hand slams it back down to the desk.
“Don’t,” he says, his eyes unfocused. “I don’t want to know.”
For a moment everything is quiet.
Finally Mrs. Garner speaks, her voice cracking slightly. “We
didn’t agree to this.”
“Actually-” I try to pick up the file but Mr. Garner still has
it pinned to the desk. I give a firm tug and he reluctantly lets go. “Actually,
it’s all in the contract.” I flip to the paragraph disclosing the use of donor
DNA. “You did read the contract?”
Mrs. Garner looks to her husband and then down at her hands.
“I had my lawyer read it,” Mr. Garner says, picking up the thick
stack of papers and flipping through a few pages before settling back into his
chair.
The office is silent.
After a few moments he leans forward again, “It’ll work, right?
He’ll be strong and fast?”
“Our success rate for babies carried to term is over ninety
percent. He’ll have a biological edge. The rest is up to training and
motivation, just like everyone else.”
Mr. Garner leans back with a thoughtful expression.
“People are so against genetic enhancement.” Mrs. Garner still
hasn’t looked up. “I just hope we’ve made the right decision.”
Mr. Garner scoffs, “They’re only against it because they can’t
afford it.”
“It’s true,” I nod. “Almost everyone with access to GE is taking
advantage of it. It’s become a necessity. You’re putting your child at a
disadvantage if you don’t use it.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Mrs. Garner looks up and pats her
husband’s arm. Their eyes meet, he nods, and they both stand.
I do the same, shaking their hands before escorting them out of
my office. Before returning to my desk I survey the reception area.
There are three more couples waiting to see me.
They’re all perfect.
“Supplementing genomes with donor DNA has been around for
decades.” I pull a brightly colored diagram out of the file and point to a
portion of Mrs. Garner’s DNA map. “This portion of your genome is from a donor
of Scandinavian decent, probably to supplement your height.”
Mrs. Garner pales further.
“And Mr. Garner,” I reach for the file but before I can open it
his hand slams it back down to the desk.
“Don’t,” he says, his eyes unfocused. “I don’t want to know.”
For a moment everything is quiet.
Finally Mrs. Garner speaks, her voice cracking slightly. “We
didn’t agree to this.”
“Actually-” I try to pick up the file but Mr. Garner still has
it pinned to the desk. I give a firm tug and he reluctantly lets go. “Actually,
it’s all in the contract.” I flip to the paragraph disclosing the use of donor
DNA. “You did read the contract?”
Mrs. Garner looks to her husband and then down at her hands.
“I had my lawyer read it,” Mr. Garner says, picking up the thick
stack of papers and flipping through a few pages before settling back into his
chair.
The office is silent.
After a few moments he leans forward again, “It’ll work, right?
He’ll be strong and fast?”
“Our success rate for babies carried to term is over ninety
percent. He’ll have a biological edge. The rest is up to training and
motivation, just like everyone else.”
Mr. Garner leans back with a thoughtful expression.
“People are so against genetic enhancement.” Mrs. Garner still
hasn’t looked up. “I just hope we’ve made the right decision.”
Mr. Garner scoffs, “They’re only against it because they can’t
afford it.”
“It’s true,” I nod. “Almost everyone with access to GE is taking
advantage of it. It’s become a necessity. You’re putting your child at a
disadvantage if you don’t use it.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Mrs. Garner looks up and pats her
husband’s arm. Their eyes meet, he nods, and they both stand.
I do the same, shaking their hands before escorting them out of
my office. Before returning to my desk I survey the reception area.
There are three more couples waiting to see me.
They’re all perfect.
Children grow up with stories of wizards and swordsman. Even my children did — although the glamour of those stories rather died when they saw the real creatures in action. War-wizardry turned cottages and fields to dust, and swords twisted in the guts of fathers and mothers far more often than they cleaved the necks of sinister villains.
The pair who met us at the river crossing — one each, a brawny
bronze-haired swordsman and his pale wisp of a wizard companion — seemed to
expect a reputation of heroes from legend. When Gretya hid behind my skirts and
Wimar began crying, the swordsman even looked a little hurt.
The wizard murmured something to him and he stepped back. A
silver circlet gleamed in the wizard’s white-blond hair, suggesting he kept to
the Covenant. That by itself wasn’t enough to let my heart beat any easier.
The last party to cross had run the ferry along its ropes to the
opposite bank and then, thoughtlessly, left it there. The swordsman was tugging
at the pulley to guide the raft back. He nodded to the wizard, who called,
“There’s plenty of room for all of us to board, ma’am. Or if you
prefer, you and the children can cross first. We don’t mind waiting, and we
have no wish to trouble you.”
He was trying to soothe me, but as my fear died down my
irritation rose perversely. “You don’t wish to, eh? Then I must beg your pardon
for preferring company that doesn’t upset my…charges.”
“Charges?” He examined us more closely. “Are you a sort of —”
“Trimeya Kaduran. Late of Endover, until it burned. I watch
after these children — eight of them, I see you counting — because after the
summer war swept through Amath there isn’t anyone else who can.”
“You’re from Amath?” the swordsman asked. His tone was
unexpectedly soft.
“We’ve come that way, too,” the wizard said. “I’m Anweth
n’Mansaken. My friend is Rathin Ormyer.”
“And you fought in the war, did you?” I forced the words past a
tightening in my throat, part lingering fear, part anger.
“Not for long,” Rathin said. It seemed he had to force the words
past a tightness of his own.
With a final pull, the ferry bumped against the sticky clay of
the shoreline. I was set to march towards it when Anweth gasped aloud.
Unthinkingly, I turned to him with an outstretched arm; he sounded so much like
Hammet in one of his nightmares that I wanted to offer comfort.
Rathin reached him first, a supportive hand on Anweth’s shoulder
— while the fingers of the other intertwined with his. Absently I noticed the
gesture, and though it wasn’t hard to puzzle out what might cause such a thing
to be second nature to these men, it wasn’t as if I could think much less of
them.
“Premonition?” Rathin murmured.
“Yes.” Anweth blinked eyes that threatened for a moment to roll
back in his head. “They’re back.”
The pair who met us at the river crossing — one each, a brawny
bronze-haired swordsman and his pale wisp of a wizard companion — seemed to
expect a reputation of heroes from legend. When Gretya hid behind my skirts and
Wimar began crying, the swordsman even looked a little hurt.
The wizard murmured something to him and he stepped back. A
silver circlet gleamed in the wizard’s white-blond hair, suggesting he kept to
the Covenant. That by itself wasn’t enough to let my heart beat any easier.
The last party to cross had run the ferry along its ropes to the
opposite bank and then, thoughtlessly, left it there. The swordsman was tugging
at the pulley to guide the raft back. He nodded to the wizard, who called,
“There’s plenty of room for all of us to board, ma’am. Or if you
prefer, you and the children can cross first. We don’t mind waiting, and we
have no wish to trouble you.”
He was trying to soothe me, but as my fear died down my
irritation rose perversely. “You don’t wish to, eh? Then I must beg your pardon
for preferring company that doesn’t upset my…charges.”
“Charges?” He examined us more closely. “Are you a sort of —”
“Trimeya Kaduran. Late of Endover, until it burned. I watch
after these children — eight of them, I see you counting — because after the
summer war swept through Amath there isn’t anyone else who can.”
“You’re from Amath?” the swordsman asked. His tone was
unexpectedly soft.
“We’ve come that way, too,” the wizard said. “I’m Anweth
n’Mansaken. My friend is Rathin Ormyer.”
“And you fought in the war, did you?” I forced the words past a
tightening in my throat, part lingering fear, part anger.
“Not for long,” Rathin said. It seemed he had to force the words
past a tightness of his own.
With a final pull, the ferry bumped against the sticky clay of
the shoreline. I was set to march towards it when Anweth gasped aloud.
Unthinkingly, I turned to him with an outstretched arm; he sounded so much like
Hammet in one of his nightmares that I wanted to offer comfort.
Rathin reached him first, a supportive hand on Anweth’s shoulder
— while the fingers of the other intertwined with his. Absently I noticed the
gesture, and though it wasn’t hard to puzzle out what might cause such a thing
to be second nature to these men, it wasn’t as if I could think much less of
them.
“Premonition?” Rathin murmured.
“Yes.” Anweth blinked eyes that threatened for a moment to roll
back in his head. “They’re back.”
Rathin turned to me. “If you’re going to go, get going. You’ve
seen enough of this war, at least you can skip meeting the Crimson Standard.”
My gaze flew up the trail, as if I would see coming up it the
ranks of mercenaries carrying banners dipped in the blood of previous victims.
Nothing, of course. Yet… “He has premonitions?”
“Yes, I do,” Anweth said, each word falling with careful
precision. He seemed to be nursing a headache.
Esma had grabbed my hand at the Crimson Standard’s name, and I
tried to clasp hers back reassuringly, without feeling at all reassured.
Rathin released Anweth and made one final tug on the ferry line,
looking at me pointedly. I started herding the children aboard. Anweth
followed, shrugging off our offers of help, then Rathin and I took the absent
ferryman’s place, grasping the rope above and pulling, driving the raft over
the water. It was harder work and slower going than I expected or liked. Caris
and Doran, the eldest children, helped us, and Anweth joined in once he seemed
to have regained some strength. Looking back at the shore, I saw mounted
soldiers approaching it. Yes, there were crimson standards, waving in the
breeze like washing. But no amount of washing could ever make them clean.
“What if they try to wade across?” Hammet asked me.
“Pray that they don’t,” I said. Anweth turned to me. “What would
you tell him?” I whispered in reply to his look. “Go on, say it.”
Anweth released the rope and knelt before Hammet. I hadn’t
expected the move, and tensed, not wanting either of these men closer to my
children.
I kept pulling the line, bringing us towards the other shore
where we could part as quickly as possible.
“Don’t worry,” Anweth told Hammet. “Your Aunt Trimeya is going
to take care of you, and Rathin and I will handle the Crimson Standard.”
Doran looked up. “‘Aunt’s’ a term of respect in the south,” he
told me. “My father’s brother moved to the merchant cities down there, would
come up visiting. He’d picked up the habit, and our mother’s mother was
suddenly Auntie Getra. They always…” His voice faded away. They were all dead
now, except perhaps his uncle down in Calda. Maybe Doran would find him one
day, have some family left.
And in the meantime, I’d be his aunt. I’ve been called worse
things, by far.
“Next time, your premonitions might cut it a little less close,”
Rathin grunted to Anweth as we landed.
“I’ll be sure to specify that when I next give orders to the
Astet in heaven,” Anweth said drily. Then he glanced at me, perhaps expecting
me to take exception to the blasphemy.
I was beginning to suspect he’d named me ‘Aunt Trimeya’ half in
mockery.
“There are plenty of things I might choose to object to about
you,” I said, “without even bothering with what comes out of your mouth.”
I might have landed a blow on him. He stared at me wordlessly
until Rathin tapped him on the arm. “We don’t have time to spare, Anweth, Let’s
let the lady go.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said. “That’s much more generous than the
terms I could expect from most mercenaries. But then…” I caught myself in time.
“Then…?” Rathin gestured, inviting me to continue. But without
even waiting for another word from me, he strode to the post where the end of
the ferry line was tied. A stroke from his sword severed it, and the raft
vanished downstream.
The Crimson Standard still waited on the other side of the
river. Perhaps they didn’t want to risk such a strong current.
“No doubt you have good reasons to hate mercenaries, ma’am,”
Anweth said, “but Rathin and I are feeling the war as much as you are. We
regret ever being part of it. Is a little courtesy too much to ask?”
I gestured to the wilderness around us, with the most feared
mercenaries in Amath just across the river. “Does this look the proper place
for courtesy?”
He glanced at the children, gathered behind me.
“I’m trying to protect them,” I said, “not teach them fine
manners. Though—” I stepped closer to him, continuing in a lower voice, “you’d
be one to preach propriety, wouldn’t you, when your lover’s hands have roamed
all over you in front of—”
“Perhaps he should have let me fall,” Anweth suggested blandly.
“Or would you have caught me?”
“I simply think it’s a little rich to hear lessons on courtesy from perverts.”
I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them. They were true
enough, but I should know better than to express my every opinion, especially
to two strangers who, despite what they were, had been nothing but helpful. It
was hardly as if the children or I would take harm—after all we had seen—from
the sight of a single touch, which might even to innocent minds look innocent.
“I see I’d be wasting my breath,” Anweth said, and he turned
away from me. “Yes,” he called to Rathin, “Let’s let the lady go.”
“What did you say to him?” Caris murmured to me as I led the
children away.
“An irrelevant truth,” I answered wearily. Caris was one of the
eldest of my children, not only in age; for a long time she’d had no choice but
to accept some weaknesses in those she relied on.
The rest of the day was a long walk. We weren’t followed;
perhaps Rathin and Anweth had taken a different path, or stopped to rest, or
perhaps the Crimson Standard had crossed the river after all. It wasn’t any of
our business anymore.
Rathin turned to me. “If you’re going to go, get going. You’ve
seen enough of this war, at least you can skip meeting the Crimson Standard.”
My gaze flew up the trail, as if I would see coming up it the
ranks of mercenaries carrying banners dipped in the blood of previous victims.
Nothing, of course. Yet… “He has premonitions?”
“Yes, I do,” Anweth said, each word falling with careful
precision. He seemed to be nursing a headache.
Esma had grabbed my hand at the Crimson Standard’s name, and I
tried to clasp hers back reassuringly, without feeling at all reassured.
Rathin released Anweth and made one final tug on the ferry line,
looking at me pointedly. I started herding the children aboard. Anweth
followed, shrugging off our offers of help, then Rathin and I took the absent
ferryman’s place, grasping the rope above and pulling, driving the raft over
the water. It was harder work and slower going than I expected or liked. Caris
and Doran, the eldest children, helped us, and Anweth joined in once he seemed
to have regained some strength. Looking back at the shore, I saw mounted
soldiers approaching it. Yes, there were crimson standards, waving in the
breeze like washing. But no amount of washing could ever make them clean.
“What if they try to wade across?” Hammet asked me.
“Pray that they don’t,” I said. Anweth turned to me. “What would
you tell him?” I whispered in reply to his look. “Go on, say it.”
Anweth released the rope and knelt before Hammet. I hadn’t
expected the move, and tensed, not wanting either of these men closer to my
children.
I kept pulling the line, bringing us towards the other shore
where we could part as quickly as possible.
“Don’t worry,” Anweth told Hammet. “Your Aunt Trimeya is going
to take care of you, and Rathin and I will handle the Crimson Standard.”
Doran looked up. “‘Aunt’s’ a term of respect in the south,” he
told me. “My father’s brother moved to the merchant cities down there, would
come up visiting. He’d picked up the habit, and our mother’s mother was
suddenly Auntie Getra. They always…” His voice faded away. They were all dead
now, except perhaps his uncle down in Calda. Maybe Doran would find him one
day, have some family left.
And in the meantime, I’d be his aunt. I’ve been called worse
things, by far.
“Next time, your premonitions might cut it a little less close,”
Rathin grunted to Anweth as we landed.
“I’ll be sure to specify that when I next give orders to the
Astet in heaven,” Anweth said drily. Then he glanced at me, perhaps expecting
me to take exception to the blasphemy.
I was beginning to suspect he’d named me ‘Aunt Trimeya’ half in
mockery.
“There are plenty of things I might choose to object to about
you,” I said, “without even bothering with what comes out of your mouth.”
I might have landed a blow on him. He stared at me wordlessly
until Rathin tapped him on the arm. “We don’t have time to spare, Anweth, Let’s
let the lady go.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said. “That’s much more generous than the
terms I could expect from most mercenaries. But then…” I caught myself in time.
“Then…?” Rathin gestured, inviting me to continue. But without
even waiting for another word from me, he strode to the post where the end of
the ferry line was tied. A stroke from his sword severed it, and the raft
vanished downstream.
The Crimson Standard still waited on the other side of the
river. Perhaps they didn’t want to risk such a strong current.
“No doubt you have good reasons to hate mercenaries, ma’am,”
Anweth said, “but Rathin and I are feeling the war as much as you are. We
regret ever being part of it. Is a little courtesy too much to ask?”
I gestured to the wilderness around us, with the most feared
mercenaries in Amath just across the river. “Does this look the proper place
for courtesy?”
He glanced at the children, gathered behind me.
“I’m trying to protect them,” I said, “not teach them fine
manners. Though—” I stepped closer to him, continuing in a lower voice, “you’d
be one to preach propriety, wouldn’t you, when your lover’s hands have roamed
all over you in front of—”
“Perhaps he should have let me fall,” Anweth suggested blandly.
“Or would you have caught me?”
“I simply think it’s a little rich to hear lessons on courtesy from perverts.”
I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them. They were true
enough, but I should know better than to express my every opinion, especially
to two strangers who, despite what they were, had been nothing but helpful. It
was hardly as if the children or I would take harm—after all we had seen—from
the sight of a single touch, which might even to innocent minds look innocent.
“I see I’d be wasting my breath,” Anweth said, and he turned
away from me. “Yes,” he called to Rathin, “Let’s let the lady go.”
“What did you say to him?” Caris murmured to me as I led the
children away.
“An irrelevant truth,” I answered wearily. Caris was one of the
eldest of my children, not only in age; for a long time she’d had no choice but
to accept some weaknesses in those she relied on.
The rest of the day was a long walk. We weren’t followed;
perhaps Rathin and Anweth had taken a different path, or stopped to rest, or
perhaps the Crimson Standard had crossed the river after all. It wasn’t any of
our business anymore.
We went without a fire that evening, sitting close with blankets
on our shoulders for warmth. Caris knelt beside me, Esma and Wimar falling
asleep in our laps. She spoke quietly so as not to disturb them.
“Those men today were helpful. Even if they were ex-mercenaries.
It was a…surprise, but a pleasant one.”
Her expression was impossible to read in the dark. Perhaps it
was only my guilty imagination making her soft words accusing?
“They were lovers,” I said.
“That’s a large assumption to make just because two men are very
easy around each other—”
“The way they touched made me suspect. When I voiced my
suspicions to the wizard, he didn’t deny them.”
“Still,” Caris said, “it seems a small enough thing. If you
hadn’t already disliked them for their history—”
“Why does it matter?” I hissed. “Rogues or inverts, you can’t
expect me to sing their praises just because we left their company unharmed. Is
it too much for me to ask honesty and decency in a person before I respect
them?”
Caris was quiet a long time, Esma resting peacefully in her
arms. She rubbed the child’s back, and at last she said, “When you took me in,
I had nowhere else to go. I’d fled my home after soldiers burst in on us one
night. They…before my family’s eyes…I thought I’d die of shame at the time, but
I lived. Deep down, beneath the pain and humiliation, I was proud of that. And
then my father and mother gave me a knife. They expected me to cut my wrists,
to die for my lost honor. So long as I lived with them my humiliation was a
lasting disgrace on my family.
“So I left. They asked too much for the sake of decency.”
“Such decency,” I said, “sounds entirely indecent.”
“It seems so clear to us, doesn’t it? It’s more important to spare
others harm than to live unblemished.” Caris sighed. “The logic of my own
thoughts sometimes leads me to unexpected places. Uncomfortable ones. And
certainly not very honorable.”
“But what makes honor, Caris? You have strength and courage.
Even if I cannot see the entire world with the same eyes you do, I know you’re
worthy of the respect of anyone you meet.”
“Yet how few show it,” she murmured. She was given to
introspection and sometimes melancholy, and none of my words could draw her
from it now. I pressed her hand, offering comfort.
Light and sound erupted around us. Several of the children cried
out. I kept a rein on my tongue, but leapt high enough to almost shake Wimar
from my arms.
We went without a fire that evening, sitting close with blankets
on our shoulders for warmth. Caris knelt beside me, Esma and Wimar falling
asleep in our laps. She spoke quietly so as not to disturb them.
“Those men today were helpful. Even if they were ex-mercenaries.
It was a…surprise, but a pleasant one.”
Her expression was impossible to read in the dark. Perhaps it
was only my guilty imagination making her soft words accusing?
“They were lovers,” I said.
“That’s a large assumption to make just because two men are very
easy around each other—”
“The way they touched made me suspect. When I voiced my
suspicions to the wizard, he didn’t deny them.”
“Still,” Caris said, “it seems a small enough thing. If you
hadn’t already disliked them for their history—”
“Why does it matter?” I hissed. “Rogues or inverts, you can’t
expect me to sing their praises just because we left their company unharmed. Is
it too much for me to ask honesty and decency in a person before I respect
them?”
Caris was quiet a long time, Esma resting peacefully in her
arms. She rubbed the child’s back, and at last she said, “When you took me in,
I had nowhere else to go. I’d fled my home after soldiers burst in on us one
night. They…before my family’s eyes…I thought I’d die of shame at the time, but
I lived. Deep down, beneath the pain and humiliation, I was proud of that. And
then my father and mother gave me a knife. They expected me to cut my wrists,
to die for my lost honor. So long as I lived with them my humiliation was a
lasting disgrace on my family.
“So I left. They asked too much for the sake of decency.”
“Such decency,” I said, “sounds entirely indecent.”
“It seems so clear to us, doesn’t it? It’s more important to spare
others harm than to live unblemished.” Caris sighed. “The logic of my own
thoughts sometimes leads me to unexpected places. Uncomfortable ones. And
certainly not very honorable.”
“But what makes honor, Caris? You have strength and courage.
Even if I cannot see the entire world with the same eyes you do, I know you’re
worthy of the respect of anyone you meet.”
“Yet how few show it,” she murmured. She was given to
introspection and sometimes melancholy, and none of my words could draw her
from it now. I pressed her hand, offering comfort.
Light and sound erupted around us. Several of the children cried
out. I kept a rein on my tongue, but leapt high enough to almost shake Wimar
from my arms.
The wizard, Anweth, stood before me in a blaze of silver light.
His voice echoed around the clearing. “Trimeya Kaduran, you must go. The
Crimson Standard is following your path. We’re trying to hold them back, as
long as possible—” His voice fell into a groan, pain and fear thick in the
sound. His image folded over and vanished.
Caris was on her feet, Esma clinging to her skirts. I passed
Wimar to her and went around the clearing, gathering the children together and
soothing them, collecting my own nerves somewhere along the way.
“I know you’re tired,” I said, “but we have to start walking
again. Another few miles, and we can sleep for the rest of the night.”
“With the Crimson Standard after us?” Doran asked.
I spoke to him in a low voice. “They won’t come after us
tonight. They take prisoners when they can, and kill them slowly. They have—”
The names caught in my throat; I shook my head sadly. “But at least the wizard
sent us warning. They’ve protected us to the end.”
Yet my stomach clenched at the thought that it was far from
over.
Doran closed his eyes with a deep, strengthening breath. Caris
appeared beside him, already calm. She pressed Esma and Wimar to me. Her
expression was composed and deliberate.
“No, Caris,” I told her before she could say a word.
“You’re right, we have to save the children. It’s what Rathin
and Anweth would sacrifice themselves for. But I—I can’t—my own strain of honor
won’t let me leave them unaided.”
“You couldn’t! Caris, a young woman like you in the Crimson
Standard’s midst would be—”
“I know the sort of thing they might do,” she said coldly. “They
have several interesting innovations for the torture of men. Did you know
that?”
“I forbid you to go, Caris.” Our eyes met by starlight. She was
about to refuse me. I said, “I’ll do it.”
Doran gasped, as if he could take my words from the air.
“A graying-haired woman like me would be of less interest to
them,” I said, half-trying to convince myself. “And I…Caris, you are strong and
honorable. Doran is kind and wise. The world needs people like you, and the
children, and… Anyway, I’m only a sour person with good intentions. Much more
easily spared.”
I took the purse from my belt and gave it to Caris, and wrapped
my blanket around Esma’s shoulders. “I’ll follow you…if I can. Wait for me, if
you will, somewhere safe. Good luck, my loves.”
I kissed each of them goodbye and, as they disappeared down the
starlit road, I turned my own steps back the way we had come.
The wizard, Anweth, stood before me in a blaze of silver light.
His voice echoed around the clearing. “Trimeya Kaduran, you must go. The
Crimson Standard is following your path. We’re trying to hold them back, as
long as possible—” His voice fell into a groan, pain and fear thick in the
sound. His image folded over and vanished.
Caris was on her feet, Esma clinging to her skirts. I passed
Wimar to her and went around the clearing, gathering the children together and
soothing them, collecting my own nerves somewhere along the way.
“I know you’re tired,” I said, “but we have to start walking
again. Another few miles, and we can sleep for the rest of the night.”
“With the Crimson Standard after us?” Doran asked.
I spoke to him in a low voice. “They won’t come after us
tonight. They take prisoners when they can, and kill them slowly. They have—”
The names caught in my throat; I shook my head sadly. “But at least the wizard
sent us warning. They’ve protected us to the end.”
Yet my stomach clenched at the thought that it was far from
over.
Doran closed his eyes with a deep, strengthening breath. Caris
appeared beside him, already calm. She pressed Esma and Wimar to me. Her
expression was composed and deliberate.
“No, Caris,” I told her before she could say a word.
“You’re right, we have to save the children. It’s what Rathin
and Anweth would sacrifice themselves for. But I—I can’t—my own strain of honor
won’t let me leave them unaided.”
“You couldn’t! Caris, a young woman like you in the Crimson
Standard’s midst would be—”
“I know the sort of thing they might do,” she said coldly. “They
have several interesting innovations for the torture of men. Did you know
that?”
“I forbid you to go, Caris.” Our eyes met by starlight. She was
about to refuse me. I said, “I’ll do it.”
Doran gasped, as if he could take my words from the air.
“A graying-haired woman like me would be of less interest to
them,” I said, half-trying to convince myself. “And I…Caris, you are strong and
honorable. Doran is kind and wise. The world needs people like you, and the
children, and… Anyway, I’m only a sour person with good intentions. Much more
easily spared.”
I took the purse from my belt and gave it to Caris, and wrapped
my blanket around Esma’s shoulders. “I’ll follow you…if I can. Wait for me, if
you will, somewhere safe. Good luck, my loves.”
I kissed each of them goodbye and, as they disappeared down the
starlit road, I turned my own steps back the way we had come.
The Crimson Standard had a fire, larger than a cottage hearth,
with their bloodstained banners wafting in the heated air above it. On a frame
nearby, two prisoners were bound. Rathin’s wrists looked raw from struggling.
Anweth hung still beside him, eyes covered by a woven leather band wrapped
cruelly tight. The weaving chilled me to look at—a wizard’s blind, keeping his
powers in check.
Most spells relied on words, if not also elaborate gestures,
intricate symbols and arcane ingredients. A gag was enough to keep most wizards
in check. But Amathan captors try to leave their playthings free to scream.
I wiped damp hands on my skirt and walked into the firelight.
Bright-eyed faces above solid red tunics turned to me, split
into grins and laughter. They were surprised. It was my only advantage, that
and the fact that I was pureblooded, golden-skinned and raven-haired Amathan.
We had in common a superiority over any lesser people.
Rathin started when he got a good look at me, but nobody noticed
and he had no reason to reveal our prior connection.
That was my part of the plan, just forming as I stood there. “I
see you’ve come across the mercenary scum staining these words,” I said to the
Crimson Standard. The ease with which I hit that tone of contempt did not leave
me proud.
“That, and an honored matron,” said one man, gray-haired and
scarred, who must be the leader of the band—until the day came when he fell in
battle to be replaced by an equally ruthless successor. He seemed less than
convinced of my honor, but also content to let me speak.
“A matron with no home,” I said sourly. “My village burned by
marauding monsters like those two there. I’ve seen children terrorized and old
men slain by their kind. These two in particular…”
“You have history.” The Standard’s leader raised his eyebrows,
taken aback or perhaps amused by my venom.
“Yes,” I said. “Are you going to kill them?”
“In time,” he said easily.
“Let me help.”
The few chuckles greeting my request were warm, even approving.
“Would you like something to eat first?” one man asked.
Any reply I could make to that—I hunger only for revenge, perhaps—seemed a little overdone,
so I only shook my head in stern silence. And held out my hand for a knife.
The leader took one from a block beside the fire. A butcher’s
blade, thick and jagged, but with a fine sharp tip. He took my arm as if escorting
a fine lady, and led me to the prisoners on the frame.
“We’ll give you one,” he said. “Do what you wish, make it as
thorough as you like—or can.”
The slight against my torturing abilities I ignored. I reached
again for the knife.
He let me take it, but stood studying me. “You must have noble
blood,” he remarked. “The serf class seems to have lost their taste for these
diversions. Has their rage burned out, I wonder? Or only their courage?”
The Crimson Standard had a fire, larger than a cottage hearth,
with their bloodstained banners wafting in the heated air above it. On a frame
nearby, two prisoners were bound. Rathin’s wrists looked raw from struggling.
Anweth hung still beside him, eyes covered by a woven leather band wrapped
cruelly tight. The weaving chilled me to look at—a wizard’s blind, keeping his
powers in check.
Most spells relied on words, if not also elaborate gestures,
intricate symbols and arcane ingredients. A gag was enough to keep most wizards
in check. But Amathan captors try to leave their playthings free to scream.
I wiped damp hands on my skirt and walked into the firelight.
Bright-eyed faces above solid red tunics turned to me, split
into grins and laughter. They were surprised. It was my only advantage, that
and the fact that I was pureblooded, golden-skinned and raven-haired Amathan.
We had in common a superiority over any lesser people.
Rathin started when he got a good look at me, but nobody noticed
and he had no reason to reveal our prior connection.
That was my part of the plan, just forming as I stood there. “I
see you’ve come across the mercenary scum staining these words,” I said to the
Crimson Standard. The ease with which I hit that tone of contempt did not leave
me proud.
“That, and an honored matron,” said one man, gray-haired and
scarred, who must be the leader of the band—until the day came when he fell in
battle to be replaced by an equally ruthless successor. He seemed less than
convinced of my honor, but also content to let me speak.
“A matron with no home,” I said sourly. “My village burned by
marauding monsters like those two there. I’ve seen children terrorized and old
men slain by their kind. These two in particular…”
“You have history.” The Standard’s leader raised his eyebrows,
taken aback or perhaps amused by my venom.
“Yes,” I said. “Are you going to kill them?”
“In time,” he said easily.
“Let me help.”
The few chuckles greeting my request were warm, even approving.
“Would you like something to eat first?” one man asked.
Any reply I could make to that—I hunger only for revenge, perhaps—seemed a little overdone,
so I only shook my head in stern silence. And held out my hand for a knife.
The leader took one from a block beside the fire. A butcher’s
blade, thick and jagged, but with a fine sharp tip. He took my arm as if escorting
a fine lady, and led me to the prisoners on the frame.
“We’ll give you one,” he said. “Do what you wish, make it as
thorough as you like—or can.”
The slight against my torturing abilities I ignored. I reached
again for the knife.
He let me take it, but stood studying me. “You must have noble
blood,” he remarked. “The serf class seems to have lost their taste for these
diversions. Has their rage burned out, I wonder? Or only their courage?”
“If it’s noble to hate, I am noble,” I said. “Will you give me
the wizard?”
The leader stepped back, letting me approach Anweth. Beside him,
Rathin watched me with a blank look, as if in shock or horror.
“Do you know,” I said, slowly, sourly, “what these two are to
each other? The things they do to each other?”
The leader backed away farther, out of reach. As if afraid my
disgust and hatred would boil over onto everyone around me. All the Crimson
Standard were watching, hardly breathing. Some smiled, but some looked wary. As
if their own tenets, when spoken from my mouth soaked in rage, made them
uneasy.
“There’s nothing worth sparing here,” I said, stepping very
close to Anweth. I raised the blade and willed my hand to be steady.
I slashed at the wizard’s blind, severing it over his brow. The
blade nicked his skin, drawing a line of blood, but even as the pain stung him
so did his power. With a gasp, he seized it and unleashed it in a string of
liquid words. The ropes binding him and Rathin slithered off as if in
revulsion.
I caught Rathin as he stumbled free. Anweth was already
standing, flinging an arm out, shouting something. An acid white glow filled my
vision, like silent lightning striking the ground beside me. Now Rathin was the
one holding me, guiding me through the camp even as I blinked away shadows. He
must have recognized the spell and shut his eyes before it struck. The Crimson
Standard, unprepared, reeled blindly around us.
Rathin found his sword leaning beside the leader’s chair. He
drew it and looked around.
“No time for that,” Anweth said beside us.
Rathin followed him into the forest with a curse. I threw him a
look of understanding. I wouldn’t have minded if a few of the Crimson Standard
had been cut down there and then.
At a final word from Anweth, the fire swelled, tongues grabbing
for the banners hanging over them. They caught, and flames raced down the
standard poles. They fell, burning, catching men beneath and between them. The
conflagration spread to tents, supplies, uniforms.
“Was that war magic?” I panted to Anweth as we ran away.
“No,” he said. “Just a spell for lighting fires—magnified, I
admit. But I’m not a war wizard anymore.” He slowed at one point, gasping in
breath. “So you…ah…”
“It would have been dishonorable to have abandoned you after the
help you offered us,” I said.
“I wasn’t certain at the time that you didn’t mean it.” He
touched his forehead, wincing as his fingers found the cut. I offered him a
handkerchief to stanch it.
“All things considered,” I said, “you’re not a bad sort. Neither
of you are.”
He studied me, and said at last, “You aren’t, either, Aunt
Trimeya.”
#
We caught up with the children by dawn, and as there was only
one road through the forest, we took it together. In the end we parted at
Surannah, a small village sending some wagons of extra produce up along the
caravan route to Sarnost’an in the mountains. The carters welcomed the presence
of a friendly wizard and swordsman. Rathin seemed no less pleased.
“It’s been too long since we’ve been caravan guards,” he said.
Doran would continue south, to his uncle’s family. For the time
being I would go with him, and of course the children would come with me.
Caris found Rathin and Anweth as we were bidding farewell, and
asked if she could travel with them.
“Not, of course, that I’d need your permission to travel with
the caravan. I’ve talked to the carters and they already welcomed me.” She
tossed her head and smiled. Utterly without shame. “But to have some
companions, someone to look to for assistance or advice…”
“And how could we possibly assist you?” Anweth smiled.
“Your companionship, then. At least to Sarnost’an.”
“That you can have.” Rathin grinned and offered her his hand.
Before taking it, she turned to me.
“You don’t need my permission,” I said.
“No, but I’d like it, if you would give it.”
I kissed her forehead. “I can think of no one else I’d be
happier to entrust you with.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“So what are your plans for Sarnost’an?” Anweth asked her as I
walked away.
“I’m not sure yet. Perhaps I’ll open a shop, settle down.”
“Marry?” In a voice so low I had to strain to hear it—and I did,
I admit, eager to catch these last hints of Caris’s future—Anweth continued
teasingly, “Do you expect our advice on that? Help you find the best man?
Because our opinions may—”
“Not necessarily.” She laughed. “I don’t need matchmakers, even
if you’d be willing to play them. And even if I did… The first time I ever fell
in love was three summers ago. Her name was Isema. I was too shy to admit it at
first, but now that I know…”
Perhaps she meant for me to hear. But I think not. She laughed,
utterly carefree, unselfconscious.
And yet, why should she be anything else? She was among friends
who loved and admired her. She knew, and she must have trusted that we all did,
that she had never done anything to be ashamed of, anything but what was decent
and honorable.
“If it’s noble to hate, I am noble,” I said. “Will you give me
the wizard?”
The leader stepped back, letting me approach Anweth. Beside him,
Rathin watched me with a blank look, as if in shock or horror.
“Do you know,” I said, slowly, sourly, “what these two are to
each other? The things they do to each other?”
The leader backed away farther, out of reach. As if afraid my
disgust and hatred would boil over onto everyone around me. All the Crimson
Standard were watching, hardly breathing. Some smiled, but some looked wary. As
if their own tenets, when spoken from my mouth soaked in rage, made them
uneasy.
“There’s nothing worth sparing here,” I said, stepping very
close to Anweth. I raised the blade and willed my hand to be steady.
I slashed at the wizard’s blind, severing it over his brow. The
blade nicked his skin, drawing a line of blood, but even as the pain stung him
so did his power. With a gasp, he seized it and unleashed it in a string of
liquid words. The ropes binding him and Rathin slithered off as if in
revulsion.
I caught Rathin as he stumbled free. Anweth was already
standing, flinging an arm out, shouting something. An acid white glow filled my
vision, like silent lightning striking the ground beside me. Now Rathin was the
one holding me, guiding me through the camp even as I blinked away shadows. He
must have recognized the spell and shut his eyes before it struck. The Crimson
Standard, unprepared, reeled blindly around us.
Rathin found his sword leaning beside the leader’s chair. He
drew it and looked around.
“No time for that,” Anweth said beside us.
Rathin followed him into the forest with a curse. I threw him a
look of understanding. I wouldn’t have minded if a few of the Crimson Standard
had been cut down there and then.
At a final word from Anweth, the fire swelled, tongues grabbing
for the banners hanging over them. They caught, and flames raced down the
standard poles. They fell, burning, catching men beneath and between them. The
conflagration spread to tents, supplies, uniforms.
“Was that war magic?” I panted to Anweth as we ran away.
“No,” he said. “Just a spell for lighting fires—magnified, I
admit. But I’m not a war wizard anymore.” He slowed at one point, gasping in
breath. “So you…ah…”
“It would have been dishonorable to have abandoned you after the
help you offered us,” I said.
“I wasn’t certain at the time that you didn’t mean it.” He
touched his forehead, wincing as his fingers found the cut. I offered him a
handkerchief to stanch it.
“All things considered,” I said, “you’re not a bad sort. Neither
of you are.”
He studied me, and said at last, “You aren’t, either, Aunt
Trimeya.”
#
We caught up with the children by dawn, and as there was only
one road through the forest, we took it together. In the end we parted at
Surannah, a small village sending some wagons of extra produce up along the
caravan route to Sarnost’an in the mountains. The carters welcomed the presence
of a friendly wizard and swordsman. Rathin seemed no less pleased.
“It’s been too long since we’ve been caravan guards,” he said.
Doran would continue south, to his uncle’s family. For the time
being I would go with him, and of course the children would come with me.
Caris found Rathin and Anweth as we were bidding farewell, and
asked if she could travel with them.
“Not, of course, that I’d need your permission to travel with
the caravan. I’ve talked to the carters and they already welcomed me.” She
tossed her head and smiled. Utterly without shame. “But to have some
companions, someone to look to for assistance or advice…”
“And how could we possibly assist you?” Anweth smiled.
“Your companionship, then. At least to Sarnost’an.”
“That you can have.” Rathin grinned and offered her his hand.
Before taking it, she turned to me.
“You don’t need my permission,” I said.
“No, but I’d like it, if you would give it.”
I kissed her forehead. “I can think of no one else I’d be
happier to entrust you with.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“So what are your plans for Sarnost’an?” Anweth asked her as I
walked away.
“I’m not sure yet. Perhaps I’ll open a shop, settle down.”
“Marry?” In a voice so low I had to strain to hear it—and I did,
I admit, eager to catch these last hints of Caris’s future—Anweth continued
teasingly, “Do you expect our advice on that? Help you find the best man?
Because our opinions may—”
“Not necessarily.” She laughed. “I don’t need matchmakers, even
if you’d be willing to play them. And even if I did… The first time I ever fell
in love was three summers ago. Her name was Isema. I was too shy to admit it at
first, but now that I know…”
Perhaps she meant for me to hear. But I think not. She laughed,
utterly carefree, unselfconscious.
And yet, why should she be anything else? She was among friends
who loved and admired her. She knew, and she must have trusted that we all did,
that she had never done anything to be ashamed of, anything but what was decent
and honorable.
I
do
Gopal was looking at his newlywed wife. She was tall, slim and beautiful. Her long hairs were flowing in the ground while she was picking books from the floor. He got married months back only. She was much more beautiful then what he expected his wife would be.
Gopal
was an architect and a very simple and contented guy. He was staying with his
friend in a small room in Pushp Vihar, New Delhi. Since his friend got married,
he has started feeling very lonely. He was a very bright student, had won many
scholarships and belonged to a poor family. He spent most of his Study life in
hostel away from his parents and siblings. He always felt the desire of being
with his family, loneliness has always been way of his life. His parents hardly
used to visit him in the school hostel while other kids parents used to come to
meet them very often, call them and even used to send gifts and food items.
Gopal’s parent used to come to take him once a year only when it was compulsory
to take the child home. Gopal always used to envy the other child’s in his
class and hostel. Since childhood, there has always been a desire in his heart
of having a very loving family wherein he is staying happily with his parents,
sisters and brothers, everybody is happy and caring and share each other’s
happiness and sorrow.
Time
passed by, he finished his school, took the engineering entrance test of ‘West
Bengal Joint’ and got a chance to study Architecture in one of the eminent
college of west Bengal. His college was also known as prajapati college as it
was said that almost every student have an affair. However, Gopal still could
not find a love of his life in the college, blaim his simplicity and the lack
of any extra money to afford girlfriend’s demands. He was good in studies and
sketching and happily assisted his hostel mates completing their girlfriend’s
assignments.
Gopal!
hey what are you thinking, you need a cup of tea. I am very tired so I need tea
badly-said Sanjana, his wife
Gopal
just wake up of his thoughts-oh yes you are working a lot, wait I will make you
a tea and he went to the kitchen.
He
looked at his house; it was a one room barsati in the top floor with one small
kitchen and a huge bathroom. The room was very very small and could hardly
accommodate a small bed and had an open concrete Almirah. There was a
small window alongside the bed without a door where he had put a curtain made
of some old bed sheets. The paint on the wall was of the cheapest quality and
the paint was coming on all hanged cloths. There was only a computer table, a
computer, a small folding bed and a plastic rack in the name of the furniture.
Sanjana,
Darling! The tea is ready said Gopal in a very sweet Voice.
Mere
Pyare Pati, Aaj cup lene chalen (Can we go to buy some cups today, please)
sighed
SanjanaTumhari
bai (maid) ne Kitna Ganda rakha tha sabkuch-Main thik sudhar doongi usko, You
could have at least bought a refrigerator before I came (Your maid has kept
everything dirty-I will scold her) Sighed Sanjan
Darling!
I wanted to buy everything as per your choice, said Gopal
While
they sipped the tea, Gopal’s thoughts went back to the days he first came to
Delhi. After he finished his architecture, he came to delhi with one of his
classmate Somitro, a Bengali boy. Both were fast friends. They Stayed together,
worked together in the same firm and shared everything until one day Soumitro
fell in love with a Punjabi girl and got married. As was natural and expected,
Soumitro moved out with his wife leaving behind a lonely Gopal who now used to
hang out with even sabjiwalas and burgerwalas to pass his time. With time it
seemed more and more difficult to leave a singular life so Gopal asked his mother
to look for a bride for him.
He
had said yes to almost all marriage proposals, his only criteria was a smart
and working girl, but his mother insisted on a fairly good looking wife for her
eldest Son and she finally agreed for Sanjana.
Gopal
looked at Sanjana, she looked beautiful while brooming the floor. She was a
software engineer and was working with TCS in Kolkata.
She
knows all household work and she doesn’t have tantrums like other city girls.
She has been in the Hostel since long, had been earning and must be having a
lot of expectations regarding her husband. How come she has not complained to
my below average amenities-Thought Gopal
Sanjana
had come to Delhi after spending a month at her In-laws house this morning
only. She was astonished to see the condition of the house Gopal was living in.
Though she was told by Gopal’s friend that what she has seen is far far better
as Gopal has already spent two days improving the cleanliness of the house. She
didn’t had a rest and decided to make the house liveable to the extent
situation permits. It had been two hours she was busy changing the bed sheet,
the curtain, the utencils and cleaning the walls and the floor. Their tiny
house changed considerably in two hours.
She
looked at the bed. It was a very old folding bed made of pipes and board. Was
bent in the middle and many other places. How I am going to sleep in this. I
can’t sleep in this small bed alone forget about sharing this with Gopal she
thought. Suddenly a small hand written note catched her attention. It was
strategically placed in one of the side so that she couldn’t have missed it. It
read “Isn’t it very romantic to sleep together in a small bed like this”. A
smile came to her face and suddenly that small worn-out bed seemed most
beautiful and cosy to her.
The
only good thing about the place was a private open terrace. Sanjana was panting
finally and went for a bath. Gopal offered to cook meal. He cooked rice and
Paneer ki sabji that is what seemed to be quick and filling. The Aroma filled
their nose –both were feeling very hungry. Sanjana looked fresh and beautiful
in her wet hair.
She
layed a chatayi (carpet made of bamboo) on the terrace and both sat to have
their meal. Gopal put the first bite in sanjana’s mouth and asked –‘You must be
having lot of expectations; I have nothing. Don’t you feel bad about this. You
haven’t complained. You must be repenting marrying me right!’
So
if I am what you are going to do about it? what you think I felt? Asked Sanjana
I
think I alone cannot do anything. We both together can achieve our dreams. I
have always dreamed of an understanding and caring wife and I feel I have got
the same –said Gopal with smile on his face
“Hmmm!
I know, you are very clever. I read your note”- Said Sanjana
“So
have I got a wife of my dreams? Do you agree to be with me for rest of my
life? Do you agree to be with me in my every moment of happiness and agony?
Will you be there to share all my achievements and failures, all my
dreams, all my aspirations” – asked Gopal
“I
do! I will be there, always, with you, for you till I am alive. Don’t worry I
have confidence on us-we together will achieve our dreams-why complain!” – said
Sanjana
So
do you accept me as your dream wife? She asked
“I
do” said Gopal with a smile on his face. They hugged each other.
Gopal
was an architect and a very simple and contented guy. He was staying with his
friend in a small room in Pushp Vihar, New Delhi. Since his friend got married,
he has started feeling very lonely. He was a very bright student, had won many
scholarships and belonged to a poor family. He spent most of his Study life in
hostel away from his parents and siblings. He always felt the desire of being
with his family, loneliness has always been way of his life. His parents hardly
used to visit him in the school hostel while other kids parents used to come to
meet them very often, call them and even used to send gifts and food items.
Gopal’s parent used to come to take him once a year only when it was compulsory
to take the child home. Gopal always used to envy the other child’s in his
class and hostel. Since childhood, there has always been a desire in his heart
of having a very loving family wherein he is staying happily with his parents,
sisters and brothers, everybody is happy and caring and share each other’s
happiness and sorrow.
Time
passed by, he finished his school, took the engineering entrance test of ‘West
Bengal Joint’ and got a chance to study Architecture in one of the eminent
college of west Bengal. His college was also known as prajapati college as it
was said that almost every student have an affair. However, Gopal still could
not find a love of his life in the college, blaim his simplicity and the lack
of any extra money to afford girlfriend’s demands. He was good in studies and
sketching and happily assisted his hostel mates completing their girlfriend’s
assignments.
Gopal!
hey what are you thinking, you need a cup of tea. I am very tired so I need tea
badly-said Sanjana, his wife
Gopal
just wake up of his thoughts-oh yes you are working a lot, wait I will make you
a tea and he went to the kitchen.
He
looked at his house; it was a one room barsati in the top floor with one small
kitchen and a huge bathroom. The room was very very small and could hardly
accommodate a small bed and had an open concrete Almirah. There was a
small window alongside the bed without a door where he had put a curtain made
of some old bed sheets. The paint on the wall was of the cheapest quality and
the paint was coming on all hanged cloths. There was only a computer table, a
computer, a small folding bed and a plastic rack in the name of the furniture.
Sanjana,
Darling! The tea is ready said Gopal in a very sweet Voice.
Mere
Pyare Pati, Aaj cup lene chalen (Can we go to buy some cups today, please)
sighed
SanjanaTumhari
bai (maid) ne Kitna Ganda rakha tha sabkuch-Main thik sudhar doongi usko, You
could have at least bought a refrigerator before I came (Your maid has kept
everything dirty-I will scold her) Sighed Sanjan
Darling!
I wanted to buy everything as per your choice, said Gopal
While
they sipped the tea, Gopal’s thoughts went back to the days he first came to
Delhi. After he finished his architecture, he came to delhi with one of his
classmate Somitro, a Bengali boy. Both were fast friends. They Stayed together,
worked together in the same firm and shared everything until one day Soumitro
fell in love with a Punjabi girl and got married. As was natural and expected,
Soumitro moved out with his wife leaving behind a lonely Gopal who now used to
hang out with even sabjiwalas and burgerwalas to pass his time. With time it
seemed more and more difficult to leave a singular life so Gopal asked his mother
to look for a bride for him.
He
had said yes to almost all marriage proposals, his only criteria was a smart
and working girl, but his mother insisted on a fairly good looking wife for her
eldest Son and she finally agreed for Sanjana.
Gopal
looked at Sanjana, she looked beautiful while brooming the floor. She was a
software engineer and was working with TCS in Kolkata.
She
knows all household work and she doesn’t have tantrums like other city girls.
She has been in the Hostel since long, had been earning and must be having a
lot of expectations regarding her husband. How come she has not complained to
my below average amenities-Thought Gopal
Sanjana
had come to Delhi after spending a month at her In-laws house this morning
only. She was astonished to see the condition of the house Gopal was living in.
Though she was told by Gopal’s friend that what she has seen is far far better
as Gopal has already spent two days improving the cleanliness of the house. She
didn’t had a rest and decided to make the house liveable to the extent
situation permits. It had been two hours she was busy changing the bed sheet,
the curtain, the utencils and cleaning the walls and the floor. Their tiny
house changed considerably in two hours.
She
looked at the bed. It was a very old folding bed made of pipes and board. Was
bent in the middle and many other places. How I am going to sleep in this. I
can’t sleep in this small bed alone forget about sharing this with Gopal she
thought. Suddenly a small hand written note catched her attention. It was
strategically placed in one of the side so that she couldn’t have missed it. It
read “Isn’t it very romantic to sleep together in a small bed like this”. A
smile came to her face and suddenly that small worn-out bed seemed most
beautiful and cosy to her.
The
only good thing about the place was a private open terrace. Sanjana was panting
finally and went for a bath. Gopal offered to cook meal. He cooked rice and
Paneer ki sabji that is what seemed to be quick and filling. The Aroma filled
their nose –both were feeling very hungry. Sanjana looked fresh and beautiful
in her wet hair.
She
layed a chatayi (carpet made of bamboo) on the terrace and both sat to have
their meal. Gopal put the first bite in sanjana’s mouth and asked –‘You must be
having lot of expectations; I have nothing. Don’t you feel bad about this. You
haven’t complained. You must be repenting marrying me right!’
So
if I am what you are going to do about it? what you think I felt? Asked Sanjana
I
think I alone cannot do anything. We both together can achieve our dreams. I
have always dreamed of an understanding and caring wife and I feel I have got
the same –said Gopal with smile on his face
“Hmmm!
I know, you are very clever. I read your note”- Said Sanjana
“So
have I got a wife of my dreams? Do you agree to be with me for rest of my
life? Do you agree to be with me in my every moment of happiness and agony?
Will you be there to share all my achievements and failures, all my
dreams, all my aspirations” – asked Gopal
“I
do! I will be there, always, with you, for you till I am alive. Don’t worry I
have confidence on us-we together will achieve our dreams-why complain!” – said
Sanjana
So
do you accept me as your dream wife? She asked
“I
do” said Gopal with a smile on his face. They hugged each other.
First
love; such a big part of who I am….
First
love; such a big part of who I am….
“Hi Raj, How was your vacation dude?” Ridhima inquired.
“Fabulous and how was yours?” Raj responded back.
“Quite good”
Raj and Ridhima were classmates, bench mates in high school, but strangely not
friends. They always shared a very formal relation; Ridhima never liked Raj,
and she often finds him insensible and weird. In fact, she proved a number of
times to change her seat, but the class-teacher often refuses her, and asks her
to sit next to Raj.
However, this was before vacations started, during and after that everything
changed. Now the things were different; Ridhima has changed; she started to
realize that, she actually admired Raj, he was the part of her life, and her
day was incomplete without him being around. She was sort of missing him, his
nonsense talks. At present, her feelings were under transformation; she was
undergoing a change; she was getting attracted to the one she hated. She was
frequently irritated by Raj, but now she was yearning to be with him.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, is what actually Ridhima was
experiencing. She was new to all this; it was the first time she was in
love , or she liked someone genuinely. She always wanted to be with someone,
because even she wanted to kiss and romances like all other friends around her;
and talk about it and her relationship.
Ridhima
turned into the daydreamer; she dreams about her confession of love to Raj, his
acceptance, the way she is proceeding to kiss him, romance between them and all
the beneficial things that she constantly learned from the people close to her.
Everything around her was beautiful; she was happy about this notion called
“love.” She sometimes smiles at her, looks up into the mirror and feels
beautiful; she commenced to dress up in a way so that Raj becomes fond of her.
She was living every second of her being in love.
She eagerly waited for vacations to end; she was turned on to meet Raj. She was
missing their arguments and more than that, Raj. She was going crazy and wanted
to be with him.
* *
*
School
reopened. Days passed; Ridhima’s excitement kept building up. She set about
enjoying her school more than any other spot on dry land. Even if she is
unwell, she never misses a day at school. She was so much in love with him,
that just to have a conversation and keep him close, so that they can speak
about something that interests Raj; she twisted on her involvement in cricket.
She never loses a couple, so that they can discuss what went right or bad
during it.
Raj
scores better in studies than Ridhima, but both were mediocre. After the month,
Ridhima felt restless and wanted to tell Raj. The question was, how? She was
timid and scared to open up about all this to anyone, though she has observed
about her feelings to one of her close friends, Namitha, who was too close to
Raj. However, choosing her won’t be right since if something sounds wrong,
Namitha’s friendship with Raj will also become involved. Then she took her
other friend, Harsh, to approach Raj and tell him, how much she loves him.
Before harsh opens up about Ridhima, she wanted to first inquire what Raj
feels.
As
Harsh approached Raj, the group of his friends also stood by his side, so it became
little challenging for him to talk about Ridhima, since he desired to insulate
him from the gang and then hash out the affair.
“Raj, can I speak to you for a moment, please?” Harsh requested.
“Yes! Sure” Raj responded.
“Well, can you walk little aside”
“Yes, say?”
“Raj, Hmmm…. What you feel about Ridhima?”
“Are you sure about your question, Harsh?”
“Yes, tell me?”
“Considerably, I don’t know, and in what sense are you talking?”
“See, Ridhima likes you, in fact; she loves you a lot”
“Wait, I mean this is mentally ill”
“Why Raj? She loves you”
“I don’t, maybe, if someone were in her place, I would have at least given a
thought, but for her, I can’t feel anything”
“Raj, I guess you should consider before you speak, anyway, bye” Harsh cited
angrily and moved.
Harsh
and Ridhima was friends ever since they have joined that school, for Harsh
Ridhima was above everyone around. He loved her, like a sister. It was
difficult for him to take the crap that Raj said; he was upset. Moreover, he
was worried how he will explain all this to Ridhima, she was so much in love
with him that this incident will break her into bits. But whatsoever, this
demands to be talked about. After gathering all the courage, he finally went to
Ridhima.
“Hey
Ridhima, I told raj about you” Harsh said slowly.
“And so what did he say, hope he likes me…” Ridhima replied excitedly.
“Sorry, he doesn’t. Instead, he said he can’t even think about this…”
“Why…?”
“Because he feels, you are not good enough for him”
“What?”
“Yes, he said something like this, and definitely he is not the one for you”
“No, harsh, I love him. Please try to understand that. I can’t imagine my life
without him”
“Ridhima, please think practically. He doesn’t even think about you”
“Then what? I keep thinking about him. I need him. I love him”
“Ridhima; you are behaving insanely.”
“I don’t care” and she rushed towards the washroom.
Harsh was confused, how to handle this, so he thought its better to leave
Ridhima alone. And then that she could sort herself out. Ridhima, was heartbroken,
she never imagined all this, for her Raj was the guy, and she thought Raj would
reciprocate the feelings as well.
* *
*
Everything was happy and beautiful, and now totally pain and agony were around.
All the love Ridhima thought was around, suddenly vanished. She supposed it was
better earlier, why did she ask Harsh to tell Raj about her beliefs? Today she
suffers to face this ugly truth, that Raj has no spirits of passion. For the
following few days, she avoided going to school, since she wasn’t sure how Raj
is going to respond in one case, they confront each other, and she is supposed
to sit beside him. Though it was hard, but she somehow convinced her mother
about it. However, doing so was just not a solution to her problem.
Ridhima, was a strong girl, who keeps things uncomplicated and straight ahead.
She decided to go, after two days of leave. She believed she will blab about
this with Raj clearly and ask him what exactly he feels; Raj might have not
liked Harsh approaching him about such a personal thing.
As she went into the schoolroom, there were a number of transitions she
noticed. First, her seat was shifted from Raj to someone else. Second, Raj was
the new class representative, so immediately he receives loads of
responsibilities, which implies he might simply avoid the crap that Ridhima
wants to talk about.
Not everything happens in life in a planned way, and for Ridhima, nothing was
falling in place. As she settled herself at a new bench, she thought its good
that her place shifted, since now she can avoid talking with Raj, and further
she decided to quit this topic.
“Hey,
Ridhima, how are you” enquired Namitha.
“I am good; I mean a kind of fine” Ridhima said with a sigh.
“Raj told me that you confessed something to him through Harsh”
“Yes! I did”
“Why didn’t you come near him?”
“Because I was frightened”
“Frightened of what? His reply?”
“Yes, but what difference it made, he doesn’t feel the same” and she smashed
down, began sobbing.
Ridhima tried to be normal, but she was broken from within. The major trouble
was; she wanted to verbalize about it with Raj, and he was unavailable.
Ultimately, she called Raj during their break time.
“Raj,
I am sorry if I offend you” Ridhima apologized.
“Ridhima how can you think all this” Raj yelled. “You are sick, what made
you think this way”
“I said, I love you”
“So, what to do? I really don’t”
“Raj, please don’t do this to me”
“Go away, girl” and Raj walked off. Bad turned for the worst, whatever she
thinks is good was turning out to be a failure. She started to feel shame for
herself, as she has fallen in love with the person, who might never understand
her passion. She wishes, if she could forget everything that is happening
around, or maybe can just melt down from all this crap.
* *
*
“Ridhima;
stop crying “Harsh consoles.
“Now let me cry; I deserve to cry, because I love the person who is so
self-centered” Ridhima sobbed.
“Listen Ridhima crying is not a solution”
“Then tell me, what the solution is?”
“OK, first tell me, what happened?”
“Raj, blames me for something I didn’t do. And the class teacher punishes me
for no reason”
“It’s OK, you calm down”
“No Harsh; this is not just the first time; he has been doing this for a long
while”
“Ridhima, I told you so many times, he was not the one for you”
“Shut up! Harsh” and she cried louder.
Raj
had powers, which he utilized to let Ridhima down. The big question was why?
Probably he thought; she is trying to intrigue him. And that was so not true,
she was just in love with him; she never thought, her love will cost her so
much annoyance. She often recalls that all this should end, but how? Raj was in
no mood to listen, she attempted a number of times to excuse him, but every
time she came near, she faced dejection. Difficulties kept piling on. As the
year came to an end, she bore to clear choices between subjects, and if their
choices differ; Raj and Ridhima will be divided into two different classrooms.
She tried to convince her mother, but eventually they got separated.
Already
nothing was right in her life; and this added on. She was gone forth with no
acquaintances, totally solo. Life was getting messed up, but she had no choice;
she had to live with it.
* *
*
For
Ridhima, it was a new start. New acquaintances, new themes, new
responsibilities and a great deal of work that kept her engaged. All that Raj
had; the attitude of the class representative, is what she delivers. She is so
happy and determined. Her self confidence went to build up; she was again given
birth from the ashes of love. Though everything kept her busy; but it
definitely can’t hold her away from the man she loved. Early in the morning;
taking an excuse, she gets to see Raj in the previous classroom, by doing this,
she was happy.
She
never talked to Raj, once they were switched to different classrooms, though
everyday she admires him from a distance. She understood, there was nothing
left to talk about. Since Raj will never understand how and what she feels; and
every time she tries, it gives more pain to her. Not everyone in the world is
sane; people respond and act differently. Probably, Raj didn’t realize what he
was serving. Perhaps, he was tempted by his acquaintances.
Everything in life takes place for a reason; Ridhima slowly got to earn it. It
was better that they split off; else Raj would have proceeded to hurt her, by
letting her down. At least, today she is detached from the agony of blames and
punishments that she stood for about four months. She admitted the fact; Raj
can never love her the way she behaves.
As
the time passes, months changes to years, and years to four; her craziness
changed to a mature outlook. She assumed her life the way it is; and was
looking ahead towards her career making. That is what exactly maturity is;
keeping odds aside and acting towards the better things. Raj hurt Ridhima in
every possible manner; he laughed upon her, abused her, made faces at her;
although she never expressed a word against him. She always said and believed,
she loves Raj more than anything else in her life; it was sad for Raj he lost
on her.
“Hi, Raj” Ridhima greeted him on the final day of school during their farewell
party.
“Hello!” Raj responded.
“ Can we have a picture together”
“yes sure”
(Clicked)
“Raj, I always wanted to tell you; that you are extremely special. Though years
have changed me a lot; but the love for you is the same”
“Ridhima, I am sorry”
“Don’t be Raj, because I never wanted an apology, all I wanted was your
presence and support”
“I am guilty, Ridhima”
“ It’s ok Raj, its life”
“You are a decent person”
“Really? It took four years to realize this? Raj my first love, made me a
better person”
“Ridhima…..”
“First love; such a big part of who I am….”
Ridhima
finally got a prospect to convey everything she felt, though it took four
years. But that is what love is all about… patience…
THE UNANSWERED QUESTION….
“Fabulous and how was yours?” Raj responded back.
“Quite good”
Raj and Ridhima were classmates, bench mates in high school, but strangely not friends. They always shared a very formal relation; Ridhima never liked Raj, and she often finds him insensible and weird. In fact, she proved a number of times to change her seat, but the class-teacher often refuses her, and asks her to sit next to Raj.
However, this was before vacations started, during and after that everything changed. Now the things were different; Ridhima has changed; she started to realize that, she actually admired Raj, he was the part of her life, and her day was incomplete without him being around. She was sort of missing him, his nonsense talks. At present, her feelings were under transformation; she was undergoing a change; she was getting attracted to the one she hated. She was frequently irritated by Raj, but now she was yearning to be with him.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, is what actually Ridhima was experiencing. She was new to all this; it was the first time she was in love , or she liked someone genuinely. She always wanted to be with someone, because even she wanted to kiss and romances like all other friends around her; and talk about it and her relationship.
“Quite good”
Raj and Ridhima were classmates, bench mates in high school, but strangely not friends. They always shared a very formal relation; Ridhima never liked Raj, and she often finds him insensible and weird. In fact, she proved a number of times to change her seat, but the class-teacher often refuses her, and asks her to sit next to Raj.
However, this was before vacations started, during and after that everything changed. Now the things were different; Ridhima has changed; she started to realize that, she actually admired Raj, he was the part of her life, and her day was incomplete without him being around. She was sort of missing him, his nonsense talks. At present, her feelings were under transformation; she was undergoing a change; she was getting attracted to the one she hated. She was frequently irritated by Raj, but now she was yearning to be with him.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, is what actually Ridhima was experiencing. She was new to all this; it was the first time she was in love , or she liked someone genuinely. She always wanted to be with someone, because even she wanted to kiss and romances like all other friends around her; and talk about it and her relationship.
Ridhima
turned into the daydreamer; she dreams about her confession of love to Raj, his
acceptance, the way she is proceeding to kiss him, romance between them and all
the beneficial things that she constantly learned from the people close to her.
Everything around her was beautiful; she was happy about this notion called
“love.” She sometimes smiles at her, looks up into the mirror and feels
beautiful; she commenced to dress up in a way so that Raj becomes fond of her.
She was living every second of her being in love.
She eagerly waited for vacations to end; she was turned on to meet Raj. She was missing their arguments and more than that, Raj. She was going crazy and wanted to be with him.
She eagerly waited for vacations to end; she was turned on to meet Raj. She was missing their arguments and more than that, Raj. She was going crazy and wanted to be with him.
* *
*
School
reopened. Days passed; Ridhima’s excitement kept building up. She set about
enjoying her school more than any other spot on dry land. Even if she is
unwell, she never misses a day at school. She was so much in love with him,
that just to have a conversation and keep him close, so that they can speak
about something that interests Raj; she twisted on her involvement in cricket.
She never loses a couple, so that they can discuss what went right or bad
during it.
Raj
scores better in studies than Ridhima, but both were mediocre. After the month,
Ridhima felt restless and wanted to tell Raj. The question was, how? She was
timid and scared to open up about all this to anyone, though she has observed
about her feelings to one of her close friends, Namitha, who was too close to
Raj. However, choosing her won’t be right since if something sounds wrong,
Namitha’s friendship with Raj will also become involved. Then she took her
other friend, Harsh, to approach Raj and tell him, how much she loves him.
Before harsh opens up about Ridhima, she wanted to first inquire what Raj
feels.
As
Harsh approached Raj, the group of his friends also stood by his side, so it became
little challenging for him to talk about Ridhima, since he desired to insulate
him from the gang and then hash out the affair.
“Raj, can I speak to you for a moment, please?” Harsh requested.
“Yes! Sure” Raj responded.
“Well, can you walk little aside”
“Yes, say?”
“Raj, Hmmm…. What you feel about Ridhima?”
“Are you sure about your question, Harsh?”
“Yes, tell me?”
“Considerably, I don’t know, and in what sense are you talking?”
“See, Ridhima likes you, in fact; she loves you a lot”
“Wait, I mean this is mentally ill”
“Why Raj? She loves you”
“I don’t, maybe, if someone were in her place, I would have at least given a thought, but for her, I can’t feel anything”
“Raj, I guess you should consider before you speak, anyway, bye” Harsh cited angrily and moved.
“Raj, can I speak to you for a moment, please?” Harsh requested.
“Yes! Sure” Raj responded.
“Well, can you walk little aside”
“Yes, say?”
“Raj, Hmmm…. What you feel about Ridhima?”
“Are you sure about your question, Harsh?”
“Yes, tell me?”
“Considerably, I don’t know, and in what sense are you talking?”
“See, Ridhima likes you, in fact; she loves you a lot”
“Wait, I mean this is mentally ill”
“Why Raj? She loves you”
“I don’t, maybe, if someone were in her place, I would have at least given a thought, but for her, I can’t feel anything”
“Raj, I guess you should consider before you speak, anyway, bye” Harsh cited angrily and moved.
Harsh
and Ridhima was friends ever since they have joined that school, for Harsh
Ridhima was above everyone around. He loved her, like a sister. It was
difficult for him to take the crap that Raj said; he was upset. Moreover, he
was worried how he will explain all this to Ridhima, she was so much in love
with him that this incident will break her into bits. But whatsoever, this
demands to be talked about. After gathering all the courage, he finally went to
Ridhima.
“Hey
Ridhima, I told raj about you” Harsh said slowly.
“And so what did he say, hope he likes me…” Ridhima replied excitedly.
“Sorry, he doesn’t. Instead, he said he can’t even think about this…”
“Why…?”
“Because he feels, you are not good enough for him”
“What?”
“Yes, he said something like this, and definitely he is not the one for you”
“No, harsh, I love him. Please try to understand that. I can’t imagine my life without him”
“Ridhima, please think practically. He doesn’t even think about you”
“Then what? I keep thinking about him. I need him. I love him”
“Ridhima; you are behaving insanely.”
“I don’t care” and she rushed towards the washroom.
Harsh was confused, how to handle this, so he thought its better to leave Ridhima alone. And then that she could sort herself out. Ridhima, was heartbroken, she never imagined all this, for her Raj was the guy, and she thought Raj would reciprocate the feelings as well.
“And so what did he say, hope he likes me…” Ridhima replied excitedly.
“Sorry, he doesn’t. Instead, he said he can’t even think about this…”
“Why…?”
“Because he feels, you are not good enough for him”
“What?”
“Yes, he said something like this, and definitely he is not the one for you”
“No, harsh, I love him. Please try to understand that. I can’t imagine my life without him”
“Ridhima, please think practically. He doesn’t even think about you”
“Then what? I keep thinking about him. I need him. I love him”
“Ridhima; you are behaving insanely.”
“I don’t care” and she rushed towards the washroom.
Harsh was confused, how to handle this, so he thought its better to leave Ridhima alone. And then that she could sort herself out. Ridhima, was heartbroken, she never imagined all this, for her Raj was the guy, and she thought Raj would reciprocate the feelings as well.
* *
*
Everything was happy and beautiful, and now totally pain and agony were around. All the love Ridhima thought was around, suddenly vanished. She supposed it was better earlier, why did she ask Harsh to tell Raj about her beliefs? Today she suffers to face this ugly truth, that Raj has no spirits of passion. For the following few days, she avoided going to school, since she wasn’t sure how Raj is going to respond in one case, they confront each other, and she is supposed to sit beside him. Though it was hard, but she somehow convinced her mother about it. However, doing so was just not a solution to her problem.
Ridhima, was a strong girl, who keeps things uncomplicated and straight ahead. She decided to go, after two days of leave. She believed she will blab about this with Raj clearly and ask him what exactly he feels; Raj might have not liked Harsh approaching him about such a personal thing.
As she went into the schoolroom, there were a number of transitions she noticed. First, her seat was shifted from Raj to someone else. Second, Raj was the new class representative, so immediately he receives loads of responsibilities, which implies he might simply avoid the crap that Ridhima wants to talk about.
Not everything happens in life in a planned way, and for Ridhima, nothing was falling in place. As she settled herself at a new bench, she thought its good that her place shifted, since now she can avoid talking with Raj, and further she decided to quit this topic.
Everything was happy and beautiful, and now totally pain and agony were around. All the love Ridhima thought was around, suddenly vanished. She supposed it was better earlier, why did she ask Harsh to tell Raj about her beliefs? Today she suffers to face this ugly truth, that Raj has no spirits of passion. For the following few days, she avoided going to school, since she wasn’t sure how Raj is going to respond in one case, they confront each other, and she is supposed to sit beside him. Though it was hard, but she somehow convinced her mother about it. However, doing so was just not a solution to her problem.
Ridhima, was a strong girl, who keeps things uncomplicated and straight ahead. She decided to go, after two days of leave. She believed she will blab about this with Raj clearly and ask him what exactly he feels; Raj might have not liked Harsh approaching him about such a personal thing.
As she went into the schoolroom, there were a number of transitions she noticed. First, her seat was shifted from Raj to someone else. Second, Raj was the new class representative, so immediately he receives loads of responsibilities, which implies he might simply avoid the crap that Ridhima wants to talk about.
Not everything happens in life in a planned way, and for Ridhima, nothing was falling in place. As she settled herself at a new bench, she thought its good that her place shifted, since now she can avoid talking with Raj, and further she decided to quit this topic.
“Hey,
Ridhima, how are you” enquired Namitha.
“I am good; I mean a kind of fine” Ridhima said with a sigh.
“Raj told me that you confessed something to him through Harsh”
“Yes! I did”
“Why didn’t you come near him?”
“Because I was frightened”
“Frightened of what? His reply?”
“Yes, but what difference it made, he doesn’t feel the same” and she smashed down, began sobbing.
Ridhima tried to be normal, but she was broken from within. The major trouble was; she wanted to verbalize about it with Raj, and he was unavailable. Ultimately, she called Raj during their break time.
“I am good; I mean a kind of fine” Ridhima said with a sigh.
“Raj told me that you confessed something to him through Harsh”
“Yes! I did”
“Why didn’t you come near him?”
“Because I was frightened”
“Frightened of what? His reply?”
“Yes, but what difference it made, he doesn’t feel the same” and she smashed down, began sobbing.
Ridhima tried to be normal, but she was broken from within. The major trouble was; she wanted to verbalize about it with Raj, and he was unavailable. Ultimately, she called Raj during their break time.
“Raj,
I am sorry if I offend you” Ridhima apologized.
“Ridhima how can you think all this” Raj yelled. “You are sick, what made you think this way”
“I said, I love you”
“So, what to do? I really don’t”
“Raj, please don’t do this to me”
“Go away, girl” and Raj walked off. Bad turned for the worst, whatever she thinks is good was turning out to be a failure. She started to feel shame for herself, as she has fallen in love with the person, who might never understand her passion. She wishes, if she could forget everything that is happening around, or maybe can just melt down from all this crap.
“Ridhima how can you think all this” Raj yelled. “You are sick, what made you think this way”
“I said, I love you”
“So, what to do? I really don’t”
“Raj, please don’t do this to me”
“Go away, girl” and Raj walked off. Bad turned for the worst, whatever she thinks is good was turning out to be a failure. She started to feel shame for herself, as she has fallen in love with the person, who might never understand her passion. She wishes, if she could forget everything that is happening around, or maybe can just melt down from all this crap.
* *
*
“Ridhima;
stop crying “Harsh consoles.
“Now let me cry; I deserve to cry, because I love the person who is so self-centered” Ridhima sobbed.
“Listen Ridhima crying is not a solution”
“Then tell me, what the solution is?”
“OK, first tell me, what happened?”
“Raj, blames me for something I didn’t do. And the class teacher punishes me for no reason”
“It’s OK, you calm down”
“No Harsh; this is not just the first time; he has been doing this for a long while”
“Ridhima, I told you so many times, he was not the one for you”
“Shut up! Harsh” and she cried louder.
“Now let me cry; I deserve to cry, because I love the person who is so self-centered” Ridhima sobbed.
“Listen Ridhima crying is not a solution”
“Then tell me, what the solution is?”
“OK, first tell me, what happened?”
“Raj, blames me for something I didn’t do. And the class teacher punishes me for no reason”
“It’s OK, you calm down”
“No Harsh; this is not just the first time; he has been doing this for a long while”
“Ridhima, I told you so many times, he was not the one for you”
“Shut up! Harsh” and she cried louder.
Raj
had powers, which he utilized to let Ridhima down. The big question was why?
Probably he thought; she is trying to intrigue him. And that was so not true,
she was just in love with him; she never thought, her love will cost her so
much annoyance. She often recalls that all this should end, but how? Raj was in
no mood to listen, she attempted a number of times to excuse him, but every
time she came near, she faced dejection. Difficulties kept piling on. As the
year came to an end, she bore to clear choices between subjects, and if their
choices differ; Raj and Ridhima will be divided into two different classrooms.
She tried to convince her mother, but eventually they got separated.
Already
nothing was right in her life; and this added on. She was gone forth with no
acquaintances, totally solo. Life was getting messed up, but she had no choice;
she had to live with it.
* *
*
For
Ridhima, it was a new start. New acquaintances, new themes, new
responsibilities and a great deal of work that kept her engaged. All that Raj
had; the attitude of the class representative, is what she delivers. She is so
happy and determined. Her self confidence went to build up; she was again given
birth from the ashes of love. Though everything kept her busy; but it
definitely can’t hold her away from the man she loved. Early in the morning;
taking an excuse, she gets to see Raj in the previous classroom, by doing this,
she was happy.
She
never talked to Raj, once they were switched to different classrooms, though
everyday she admires him from a distance. She understood, there was nothing
left to talk about. Since Raj will never understand how and what she feels; and
every time she tries, it gives more pain to her. Not everyone in the world is
sane; people respond and act differently. Probably, Raj didn’t realize what he
was serving. Perhaps, he was tempted by his acquaintances.
Everything in life takes place for a reason; Ridhima slowly got to earn it. It was better that they split off; else Raj would have proceeded to hurt her, by letting her down. At least, today she is detached from the agony of blames and punishments that she stood for about four months. She admitted the fact; Raj can never love her the way she behaves.
Everything in life takes place for a reason; Ridhima slowly got to earn it. It was better that they split off; else Raj would have proceeded to hurt her, by letting her down. At least, today she is detached from the agony of blames and punishments that she stood for about four months. She admitted the fact; Raj can never love her the way she behaves.
As
the time passes, months changes to years, and years to four; her craziness
changed to a mature outlook. She assumed her life the way it is; and was
looking ahead towards her career making. That is what exactly maturity is;
keeping odds aside and acting towards the better things. Raj hurt Ridhima in
every possible manner; he laughed upon her, abused her, made faces at her;
although she never expressed a word against him. She always said and believed,
she loves Raj more than anything else in her life; it was sad for Raj he lost
on her.
“Hi, Raj” Ridhima greeted him on the final day of school during their farewell party.
“Hello!” Raj responded.
“ Can we have a picture together”
“yes sure”
(Clicked)
“Raj, I always wanted to tell you; that you are extremely special. Though years have changed me a lot; but the love for you is the same”
“Ridhima, I am sorry”
“Don’t be Raj, because I never wanted an apology, all I wanted was your presence and support”
“I am guilty, Ridhima”
“ It’s ok Raj, its life”
“You are a decent person”
“Really? It took four years to realize this? Raj my first love, made me a better person”
“Ridhima…..”
“First love; such a big part of who I am….”
“Hi, Raj” Ridhima greeted him on the final day of school during their farewell party.
“Hello!” Raj responded.
“ Can we have a picture together”
“yes sure”
(Clicked)
“Raj, I always wanted to tell you; that you are extremely special. Though years have changed me a lot; but the love for you is the same”
“Ridhima, I am sorry”
“Don’t be Raj, because I never wanted an apology, all I wanted was your presence and support”
“I am guilty, Ridhima”
“ It’s ok Raj, its life”
“You are a decent person”
“Really? It took four years to realize this? Raj my first love, made me a better person”
“Ridhima…..”
“First love; such a big part of who I am….”
Ridhima
finally got a prospect to convey everything she felt, though it took four
years. But that is what love is all about… patience…
THE UNANSWERED QUESTION….
This
story is of a girl named Arushi and a boy named Varun who fell in love in their
teens ..
Arushi
was in her teen, she was in class XI and Varun was her classmate and the
cutest boy in the class with the cutest smile. Aarushi was a simple & sweet
girl who had a crush on all the cutest guy with brain who came in her way, she
believed n simple living. Arushi and Varun beng classmates became instant
friends and both of them secretly had a crush on eachother but no one was ready
to disclose it. One day Varun took all the courage and flushed all his feelings
infront of his lady love, Arushi was very happy but she didnt wanted to say yes
to him so easily, she wanted to get sure whether Varun’s intentions were right
or not, she waited impatiently but her heart wanted to say him yes.
Atlast Arushi said him yes, Varun hearing her “yes” jumped and shouted that
“Arushi is mine”.
Arushi
blushed hearng it. Varun and Arushi was madly in love to each other, there was
nothing that could make them separate from each other. It was complete fairy
tale for both of them. They used to talk with each other whole day in school
and night over phone,their talking used to never end, they would decide what
they will do after school, college, future,marriage but they forgot future is
uncertain. Varun used to always pamper Arushi, he used to always make her mood
whenever she used to fight with him.
Like
these days passed , years passed Varun and Arushi grew closer and closer, and
their bonding also became stronger.Both of them passed their school with
flying colours. After school they went in separate college, Arushi in a
girls college and Varun in a boys college. It was at this time
Arushi was sensing some trouble in their love life and yes she was right about
it, Varun wasn’t give her importance, he was avoiding her. She felt everything
but she was afraid to confront him, she was afraid to hear the truth from his
mouth. It was both of them’s first love. Arushi couldn’t loose him at any cost.
But
Aarushi’s world came crumbling when one day Varun said Aarushi that he wanted
“BREAKUP”.
Aarushi
knew something was wrong but she never thought he will say her breakup. Arushi
asked him several question WHY?? WHat I DID?? WHAT WENT WRONG THAT YOU
ARE LEAING ME??
Varun
didn’t answer any question, she begged, she did everything but Varun
didn’t answer her THE REASON OF LEAVING HER .Varun just wanted to get rid of
her at any cost. Varun insulted her in front of their friends the whole world ,
abused her to get rid of her. Aarushi still stayed strong & still luved him
for whatever he did , she beged him for his presence in her life .Varun didnt
stop there he abused her parents, whom Varun used to call “MA” .
That
was it for Aarushi, she decided to leave him. She stopped her heart and freed
Varun but she didn’t stop loving him. She promised him not to see his face but
Aarushi was hiding her love for him beneath her anger. She still wanted to be
with him and wanted to know why Varun left her but she couldn’t say Varun to
come back because he abused her parents as for Aarushi her world
always meant her parents.
She
LEFT VARUN BUT DIDNT STOP LUVING HIM. SHE STILL LUVS HIM. but she couldn’t
forgive Varun because of his deeds.Varun after his freedom still abused
Arushi for every failure in his life, Arushi heard everything without a word
against him. Varun changed, no one knew the reason and nor the reason behind
leaving Arushi.
Arushi
still searches the answer to her question, what went wrong that
Varun left her, she blamed her for everything. Her tear doesnt stop
flowing, nor does her love for Varun has stopped. Arushi doesn’t know whether
her questioned will be answered or not in this lifetime.
Of course I don’t miss you!
Dear
Rae,
Picked
up the pen after a long time. I’m sorry for not being able to reply faster.
Overloaded with work as usual you see!
I
am fine. My life is beautiful as usual. I know why you wrote the last letter.
Trust me, you need not have worried so much about me ‘coz I am absolutely fine!
I am not like your other girlfriends, I don’t cry myself to sleep,I don’t
surrender myself to sleeping pills, I don’t put up a false facade that kills
one from inside and of course,most importantly, I don’t miss you.
I
have so much to do at College and outside. So many events to attend-the
rehearsals, parties, shows and the social works in the rare moments of
“off-days” keep me busier. When I come back home I hardly manage to speak to my
parents before hitting the bed…So you see, when I don’t have time to miss my close
ones, I hope you aren’t hoping that I’ll miss my ex! I miss my friends from the
theater, I miss the kid who started weeping out of joy when I praised her
acting skills, I miss last night when I drove back all the way alone but of
course….
When
I start my car at the end of the day, as seconds of tiredness tames me, I miss
a hand on my shoulder and I miss a smile. I look at the empty seats….I take a
deep breathe and force my mind to forget the rest.
On
a cool and rainy night, when the wiper gets busy wiping the rain drops, through
the hazy glass I see a face,so known. From rain drops shining on his hair, a
face peering, a finger asking for a lift to the day when…my mind gets busy to
wipe off the memory, my eyelashes hide the tear drops. It’s all in my burning
memory that refuses to subside to ashes. I see myself trapped in a never ending
maze where I fell and got up, where I am crawling, walking or running,
desperate to find the end….I come back to seek respite in the reality.
When
the chilly wind blows, it touches my heart very deep and leads my existence me
to a different spot of space and time. In a crowded place I feel a moment’s
loneliness, insecurity surrounds me and my mind screams for someone, known, so
known that I can tell it’s his voice, it’s his footstep, it’s the sound of his
laughter when thousands of other boys are together. My cold and numb fingers
look for the warmth that let me find solace. All the warmth drains from my life
and I drown in the sands of time, looking for a drop of comfort.
I
don’t need to call your number for I hear your voice in my head. Over and over
and over again, so many times that it’s leading me to insanity.
When
memories are so strong that it can chase me off from the real world and can
torture me to venture alone in the twists and turns of the dark alleys of my
brain, when I find your mocking smile in an innocent smile, your lies reflected
in the honesty of many, when I find your disgusting face in the empty space,
how do you expect me to miss you and cry for you??
When
I come home,I feel like shouting at the glowing lights. I kill the lights and
sit alone in the dark loneliness. It was always dark. You don’t need to light
the colourful candles that melt at the speck of second or extinguish at the
softest breeze. After everything you did with me-broke my trust, used my love
and mocked my pride of single hood, I seek respite from you.
Miss?
Well,that’s just a meaningless four letter word like love.
I
don’t miss you.
I
know I can’t send send this letter to you. For,I hate to say, but I
still….Smiling with friends,working,rehearsing,I’ll redefine life once again.To
love and back again. That day, I’ll write back to you.
Like
the 17 letters I have thrown away in the last two months, I’ll throw this one
as well. But hey,I am not a loser. At least I loved for once in my life and now
I’m improving with every attempt. Someday I’ll win…that day I’ll mean,that day
I’ll shout it loud that of course I don’t miss you. Till then, good bye.
Your
different girl,
STRANGER’S LOVE
Nobody knows the future. Everything that happens in everybody life
is decided by destiny and it is the destiny of Dia and Rajiv that’s why both of
them are in a same mall for shopping. Dia came in mall with her sister
& Rajiv came in mall with his friend. Dia always carry her diary in her bag
because she thinks that nobody knows from where we get some important knowledge
so we have to carry a diary and a pen and if we get some knowledgeable
information just note it and keep it because you never know in which path of
life we need help & then this information will help us. And in other side
rajiv is a very lonely boy because he was only 5 years old when he lost his
parents and after that he lost his smile he just want to spent time alone but
because of the request of his friend he came in the mall he also carry one
diary but in his diary he writes about himself life only.
But in this mall one terrorist fit bomb and after knowing that
there is the bomb in mall the stampede will occur in the mall and during this
stampede dia and rajiv both lost their diary after sometime when the bomb get
defused and the crowd of the people become fewer then dia go to the manager of
the mall and she ask him about diary she is in hurry, then the manager saw her
two diary and both diary look exactly same so she became little confused and in
hurry she choose one diary and went to home with her sister and after some time
Rajiv also went to the manager and take his diary.
But in night when Dia opens diary to write something she is
worried after realizing that her diary is exchange by another one and Rajiv is
also in same condition he also realize that his diary is exchanged.
Next day one by one both went to the manager and ask about
diary and manager give same answer to both of them that he don’t know anything.
Both of them return back to their home. dia is so sad because she
love her diary so much then her sister came in her room and pick the diary and
start reading and after reading one page only the tears rolled down on her
cheeks she say to dia di just read its once I don’t know whose diary is this
but the person who is the owner of this diary has don’t know how to lead life,
a very lonely, sad and unhappy guy. And after that she gives diary to dia.
In night when dia went to sleep she saw the diary and she start
reading the diary in other side rajiv also start reading diary of dia and it become
the daily routine of dia and rajiv to read one page of diary before sleeping.
Slowly-slowly dia gets attached to the story of rajiv .rajiv also start
following the information which is written in dia’s diary.
One day rajiv’s friends come in his home to meet him and they were
so surprised after meet rajiv because rajiv was changed now he is full of life,
now he doesn’t want to live alone, now he is smiling. Then his friends ask him
about changes in his behavior. Then he tells them that it is a magic, magic of
a stranger whose diary is exchanged with my one. Then one of his friend ask him
that yaar what is the name of the stranger then he say I don’t know but because
of that diary one thing is clear that the stranger is a girl because yesterday
I read the one page of diary and the last line of that page is “I am proud that
I am a girl”.
It’s a Tuesday night as usually before sleeping dia go
for reading diary but the diary is missing dia is tensed she ask her sister
about diary but her sister says no, did I don’t know about diary. She ruined
her room and after that her mom gives him the diary and she told dia that when
in morning I came in your room this diary is lie on the flour and I put it on
the book shelf. Then dia say thanks mom.
After that her sister asks her………
di what wrong with you I can’t understand because of this diary
only you ruined your room you are so tensed .Di don’t tell me you falling in
love with that stranger????….
dia: – No nothing like that yaar (she blushed)
dia’s sister: – really if you not falling in love with that
stranger why you blush.
dia: – I am not blushing stop irritating me and live me alone.
dia’s sister: – okk you carry on reading diary good night.
Next day dia went to her sister’s room and tell her that yaar you
are right I just fall in love with that stranger.
I know di you are in love but what next no one believe that you
fall in love with stranger di you don’t know anything about that guy even you
don’t know the name of that guy. Di it is a unique love story
Other side rajiv also tell his friend that he fall in love with
that stranger whose diary is exchanged with his one. Then his friend tells him
what?? Are you crazy?? How it is possible that without knowing without seeing
that stranger girl you fall in love with her. And your grandparents they never
believe that you fall in love with one stranger girl and you don’t know
anything about that girl you don’t know her name also. Really yaar your love
story is totally unique.
rajiv: – I don’t know what is the end of my love story happy or
sad. But I want to find her.
rajiv’s friend: – yaar but how????
rajiv: – first I will go in mall where my diary is exchanged.
Next day he and his friend went to that mall and ask the manager
about the diary. rajiv ask him that sir please tell me you give my diary to
whom. Then the manager tell him that that day one girl came to me and ask me
about her diary I saw her both the diary and she was in hurry so in hurry she
choose one. Then rajiv ask him that what is the name of that girl then the
manager told him that I don’t know her name.
Other side dia’s parent calls one boy at her house for dia’s
marriage. But dia refuse and she tell her mom and dad that she love someone
then her father ask her ok tell me what is the name of that boy???
dia: – I don’t know
Her father:-ok tell me about his occupation???
dia:- I don’t know
Then her father says if you don’t know anything about that boy how
you fall in love with him.
dia: – please papa gives me some time
Her father: – ok I give only 2 days in these 2 days you have to
find him and if you are not finding him within these 2 days then after 2 days
you have to marry with that boy who is selected by me.
dia:-ok
Other side rajiv’s grandparents also force him to get married
because they also can’t believe in his love story.
Other side dia tries a lot but she can’t find rajiv.
And after 2 days her father asks her where he then dia say I can’t find him.
Her father:-so you ready for the marriage with my selected boy
dia: – yes
rajiv also gets ready for get married with that girl who is
selected by his grandparents.
But both rajiv and dia are not happy they do this for
their parents both of them feels that their love story never completed and
there is a sad ending of their love story.
But destiny decides something else for them.
After some day dia’s dad call one boy and his family for dia’s
marriage and luckily the boy is rajiv but because dia and rajiv
never meet each other so they don’t know that their love story will going to
complete. After some time dia and rajiv get married. dia
and rajiv both kept their dairy with them hidely from each other.
And after 3years of marriage one day as usual rajiv get
ready for office but his one very important file was missing he ask dia about
it and after that dia start finding the file and she got the file and she
give file to rajiv and rajiv went to office after that dia arrange
the files and put on book shelf. And after that she see one diary on the top of
the bookshelf .she get that diary and after seeing the diary she is surprised
because it is her diary which is exchanged. Then she realizes
that rajiv is the stranger with she loved.
In evening when rajiv return from office she gives him his diary
which is exchanged by dia’s diary then he ask her from where you get this
diary. Then dia say rajiv your diary is exchange with my one.
rajiv: – it means I fall in love with you.
dia:- yes and I also love you not from now as you fall in love
with me through my diary same way I fall in love with you through your diary .
I try a lot to find you but I didn’t and for the happiness of my parents I get
ready for the marriage.
rajiv:-same here but god or destiny decides to complete our love
story. And in unintentionally we get married and now after 3 years we know that
our love story is not uncompleted I am so happy.
Then they hug each other tightly and rajiv kiss dia’s
forehead. And their love story is complete
And it is the happy ending of their love story….
7½th FLOOR
We
are only shadows, the DNA replicas of our ancestors. Our Individual destinies
are true pattern of universal symphony. But what if everything is predestined
and we are merely serving our purposes? The world operates on fundamental
physical laws. These laws govern the behavior of every object in the world;
human behavior is no exception to that. In that regard, love is a set of
extremely small quantum particles; their behavior is apparently swerved,
unpredictable. Love is the randomness in a preordained system, a rather
deterministic gear in a big physical machine.
In the midst of the most chaotic and devilishly lunatic
moment of my life, I fell in love. As all things do, it began in the dark.
For five consecutive seasons, my father had been physically impaired. But
lately it had gotten so worse that he could barely function, hence required my
complete attention. In any case, one night, as I was visiting him in the
hospital, as had become my habit, something strange happened. The elevator
jolted to a stop somewhere between 7th and 8th floor
and everything went pitch black.
I
remember myself rambling in the confined space of elevator. With each second
passing by, I had my hope raised and dashed. The only sound I could hear was of
my heart, pounding in the rib cage. I stretched out my arm, ran my fingers over
the bank of call buttons and randomly pushed some looking for the alarm button.
“In
here! I am in here!” I shrieked, but no one came.
1.
“Are
you alright, ma’am?” a husky voice came from outside of elevator.
It
took a moment for my brain to defog and realize what he was asking.
“I
am far from alright mister,” I replied.
“That
much I guessed, but screaming ain’t gonna do a damn bit of good, so don’t do
that no more. It’s a late hour…”
I
interrupted, “Can you get me out of here?”
“Sorry
ma’am, but that I can’t.”
“I
beg your pardon?”
“Look,
here is the deal; I can’t move this damn elevator, I’m done calling the fire
department. Now it may take a while, so why don’t you sit tight?”
The
presence of that mysterious simpatico companion had proved to be strangely
accommodating for me. I stretched out on the floor of elevator to make myself
comfortable. Despite lack of visual reference, I felt drawn to tantalizing
odour of his after shave.
“My, oh my, you’re at 7½th floor,” he initiated
conversation to break the ice.
“What’s
that?”
“I reckon you haven’t seen Being John Malkovich, have ya?
“Not
that I recall.”
“Listen to me carefully, it’s interesting. Between 7th and
8th floor, there is another floor; 7½thfloor. Now it ain’t about the movie or architecture, but the
thing that explodes a bombshell is the idea of existence of a strange half
floor, in the midst of a normal building in a normal world.”
“I see the analogy. You know, it may serve as a strange paradox.
Does this so called 7½thfloor
really exist or is it just an illusion? The answer to that question can be
found in another question. What is the symbolism behind the physical structure
of 7½th floor? It is an
anecdote, a probabilistic theory, a question with no answer. It is neither
reality, nor illusion, but a middle ground between them.”
2.
What
I said then was totally uncalled-for. Perhaps I needed to unburden myself from
the affliction of my father. Anyway, despite hesitation of my mind, my slippery
tongue once again intervened on my behalf,
“My
dad is dying.”
“Well,
aren’t we all? Whole our life, we’ve been preparing ourselves for death.”
“I
know we are all going to die and nothing lasts forever, but in the end, what
wouldn’t we do not to lose what’s ours? It’s just that I am not attuned to that
grief of loosing someone.”
“See,
I’ve been working here since ages, in this hospital. Sometimes I wonder how
this place is different from a battle field. I’ve seen people fighting for
their last breath; I’ve seen ‘em falling into the valley of death. I
rapturously breathe in the odour of fainting life. But Death ain’t that bad,
it’s just another elevator, one that we all must take.”
“You
are a complete weirdo, do you know that?”
“I’ve
heard that before.”
“But
you’re right. Sometimes death is not the worst thing that can befall a man. For
instance, take an example of my daddy; he is entrapped in his own body. His
whole body is rotting, he can barely move his finger, and he gets covered in
his own sh*t. When it comes to living like this, dying is the easiest part,
it’s like swallowing a bitter pill, one that would tranquil you for eternity.
But even in its worst condition, life is worth living.”
“I
don’t mean to put a bug in your ear, but I oughtta tell you; if life is worth
living, then death is worth dying. The thing that tears me up is that mankind
has always been afraid of death and what it may bring. We fear the solitude of
eternity, but who’s to say that there is anything to fear? Ain’t nobody has
ever come back from dead to tell his tale, and nobody will.”
3.
“By
the way, who are you?” I couldn’t help asking him.
“I’m
a guy who gets the sh*t done. Generally I’m referred as Maintenance guy, but
you can call me whatever you want. I don’t give two cents for that no account.”
As
I leaned my head towards his direction, I felt a strange chill. Life was raging
all around me and every moment was empty with such fullness, it was magical.
That feeling might be transient, but isn’t it what we live for?
“I
wish I could see you,” I said in a low voice.
“You’ll
sooner or later. Physical body is merely an object; thing that matters is what
lies beneath it.”
“Do
you believe in existence of soul?”
“Gee,
I dunno. I wouldn’t go shooting my mouth off about something I know nothing
about. Why don’t you humor me?”
“Well,
I do believe. But when I say soul, I am not talking about something abstract
that theologians argue about. See, basically humans are biologically programmed
complex machines and soul is the infinite ocean of electrons. Now this body is
merely an object, it is like a disk which stores this so called spirit or soul.
But the bad thing is our physical body is the source of all desires, say
hunger, sexual drive, domination, fame. As long as there is body, there is
desire. But what if a soul can exist without body?”
“I
find it severely freakin’. Is it even possible?”
“Theoretically,
yes it is, if we can build a console to scan our brain waves, we can use it to
create a programme, a sort of copy of this spirit. This programme would accept
our brain waves as digital data and upload it into the universal network. I
believe doing this will make us exist as soul without body.”
“Well,
I’ll be damned. No offence, what you said was brilliant as hell, but it was so
out of my bandwidth.”
“Oh,
don’t you worry. Even I don’t fully understand it. I am constantly driven by
the fact that so much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It is just
unspeakable.”
“Goddamn
right. It’s like words come out of my mouth and by the time they hit your
eardrums it’s a whole different set of words.”
4.
I
could hear my breathing and didn’t think I was imagining his breaths coming
quicker, too. This time, though, racing pulse and pounding heart were a result
of arousal rather than panic. We were just a bunch of queers, talking about
death, but who would have thought that even death can unite two people? It
seemed that a strange symbiosis had developed between us.
I
had just been sitting there, fantasizing about him, without saying a word.
Hating the idea he might interpret my silence the wrong way, I blurted out,
“I
was wondering about afterlife, the life after death. How would it be like?”
“Now
that you’ve mentioned, I got this buddy of mine, a descent fellow. He’d go
gum-flapping just like you. He once told me that whole time we’re afraid of
dying, but we’re never really alive.”
“Is
that a fact?”
“Stone
cold fact, yes ma’am. See, our cells regenerate every seven years. That way,
we’ve already died several times. You’re not the same person you were born.
Anyway, he had this theory about afterlife. You wanna hear?”
“I
don’t see why not. I’m all ears.”
“Human
consciousness is far more complicated than we believe. When you stop breathing,
your body drops dead, but your brain, that dog is still barking. The memories
of your lifetime reside deep within your mind, and they stick up your a*s until
your very final moments in this world. This brain activity can prolong up to 12
minutes, after you’re supposedly dead.
But interesting thing is what happens in your subconscious mind
during this short period. The moment you leave your physical body, you enter a
huge movie theater. It’s all dark except for neon exit signs over the doors and
a large screen showing a film. You’re the only spectator. Now this ain’t some
ordinary movie, it is life unfolding itself, life that you lived. You’re the
creator of your own movie, you’re the actor, and you’re the writer. In real
world, this movie runs for 6 to 12 minutes, so technically it’s a short film
called Life. But in your subconscious, it runs so long, that you can relive
your whole life in these few moments. This part is called Retrospection.”
“You
ain’t getting bored, are ya?”
“Not
at all, actually it’s the other way around.”
“Well then, what I’m about to say, will blow your ground.
Afterlife has a strange structure; it’s propelled by this absolute inertia of
real. As you make your way through the exit door, you totally step out of the
domain of symbolic identification, cancelling all field of symbolic authority.
You’re now what we can call ironically a vanishing mediator. You’re standing in
the midst of a huge desert; it’s in crisis all the time. But this crisis ain’t
obstacle; on the contrary it is what pushes you forward towards permanent,
revolutionising extended self reproduction. Now you’ve got nothing but a
chance, chance for an authentic passive experience, without which nothing new
can emerge, maybe this is what you need more than ever. This stage is called Disintegration.
The final stage of afterlife is known as Transmigration. You’ve
had enough of those sufferings, now you’re ready to be redeemed, renewed. What
you’re about to experience now is a transition, from metaphysical to physical
world. This is the most mysterious area of afterlife; it’s like fulgent whitish
space with infinite doors in front of you. Here you’ve a choice; soon your
choice will become its own reality. Your life is yours to create. You’re gonna
be a neo-being with a new individuality and new consciousness.”
5.
If
memory serves me right, we had shared the most honest and intimate conversation
of my life. I was swimming in emotions and couldn’t decide which sensation to
settle on. Despite being trapped in pitch-black elevator for couple of hours,
in company of stranger, I felt surprisingly relaxed. He had penetrated the
inner core of my being and that too with mere words.
“Hey,
enough of my yakkin’. Whaddaya say?” he exhaled.
“I
like the sound of your voice,” I complimented.
“Yeah,
it sounds like hee-haw of a mule.”
I
couldn’t help but laugh at his sarcasm. I admire a fellow who can make fun of
himself. A measure of a man is his sense of humor.
“No,
I really mean it,” I replied. The speed of my words confirmed my sincerity.
“Your voice is very soothing, with a hint of gruffness. It is orgiastically
unique.”
“Well,
I may be hayseed, but I know that some sh*t just stinks, no matter how hard you
scrape.”
I
searched within my mind to think of something that would keep that conversation
going. I probably should have thought of something else, but the words were out
of my mouth,
“Walter
Ciszek had this theory that every moment in our life has a purpose, that every
action of ours, no matter how dull or trivial it may seem in itself, has a
dignity and worth beyond human understanding. It means that my being trapped in
this dark, suffocating box is not merely an accident.”
“I
guess we’re just two peas punching it out in a same pod…”
I interrupted, “I have an obscure insight on this one. If I
imagine myself observing life from the perspective of my father, it would look
just like this. My current condition is, in a way, symbolic to his physical
state, I mean there are unbelievable similarities. I’m trapped in this
elevator, he’s trapped in his own body; I’m hanging between 7th and
8th floor, he’s hanging between life and
death.”
“Goddamn
right. But the question that stares me right into face is why 7½? What’s the
significance of this number?”
“That I don’t know. But maybe it has something to do with seven
sins, namely wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony. Say life is
a seven storied building, each floor represents a sin and elevator is your
physical body. Through elevator, you pass through all the seven floor of this
life. But death is the 8th floor. In that regard, 7½ is the state
in which you’re truly above all the seven sins, you are neither dead, nor
alive.”
6.
I
felt a strange chill. My poor consciousness perceived that something was
monstrous wrong. I felt as if I were smothered, chocked, unable to get the air.
I was all sweaty, suddenly the environment had gone from comfortably warm to
unbearably hot.
“I’ve
been here awful long time. When are they coming?”I asked him.
“Who’s
coming?”
“The
firemen, to rescue me goddamn it. Didn’t you call them?”
“Ain’t
nobody is coming. It’s just us. We’re alone.”
I
couldn’t believe his words. It was like a line of dominoes was falling, and it
was my turn to get hit.
“Are
you concealing something?”
“No,
I carry no secrets.”
I
wished I could trust him. I wished he were a wise kind friend instead of a
gossiping acquaintance.
“It’s
always your own a*s you sit on.
You
come up with some pseudo questions and then ponder which one is the right
answer. I say none of ‘em and at the same time all of ‘em. Do you realize you
could’ve done anything conceived by your mind? But whole time you’ve been
foolin’ around. I’m sorry but there ain’t another way to put it. Ask the right
question and you’ll get the answer.”
I
couldn’t begin to fathom what he meant.
“I
do not follow…”
“Ask
yourself. Are you really trapped in this elevator?
Beep…beep…beep
I
heard the sound of alarm from outside.
“I’m
gonna leave you alone now. You’ll be alright, even if you don’t feel like.”
Beep…beep…beep
And
then he left me. Before leaving, he murmured in a low voice,
“I
guarantee you’ll regret the day you met me.”
In
a flash of time, the smallest niggling thought snuck into the back of my mind.
I opened my eyes and clenched them shut against the unexpected brightness.
After hours of starring into blackness, the light was painful and blinding.
The elevator stopped at 8th floor, as if nothing unusual had
happened, questioning the very existence of 7½th floor.
7.
With
blinking eyes, I saw my dad, withered, his bald head propped by pillows, his
pale eyes looking out at me from his bed. He was connected to an intravenous
for sustenance and a morphine drip. As I went closer, I observed a dark-coated
man standing there, starring at him. Yes, it was him. There was no mistaking
him for anyone else. A hair on the back of my neck prickled at the sight and
some small voice inside warned me.
Before
I could speak anything he uttered in a low voice,
“Your
timing couldn’t have been better. It’s time for departure Sherrie.”
“Departure?”
“Yes,
he is to accompany me. All arrangements are made.”
“Arrangements
for what?”
“Oh,
you still don’t get it! I’ll never understand you people. You can’t expect a
tree to keep its blossom after the spring is over, can you? Eventually tree
loses its fruit, and then the garden of leaflessness.
But
think of all those poor men who go in violent accidents. This is the most
peaceful way to die.”
“You’re
a traitor, you cheated me. For God’s sake, haven’t you got any mercy?”
“In
my profession, there is no room for mercy. I’m Death; I only exist so that
people like you don’t exist no more. Nothing escapes me.”
I
stood there powerless; my words had no impact on him. Taking someone’s life was
his day-to-day routine.
“Wait
a moment.” I pleaded him.
“You
all say that. Believe me, I don’t like it either, but it has to be done. Mine
is a dirty job. My motto is if you wanna plant something, you gotta soil your
hands.”
What
I thought to be a love story ended up being a strange encounter with Death. All
of it- which was quite fascinating for my liberal progressive mind-was just a
trap, something to lower my attention threshold, as it was to open me up to be
ready to accept the true conservative message.
Then
he did something unexpected. He came closer to me, leaned his head towards mine
and whispered in my ears,
“Sherrie,
now is not the time, but when the right time comes, you’ll be mine.”
His
words set free butterflies in my stomach. It gave me a slight relief that it
wasn’t just one side traffic.
“I’ll
wait for you,” I promised.
I
shifted my gaze to daddy. He was so peaceful, it’s like silently he was saying,
‘I’m dying but my death itself is a good news.’
Life
is so beautiful, every moment of it is miracle, and yet in a blink it’s gone.
Death truly works in a mysterious way.
7½.
One
darkness had gone, but another still remained. Though this darkness was
metaphorical, a feeling of necessity and attachment, a potentially harmful
emotion. On a nearby roof top a bird took a flight, swaying away all the
darkness under its tiny wings. Nothing could spoil that beautiful moment, as
rosy fingered dawn cupped me in its hands and thumbed open the new day’s crack.
According to statistics, only two people per decade die in
elevators. I didn’t die that day, but part of me is still stuck at 7½th floor.
Love, like 7½th floor may also be
just an illusion, but in order to fully exist as an individual we need this
illusion of love.
Love is an elevator, that totters between pain and joy; hope and
despair; sacred and obscene; life and death; 7th and
8th floor; 7½th floor.
Gone With The Winds
One
moody gloomy Tuesday night, as I was strolling back home from my office in the
Kilo area of Surulere in Lagos, the tragic story of my life started. I had
suddenly imbibed the habit of night crawling ever since Laura dumped me a
couple of months back. I would trek home looking worn out, having already been
reduced to a tape worm-like human being. I looked dejected and totally
rejected.
Laura
had completely messed up my entire life. She had turned me into a pun at the
hands of love and left me with a broken heart. She had taken me straight into
the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and left me there without a boat or even a
life jacket. She had taken me right to the highest point in the clouds;
exhausted all the fuel in the airplane and escaped with the only parachute on
board, living me hanging in the air. She had completely made a mess out of my
life. Smoking like a chimney and swimming in a bowl of alcohol were all I had
to show for her presence in my life. I had even completely forgotten about God
and every other person around me. Nothing mattered anymore. I was moving close
to hell and I didn’t care a hoot.
A
lady had accosted me and begged for twenty naira.
“Uncle,
could you kindly assist me with a hundred naira? I was robbed of my belongings
and now I am stranded at the bus-stop. Please help me sir.”
Puffing
away at my cigarette in my usual manner, I looked straight into the eyes of the
owner of such a very angelic voice that could be begging for such a meager
amount of money.
Standing
before me was the most beautiful earthly creature I had ever set my eyes upon.
She was a tall light complexioned lady, spotting a blue denim over a pair of
black jeans. Her long well knitted braids gently caressed her buttocks.
She had well-formed dimples and a beautiful set of blue eyes which pierced
though the dark serene night. She looked like a mulatto. I was
mesmerized.
Without
hesitating a bit I handed out to her crisp five hundred naira note fresh from
the mint, which she gladly accepted and thanked me.
“Thanks
a lot sir. May God replenish you, a hundred folds”, she said as she vanished
into the silence of the cozy night.
As
I trudged home her thoughts pervaded my mind. For a moment I forgot about
loneliness which had long entwined me like a rope. A part of me longed for her
once more but a part of me waded me off from the thought as I remember the
barracuda of a lady, Laura once again. Her remembrance was like a dagger
piercing through the core of my heart.
I
was soon to meet this mysterious lady again on one Saturday night – two weeks
after our first meeting. I was on my way to the billiards’ joints, somewhere in
Yaba, where I usually spent some time, when I felt a gentle tap on my back in
the bus I had boarded. I looked back to see who it was and I was shell shocked
to see this damsel again. I had never imagined in my wildest of imaginations
that I could come across her again in my life.
Spotting
a Gianni Versace denim which was now synonymous with her over a pair of Gucci
black jeans she looked more gorgeous than she had been the first time we met.
With the smell of her eau gently caressing the air, she greeted me.
“Thanks
for the other time”, she said, throwing at me some beautiful smiles.
“The
pleasure is all mine”, I replied, pretending not to have been taken in by her
beauty.
It
was as if she had really planned out that day as she cancelled her own outing
to honour mine. Who was I to refuse such an honour. No man in his right
senses would refuse such an offer.
We spent the rest of the evening together at the joint and
discussed at length. I got to know that she was Lola Williams, a 300-level
student of Mass-communication at the University of Lagos. That was the
beginning of another journey into another affaire d’amoire.
Unknown
to me, Lola happened to be the only child of the Williams, one of the richest
families on the Island. My visit to their mansion on the popular Banana Island
swept me off my feet. They were very rich. I mean exceedingly rich. This place
was something completely out of this world. I had only seen such a thing in the
Hollywood movies. The state-of-the-art masterpiece had a mini zoo where rare
and exotic animals were kept. For the very first in my life I saw a real
peacock, the most beautiful bird on earth. The place was simply a heaven
built right here on earth. I had never thought in my life I could have had an
opportunity of seeing such a powerful edifice let alone be a guest inside it. I
was treated like a king.
On
that same day, I got the greatest shock of my life, when I found out that my
coming in contact with Lola had not actually been by a stroke of fate as I had
earlier believed but a grand design orchestrated by my best friend Adams and
the Williams. When I knew this, I was very sad.
“Lola”,
I addressed her, sitting on her bed and holding unto the album which she had
earlier given me, which had some of my pictures. “How were you able to pull
this off?” I was dumbfounded. If there was anything I hated in my life, it was
a set up and a desperate lady. I wasn’t ready for another Jezebel to ruin my
life. Her beauty no longer mattered at that point in time. She was beginning to
look like Laura.
“Tunde,
you can’t understand. You have every right to be annoyed with me but you
shouldn’t really be”. She whimpered.
“I
shouldn’t be annoyed, you say? Somebody has been intruding seriously on my
privacy and toying with my life and you say I shouldn’t be? I have only seen
this type of a thing in movies; I never knew it could happen to me. Wonders
shall never end.” I held my head.
“Please
my love just let me explain and you’ll understand. I have no ill intention towards
you or anybody, I swear to God.”
“There
you go again. Women and God”, I cut in. “Please just leave God out of this .
Ok?”
“I
did it for you. I mean for us.”
“For
us you say? I asked, now calmer and surprised as I looked straight into her
eyes from where I sat.
“Yes
for us. I did it for us.”
“Yes
Tunde, she did it for the two of you”, Mrs. Williams cut in. She must have been
eavesdropping on us.
She
went ahead to narrate to me how her husband, Mr. Williams had mapped out a
strategy for her daughter to meet with someone who truly loved their daughter.
After the first disastrous outing which nearly cost the life of their daughter
by one crook called Segun, he was not ready for another son of Adam to toil
with her emotions again. He had vowed to do everything within his will to make
sure her daughter met the Mr. Right.
After
Adams who happened to be a friend of the house had narrated my ordeal to the
family and they seemed interested in me. They had been on my trail for quite a
while. They were just waiting for the right time to make their move.
After
the whole narration, I felt very sorry that I had showed my anger without
hearing her out first. I begged for her forgiveness.
“Come
on, I’ve forgiven you. I would do the same if I were in your shoes”, she said
forming a beautiful smile with those lovely dimples of hers. We hugged each
other right there in the presence of her mother.
Our
love life flourished like a full blown blossom. What we shared was true love –
something completely out of this world. She was the snail and I was its shell.
I was no longer the moody man I used to be. I was always beaming with life. I
was now robust. My cheeks had already come out, and my skin was silky and
succulent like that of a new born baby. We were a perfect match. We had both
suffered at the hands of love and now it was time to enjoy what life had in
stock for both of us. And to show that we wanted nothing to put an obstacle in
our path, we had planned getting married as soon as possible. When two people
are truly in love they could go to any length at fulfilling their life
ambitions.
We
had already spent two years together, during which we had done our Introduction
and she had moved in with me. I had stopped working with the advertising agency
I was working with and had now established my own, which I named after us: “L
and T Media Consulting”, courtesy of the Williams. I had two beautiful
cars to my credits and lots of money stashed away in the bank. My Juliet had
already finished schooling. We intended celebrating her graduation with our
wedding. It was to be the wedding of the year.
During
the two years of our courtship, we had never made love to each other. I was
never a sex freak. I never bothered her about it and she equally didn’t disturb
me. We were exactly birds of a feather. We never went beyond kissing even after
we had done the traditional introduction. We were felt our wedding night was
the best time for us to do it.
One
unbelievable thing was the fact that she was a virgin. Despite the fact that
she had been involved in a relationship before, she had never shared her
“secret” with anybody. The world is so corrupt that it seems all the virgins
are out of town. I was really blessed to have met someone like that .The man
she loved was only after her parents’ wealth and the moment he was done, he
vanished into the thin air.
One
night, some minutes before the hour of twelve, I had just come into the living
room to meet my Lola, stack naked before me. I stood there with mouth wide
open. What the hell was wrong with her? I thought. I gently walked up to
her, picked up her night gown from the sofa and tried putting in on her but she
refused. She started kissing me all over. She seemed like a sex starved animal.
I was shell shocked.
“What
is wrong with you Lola”, I asked her as I gently tried to pull her away.
“I
should be asking you the same”, she replied resting her head on my chest. “Are
you not my husband?”
“Yes
but not yes. I mean we are not fully married yet.”
“Even
after a very elaborate formal Introduction like the one we did? If we aren’t,
why are we then living together? My parents allowed me to move in with you
because they feel you are now my husband. I can’t withstand it any longer. I’m
dying inside. My body yearns for you. Or am I not pretty enough for you?”
“It’s
not like that my love. It hasn’t been easy for me too. I’m not a log of wood
but I just felt we should do the right thing. It’s just a few months to
our wedding”.
“We
have already done the right thing. The marriage is just the icing on the cake.
It’s now or never. I want you now. I can’t even wait for another minute
let alone a day.”
All
pleas fell on deaf ears. Indeed we had done the right thing. At least we had
done the Introduction and the parents allowed her to move in with me. The whole
world wouldn’t believe we had not been doing it. So what’s the point? I finally
succumbed.
We
did it right there on the floor, our bodied glued to each other like two worms
in “coition”. We rolled from one end of the room to the other. As I gently
smooched and forced my way into her she wined and moaned like a little baby
that has just voiced out for the very first time. She was in pains, but I could
see it in her eyes that she was enjoying it. She held on to me tightly. She
wouldn’t let go. Even when I had come, she still held on to my buttocks. Such
was the passion she felt and we were both on cloud nine. I never knew joy has a
very slender body. I didn’t know that my joy was but just for while.
Barely
two weeks before our wedding, tragedy struck! As at that time our wedding
preparations had been in top gear. Invitations had been sent out to the crème
de la crème in the society. Top on the list of the invitees was the governor of
the state, who happened to be a family friend of the Williams. Our wedding ring
cost over half a million naira and one of the best wedding planners within the
metropolis was hired to take charge of the event. In addition, we had planned
spending our honey moon in Bahamas on the Caribbean. The Williams wanted to
give their only child to have the best wedding ever.
We
were supposed to pay one of her uncles, who resided in Ibadan, a courtesy
visit. It became impossible for me to go, because I had a big project I was
handling. It was the biggest project I had ever handled. Any trip to a far
distance could affect it.
“Darling
come on give me a smile”, I said putting an arm around her. “I’m very sorry
that I won’t be going with you. Of course you know I would have loved to be
there but we both know what is as stake. My clients would not take it lightly
with me if those billboards are not mounted today. It would cast a serious
doubt on my reputation. We could visit uncle tomorrow or another day.”
“No
tomorrow would be too late. He’ll be out of Lagos. We must see him today. He is
the most important person in my mother’s family.”
“Then
why don’t we just give him a call. I’m sure he would understand. Besides, you
are in no good position to be travelling around anyhow. I’m sure uncle would
understand.”
“Honey,
why are you talking like this? It’s like you don’t know Uncle Segun. He would
rain thunder and brimstone of insults on me if I tell him such a thing on the
phone. He would narrate to me how he had bathed my mother when she was small
and all sorts. Please just let me go and see him. I must go.”
“Ok
in that case let Zainab go with you. She’ll keep you company. What do you say
to that?”
“Ok
no problem but I’m not happy with you . Hope you know that.”
“Please
my love. Don’t be angry with me. I promise I’ll make it up to you”, I planted a
kiss on her forehead and in turn on her belly. “Please take care of my bundle
of joy. Ok?”
“I
will. I have to be on my way so that we can quickly get back.”
That
was the last time I would set my eyes on the only thing that brought me joy. I
never knew that was the last time I would behold Lola’s face again – the
heavenly sight of my angel. I never knew I was leaving her to keep a date with
death. I never knew I was leaving her to walk straight into the chasm, death
the leveler, had dug up for her. If only I had known I would have prevented her
from going or perhaps went with her. If only I knew.
I
stared at the wall-clock and it was some minutes past the hour of eight in the
night and still my wife and my niece had not returned. I became very agitated.
What could be holding them back? I thought. I tried calling their mobile phones
but all were switched off. I was in total confusion.
I
phoned her mum to help get Uncle Segun’s number. I called him and he
informed me they had left hours earlier. I became more agitated and confused.
Something kept telling me something was very wrong. I couldn’t wait at home any
longer. I had to go looking for my wife. And just as I was about getting my car
keys, the phone rang.
“Hello”,
said the voice at the other end.
“Hello.
Please who’s on the line?”
“Am
I speaking with Mr. Olaniyi Tunde?”
“Yes.
How may I be of help?” I was getting impatient.
“I’m
afraid you’ll have to come down to the University Teaching hospital, here in
Ibadan sir.”
“For
what, please?”
“I’m
afraid your wife was involved in a ghastly motor accident.”
“My
God! My God!! I screamed as I dropped my cell phone and dashed out of the room,
like a hare chased by a greyhound, I couldn’t even wait to hear anymore.
An
hour later I arrived in Ibadan only to discover that my beautiful angel, Lola
and niece, Zainab had both died in a car crash!
It
still looked like a terrible dream, but when I would wake up into reality, I
didn’t know. How could death deal such a horrible blow to me? How could
he take away my joy so soon and replace it with melancholy? All night long it
had been another sad love song rocking my radio. All I had in this world
vanished into the thin air within a twinkling of an eye. Just when I had
thought I had lost the battle with love, Lola had come around like my guardian
angel to rescue me from the dungeons of sorrow and loneliness. She could
have at least given birth. Perhaps the child could remind me of her. But
instead she decided to go with it. She left me with nothing. She was gone. She
was gone like a comet blazing across the azure. Like the colours of the
rainbow, she had vanished. She was gone forever. Gone forever with the winds!
Jenny, I Love You!
With
a bunch of beautiful pink-white-purple flowers in hand; blushing face trying
hard to resist a cheerful grin; her eyes playing hide and seek with his through
the white veil; slow but steady steps closer to her man who had waited long
enough; she looked the most beautiful she would ever look.
The
church smelled serene and so did her heart.
He
stood upright as she walked down the aisle. He waited, and waited a little more
to hold her, kiss her and comfort her through their lives.
***
Gazing
through the ageing eyes, he concentrated hard to believe what he was seeing
around. What once was an abandoned ground where hardly anyone ever visited, had
turned into a crowded park; gatherings of kids and elderly shared the place and
noise in near equal proportion. In the midst of all the chaos, he could still
feel the tranquil he had left behind back in his twenties. He could still
visualize the infinite landscape all around.
Over
time, everything had changed; everything but what he had come in the quest of.
Even with all the fanciness and modernization around, still very much there;
standing taller, firmer and denser than before; the banyan tree gave him the
same affinity. It had matured colossally. He observed it up and down time and
again; it was the only familiar entity in the surroundings.
He orbited the mammoth trunk of the tree to locate the clue that
he was looking for. He smirked at seeing barely detectable script which only he
could spot out of everyone present there in the busy park. It faintly read, ‘Until Then…’!
He
sat quietly and started digging damp sand with bare hands.
He
couldn’t resist a smile as he was dragged down the memory lane located four
decades back.
***
If gorgeous and handsome were to be defined in a pictorial dictionary,
it would certainly have her and his pictures. Individually, they exhibited
God’s art of human beauty at its finest; as a couple they were cupid’s best job
ever. Stunning bodies, alluring faces, youthful-carefree attitudes, magnetic
smiles and chaste souls to top it all, made them an enviable blend.
Today,
however, she was a tad different.
She
stared down the ground at nothing in particular. He held her chin and made her
look into his confidently loving eyes. A couple of tiny tears rolled down her cheeks.
Whistling winds, roaring clouds and ash grey skies boosted the
love in the air. In a deserted backdrop, fighting through the leaves and
branches of a dense banyan tree, a few rain drops fell on her cheeks and
blended with her tears; as if saying, it is going to be fine!
‘I
love you Harry!’ she said. Innocence wrapped her words.
‘I
know Jenny. I love you too. And that is why we are doing this, right?’ he held
her face between his palms.
‘Hmm.’
she went back to staring-at-nothing. Her nervousness was turning into shivers.
Harry
enveloped her with his strong arms and kissed her forehead.
‘So,
let us revisit our plan once last time. Shall we?’ he said.
Jenny
nodded.
‘I
will leave for Punjab tomorrow, close the deal in a week, take the money and
come back to Goa. We will meet here, right here, under this banyan tree next
Sunday, sharp at noon. And the next morning we will see a novel sunrise,
together.’ His smile had a hope.
‘Hmm…
But I really wish there was a better way to do this.’ She sighed.
‘I
wish too. But we are not left with any other choice, are we? And it is not that
we haven’t tried, sweetheart.’
‘Hmm.’
was all she could utter.
He
continued, ‘Jennifer D’costa weds Harmeet Singh. Do you think they will
approve, even in their wildest dream?’
He
was right, she knew. Her parents would never approve of her marriage with an
orphan musician belonging to other religion especially after her sister’s
failed cross religion marriage, which ended up in cheating, misery and tears.
Love at the first sight, they say! For Harry and Jenny, it was Love
at the first fight! They
were introduced to each other by a common friend four years back at a wedding
after having a spat over the universal debate; who is the best- the boys or the
girls. Right from their first eye crash, they had the spark. Time had fueled
the spark to grow it into a forest fire that had blazed all
practicality-sociality and soaked their souls with shower of love that would
nourish them forever and above all.
Struggle
and eventual failure in making her parents see their love through her heart
instead of the society’s perception had made Jenny agree to Harry’s idea of
going through with it on their own, alone, for their love’s sake.
Harry
had planned to sell his only possession, his ancestral home in Punjab, and
shift to Mumbai and start afresh with the love of his life – his lady luck-
which, he thought, would change fortunes for his career, as a musician, too.
Breaking
into Jenny’s thought stream, Harry pulled out a ring from his pocket and
presented in front of her. Harry could see the diamonds shining; one on the
ring and others in Jenny’s eyes. Her tears, topped with a smile, resembled the
diamond the closest or may be beyond.
‘We
will do it your way. In a church, just the way you have envisioned it while you
were a little girl.’ Harry said.
Jenny
smiled.
Harry bent down to dig a hole close to the banyan tree’s mighty
roots. He placed the ring in a little box and the box in the hole. He covered
it carefully with the sand and thumped it hard, leaving his finger marks on the
ground. He picked up a sharp edged stone and scribed ‘Until Then…’ on the trunk of the tree near where
he hid the ring.
The
iconic banyan tree had witnessed them cry, laugh, hug, kiss, smile and frown
over the years of their togetherness.
‘This
place understands our love. We will take the ring out when we meet here next
Sunday and head straight to the church and get married before leaving for
Mumbai.’ He said dusting his hands off.
‘Hmm…
I should go now.’ Jenny said. ‘Dad must be home. I am already nervous and I
don’t want to give him any clue about what I am up to.’
‘Yes.
We will not meet for a week now. I will see you next Sunday noon, right here.
Ok?’ Harry gave her a firm hug that was only what she would have to carry on
for a week.
Hardly
ten steps away from the tree, Jenny turned around, ‘Harry, I trust you.’
‘I
know.’ He said and smiled.
***
He
halted digging sand, and time, on hearing something he never anticipated.
‘Harry?’
the sound felt proverbial to him.
Goose
bumps!
‘That can’t be her.’ He thought before gathering belief and
turning around.
His
eyes lit up like they never did in last forty years. That was her!
Forty
years was the era way beyond what hope can survive.
‘You?’
she said. She was equally flabbergasted.
‘Jenny!
Oh Jenny!! Jenny…’ he was too astonished to inch further.
‘Don’t
you dare take my name, you cheat!’ she blasted.
‘What?
What are you saying? Why? Don’t you trust…’
‘Trust???
She couldn’t even let him finish. Your Sunday never came, you scoundrel! I had
loved you with the purest of my heart and you used me, what for? What did you
gain? I had betrayed my family to spend my life with you without giving it a
second thought. I blind trusted you. And you, rogue, didn’t show up!? So you
had a happy life after ditching me, didn’t you?’ Four decades it was, till she
had held the volcano within. It deserved a vent.
‘Let
me explain, please Jenny.’ Harry was desperate to put his case.
‘What
petty excuses have you been lining up in all these years? Shoot!’ she said with
folded arms. Even in her sixties, she still possessed the flair and poise.
‘After
we met last time, I went back to Punjab to make the deal, which I managed
pretty well too. The night before I was going to leave back to Goa, I was
raided by some investigating people and, I don’t know how they found some
illegal drugs from my bag. I still have no clue how it came there, who planted
it and when. I was arrested; I was not even allowed to contact anyone. I so
desperately wanted to let you know that I was innocent and though I would not
be able to make it on the day and time we decided, I will be there with you as
soon as I can. I came here, at this very tree, after spending two years in
jail. I also went to your home but only to find that you had shifted to some other
city with no traces left behind. I tried every channel to get in touch with
you, but failed. I had never felt as helpless in life.’ Harry ran out of
breath.
Jenny’s
folded arms untied. Suddenly, broken links started hooking themselves in her
mind. Her father, a senior CBI officer, was sufficiently influential to achieve
what Harry said, with snap of fingers, if he was evil enough to mistreat his
powers; that evidently he was.
‘That must have been the reason
why about a year after Harry apparently ditched me, dad insisted on getting a
transfer to another state.’ Jenny
thought.
‘Say
something Jenny, please.’ Harry intruded into her thoughts.
‘I
am so sorry for what you had to go through and for what I said earlier. I think
I know how it happened and who did it.’
‘I
know that too.’ Harry was smart enough to decode one of the easiest cases under
circumstances.
‘But
I am so happy and proud to learn that you tried your best to keep your
promise.’ She said.
‘You
know what Jenny, deep down I knew we will meet again, some day, somewhere. Over
the years, everything has changed, including my love. My love for you; it is
not the same, it has increased immensely.’ He said getting closer to her.
She
smiled straight from heart, in ages.
He
continued.
‘You
must have your own family, kids and may be grandkids. I understand and respect
that. It was me who unintentionally, stranded you. You had the right to move
on. But I could not. I did not marry. How could I marry someone without a heart
when I had left it with you?’
‘Really?!!!’
Jenny’s eyes lit up. ‘Me too. I feel so lucky for my decision to shift back to
Goa with my brother’s family.’ She said.
Now
was the time for Harry’s eyes to sparkle.
He
wasted no time and turned back to digging sand. Even in his sixties, he did it
with the energy of a teenager. After few minutes of hopeful excavation, he
discovered an old, dusty box that seemed no less than a priceless treasure to
him.
He
opened the box and found the ring as safe as it could be in world’s safest
vault. The custodian had kept it away from the eyes of the world with great
finesse.
Harry
looked up to the tree and bid a Thank You. With the wind, swing of leaves
acknowledged.
Harry
turned to Jenny.
Down
on one knee, with the ring in his hand, he asked for her hand.
‘Jenny,
I might have been a little late or may be more than that, but what it has done
is only increase my desire to be with you. It has made me love you even more
with every passing day. There has not been even a single day in these forty
years when I have not craved to do what I am doing right now. I must have done
something good in my last birth to deserve meeting and falling in love with you
in this; and I must have been good enough in this lifetime to be able to see
you back after an unbounded void. When I imagined doing this in my dreams a
million times, I never imagined my heart thumping as fast as it is right now.’
He
sighed and continued, ‘Jenny, I Love You! Would you, please forgive me for
keeping you waiting for a little while, and give me a chance to make it up to
you by allowing me to craft each today of your life more beautiful than the
yesterday?’
He
extended the ring closer to her with a hopeful smile.
A
tear rolled down Jenny’s eyes on to Harry’s hand that held hers.
‘This
would be your last tear in this life, I promise.’ He kissed the tear. ‘Marry
me?’
Jenny
nodded with a choked throat and teary smile. Their love had aged like wine.
The
ring, after hindrance of decades, found the purpose of her existence as Harry
slid her in Jenny’s finger.
***
With
a bunch of beautiful pink-white-purple flowers in wrinkled hands, blushing face
trying hard to resist a cheerful grin through creased cheeks, her slack eyes
playing hide and seek with his through the white veil, slow but steady steps
closer to her man who had waited long enough, she looked the most beautiful she
would ever look. The church smelled serene and so did her young heart.
With
vaguely bent back, he stood as upright as he could as she walked down the
aisle. He waited, and waited a little more to hold her in his wobbly arms, kiss
her and comfort her through the rest of their lives.
‘I
Do!’ she said.
‘I
Do!’ he said.
Their
moist eyes collided, hands wrapped each other, smiles merged and so did their
lips.
A Cave Story
“Come
quick, the bus leaves in 2 minutes”, Tanya yelled. Karan stood beside her,
grinning at their plight.
Ashish
and Priya were struggling with their bags, their slender frames not able to
keep up with the rest of them, and Meghna and Rajeev were trailing behind, lost
in animated conversation. They managed to get on the bus alright, and their
sudden unplanned trip was a huge success.
It
was early February, and the six of them were in the most beautiful hill station
of their state – Mandova.They had visited all the places the site had to offer
– so many caves, waterfalls, lakes and clicked hundreds of photographs to be
looked at and cherished later. It was all fun and games and leg-pulling until
the third day when Meghna had deiced to act smart and explore the Nandan Caves
on her own. Playfully Karan followed her, and together, they went on so deep
inside that they lost sight of the others.
“It’s
really amazing. I still can’t believe my parents allowed me to come on this
trip all by myself. And to think right now we are in the second longest cave in
the country – just the two of us! Oh it’s SO exciting! Just look at the rocks –
they must be HUNDREDS of years old! It’s almost as if we are staring into the
past, isn’t it?”, she gushed. She was jumping for joy, and he smiled at her
childish excitement.
“Of
course, but don’t you think we should turn back? It’s been an hour and we have
no idea where the others are.”
“Yes
you are probably right. Let’s turn back.”
And
they did indeed turn just then, but try as they might, they could not find
their way back. After hours of plodding on, Meghna collapsed on the floor,
every muscle in her body screaming with pain.
“I
am really scared, Karan. What has happened? Are we truly lost?”
He
hated to admit it to her, but he feared the worst. He did not reply, just
hugged her tight. He could feel her whole body shivering, and it made him feel
guilty to have let her venture on so far ahead.
“Everything
will be alright, just keep calm. Let’s just rest for a while and then we can
move on. I am sure the others must have contacted the police by now. Even if we
are lost, a rescue team will be on its way soon. Don’t worry.”
She
nodded and turned away. He could see she was sobbing softly and it made him
feel worse. He sat down beside her, hugged his knees and contemplated the
possibilities. They were lost – there was no doubt about it, and the chances of
them finding the exit on their own were extremely slim. So they had two options
– either to sit and wait for the rescue team to find them (but that would mean
risking bats, rats or whatever creepy crawlies this cave housed), or keep
moving on towards East (he had a compass, and he recalled the entrance as shown
on the map was on the eastern side). Walking ahead meant they might be moving
in circles – and that would make it even more difficult for the rescue team to
find them. But inaction meant idling, and he did not want Meghna to think
depressing thoughts while inside.
An
hour passed by, and it was almost midnight by his watch when he finally
convinced her to keep moving. He helped her up and hand in hand, they walked on
ahead – into the darkness of the unknown.
The
cave floor was slippery where the water had cut through the rocks. And sudden
outcrops made it extremely dangerous to move fast. Their torch batteries had
run out long back, and even his cellphone was about to be discharged. He
figured that if no help came within the hour, they would have no other option
but to just sit down and wait.
He
was losing hope, and her crying made it even worse. He was on the verge of
giving up, when he felt a gust of wind sending icy tendrils winding through his
hair. He looked up – if there was a draught, there must be an exit!
He
pulled Meghna with him as he followed the gust of wind, and after a few hurried
steps – they saw an opening in the rocks, just large enough for a man to
squeeze through. She was scared that she might fall down and injure herself, so
he had to carry her to the top, where she found a footing, and pulled herself
out into the open night air. He followed suit, and once outside, they both
heaved a sigh of relief.
The
cold night air caressed her upturned face like a lover’s kisses, and after
hours inside the cramped darkness of the cave, this sudden sense of freedom was
exhilarating. Karan completely burst her bubble of happiness by remarking “Okay
so we are out! But which place is this? The map is with Rajeev, and neither of
our phones are working.”
“Oh
Karan, at least we are out of that horrible damp place. I am sure we will find
some place to stay the night. Once its morning, everything will be alright
again!”, she smiled. Her enthusiasm made him feel somewhat hopeful. So when she
held his hand and led him into the forest, he did not object, even though a
storm was approaching. She was so happy they were out, that she did not
consider any other possibilities of danger – and this optimism was infectious.
They
had walked into a pine forest where their surroundings looked really pristine.
He was covered in bruises, and in so much pain that he wanted to lie down. The
cold night air was starting to make him shiver. But there was no place, and
once the storm was on them, they would be drenched to the bones within the
minute. So their best hope was to either build a makeshift shelter, or find
some place with a proper roof. But Karan had never been a good camper.
“Oh
look! A house!” Meghna’s excited shriek broke his reverie and brought him back
to reality. It was difficult to see properly in the darkness, but it did indeed
appear to be an abandoned house. They couldn’t have asked for anything better!
She
almost ran to the door and dragged him with her. It looked like a temporary
shelter – the kind wood-cutters would build for themselves to escape the chill
of the night. The door was locked, and with what little strength he had left in
him, he broke the lock and they let themselves in. It was a one-room cabin with
a skylight in the ceiling. There was no furniture, and it was pitch dark –
except the sudden lightning flashes that could be seen through the skylight.
They
sat down on the floor and made themselves comfortable. All he had in his
backpack was a rug, so he offered to share it with her. She, being a girl
brought out an assortment of stuff from her bag – a candle and a lighter,
chocolates, some walnuts, a water bottle and a scarf.
They
lay down on the cold hard floor and nibbled on the chocolates she had brought.
She had her head on his chest, and could feel his heart beating against her
cheek. His dimpled smile when she fed him a piece of her chocolate made her own
heart flutter. She knew it was totally uncalled for, but she suddenly felt a
strong wave of emotion towards him. Their adventure was nowhere near over, but
they had shared in something so big together, that suddenly his presence next
to her was too much to ignore! She felt inexplicably drawn to him – and a
powerful desire to cup his cheek and kiss him full on the lips engulfed her!
He,
on the other hand knew he would have been totally lost without her by his side.
He would have panicked, and given up hope a long while ago, had it not been for
an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her from all harm and keep
her safe always. Karan had had a crush on Meghna for a long time, and presently
in a log cabin so far away from all the people they knew, he suddenly felt
bolder than he had ever felt in his life. The scent of her hair and the warmth
of her body was adding to his discomfort. When she suddenly looked up and asked
“Want another bite?”, he was so overcome with emotion, that he could only
shrug. She chuckled and mocked him by placing the chocolate just out of reach
of his lips. And in doing so, her face was so close to him, that for an
instant, his whole world was made up of the scent of her breath.
But
she pulled away, and the moment was over. He was disheartened, but she felt all
the more encouraged. In that split second she had teased him, and the look of
confusion and disappointment on his face when it was over was enough to know
that nothing in the world mattered more to him at that instant than her!
Karan
had been a very good friend of her for almost two years, and suddenly she was
seeing him in a whole new light. And loving every bit of it! She lifted herself
up and looked him in the eye. Those deep brown pools were barely visible in the
darkness, but the glint in them was unmistakable. Emboldened, she grabbed his
hair and brought her face close to his. And just as the storm raged on outside,
he kissed her.
* *
*
When
the rescue team finally found them the next morning, they were asleep on the
wooden floor, their bodies intertwined – too tired to even whisper a word of
thanks to their saviors.
A
day in the medical clinic restored them to health. Their friends were overjoyed
and angry in equal measure. Both of them were chided for being so
irresponsible. The others could not figure out the reason for Meghna and
Karan’s inexplicable happiness, and they kept mum, enjoying their confusion.
When
they finally made the return trip to their college, Meghna and Karan held hands
as they sat next to each other on the bus. Everything was just the same –
Rajeev cracked jokes at each and every thing they encountered, Ashish tried to
keep track of things, but was lost in thought more often than not, Tanya
pretended to be embarrassed at being made fun of so often and Priya was doing
her best not to be the brunt of Rajeev’s jokes – only the two of them could not
stop smiling. It seemed as if a whole new dimension had been added to their
lives.
Maybe
there were indeed some things you could not share without ending up liking each
other – and getting lost in a cave, and spending the night in an abandoned log
cabin munching on chocolates was definitely one of them!
How I wasted my teenage years..
Even
though it all happened one and a half years ago, it still freak me out when I
think of that. I hide it well and laugh it off when people talk about it, just
because I don’t want to recall it but I’m honestly terrified after that
experience. Those two and a half years were the worst years of my life. I did
so wrong to me. I wasted my precious teenage years. I regret it really. It made
me very uncomfortable with life and I am honestly scared it that would happen
again. MY EX ABUSED ME THROUGHOUT THE RELATIONSHIP.
Sometimes
I get so scared that it’ll happen again, when all those memories come back. I
don’t really know how to forget that awful relationship I was in. I would not
just call it infatuation (people may think so, because I was too young to carry
the burden of a relationship). Yes, I may call it the biggest mistake of my
life, enough to waste 3-4 precious teenage years.
I
was 13 and he was 15, when we dated (too young though). I met him on ORKUT and
we got together in October 2010. I was just 13 years old, in an age of
listening music, laughing and playing, carrying my hobbies. It all happened
maybe because I was so techno-savvy.. I was madly in love with him. He was 15,
he could drive, and he was the best. He played basketball very well and he, of
course was “hot”. He was also a sweetheart. He wrote me cute love notes,
dedicated songs to me, sang my favourite songs. I was the envy of every girl
around him.
It
all went well for some time, maybe 9-10 months, but then things turned bad. I
started to notice his controlling behaviour. It slowly became worse and worse.
I couldn’t even look at any boy around me (not to talk, just on road). He would
shout at me and call me horrible names that I won’t write here. He did it all
the time.
He
didn’t care for my studies, my exams, my hobbies or anything. He kept me busy
in his phone calls 18 hours a day (6 hours for school) so that I don’t talk to
anyone else. I couldn’t take rest, sleep or take a nap. If by mistake I slept
at night someday, he would abuse me; suspect me and doubt at me if I was busy
with someone else, another boy of course.
At
one point of time, he gave me a new nickname every day. He would call me dodo,
honey, sweety, candy and many cute names. As time passed by, he called me by
abusive names. I developed serious depression and anxiety; I also got extremely
bad confidence problems.
I
had always actively participated in school functions, competitions, and
debates. I went on educational excursions with my school too. From standard
first to ninth, I always secured first, second or third rank in class. It was
just one time in standard sixth that I got fourth rank in half yearly
examinations. Otherwise I had always been doing well in academics as well as
extracurricular activities.
But
when he came to my life, he didn’t allow me to participate in any cultural
activity of school. He started getting really insecure about everything and
called it his so called love and possessiveness.
Even
if my mother asked me to go for shopping, he wanted me to take permission from
him. And when I asked him to go anywhere, he would simply say without even
listening the entire thing “NO, YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE”. If I insisted, he
would either say “I AM BREAKING UP” or he would follow me on roads. I never
said anything because i always thought that at the end of the day we both loved
each other a lot. Whenever he called me, and I picked up the phone in more than
3 seconds, he would shout at me for not picking up the call fast and say “WERE
YOU BUSY ON ANOTHER PHONE?”
One
day, he said, “NO ONE WILL EVER MARRY A GRIL LIKE YOU, AND YOU SHOULD BE
THANKFUL TO ME FOR BEING IN RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU”. He would daily follow me to
school (arrival and departure both) to check if I had another boyfriend and he
confessed it so casually, “I DONT TRUST YOU”. All that I was left was with
tears. My friends continuously kept on telling me that I was doing wrong with
myself, but I left my friends but not him. (I feel so sorry; thank god my
friends didn’t leave me).
But,
the day he asked me whether I was paid for being with guys, I knew, I should
leave him. It was enough. I tolerated all those abuses but then, it was the
end. It was the day, I realised, there was no trust and how can love be there
then? I stopped talking to him and broke up, but then he warned me to harm me
on road. I was so scared to share it with anyone. I was in a trap that I wasn’t
able to come out of. I wanted to break up and just go away from him because it
was enough, but he said he was going to kill himself. I was so stupid that I
thought he was really going to do so. One day I asked him that I couldn’t
continue it anymore so he started to act like feeling sorry and I again melt.
He asked me for a last chance. He said “come on Skype, I want to say sorry and
tell you how much I love you.” That was the first time I was going to talk to him
on Skype. I forgot everything in a second and was so excited. But the worst
happened then. As I went online on Skype, he had a blade in his hand and
blackmailed me to cut his hand if I left him. I was so terrified that I shut
the laptop, cried, got scared and continued to be in the relationship that I
didn’t want. I kept quiet and continued that so called relationship, I wasn’t
happy in.
I
was not safer with him. I was moron and went back to him each time he said he
would commit suicide if I left him. I believed him each time he abused me and
thought he would not do it again. But it happened again and again.
He
wouldn’t let me talk to my friends, girls of course, because I had no male
friends in school, on facebook or in my neighbourhood. I had one best friend in
school, Iqra, to whom also he didn’t want me to talk to. He would read all my
facebook messages even though no boy except him was added.
I
tried changing him to good. I kept on forgiving him or each and every mistake,
thinking he would not repeat it. What makes me really mad is that he never
changed for anything. I don’t really know the reason of the violence inside
him, of those abuses he gave and how he shouted at me. Not only me,, but on his
mother too.
The
main reason I left him on 12 February 2013 was my CBSE Standard 10th board
examinations. He didn’t let me study and prepare for my exams. The thing that
came in my mind on 11 February 2013 was, “if he doesn’t care for me today, how
can I expect a better tomorrow with him?” His aim was to become a doctor but he
didn’t want me to take admission in standard 11th after giving my final exams.
I don’t think any educated or broad minded person would do that.
I
always gave him a second chance, maybe because, I wanted to give it. But on 12
February, I was determined to have a better future by studying further and
leaving him. Each time I wanted a break up, he would call me and say sorry and
I would forgive it, but that day, I deactivated all my accounts, switched of my
phone, changed my sim card and ignored him on road each time he came.
I
don’t really know if he would have killed me or I would have killed myself if I
continued that relationship.
As
it has been one and a half year since I’ve broken up with the boy I call “Mr.
Abusive”, I sometimes wonder if I will ever be over the trauma. Even though I
have moved on, I am paying attention on my studies and doing well in fact, I
will never be able to forget those harsh words he said about me.
I
get very angry about my past and about what he did. I wonder why he chose me to
victimise. Was it something that I deserve? If yes, then why? These are all
questions that I don’t have the answers to. But I am really thankful to god for
helping me overcome all my fears and for giving me such a supportive friend.
by Nick T. Chan
In the still moments before dawn, when all is as dark as the
bottom of the sea, I turn my head from my sister and dream. In my dream, we are
not conjoined. We are not fused from breast to stomach. I am not destined to
cast spells until Isabella dies. Instead, I walk straight. I do not
crab-scuttle with her. Alone and proud, I am with the love of my life. When I
wake, I can’t remember his face. All that remains is that Isabella was alive,
yet I was alone. They say the dreams of mages are prophetic, but that cannot
be, because the only way I will ever be alone is if I murder Isabella.
This morning the dream ends early. I am woken by something warm
in my right hand that wasn’t there before. I open my eyes. It is a parchment
scroll. It’s probably from my friend Emily, who has not written to me for
months. I wake fully and winter passes through my veins as I realise what the
paper’s warmth means. The scroll was created by magic. Emily’s twin Susan was
on the verge of death before we fled the Parliament of Mages, so she can’t have
had the power to create the letter. It has to be from the Parliament.
I stand, intending to toss the letter into the fireplace.
Standing wakes Isabella. She grabs my wrist and my throw falls short. I strive
to pick it up as Isabella pulls away. We dance on the spot, revolving
spasmodically, and then her greater strength wins. She squats, forcing me to do
so too, and picks the letter up.
“It’s magic,” she says. “They must need you to cast a heroic
spell.” She pauses and clasps the scroll to her chest. “How many songs will
they write about me after I die?”
“None,” I say. A spasm of coughing overtakes me, bright blood
flecking my hand, each spot jewel bright. She says the same thing she always
does after each one of my fits. “It’s you or me. If you cast a spell like they
want, the people will remember my name. If I’m going to die, I want to be
remembered.”
And I use my usual retort. “Murder is a sin.”
The coughing intensifies until thick coins of clotted dark red
blood coat my hand and darkness claws at the edges of my sight. I cannot
breathe or think. Isabella embraces me until it stops.
“Read the letter,” she says. “You keep saying that you’ll find
some way to save me, but we both know it’s a lie.” She pauses. “We’re dying. Do
we have a week? A day? An hour? Please.”
She is right, but casting a spell will accelerate the rate at
which Isabella drains my life, forcing me to cast more and more spells. I cough
again, and suddenly I am tired. Isabella believes Parliament is a force for
good, while I know better. But it doesn’t matter what I believe, not when my
beliefs will lead to both our deaths.
I unfurl the letter. “It’s blank,” Isabella says. “Why would a
mage create it?”
I trace my finger across the paper and my fingers tingle. “I
have to cast a spell to reveal the words,” I say. “It’s a small spell. It won’t
give us much more time.”
“Do it.”
The words flow easily though it is a year since I have cast one.
Isabella pushes a short hiss of air between gritted teeth at each syllable. As
soon as the spell is finished, the scuttling tickle within my chest ceases and
crow’s feet wrinkles appear on Isabella’s ashen face. Every part of me burns
with life.
Flowing script, as black as blood in the moonlight, fills the
page. Each letter twitches in a way that makes me uncertain whether it has
really moved at all. I read aloud. “The Ever-dying King’s life is ending and
the Worm Nil will soon awaken. I have a plan to stop it. Parliament does not
know. I arrive in three hours. Draven.”
My hand shakes as I lower the letter. When the Ever-dying King
dies, then there will be chaos. Without him, spells cost the weaker twin
exponentially more. The Parliament will be powerless. As corrupt as they are,
the alternative is anarchy. And worse, during the time between the death of the
King’s current body and the re-birth of his new one, the Worm is unleashed.
Draven. Emily’s letters wrote of him. All I know is that she
fell in love with him. He was going to save her twin Susan, but he failed and
broke her heart. “It’s a trap. He can’t destroy the Worm,” I say.
“They’ll remember us forever if we do it,” she says. “I could
have a statue in the grand square. Children will be praised for being like me.”
She claps my hands and forces me into a spin around the room, false gaiety in
her eyes. “The selfless Isabella, who sacrificed her life for all mankind.”
“No, it can’t be done.” I look away from her. She grabs me by
the chin and forces my face back to its natural position, facing her.
“Can’t or won’t?” she says. “And does it matter?”
“It will kill you,” I say. “Take how much that spell hurt and
multiply it by a thousand.”
“It will be worth it to be remembered forever,” she says. She
snatches the letter away and reads it out loud behind my back, rolling each
word around in her mouth as if they were hard-boiled lollies. “Why did you say
Draven can’t kill the Worm?” she says. “I don’t remember him.”
“He was Emily’s lover,” I say. “He joined Parliament after we
left. She said they discovered him in some small village. He wouldn’t have had
enough time to learn how to cast spells.”
“How can he kill the Worm then?”
“He lies. Parliament is trying to catch us again.”
Isabella is silent. We watch each other go to the toilet, bathe
and menstruate. But Isabella’s head is a locked box. She cares about clothes
and makeup and dancing and men and a thousand other irrelevant things. Yet if I
think about her death, my heart feels like a pebble dropped down an endless
well.
I toss the letter into the fire, half-expecting it to resist the
flames and hiss like a snake. It catches fire. Isabella picks up the poker
lying in the grate and pushes the letter further into the flames. It is a
strange pleasure to watch her flawless face, though she stole her beauty from
me. If we do the impossible and kill the Worm Nil, this is how the painters and
sculptors will depict her. When we were children, she had a mournful shrunken
frog-face. Now men stare at her despite our freakishness. Every day I become
more haggard, my skin as tight as papier-mĂ¢chĂ© over my skull, and my hair falls
out in fist-sized clumps.
Isabella pushes the last log onto its side so that the fire
dies, leaving parchment fragments interposed amongst the ashes. “We’re not
going to run,” she says. “Parliament is still scared of you.” I try to move so
I can pack our meagre belongings. She doesn’t budge. The join between our
bodies stretches and I gasp. It must hurt Isabella as well, but her face is
stone-still. I strain until the pain becomes too great. She never flinches.
“Don’t you trust me to make the right decision?” she says. No, I
do not. Her head is filled with glory, but the dead care not for adulation.
They are dust and worms and a statue is no substitute for my sister. I strain
again.
The coughs overtake me without warning. When they stop, the
front of our dress is covered with thick, gritty blood.
“Do you want to become oathbound if Parliament catches us?” I
say.
“There’s no time to run anymore Mary,” she says. “I can feel our
heart slowing.” The wind whistles through the gaps in our stone shack and the
fire grows cold. I cough and the blood is fresh and bright. Dust eddies in rays
of sunlight through the window as the sun rises. She looks at the angle of the sun.
“He must be here soon.” She drags me outside and scans the sky.
A vast Zeppelin descends from the sky behind Isabella’s back.
There is a woman nailed to the front and oh gods, its Emily. What happened to
her? Then I realize my mistake. She is the globe. They have made her oathbound.
Emily’s body spreads into a great puffer-fish of pale white flesh, making her
the figurehead of a living Zeppelin. One of the reasons I left the Parliament
was because of the cruelty of their punishments against those who defied them
and now it has happened to Emily.
I sob and the sound alerts Isabella to Emily’s descent. “She’s
hollow inside,” she says. “I can see a shadow.” She uses her palm to shade her
eyes. “Two people standing side by side. Did Emily ever tell you how Draven and
his twin were joined?”
“What has he done to her?” I say, my voice cracking.
“He can’t have,” Isabella says. “Only the senior members of
Parliament can make someone oathbound.”
Tears blind my eyes. “No. Draven must have done it. Emily never
defied them.”
I watch Emily’s face as she comes closer, hoping for a smile
when she recognizes me. Her face remains blank. Oh, my poor Emily. She lands on
the grass with a soft thud. She shudders and then she splits like a quartered
orange, granting entry to her insides.
Draven steps out of Emily. Recognition spears through me. He is
the literal man of my dreams. Ever since puberty, I have dreamed of him. I
never remembered his face after waking, but now he is in front of me. High
cheekbones, deep blue eyes and a mouth made to whisper sweet promises. My
cheeks flush and our heart beats faster as I meet his gaze. Gods, he is
beautiful and there is no other word for him.
A thin band of skin attaches Draven to his twin at the hip. The
ash-colored twin is so thin sunlight almost passes through it and it is so
withered that it could be either man or woman. Its eyes are closed.
Draven approaches us. His twin mirrors his walk, but it does not
open its eyes. When twins are on the verge of dying, they retreat deep inside themselves,
clinging onto life before the final spell. How could Draven know spells well
enough to drain his twin to this degree?
“What have you done to her?” I say, putting contempt into my
voice, but at the same time unable to tear my eyes away from him.
He holds his hands up. “I am no friend of Parliament. Like you,
she tried to leave, but they weren’t scared of her. Their punishment sent her
insane.” He strokes her cheek, but she doesn’t react. “I couldn’t save her.
They didn’t know we were lovers, so when they asked for a mage to take charge
of her, I volunteered.” Isabella nods, too eager to believe. It is plausible. I
want to believe him. Gods, I want to.
The shock of seeing my dream lover in the flesh has kept me
upright, but the adrenaline leaches and I stumble. Draven and his twin spring
forward and catch us. The arm that catches me is strong. His other arm supports
Isabella. His twin holds us too and its skin is like dried autumn leaves,
brittle and ready to crack. I look into his perfect face, but he is looking at
Isabella and when I turn my head back to its natural position, she has locked
gazes with him.
Draven draws us back to our feet, his hands changing position.
His hand stays over Isabella’s waist. The twin holds me upright. After a long,
frozen, moment, he lets go and enters Emily.
“The Worm Nil will wake within days,” he says. “We have to
return to Firewater now.”
“The Ever-dying King was healthy when we left. I can cast small
spells to keep us both alive.”
“You are a long way from Firewater and do not know the news,” he
says. “He is dying. He has been dying for months.”
“But he is not dead.”
“Before he lapsed into the sleep before death, he asked the
Traders of Sorrows to exchange his pain for another’s sorrow,” he says. “They
told him that he could not swap death.”
My last hope disappears. If the current King is dying, then
Isabella must supply all the power for the spell. We do not have long to live
if I do not cast spells and the new King will not be born for weeks. Isabella
follows Draven and I do not resist.
The entrance seals behind us. Inside is cramped and Draven
almost stands on top of us. Emily’s insides are deep red and waxy at first, but
then her walls glow white and became transparent. She rises and my insides
churn as our shack and the garden vanish into the distance. Isabella squeezes
my hand. She had no fear of heights, but she knows my discomfort. I close my
eyes, but I still see Draven in my mind’s eye. Better to open them again and I
do so.
“What happened the last time a mage thought they could kill the
Worm? How many people died?” I say.
Draven flicks a glance my way and then looks at Isabella. “Maybe
three thousand died twenty years ago,” he says, his voice almost lost in the
wind’s noise. “But that is not what will happen this time.”
Isabella leans sideways to hear better and I must follow. He
smells of soap and rose water, but beneath is the odor of his dying twin. Its
eyes open for a second, salt-white and blind, and then they close again.
“What spell will kill the Worm?” Isabella says.
Draven raises his hand and for a moment I fear he is about to
run his fingers through Isabella’s hair. I hold my breath. “I have looked into
the histories,” he says. “There have been four attempts to destroy the Worm
Nil.” At the word destroy, he clenches his hand and then he opens it, waggling
his fingers with a smile. I exhale. “Each attempt has angered the Worm,
worsening its destruction. Thousands more die than is necessary.”
We float through the air at tremendous speed, passing over the mountain-graveyards
formed from Worldstalker bones. Our shadow darkens the Forest of Silence where
the trees eat those foolish enough to speak. And then we are following the
Firewater River which flows to the Burning Sea, upon which the city of
Firewater sits. In the shadows of the mountains, the Sea gutters with a low
blue flame and the hellfish burn as they leap from the surface. By mid-morning,
the shadows will have passed, the flames will have died and the hellfish will
be edible.
Draven continues to speak. “No one has thought about when the
Worm stops its destruction.”
“You are going to induce the new Ever-dying King as soon as the
old one dies,” Isabella says.
Draven smiles, genuine delight in his grin, and he locks gazes
with Isabella. “As soon as the new King is born, the Worm vanishes. If we bring
the New King forth from the ground early, then the Worm’s damage will be
limited. It took no skill to write a modified inducement spell, only skill to
say it.”
“Cast it yourself,” I say.
“Any mage who approaches your skill has already drained their
twin.”
“The first person who touches the new Ever-dying King will be
the regent until the new King comes of age won’t they?” I say.
He talks again, too fast and too smooth. “My father died
fighting the Worm Nil. I’ve always dreamed of stopping it.”
“So you’ll be regent to honor his memory?”
“Emily said you were a hypocrite,” he says. “You didn’t leave
Parliament to save your sister. You left because they didn’t agree with you how
to use spells. You spout fine words about the tyranny of Parliament, but if the
chance to do good comes about, you run the other way.”
“Don’t lie,” I say. “This is for your own glory.”
“Mary,” Isabella says. “You must cast the spell.”
“So he can gain the throne for the next eighteen years?”
Before I can continue, Draven interrupts me. “Emily was your
friend, but she lied about me. I am a good man. Love turned sour breeds lies
and she lied.”
She never wrote about him at all except to say she had a new
lover. He was going to somehow save her twin Susan. And he didn’t and then she
wrote: I hate him and nothing more. He was less important to Emily than she
thought it seems. I decide to bait him. “She told the truth.”
“If you cast the spell, you will be there when the new King is
born,” he says. “You can be the first one to lay your hands upon him.”
This catches me so off-guard that I can do nothing but stutter.
He has offered me the regency. “I…cannot.”
“She told me you hated how Parliament casts spells due to greed
rather than where they’d do the greatest good,” he says. His eyes flick up to
look at Isabella, back to me and then into space again. “Parliament would have
to obey you. You could ensure that spells are only cast for good.”
“You would throw away such power?” I say. His hand hovers above
Isabella’s knee, but does not touch. I want him to put his hand on my thigh and
slide it beneath our dress. I want him to kiss me. How can I be so weak?
“I will have done more good than any mage in history if the Worm
Nil sleeps,” he says. “What is the regency compared to that?” His eyes shine
and I want to believe him. The Worm will be stopped and I will be the regent.
Thousands of lives will be saved and the entire Parliament under my control.
The tyranny of my fellow mages could be finally undone. Yet it would cost
Isabella her life.
“I want to speak to The Ever-dying King before he passes,” I
say.
“You can see him, but he won’t speak to you,” he says. “He is in
so much pain that his mind is broken.”
There is nothing to say and we sit in silence as we fly closer
to the city. Draven and his twin sit on the other side of Emily’s interior. His
twin doesn’t open its eyes. All three of us slide glances past one another.
Emily catches a gale and quickens her flight. We fly over the
sprawling city of Firewater. The noon sunlight has killed the flames and
fishermen on shore are pushing out their boats. The city buildings have not
changed since we left. In ancient times, our nation was nothing but sand and
heat and burning water until enough mages murdered their twins to change the
weather and then the land. The buildings are still those of a desert city,
bricks as white as vulture-picked bones and the rippling curves of red
tiled-roofs as far as the eye can see.
We descend, scraping the top of the city’s walls. They are made
from the black diamond bones of Worldstalkers and their impervious ramparts
have repelled numerous hordes over the centuries.
“We will give you my decision tomorrow,” I say. Isabella opens
her mouth to protest, but I raise my hand to stop her. “Isabella and I will
talk alone and then I will decide.”
We land. The milling crowds in the street glance at us for a
second and then return to what they were doing. There are no cries of horror at
Emily’s appearance. Isabella says what I have been thinking. “They didn’t look
at her. How many oathbound are there in the city now?”
“Parliament has conducted many trials lately.” He pauses. “They
have been suppressing opposition before the Worm wakes. There will be chaos and
they take no chances.”
Emily splits and we exit onto the road. I look at her, hoping to
see some semblance of recognition in her eyes, but there is nothing. Because
I’m not watching where I’m going, I stumble and look down. A soft curse escapes
my lips. We are upon the Road of Tears. Once it was known as the King’s Road
until the last time the Worm Nil traveled upon it.
The road is the widest in the city and bisects Firewater in
half. What was rock is now fused glass six feet deep. We stand above a young
man. His face is unburned, but rest of him is charcoal-black. His eyes are blue
and his mouth is ajar, as if he was lost in thought. The dead soldier is both
handsome and familiar. I look from the soldier’s face to Draven’s.
“This is your father isn’t it?” I say.
Draven and his twin squat onto the road. Draven touches the
glass above his father’s face. “I never knew him. I was conceived before the
Worm woke.” The sweat on his fingers leaves streaks on the glass as he
withdraws his hand. “He was a peasant, but Parliament conscripted him. My mother
was pregnant.”
He stands. “Walk the road and then tell me casting the spell
isn’t the right thing to do. I will meet back here at dawn with a modified
inducement spell.”
“What is your twin’s name?” Isabella says.
His face hardens and he strides inside Emily. The exit seals.
For a moment I imagine there is suffering in her eyes, but I am fooling myself.
They are as blank as the eyes of dead fish. Isabella calls out, but Emily
elevates.
We both watch until she is a distant spot in the sky and then I
have to rub my stinging eyes. Isabella watches longer, her eyes watering.
I press my fingers into my temples. I cannot think. The pain is
too much. “We don’t know what his damn spell is going to do until we say it do
we?” I say. “Parliament hasn’t lured us back to punish us. They want us to do
their dirty work.”
Isabella snorts. “That’s ludicrous.” She leads the way off the
glass road and down the side streets.
“Where are you going?” I say, but she does not respond. We
crab-scuttle and she watches for potholes. She is steady-footed while my feet
skitter on the glass. The life drained from Isabella by my last spell has
already dissipated and now she is draining me faster than ever. My limbs move a
fraction of a second behind my thoughts and Isabella is a little glossier of
eye and hair.
People keep their heads down and scurry off the road as we
approach. “They’re scared of us,” Isabella says. “Remember when we were mobbed
for favors? Parliament was always scared of you. You made them look bad, the
way you talked about what good your spells would bring when you finally cast
them.”
“You miss being the centre of attention,” I say. My tone is
harsher than I intended, but Isabella remains serene.
“Yes,” she says. “I miss thinking that when you finally caved
in, I’d be famous.”
“Where are we going?”
We round a corner. She has brought us to the marketplace where
the Traders of Sorrows ply their wares. The marketplace is empty except for the
Traders. They sit in enormous steaming glass tubs filled to the brim with
water, their girth filling the tubs from centre to rim. Their eyes are black
slits and the rest of their bodies are salt-white. Nostrils are two
upwards-curved slashes, mouths lipless holes. They have no fingernails on their
stubby fingers, no hair on their heads, nor ears or wrinkles. Nobody knows how
the Traders work their magic without twins or why they trade sorrows for no
apparent benefit to themselves. The Traders have been here since before
Firewater was founded. They might have been here before mankind.
The nearest one focuses its black eyes upon us. Isabella forces
me to walk and stand in front of it.
“Swap your guilt,” she says. “Swap your bloody guilt, so you can
do what needs to be done.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She slaps me hard across the face. “Wake up Mary,” she says.
“You love being a martyr so much you’ve destroyed all my dreams.”
I rub my stinging cheek. “You hurt me.”
“You can’t put it off any longer,” she says.
“What if he’s a liar?”
Her eyes are flat. “I’ve never believed in your Gods or your
heaven. When I die, there will be nothing. My death will mean nothing unless
you do this, but your bloody pride means more than my dreams, doesn’t it?” Her
tone softens. “Trade your guilt. Please.” And then she is crying, her face
crumpled, Isabella who is always so serene and perfect. “Please.”
I choke out the words. “If I could die for you…”
Her face steels. “But you can’t.” She turns her head to the
Trader. “How much sorrow is the King’s dying pain worth?”
The Trader almost looks surprised. “To take his pain is to take
his life.”
“I propose trading his pain for my broken dreams,” she says and
extends her hand to the Trader.
“Your proposal is acceptable,” it says and it moves to kiss her
hand, sealing the bargain. I try to stop her, but she brushes my hand aside
without difficulty. The Trader kisses her hand and then it shudders and its
eyes roll back in its head.
Isabella gasps, but the King was an old man and she handles his
dying pain with a grit of her teeth. Bells start to peal, signifying the death
of the Ever-dying King and the Worm Nil’s coming. Within minutes crowds rumble
through the marketplace. None stop for the Traders; they are fleeing the city.
“What have you done?”
Isabella closes her eyes. “You have no guilt now. I’ve forced
your hand. We find Draven and then you cast the spell.”
There will be a way out. There has to be. Isabella heads back to
where Emily landed. My lungs burn but we cannot slow down. The crowds buffet
us. The Worm Nil will kill them all. I know it in my bones. Thousands of
ordinary people. They are not cursed with deciding whether to murder their
twin, but neither do they have the power to save themselves. The gods have
placed them as pawns, but I am a queen upon the board. I could save them all.
There are so many of them and I realize that Draven will never
see us if he’s in the air. “The King’s tower,” I say. “I’ll cast a beacon
spell.” Isabella sets her jaw and nods. The quickest way to the King’s Tower is
to pass through the slums. We scuttle through the twisting and narrow streets
as quickly as we can. Shouts and cries ring out. The stink of tears, fear and
sweat is overwhelming.
We are stop to let the crowd pass. The front of our dress is
covered with blood, though I do not remember coughing. It does not matter.
After the beacon spell, Isabella might be dead. The crowd thins for a moment
and then we are scuttling down less crowded streets until we have reached the
Grand Square, where the statues of heroes (twin and un-twinned alike) ring the
King’s Tower.
The tower is a pillar of flesh, topped by a vein-streaked heart
as wide as a house. While the King lives, the heart beats. When he dies, the
heart is still until the new King is born. Around the tower’s stem winds a
wooden staircase. It leads to a platform encircling the heart.
“There’s no one on the platform,” Isabella says. “Where are the
members of Parliament?”
“Too scared of the Worm,” I say. “It likes eating mages.”
“Draven could be telling the truth,” Isabella says. “You and he
will be the only ones in position to touch the new King.”
Yes. Isabella will be dead. It will be Draven and I. And then I
realize. “No,” I say. “Draven’s twin will still be there.” Isabella is
blank-faced. “You’ll be dead,” I say. “I’ll be un-twinned.”
It takes Isabella a moment to understand. “You won’t be able to
cast spells. And he will.”
“Maybe not. His twin must be close to dying.”
“But not dead yet.”
“It doesn’t take much power to kill someone, not if they can’t
cast spells,” I say. “There are no witnesses.”
“He’s not a murderer,” she says. “Don’t ask me how I know, but
he isn’t. I feel it. ”
I feel it too. He is not a murderer. He is a liar, but everyone
lies. The elders of Parliament claim virtue, but they are tyrants. I remember
when I was still a member. Our fellow mages proclaimed their plans for the
final spell and their twins smiled and nodded. Great spells that would bring
glory upon their dead twins. They lied. The spells were always for themselves.
But I was the only one who fled. I was the only one who did something about the
lies. And Isabella is right. I lie to myself and I always have.
I try to lead the way across the square, but my legs will not
move. There is no burning in my chest and the scuttling spider in my lungs is
gone. I try to tell Isabella I am no longer in pain. My head will not move. Why
is everything so quiet? It is like I am underwater and it takes me a moment to
realize Isabella is screaming something.
I focus and her words become a little clearer. She is screaming
my name. “The tower,” I gasp. It takes a couple of attempts for her to hear me,
though I shout back.
Isabella starts across the square and the band of flesh between
our bodies stretches as my feet drag across the cobblestones. I feel nothing. A
third of the way across the square, I blink, and when I open my eyes, we are
halfway across. Isabella has stopped. She is slapping my face. The world is
silent and the slaps are happening to someone else. I am behind a glass shield,
an ant in an ant farm, watching the world burn. I want to sleep. If I sleep, I
don’t have to murder her.
No. We must find Draven. No matter how brightly the beacon
burns, he will not see us at ground level. If he isn’t flying inside Emily, it
doesn’t matter what happens. We will die before he can find us.
I don’t know if Isabella has enough life for me to cast anything
more than the beacon spell. It might kill her and I will be left alone and
powerless on the tower with the Worm rampaging through the city. Gods, a spell
now might kill her. But there is no choice. Most of the spells I learned at
Parliament are too powerful. I need something small.
I blink and then we’re lying on the ground, my face numb against
the cobblestones. Isabella grits her teeth and we stand. I feel no pain. Her
muscles bulge as she sucks my life. Even so, there is no way she will be able
to climb to the top or walk more than a few more steps before I die. I have to
cast something.
My face is an inch from hers. I can’t think of what spell to
cast. The damage to her face from the last spell has disappeared. Her beauty is
like seeing the ocean or a mountain for the first time. It makes me feel
insignificant. As children, we were identically plain. Now she is a Goddess and
I am a hag.
Childhood. There was a rhyming spell all twins learn as
children, a small, stupid spell. A spell to make vegetables taste like boiled
sweets. The words were simple, but it was a song-spell, needing the rhythm and
notes to be correct.
I almost remember the cadences, but it is like catching soap
bubbles on the wind. As soon as a word of the lyrics is at the tip of my
tongue, I lose it again.
I blink and when I open my eyes, everything is grey as the
inside of a cloud. “Isabella!” I cry out, but I don’t know if my lips move. I
have to cast the spell. I close my eyes and sing.
Isabella’s scream echoes around the square. I open my eyes.
Everything is watery and blurred, but it is no longer grey. A half-animal moan
of agony keens and then dies in Isabella’s throat. The spell has drained her,
but it seems to have failed. Is that possible? And then I catch the taste of
something on the air. It is the flavor of the sky just before a lightning
storm, sharp and dangerous. “The Worm Nil,” I say. “I can taste it coming.” The
Worm’s flavor changes. Its taste changes according to its intentions. In a way,
I can read its mind and I know it hungers for magic.
The prickling on my tongue intensifies. “It’s coming for us,” I
say. “Magic is a beacon. We need to climb.” Another spell might enable it to
find us.
My eyes sting and I wipe them with the back of my arm. Isabella
comes into focus. I stifle a gasp. The spell didn’t take much power, but
Isabella is an old woman. Her skin as wrinkled as an unmade bed, her hair grey
and lank.
“You have to carry me,” Isabella says, her voice weak. I gather
her in my arms. She is kindling and twigs in my arm. Oh gods, she can’t support
the beacon spell, let alone the inducement spell. I freeze. Maybe if we hide,
the Worm will miss us.
Isabella digs her fingers into my forearm. “Go,” she hisses. I
scuttle across the square, Isabella’s feet hitting the stones at irregular
intervals.
The Worm’s ozone intensifies. It is hunting, not sure of where
the magic is coming from, only knowing someone was stupid enough to cast when
the King is dead.
I reach the stairs. Isabella’s eyes are open and fierce, but the
rest of her looks so fragile that I worry she will blow into dust if the wind
blows the wrong way.
I am strong, stronger than I’ve been for years. I’d forgotten
what it is like to be able to breathe unencumbered. It is glorious to move
without pain.
I climb the stairs, supporting Isabella’s weight. It is
laborious, but part of me sings at the exertion.
We reach the top and Isabella slumps against the platform.
People fill the streets, but few travel along the Road of Tears. Instead they
flock to the Eastern gate or to the shore, fighting to board fishing boats.
They are frightened the Worm will travel along the glass road again. But the
Eastern Gate is too small to accommodate the vast crowds pouring in its
direction. Thousands will be crushed to death.
And those on the boats will be no better. There is only an hour
or so until Firewater Sea bursts into flame again. By the time they hijack the
boats, the water will be on fire. The only safe passage is the Southern Gate
via the Road of Tears but I can taste the Worm outside the gate.
“Is Emily in the sky?” Isabella says.
There are many oathbound flying through the sky. Most are
travelling beyond the city walls, but there are still enough remaining above
the city to make it impossible to know which one is Emily. None are close
enough for Draven to see us.
A ghost of a smile traces Isabella’s lips. “Do you think I will
get a statue for powering a beacon?”
“Maybe he’ll come close enough to see us,” I say. I can’t keep
the desperation out of my voice.
She touches my face, the motion slow and pained. “You’re so
beautiful. Is this what I looked like?”
No oathbound fly close. I scream Draven’s name, but my words are
lost into the sky. The sun sinks and little fires gutter and die on the Sea’s
surface. Soon the flames will roar waist-high. The hijacked boats will burn.
A great grinding sound sets my teeth on edge. The Southern Gate
is trembling from the Worm battering the wall, searching for the source of
magic. The walls are indestructible, but the gate is iron.
A single oathbound floats above the Road of Tears. It must be
Draven, searching at our last location. Why doesn’t he think? Up here, no sound
reaches up except for the whoosh of wind and the Worm’s battering against the
wall. The crowd on the western gate is a boiling mass. There will be screams
and the crack of bones as the weak are trampled underfoot. And on the lake, the
launched boats are already catching fire. If we were close to the lake, we’d
smell the roasting flesh.
“I love you,” I say and cast the beacon spell. Isabella screams
and screams and screams. I force myself to keep staring at her as she ages and
withers in front of my eyes. Her eyes sink deep into her sockets, two black
stones dabbed in water, and then she closes her eyes. Her face wrinkles until
deep cracks traverse her cheeks. She is utterly still and the only way I know
she is alive is the faintest stir of breath against my cheeks. Every part of my
body crackles with joy.
At the spell’s final word, light emanates from my fingers and I
hold a tiny star in my hand. It is cold, clear and brilliant. And useless.
Draven may find us, but Isabella doesn’t have enough power to cast much more.
At least the beacon might lead Emily and Draven out of danger.
The Southern Gate glows cherry-red. The sky over the Gate
darkens as Worm-brought storm clouds gather and then black fog leaks through
the gate. The darkness thickens until the glowing gate vanishes.
I pray to the Gods Isabella doesn’t believe in, but Emily
vanishes into the darkness. “Look up,” I scream, but of course he cannot hear
me. In-between blinks, Isabella’s eyes film over with white cataracts. I look
back into the blackness. “I dreamed of him,” she says.
I am staring so intently that it takes a second for her words to
register. “What?”
“Every night, there has been a man in my dreams,” she says. “I
didn’t know it was him until he stepped out of Emily. I dreamed he was the love
of my life.”
A chill run through me. Mage dreams are prophetic, but the dream
cannot be true. I have never heard of a twin having the same dream as a mage.
“I have it too,” I say. “You dream of him and then you’re alone. But I’m still
alive.”
She coughs wetly. “No,” she says. “I am alone, but with Draven.
You’re dead.”
As the star’s light gutters and dies, Emily shoots out from the
blackness. Behind her, the black fog dissipates as a howling wind washes it
away.
The Worm has melted the Southern Gate and hot iron slag coats
the road. It passes through where the gate used to exist. It should not fit. It
coils above the city like a brewing storm, yet its head slides through the
gates, its width endlessly narrowing as the body slides through. When I look at
it directly, it is not there. I can only see it out of the corner of my eye, a
featureless tube of night and nothing and air.
Emily rises until she is clear of the buildings and the street.
But they travel towards the Burning Sea, not towards us, and the Worm follows
them. I can taste its frustration. The beacon has attracted its attention, but
Emily’s presence has confused matters. She is a creature of magic. The Worm
turns its impossible head and chases her.
I start to recite the beacon spell again. Isabella barely has
enough life left, but there is no time to ask for her permission. Her hair falls
out in soft, grey clumps and when she screams, I see she has no teeth. When her
scream dies, her eyes close and she is a genderless mummy. “I’m sorry,” I
whisper, but she does not respond.
The star burns in my hand again. The Worm shifts from its
pursuit of Emily and turns down the Road of Tears. Its howl increases in volume
until it is the only sound in the world. Tin roofs flutter through the air and
whole buildings roll down the street. Further down the road, people flee, but
the wind pushes them off their feet. The road’s fused glass softens ahead of
the Worm and the people burst into flame. The Worm rolls over them, leaving
charred bodies pressed into the cooling glass.
It knows where we are now. The Worm is starting to taste me. As
I become used to the gradients of its flavor, I understand it more. I have a
taste of its thoughts, which is more than I can say about Isabella. The irony
forces a sob from my guts.
The Worm howls down the road and there is a hint of terrible
sadness in its flavor. The Worm is full of sorrow. And its flavor gives me a
strange insight. It is driven to destroy magic and its drive is the source of
its sorrow. I try to taste more, but the wind shifts too much.
Isabella whispers something. I look away from the unfolding
horror and press my ears to her lips. It takes two or three attempts before I
understand.
Let me die. Her voice is agonized. This is not her desire for
glory. This is agony. Even in the moments before I cast the last spell, I
didn’t want to die, but she is much closer to dying than I was then. I am not a
murderer; I am a torturer.
Emily flies away from the Worm, travelling fast enough that she
will be past the city walls within seconds. She is on fire, flames trailing as
she streaks through the sky. But the Worm stops and extends its impossible neck
to swallow them.
It looms over them, vaster than mountains yet too small to be
seen. Its mouth opens, a storm cloud, a hurricane, the abyss at the end of the
world. Leave them alone. Please God, miss them.
And miraculously, the Worm retreats. It returns to the Road of
Tears and starts travelling towards the Tower. No, it wasn’t a miracle. The
Worm understood my thoughts. As much as I can taste it, it can taste me. I open
my mouth and poke out my tongue. The taste of sorrow is almost overwhelming. It
is the taste of ashes, the taste of cakes at a wake, the taste of wine after
long years of loneliness and regret. The Worm consumes magic users and magical
things. All other destruction is incidental. It must do what it does and its
sorrow at its own nature flavors the wind.
A cough rattles in Isabella’s chest like dice in a cup. She
hangs limp and cold from my front. “Isabella,” I yell. “Draven is coming for
us. He’s seen the star.” I hold the glittering star high until its temporary
flame dies.
The Worm rolls down the road. Its burning wind pushes Emily
ahead of it.
Isabella forces a whisper out. “Lead it out of the city,” she
says. “Get inside Emily and use another spell to make it chase her away.”
“No.” If she dies inside Emily, no one will ever know what
happened. I promised her glory. She is my sister and she deserves glory.
Emily traces a wobbly path to above the tower, her underside
brushing the platform and then she lands. Her body is terribly burned, but her
face shows no more animation than before.
She splits and Draven steps out. My heart leaps despite the
circumstances. He clenches a scroll in his hands.
“I thought we had more time,” he says. He looks at Emily and
touches the burning flesh on her hindquarters. Tears fill his eyes and he will
not look at us as he holds the scroll in an outstretched hand.
Most of the scroll is covered in the runes in the language of
spells, the Tongue. But some of it is common script.
Mary, it says. I have drained Susan too much to cast this. I
know you won’t have drained Isabella. She is strong enough to bear the spell.
We can rule Parliament together.
Beneath is the spell. It is Emily’s work. If Isabella was strong
and the King still alive, the spell would not kill her, but she will die for
certain if I do cast it.
Draven bows his head. His twin does the same. And in the
gesture, there is something familiar. “Emily?” I say, looking closely at
Draven’s twin. I had assumed his twin was male, but the withered creature is
female.
Draven shakes his head. “No, Susan.” I touch his twin on its
jaw. Emily’s dead twin?
“I don’t understand.”
The Worm curls around the tower’s base. Draven grips the
platform, his knuckles whitening. “Emily made me oathbound. Her carriage drove
past and splattered me with mud. I called her a whore.”
He opens his eyes, staring down at the Worm as it curls up the
stairs. It takes its time now, knowing its prey is trapped. “She made me
oathbound to punish me and then when I was her slave, she fell in love with
me.” He pauses to choke back a sob. “I told her I loved her too, but I lied,”
he says. “When it came time to cast the final spell, she could not do it. I
told her to ask the Traders to swap my suffering for the pain of her twin. All
I had thought to do was end my own slavery.”
Isabella opens her eyes and speaks. Her voice is clear and
strong. She has more life in her than I imagined, maybe enough to cast the
inducement spell. “Why doesn’t she speak?” I say.
“She could bear the guilt of hurting Susan, but she could not bear
being oathbound,” he says. “It broke her mind. She saved Susan’s life at the
expense of her own. Susan is my sorrow now.”
The Worm is at the top of the stairs. It is too large to fit,
but it does. I can taste its despair, its need to destroy magic and its
self-hatred for doing so.
“Cast the spell,” Isabella says, trying to scream her words.
“Kill me. Kill me and save yourself.”
The Worm rears above us and it fills the sky. The scroll is
unfurled in my hand. But I am no murderer. I am a liar and a hypocrite, but
that is all. I throw the scroll towards the Worm. It catches fire before it
hits.
I recite my schoolyard spell, the one that changes tastes.
Isabella screams, but she lives. The Worm’s flavor intensifies and overwhelms
me. And then the Worm and I are linked. We are twins. I taste it and it tastes
me. It knows what I think and feel and say through tasting me and I understand
it.
“You consume mages to make the new King”, I tell it, no words
passing my lips. “If the New King is not born, the world will die. More than
spells, he sustains life.” I taste it waiting, wary of what I have to say. “But
you take no pleasure in murder. Your sorrows are heavy.” The taste of sadness
and relief floods my mouth. It has spent eternity nursing its guilt, never
sharing it. “Go to the Traders of Sorrows,” I tell it. “I will take on your
grief and you will take on mine. Leave them all alive and I will be the Worm
Nil.”
And it asks, “What grief will you have when your sister is still
alive?”
“I love him. He is my true love. He is also Isabella’s true
love. My grief is that I give her to him. I give them each other and that is my
sorrow.”
The Worm Nil swallows me.
#
Isabella is un-twinned. I restore her to full health. I am the
Worm Nil and the Worm Nil is me. We are one being, carrying the guilt of the
other, and we are almost Gods.
Emily left Susan so drained that only a shell remains. There is
nothing left to save, so I let her die and leave Draven un-twinned. I cannot
restore Emily’s mind. There are some things beyond my powers. One day she may
regain her sanity and then Draven’s guilt will be heavier.
I uncoil from the Tower. Parliament’s mages have fled the city
in their oathbound. Some are criminals and they should die. I am not a
murderer, but I will be. I leave my sister behind, knowing I will never see her
again and that is my sorrow, but I am the Worm Nil and I will bear my sorrows
for eternity.
A breach warning blared from Level 10. Thirty-two minutes later
and Goncalves hadn’t heard from Junior on 10 or Iglesias on 9. He reviewed the
portals between his level and Level 8. Everything was secure, but the breach in
Level 10 concerned him.
His communicator chimed.
“Level 7, Level 8 reporting a breach in portal 1-2-8,” Henry
said. “Intruder has cleared and disabled Levels 10 and 9. Recommend you—.” The
communication ended.
BANG
Goncalves jumped at the sound. Something hit portal 2-4-3
between Level 7 and, Level 8. He poked at his communicator, fumbling and
hitting Level 9. A screech echoed through the halls before he keyed in the
correct code.
“Level 8, report! What is the status of the intruder?”
No reply. Goncalves turned away from the mic. He would have to
enable the defense protocols on Level 7 and warn Fredricks on 6.
BANG
The portal shook against the attack.
Goncalves began opening the communication line for Level 6.
Before he could finish, the communicator crackled and spat:
“Goncalves,” Henry said. His voice was broken and weak from the
intruder’s corruption. “Recommend… seal portals to Level 6. Warn them.”
He didn’t waste time replying, and instead began the work of
sealing himself in. Nothing would exit Level 7.
The noise continued as Goncalves worked. The intruder dug its
way in, focused on portal 2-4-3.
Sealing this one portal would buy him some time, but leave the
rest of the portals vulnerable.
It will have to do. The intruder had been on 2-4-3 the entire time. It must be
single threaded. That made sense. Devoting all of its energy to one location
allowed a smaller package to infiltrate a thicker defense.
He initialized the level 7-side seal on the portal, just as the
doorway began to split. Green light poured through the crack. A flash of blue
and red sent him flying backwards as the intruder encountered the rising Level
7-side shield.
This one is strong. The shock had disoriented him.
BANG
He jumped up and headed for the Level 6 portals. They must be
sealed and the others warned.
“Level 6, this is Level 7 reporting,” Goncalves said.
“Go ahead Level 7,” Fredricks replied.
“Intruder has breached Levels 10 through 8. Breach of Level 7 is
imminent. I have initiated Level 7 defense protocols and will begin hard
sealing portals 3-0-0 through 3-5-4. Recommend you seal your end and prepare
for possible breach.”
“Understood, Level 7. Level 6 is beginning lockdown procedures.
Good luck.”
The noise from the Level 8 barrier grew as the intruder’s attack
intensified. Goncalves made it halfway, sealing portal 3-2-6 before a
bone-jarring explosion ripped through Level 7. The shock knocked him across the
corridor, slamming him into the opposite wall.
A monstrous cry echoed through the halls of Level 7 as the
intruder broke through the barrier. The thudding of the monster’s footsteps
brought Goncalves to his senses. He shook his head and blinked to clear his
vision.
There wasn’t enough time to seal the remaining portals. He would
have to hold the corridor here, trusting Fredricks to seal the portals from
Level 6. He powered up his wrist interface and entered his password. The
emergency J-Arc Defense System began its loading procedure.
Level 7 darkened as power was diverted. Goncalves looked in
wonder at his left hand: it faded away, exposing a cannon-like hole at the end
of his wrist. Blue bolts of energy jumped from the walls, feeding into the
interface on his left arm. Data flowed through him as the J-Arc instructions
were loaded into his memory. He looked down the way he had come. The hall
glowed green as the intruder turned into the Level 6 barrier corridor.
He stood up and ran toward the beast: a massive fury of tangled
green and white electricity. He reached his left arm up, sighted down his
forearm and relaxed his mind.
The intruder roared when Goncalves charged down the corridor. A
green tentacle blasted toward him, accompanying the beast’s cry. Before the
green light could reach him, Goncalves stopped. A wave of blue light erupted
from his arm, meeting the intruder’s attack like a shield. The shock of the
impact numbed his left arm, forcing him to support it with his right.
The last lights blinked out as more and more energy shifted into
Goncalves, increasing his available power. He felt the intruder’s attack give.
Groaning against the strain, he stepped forward. The light in the corridor —
now supplied only by the crackling, spiked green-and-blue energy of the battle
— flashed with a blinding strobe effect. Electricity arced away from the joined
beams, exploding tiles from the walls and ceiling.
Feeling returned to Goncalves’s left arm, freeing his right to
use his wrist interface. He began powering down the shield walls between levels
7 and 6. Each lowered shield increased the flow of energy into his arm, pushing
him closer to the intruder. He advanced on the green-and-white monster, himself
now ablaze with blue electricity flowing from the walls. He knew his own
systems had well exceeded their voltage parameters. He smiled as he met the
intruder.
“You have encountered a fatal error,” he said.
A flash of light filled Level 7, then darkness.
*****
Level 6 reporting, platform secure. Intruder has been
neutralized at Level 7. Please replace security modules 7 through 10.
Joan smiled at the text on her screen.
Lucky number seven.
Those damn Eastern European virus coders were good. The
Green-Worm had been wrecking systems for months, but she had found a way to
stop it.
The J-Arc System was a sacrificial module. It isolated and
neutralized any threat beyond the capabilities of the standard systems, burning
itself out in the process. It was a fail-safe against unknown and powerful new
bugs. Joan had designed it herself.
She liked to imagine that this was all a big game they played:
the hackers versus the security developers; the space marines versus the
aliens. The constant back and forth kept them all happily employed.
Joan looked down at the time on her screen: 8:32pm. She ran her
hands through her hair and groaned. Anticipating the evening’s success, she had
planned to stay late — but not this late.
Looks like it’s Chinese for dinner again.
She locked her terminal, stood, and stretched.
Love is ALL!
Richard was standing in
signal in his expensive bike , waiting for the green signal and he was very
urge to reach home.
Signal
changed from red to green, he was the first person to move from that place in
very high speed . His speedometer reading showed 102 speed and within 5 mins,
he was in front of his big bungalow with a big lawn in front of the house .
Main gate was closed when he was standing outside, he was continuously horning
and waiting for the watchman to open the gate.when watchman heard the sound,
dropped the tea glass he was drinking and ran over to the gate to open it in
hurry. Gate opened. He went straight inside and parked the bike in porch.
Front
door was opened already and he went inside the house with his shoes on, he
dropped his college bag on sofa and his bike key in the wooden table that was
right in front of sofa.
Andrew ,
his cousin brother shortly called Andy by his relatives ,playing video games
who was Richard uncle’s son, who is 12 yrs younger than Richard but he was too
close with Richard and he used to call him” Richa” in short and Richard loved
that childish accent.
Andy
dropped the video game down at the moment he saw Richard, ran towards him and
planted a strong kiss on his cheeks. Richard brought his head forward , his
forehead touched Andy’s forehead and they were dashing each other in love.
Richard’s
dad was big business man, well educated , running steel factory,Exporting
spices, schools and had got 50 acres of agricultural land in his hometown
Kerala and undoubtedly he was a big shot and also a genuine person. ” The combo
of rich as well as genuine comes rare to a person and he was gifted with that
quality”.
”
Richard, back from college ? , we were waiting for u , thank god !you came
little early than usual – come on Richa, get ready soon ,we are going out.”,his
mother voice from kitchen.
Richard
: where??? I’m tired, you and dad carry on. I’m not coming.
Mother :
There is an association meeting in our colony and your dad is chief guest . Actually,
I promised those association people that we come as a family and honor the
function.You have to come. No excuse today.
Richard
: oh god! maa,Is Andy coming with us ??
Mother :
yes. He already got ready and was waiting for your arrival.
Richard
pulled Andy’s cheeks playfully and said him ” I’ll get ready in 10 mins in a
playful tone. You know, I’m coming only for you .”
Andy
said,” I know Richa, because u love me more than anyone.”
After 20
mins , the entire family got ready and on their way to the marriage hall which
was just 2 streets away from their house , they reached there in just 4 mins
and parked their BMW in the parking lot.
At the
time they arrived, it was 5.55 pm and they came 5 mins earlier to the
association meeting. Richard’s family sat on the stage and his father was about
to give a speech. The association members were not that much interested in his
speech, they were only interested in 1 lakh cheque donation at the end of his
speech.
Richard
was so bored and was playing with Andy. It was the first time he saw her, a
girl in white annarkali cotton salwar, tall, fair ,slim and so beautiful that
he was not able to take his eyes off from her. She was sitting in the 2nd row
with her parents , she was not listening to the speech though it was boring to
hear such speeches in her age . She got up from her chair and went outside to
breath fresh air . The next second, without any thought , Richard got up from
his chair and chased her. She was standing in the open space ,looking out the
garden . Suddenly she heard a enthusiastic voice behind her, Richard was
humming his own lyrics in tune. Actually he was singing suddenly composed
lyrics..
” hey
angel, angel, angel , so beautiful in white salwar …
Watching
flowers , plants which is less beautiful than her eyes…”
He was
singing with little smile in his voice to impress her. She suddenly turned
around , gave a mindless look at him . He started the conversation in hurry
Richard
: Its so hot inside , so just came out for fresh air. By the way, I’m Richard
..
She
again turned towards the garden symbolically saying she was not interested to
talk . She was pretending that she was not interested but smiled inside.
Richard
called her ” white angel ” playfully , in a second she turned at him and said
in a low voice with small smile on her lips ” hey Mr. , I’m not white angle.
I’m just Deepa”
Richard
: oh ! DEEPA ! you got a beautiful name just like your face.
He was literally
flirting with her and she also realized his flirting. They both continuously
talking for 20 mins without knowing they have been talking for 20 mins.
Richard
: where do you live deepa ??
Deepa :
one street away from here. Indira apartments, 1st floor. What about u ?
Richard
: Just 2 streets away from your place. Not very far. So we can meet up
regularly.
Deepa :
regularly ?? For what ?? My parents are very strict, they don’t like talking to
boys.
Richard
: oh ! I see … But I like taking to girls .. We are just friends right ??
What’s the problem being friends.
Deepa
smiled at him, without giving answer she was about to move from that place .
Before she moved, he stopped her asking for her mobile number.
Deepa :
no, I don’t have mobile phone. It’s restricted in our college. So dad didn’t
get me one since we are having land line connection at home”.
Before
he asks landline no , in well advance she told him that -Don’t ask me for
landline no, I can’t give you, my ma would suspect me talking to a boy and she
never let me to take a call. She always picks the call first and give it to me
if the call was from my girl friends.
Richard
was not disappointed. His mind voice saying ” when it comes to love, there are
thousands of ways to communicate with their lover.”
They
both said their byes and parted away.
At
night, before sleeping Deepa had a habit of praying and that day prayer was-
”
Richard was good, funny, handsome, I think I like him god ! I’m desiring to
meet him again. Please god, make us our next meeting very soon “. She ended the
prayer and went to sleep dreaming about him.
The next
morning, she was all day thinking about Richard in college and she was smiling
on her own, rewinding the each and every word they spoke yesterday. She was
impatient and waiting to see him soon. The day was ” Richard day” for her.
Evening,
she got down from the college bus , while crossing the road she saw Richard
standing near a big neem tree in his bike, wearing blue denim shirt and blue
jeans. She thought he looked stylish. As she went near him , he started his
usual pranks at her..
Richard : hey Ms. White angel! U come this way daily ??
Richard : hey Ms. White angel! U come this way daily ??
Deepa:
oh ho ! So u don’t know this is the only way to my home ??
Richard:
no , not at all! I just came this way to see this big neem tree. This tree is
my friend you know . And one thing ,Don’t dream yourself that I came here to
see you and longing to see you.
In a second,the next dialogue from Richard was ” Actually I came to see only YOU. ”
In a second,the next dialogue from Richard was ” Actually I came to see only YOU. ”
Deepa
smiled at his pranks and said ,” oh my goodness! I think I like you Richard”
Richard:
Deep, you think ..but I confirmed that ” I.. I… I’m in love with you”
Richard was nervous for the first time in his life and looked at her lips to move positively.
Richard was nervous for the first time in his life and looked at her lips to move positively.
she was
astonished by his sudden proposal but at the same time very happy inside . She
smiled and looked down, nodded her head and said in a very low tone ” same
here”.
Richard
face was filled with so much of joy, raised his two arms, jumped out in
happiness as if he had won the one day cricket match.
So ,
then what ??…
Love
started between them and exchanging love letters through Andy – Richard’s
cousin.
Their love letters are full of love, everyday happenings, his likes, her likes, his dislike ,her dislikes, kisses, hugs,favorite foods,movie , film stars- Rajinikanth was favourite for both of them ,they talk about musics, he addressed her darling, dear, white angel,sometimes Dheep. she called him Rich, Mr.flirt, honey. one of the love letter was their meeting points: Temples, silent streets,under shady tree, parks, they set up each day ,each meeting point just to avoid suspicion.
Their love letters are full of love, everyday happenings, his likes, her likes, his dislike ,her dislikes, kisses, hugs,favorite foods,movie , film stars- Rajinikanth was favourite for both of them ,they talk about musics, he addressed her darling, dear, white angel,sometimes Dheep. she called him Rich, Mr.flirt, honey. one of the love letter was their meeting points: Temples, silent streets,under shady tree, parks, they set up each day ,each meeting point just to avoid suspicion.
The days
were heaven for both of them. Within three months, they had exchanged 50 love
letters and both never gets tired of writing love letters because the person
who never knows how to write a letter even writes a love letter better because
its the” MOST INTERISTING THINGS IN THE WORLD”. One never need to think , just
the words flow from the heart.
Richard
waiting for Deepa in one of the silent streets under a tree. That’s their
favorite spot. Their meeting time is 5:30pm every Saturday. she came there at
5:45 pm in a light yellow kurtha and blue jeans. She was stunning as always
even in simple dresses.
**Deepa**:
hey Rich ! Sorry , I’m late..
**Richard**:
oh! That’s not a problem . You look beautiful like an angel today..
Deepa
smiles and her cheeks turned to pink . She was actually blushing and said him I
love you honey.. So much… U r the world to me..
Richard
touches her palm,playing with her fingers and pulled her close to him and he
was romancing her in an open street..
**Deepa**:
Rich ! I’m actually little worried.. What if our parents didn’t accept for our
marriage? What if your mom and dad force you to marry some other girl ??
Richard,
just to pull her legs said ” Then DHEEP will be my KEEP” …
Deepa in
anger , though she knows he is pulling her legs said ” and u r CHEAP Mr.
Richard Johnson”
**Richard**:
“DHEEP…, KEEP.., CHEAP” , waaa… what a rhyming!!
They both laughed at each other and their 30 mins time was over. Again they were back to their homes.
They both laughed at each other and their 30 mins time was over. Again they were back to their homes.
Richard
was in his final year B.COM and Deepa is in her 2nd year BA. English
literature. Only 2 months left for Richard to complete his degree. His father
forces him to go abroad for higher studies – 1 YR MBA in financial management
since he was their only son and they wanted him to look after their family
business.
Richard
had no other option and he said Deepa about this higher studies plan of his
father and she was totally upset after hearing this and cried to him this one
yr separation is too long.
Richard
consoled her by saying we can chat through internet. He said, every Sunday u
come to the near by internet center and we can chat regularly.
After 4
months, Richard was in London for his studies and Every Sunday since Richard
left Deepa used to lie her mom that she was going to her friend house for
studying but she goes to the internet centre to chat with him . They both chat
for 1 hr – they feel time is running so fast and they wanted to chat
continuously.
Deepa
completed her studies and her dad started to see alliance for her. One evening
, deepa told her parents that she was in love with someone and asked them to
stop seeing alliance.
It was a
big shock for her parents and her mom yelled at her ,beated her with a broom
stick. Deepa was crying and fell down on the floor ..
Deepa’s
was middle class family .Her father works at bank as an Assistant Manager and
mother was an house wife. she was the only daughter to them.
2 days
later, they were inquiring about the guy’s details, caste, religion, their
status. Deepa said ” He is a Christian and his father is a big business man and
they live in the same colony 2 streets away from our house”. She said
everything about Richard to her parents.
Again its
a shock for them that the guy’s religion was Christianity and we are Hindu and
also they are very rich people.
Her father went to Deepa’s room while she was sitting in the corner of the room near window, looking out aimlessly. Suddenly she felt life is hell and lost all the hope. Her father advised her to forget that guy since there is total contrast between our family and theirs. He said , this is not going to happen , just forget it and move on Deepa.
Her father went to Deepa’s room while she was sitting in the corner of the room near window, looking out aimlessly. Suddenly she felt life is hell and lost all the hope. Her father advised her to forget that guy since there is total contrast between our family and theirs. He said , this is not going to happen , just forget it and move on Deepa.
She
thought in frustration and pain, ” where to move on ?? You people move on from
your egos… He is my life . Without him, life is nothing for me. She closed her
eyes in pain and she mantained silence and never uttered a word. Later her dad
left her room in few mins.
Next 3
months , Deepa was not allowed to go anywhere alone. Her mother accompanied her
all the time when she goes out. She missed her favorite Sunday internet chat
for 3 months.
Richard
was totally confused about Deepa’s missing and he missed Deepa’s face, smiles ,
her words, everything.
1 month
later, Richard completed his MBA and returned to India. All his family went to
airport to receive him. Richard missed Andy too. After reaching home, the first
thing he did was passed a letter to her through Andy , asking her to come to
the meeting point.
Andy
delivered the letter when her mother was out to the temple and left Deepa alone
at home.
Deepa
hurried to the meeting spot. She saw Richard from distance was standing with
his same bike. She walked fastly and hugged Richard and kissed him.
He gave
her a wrapped gift and one box of foreign chocolates to her.She opened the gift
box and surprised to see the wedding ring and she hugged him for the second
time. Later she said what has happened in these 3 months and all the
difficulties that her parents said no to her love and she was so depressed, no
idea what to do next.
Richard
said to her that” I missed you so much darling, realized that how much was I’m
in love with you.. No matter what, I’m not going to leave you for anything or
for anybody.”
1 week
later, they both got married at register office and exchanged the rings before
their friends .After marriage Richard took her to his house and courageously
stood in front of his father.
His
father was completely gone out of the mind after seeing them . He came near him
in full anger and slapped him for not telling his love and married without
their acceptance .He called girl’s family to his house and they all standing in
the living room. Everyone was in total upset except Richard, Deepa and little
Andy but Richard silently romancing his wife and she pushes him away with her
little finger. She was very nervous and ashamed to look her mom and dad . She
looked down and stood silently.
Richard’s
father took a deep breath , he thought for a moment “what has happened is
happened and its no use to worry now.” He said himself ” LET IT BE and be in a
LET GO STATE”. He felt everything was god’s play. Later he broke the silence
and said them, I can’t digest and accept this girl as my daughter-in- law, its
impossible for me,10 seconds later he said” rather she is like a daughter to me
“and ” NOW YOUR DAUGHTER IS MY DAUGHTER AND WE ARE FAMILY NOW “.
Everyone
in the room was shocked by his words. Deepa’s parents got surprised after
hearing these and they blessed their daughter and returned happily to their
house.
1 week
later,newly married couple is in the flight, sitting next to each other .He
called her Mrs. RICHARD heartedly and also playfully, she smiled and rested her
head in his arm, smiling at each other , on their way to Maldives for
honeymoon.
I love rain because
she loved rain!
What a magnificent
weather! It has been raining since long. She liked getting drenched in rain and
playing with wet soil. But, today, why am I feeling enmity with rains? Why am I
shielding myself from nature? Dint I like walking in rains with her? Is it like
that she is crying? Is she still despondent? I can still feel the pearls of
tears coming from her charming eyes and her warm sobers are still making my
breaths deep. Is she still in my mind or is she still manipulating my thoughts?
I
can still feel my heart beats when she met me first and started throwing out in
a frank tone as it was the first time any girl was talking with me so frankly
and so carelessly.
7
years ago
“Hey!
What do you think of yourself? We are your batch mates yaar. Share your problems
with me. Some seniors had told me that you are frustrated searching home.” I
was listening nervously and she uttered the whole lines in one go. I can not
remember whether she breathed in between or not. But, yes, I can not deny that
her blue dress and slightly non – conventional looks attracted my attention. I
noticed that she had neither her eye – brows plucked nor any signs of make – up
on face. Yet, her nose – ring was looking stunning or in fact her nose was
beautifully dolled up by the nose – ring.
Slightly
perplexed and restraining myself, I gave a nonchalant look.
“Oh!
Sorry. You may be thinking who am I?”
“Hi,
I am Rani. Your batch mate. And I guess you are Rahul.”
I
nodded my head in affirmation. And suddenly she disappeared like a flash of
light and I felt like waking up from a dream.
This
is how I got introduced to Rani or perhaps she got herself introduced to me. I
noticed that her natural smile and dimples on cheeks had something very urging
appeal. I am not a guy to believe in love at first sight. But, there was
something rhythmic or something unusual happened with me, this I could
estimate.
I
started residing with four other guys of same college. Co – accidently Rani had
been in good friendly terms with one of my room–mate. And slowly, we became
very good friends.
Clouds
have covered the whole sky and suddenly loud thunderstorms diverted my
attention. I am able to feel the sound of each and every rain drops, just as I
was able to perceive the sound of her each spoken and unspoken words.
6
years ago
I
don’t know, when and how, but I started feeling envy if she used to be friendly
with others. I could not hold on seeing her with others and unthinkingly
started behaving like a reclusive lover. But, she was like a butterfly, who
never came in my hands. She was like a river, whom I could not bind within the
shore. She was an independent parrot, whom I could not caged in the cage of my
love.
That
day, still fresh in my mind, like yesterday, she informed me that she is in
love with one of my best pals. My heart shattered into billions of pieces and
all my dreams came to ground. But, I somehow concealed my expressions and
showed outer contentment and happiness. But, internally my throat choked and I
felt like the time had stopped for me.
I
could not exactly recollect my expressions. But, I was sad, in fact dismal. I
never told Rani anything. I never told her about my feelings. She was not
guilty. She was not at all guilty. Was she? No, she can not be. The simplicity
and trust in her eyes could never be wrong. She was not to be blamed at all.
5
years ago
At
2 O’ clock, my mobile rang. I did not pick the phone. No, I was not sleeping. I
was listening to my favourite sad song in her reminiscence. Instead of parting
away, we were still friends. Not only friends, but very close friends. Alter
ego could define our relations. She was very obstinate and used to live in
fairy tales and unreal dreams and I was my usual self cool.
Again
my ring tone started producing noise. I picked it up and pretending to be
sleeping, I lazily said hello in a very low voice. I could not get any reply.
After few seconds, some sobbing sound pierced my ear. I could not resist.
“Oh!
Come on golu polu, stop weeping first. Be a good gal. What happened baby?”
“Nothing
Rahul. I just want to cry in front of you.” She somehow managed to utter this
sentence.
“But
why? Tell me.” I hurriedly asked.
“Rahul,
I think………….”
“What?”
“I
feel………. I love you.”
“What………
Shut up you idiot…… I can not betray my friend.”
“Rahul,
I want to know what you feel. I also can not ditch him and this is the only
reason I am bearing with him. Otherwise………..”
“Please
tell me what you feel?”
“Nothing.
You are my sweet friend and you will be.” I lied to her.
We
decided not to meet and converse again. I knew she was not happy. She was not
at peace. I could estimate her loneliness from peeping through her eyes. I knew
she had been undergoing pains. Still, I showed indifference towards her. Very
soon, this resolution broke away. We had again started behaving like best
buddies by deciding that we would remain best friends forever.
Oh!
How can I forget the day when we both roamed in the whole college campus,
totally drenched in rain? Her wet face was mesmerizing me. Her charismatic
beauty was like a pious divine force. Cold swift breeze was sensitizing her wet
figure.
4
years ago
She
could not endure anymore in relationship and broke away. I was still
considering her my best friend and my life had been only revolving around her.
But, soon she became friendly with guys from other departments. I was more
heart broken at this than before, when she got engaged. This time, I felt that
she left me. In fact, she betrayed me. How could she have done so? I was unable
to contemplate and move on after this incident. My trust shattered like castles
of cards in a strong blow of wind. I totally ignored her, avoided her and
stopped conversing with her. It was painful and unbearable as I had a habit of
her.
Due
to some study related project, I had to visit some places with Rani. I tried my
best not to speak to her, but her chirpy nature and continuous bullaw – bullaw
inadvertently attracted my thoughts. I was helpless in a local train to embrace
her in my arms to protect her from some vendors in such rush. This recuperated
innocent mad love again, still hidden in the depths of my heart, with same
rhythmic swing and same internal bliss.
Finally,
I was with her and she was with me. Yeh, she was my dream gal, my sweet gal,
and my perfect gal. I could not afford to lose her. Yes, she had broken my
trust. Yes, she had left me crying alone. Yes, she had ruined my cherishable
moments, still she loved me madly. Yes, she was in mad love with me and I was
in mad love with her.
Rain
has still not stopped and is covering the whole space under its mist. Peeping
through the window, I can see the wet leaves shining when light fall on them
and it is creating an imagination as if millions of gold drops are dancing on
the tune of love.
3
years ago
The
college years had passed and I had to go to Ranchi to join job. Rani left her
job and started preparing for Civil Services Examination as she had a firm
desire to serve the society and humankind. Still, we used to chat. She used to
advise me. I used to leg pull her. Everything was very normal, till one day
when my phone rang.
I
picked and as obvious it was my sweetheart. She started crying vociferously.
Oh
God! How could I have done that? I made her wait for so long to talk. I
dint talk to her the whole day and when at night, she called and cried, then
instead of cajoling her, with great solecism, I hang up the mobile.
Instead
of knowing she madly love me now and now she was mature enough to understand
and respect relations, Rani had been rejected entry by my dreams and thoughts,
which started imagining someone else. I don’t know who was she, but I could
certainly say that the girl was not Rani.
After
one or two months, Rani again called me and directly asked me, “Rahul, my
parents started searching a guy for me. I want to know your stand regarding
this, whether you want to marry me or not.”
“Rani,
please yaar. Stop it. I don’t want to discuss all these. It is better to switch
the conversation. I will not be able to ensure you about anything at this
moment. You are so obstinate and arrogant. I can not stand you yaar.”
“OK.”
Rani put the phone.
I
don’t know why I could not stop her. I should have soothe her and make her my
better half. It was not a big demand by her for loving me so intensely. Instead
of asking her to get out of her fairy tales life, I should have gone to her
dreams. Did I have right to spoil her dreams, merely because they were fake or
imaginary?
1
year ago
Weather
was good and I was looking out from window, suddenly my mobile rang.
“Hrrrrrrrrr……….” An unknown number. I dint pick. Again same number.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
Same
melodious voice, same pitch, same softness and same casualness.
“Hi.
How are you Rani?”
“Can
we meet Rahul? I am in your town. I have joined your company last year and came
here today morning only for a training.”
Initially
I hesitated, but could not deny her sternly.
“Sure.
Where are you staying?”
“Company’s
guest house.”
“OK.
Give me half an hour.”
“OK.”
We
met and I could not resist gazing at her new corporate look and complimenting
her. When she was coming, it seemed that a new morning of hopes has descended
from the heaven for me. Nature was so silent and majestically happy.
“Rahul, my marriage
has been fixed on the 26th of this month, but I can not marry
someone else. I still love you and am not able to imagine my life without you.
It is for sure that you will not get anyone else, who will love you, as deep as
I do.”
I
nodded my head, but dint utter even a single word. I hugged her and dropped at
the guest house.
I
can still collect the mixed feelings on her face – delighted because she met me
after so many years and grieved as she was going to marry someone else. I can
still remember the deepness of her eyes, which were giving painful impressions,
with which she was mutely and hopefully staring at me, till I disappeared
completely from her sight, breaking all her hopes and faith.
On
the day of Marriage
It
was raining heavily and my heart was crying like a broken piece of glass in
silence. I kept on guessing, how she would be looking and what she would be
carrying? I kept on sometimes looking at watch and sometimes glancing at stars.
Suddenly, my mobile rang and yes it was Rani. I was disturbed and was not able
to decide whether to pick or not. It went miscall. Again, phone rang. I picked.
Without
waiting for me to say hello, “ Rahul, yaar I am looking stunningly good in this
lehanga and bridal make up.”
“I
know Rani.”
“Hey,
are you missing me? See, I am feeling crying like hell.”
“Don’t
cry Rani.”
“Please,
don’t tell me to stop.”
“Rani,
I am missing you badly and am going to miss you throughout my life.” I started
sobbing in pain and the pain was internal, but it affected my whole body and I
swayed in grief.
“Hey,
I told you that I can not marry anyone else. I love you. You dint understand and
I know you still won’t understand. But, soon you will realise. You loved me,
when I was not in love with you and you left me, when I started to love you so
purely and piously.”
“Rahul,
I………………… Love……………….. You…………..”
She
screamed with intense gloom.
“Rani……
Hello…………..Hey…………………Raniiiiiiiiii…………………”
But
only the caller tune was audible. She hanged up the phone.
Without
comprehending the situations, I went outside and began to roam here and there.
Suddenly, did not know why a pinch of grief struck me and my fingers
automatically dialed her number.
“May
I talk to Rani? I am calling to congratulate her.”
The
lady from other side replied, “You can never talk to her, in fact no one can
ever talk to her.” She began to cry boisterously.
I
could not resist but sinked there and wanted to scream with the fullest of my
strength. I wanted to just tell her that how much I loved her and how much I
wished to keep her happy. But, it was of no use. I saw her going away with
rains and mingling with the sky. Her dream of flying in the sky in a cloudy day
came true! And I was left all alone with some drops of rain felling on my face.
This time, I did not clear them.
Soulmates
The scenery with love is always beautiful. But just because love is
beautiful does not mean it is always happy.
Three months of love took away three years of
Ian’s freedom, trust, belief in god and his beloved. Three months of bliss has
given him afterlife of hell. Ian’s life seemed to be cursed whereas Jem Adriana
was cursed to be blesses. If one could surely speak up anything was tat god is
unfair, why is the good people that suffer after all?
Three years back, life was perfect. These new
couple Ian and Jem had never known that the world when you are in love is no
less than paradise., but good fortune always comes with a price, but the price
that Ian had to give was too much. It was unfair, how could three months of
love take away his everything? But even if he was to suffer 3 stages of hell on
earth, he would not give up on Jem, not for once. He’d rather choose to be
Satan’s slave than live a life without Jem. He’d rather choose to lose his life
than not see Jem’s face when he woke up at his bedside. Maybe destiny awaited
them long before they met. Maybe this was what people call, soulmates.
~~~
“Jem you have to sleep. You’ll get worse if you
don’t. Come here sweetheart, you don’t need to be scared, it’s just me.”
It was past 1 o’clock in the morning. I had not
gone to sleep. Ian had been waiting for me to come to sleep at my own will but
since it was getting too late he had started coaxing me to go to sleep with his
soothing voice, this voice was the only voice in the world which made me feel
secure. I had been siting near the closet since 9 pm. I was fiddling with my
nails, my hair, whatever came across my hand. My lower lip was almost going to
bleed since I had been chewing on it so hard.
“Dear, let it go. For now please come to bed.
For me.” Ian continued to sooth me. I was now staring at my nails, Ian had cut
it this afternoon after bath. These short nails felt funny, I neither could
scratch nor pluck anything. I started narrowing my eyes at it when I felt a
warm hand take hold of my cold arms. I sat still and shut my eyes. “Please, you
need to sleep, Jem.”
Whenever someone touched me, I felt like they
were going to stab me. I would think that something bad would happen and my
body would ache so much. Because of Ian’s warm hand I realized how cold my body
was, so I slowly crawled to bed. I could see from the corner of my eye that Ian
was smiling but did not utter a word. He knew I did not like to give
satisfaction to anyone that I was doing as they told. I pulled my leg up on the
bed, I immediately felt a warm blanket cover me up. I knew it was him. Why is
he so kind to me?
The morning sun had entered our room. I slowly
opened my eyes and turned towards the right. Ian was looking at me and I could
see that he had already made breakfast for me which was lying on a table
nearby. He smiled at me. Such a warm smile. That same smile which was full with
so much hope. He had hope of me coming back. Didn’t he feel frustrated to wake
up every morning with a faint hope that maybe today I’ll improve and to know
that I was never coming back, to take a look at me and realize that his Jem was
gone? Lost forever! Even after knowing this entire scenario how could he smile
at me? From where does he get so much hope?
I was staring blankly and I had been drooling
over my pillow.
“Dear, do you want to get up?” Ian asked me
comfortingly, making sure he did not scare me out of the blue. That same
soothing voice filled with so much love and warmth. From where does all this
love come from to Ian? I could see him crawl next to me and wipe my mouth and
he settled my hair. He then kissed my forehead and asked with a smile, “How are
you today?” he then gently lifted me up. As his hands came in contact with me,
I did not move muscle. I stared blankly with my head low as I breathe heavily.
“Forgive me for that, Jem. I will not scare
you. Shall we have some breakfast?”
I calmed my breathing. The huge mirror across
the room reflected how messy I was. The girl in the mirror was hopeless. She
did not have anything left. The eyes reflected so much pain and agony. Crying
to get out of this suffering. She wanted to be the same happy, cheerful Jem of
three years back. She wished death every moment but she wanted to live. There
were so many regrets that filled her face and so much pain. I was now crying
but I felt nothing.
“Jem what is it? What is the matter?” that
concerned voice broke my isolation. I had forgotten I was not alone in this
room, only physically though. For me, no one existed around me, they meant
nothing. Life had no meaning with me, I was next to nothing.
Ian was concerned, he wanted to know what was
causing me to cry but how could I tell him when I myself did not know the
reason why. I was just a living doll who was plain white, who had lost track of life and to add up, speaking any word from
my mouth irritated me. Ian had been with me for long to know all of his
questions would remain unanswered. Why is it he could not just give up? What am
I to him? Does he know that I feel nothing, that I have forgotten him,
forgotten who he was, forgotten what he meant to me?
It was noon. I was sitting on the cold floor of
the kitchen near the refrigerator with my knees’ pulled up to my chin when Ian
found me. He was concerned as ever. I knew he was scared, I felt it but he
never showed it openly. He came close to me while keeping enough distance and
making sure he did not make any contact. He has a plate full of brown bread, a
sandwich it was. He knew his was the best I agreed to eat. He held the sandwich
next to my mouth and waited for me open my mouth. I resisted for some time but
I knew he would keep holding it unless I took it, even if it meant holding for
an hour. My body felt heavy so I took it from him. “That’s my girl,” he said
warmly.
The doctor came in again to take a look at me.
His face “Jem” was lost unlike Ian because he was a doctor, not Ian.
I continued to remain silent and stare blankly
while the doctor did his duty. This has continued for 3 years. After finishing
with me, he spoke to Ian. Ian glanced at me and then back to the doctor. They
walked out into the hallway. Ian left the door half-closed as he went.
I could hear the faint murmuring that managed
to pass all the way to my ears but I did not pay any heed to it, suddenly, my
attention was broken with a sudden raise in the voices.
“What is with you doctor?” Ian’s voice rose.
“How many times, how many times are you going to tell me to give up on Jem? How
can you tell me to let her go with such a calm face?”
“You need to be practical. Not a fool dwelling
in illusions. You are a wise man and you are wiser enough to know this.”
“If believing in Jem is an illusion. If being
in love with her makes me a fool. I am that fool who dwells with illusions.”
“Get a life, Ian. You have lost it!”
“Can’t you see how much Jem needs me? Everyone
is the same. Everyone has let her go without even trying. They don’t have the
courage to hold on to her. But I am not them, she is all I have. She is my life
and I am all that she has left.”
Silence followed. The main door creaked open
and closed back. I was holding myself tightly as I saw my reflection in the
mirror, I could see the fear that surrounded me.
Ian walked in with his head low. For once, once
in three years after being affected by depression I did something on my own.
Though I was freaked out I tried my best to look calm. I slipped into the
blanket and closed my eyes. Maybe today was special. I heard the bed creak as
Ian climbed on carefully. I could sense him looking at me. I continued to keep
my eyes closed though I was having a hard time controlling my anxiety. Did I just hear a cry?I slowly
opened my eyes. Ian was sitting up. His face covered with his hands. I could
see him biting his lip. He
shook his head sobbed silently. He then ran his hands up his hair and tried to
control his breath. I closed my eyes back. After few moments he gently kissed
my forehead and whispered softly, “Jem, I shall always be there for you.”
My severe headache woke me up. It was still
nightfall. My breathing quickened and my body felt like it was being twisted.
It ached very badly and I was suffocating. My head was thumping hard. I looked
to my right and I could see Ian sleeping. His presence made me feel so safe.
His face calmed me even though my heart felt like it was being pierced.
The pain increased. I tried to shout but my
voice did not come out. I tried to move with this aching body. I wanted him to
wake up and sooth me and tell everything would be fine. For once, I wanted him
to look at me. I wanted to see his smile desperately. I lost my strength, I was
drained out. The only thing that seems to be awake was my mind. My eyes felt
very heavy. My breathing stopped. My eyes were closing, his face was being
covered by darkness, he blurred out and with the last strength that I could
gather up, as my eyes closed and he was beyond my vision, I tried to reach out
to him and whispered weakly, “I…an…” and then my life came to a halt. The pain
was no longer there. I had left forever.
~~~~
Everything around me is so warm. There is light
everywhere. I feel no emotions at all. I feel that finally I am at peace. There
is no sound. This is the safest I have ever felt. I have no desire, no regret,
no sadness nor pain. I just feel so at peace. Finally, I decide to open my eyes
and there, I see him. I see Ian standing there. That same smile, that same
warmth. We are surrounded with nothing and I see him there, standing and
looking at me.
“So you managed to follow me up till here?” I
ask and a smile escapes my lips.
“Hell or heaven, nothing can part us away,” he
replies smilingly.
“Yes. Forever and always.” I hug him. He is so
warm and he makes me feel the greatest. I had missed this love in the past
three years. And then I tell him, “I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
I let out a deep breath, look into his eyes and
say,
“I love you!”
SAD LOVE STORY
Sometimes love makes life and sometimes it makes life hell….
We do not see hell with our eyes hell is just our imagination and nothing else……
Hell is a place where nobody wants to live …… According to our knowledge, hell
and heaven will a lot to a person after death in the light of his or her sins
or good deeds but some people have to survive in hell during their lifetime…..
The hero of my story is also surviving in
hell during his lifetime… Here is my story….
He entered in his university, met his friends
and then saw a very beautiful girl and he continuously looking at her without
blinking his eyes…. He asked his friends that who is this girl his friend told
him that she is new comer here and her name is Ayesha….. He was play boy type
personality and he was a bunch of girl friends but that girl makes him mad…..
He left all his negative habits for her and then follow her. Girl becomes irritated
when any boy comes close to the girl he starts beating him….
Finally girl stopped him and asked what’s
your problem, what do you want and the boy straight forwardly said that I LOVE
YOU AYESHA AND I WANT YOU IN MY LIFE AS MY LIFE PARTNER… Girl starts laughing
and said try this to another girl I know your history and I know you never
loves someone. Boy starts weeping and said I really love you this happens first
time in my life and I am also surprised about this. Tell me how I can prove my
love and sincerity towards you…
Ayesha replied: give your life but don’t
irritate me and follow me. He said ok and then he go away. About two to three
days she does not see that boy and then she asked his cousin that where is
arsh? She told her that he is in hospital he is very serious he had an
accident….. She became worried and goes to hospital to see him. He was in
conscious state and asked Ayesha that are you satisfied now? Ayesha slapped him
and scolds him.
Finally, he thought that he got his love and
then became very happy. They spend all the time together and time was very good
for both…. But bad time was also waiting for him… one day he received an mms on
his phone and that mms broke him. That mms contains naked pictures of Ayesha
with a boy. He did not say a single word to Ayesha and quietly facing
everything. That incident was finishing him from inside.
And then he received a call that come to this
address and saw your Ayesha in somebody’s arms. He reached there and saw Ayesha
with a boy on bed. He shouted and told Ayesha about that mms. Ayesha asked him
that she left him but can’t stay away from him and come to meet him for the
last time. Arsh become angry and start weeping and get out a pistol from his
pocket and said Ayesha I loved you a lot but you deceive me stay with your love
and be happy forever never play with anyone’s feelings again and shoot on his
temple and died………….
In love- Unsaid words or unsure state?
The cold breeze flew her hair as she was engrossed in
penning down her feelings on the piece of paper. She twisted the pen in
between her long slim fingers of her left hand while her right hand delicately
played with her flicks. She tucked them behind her ears and again continued to
write.
Her lips curved into smile and her eyes
glint with shine. “Arpita love her Vaibhu” she had quoted in the little heart,
which she had drawn at the bottom.
Arpita felt joyful as she finished writing
the love letter, her first one, in urge of expressing her love for him-
Vaibhav. He was her classmate in school days and neighbour too. By passage of
time she hasn’t realised, when and how he became such an important part of her
life. She had grown up watching him grow with her and knew she would want to
grow old along him.
She picked up the letter from the table and
glanced it umpteenth time, unsure of her words were or not perfectly depicting
her emotions.
Bringing the paper nearer, which seems to
be more precious than a paper to her now, she hugged it tightly feeling
relived.
Her fingers smoothly folded it and dropped
it in the colourful envelope; she had brought yesterday on the way back to her
home.
7’0 clock, the watch shown and she stood up
to leave. She had to drop it on his desk in his room before he returns from his
daily jogging session.
Her heart raced up as she skipped out her
house and ran towards his. Her eyes sparkled with the thought of holding that
letter and her forehead glittered with sweat of excitement.
The door was as usual open. She walked in
without thinking much and lead to the staircase. Vaibhav family, who had been
doing their breakfast at the dining table in living area, did notice her going
upstairs. But certainly no one objected. She was a frequent visitor to their
house. Everyone just smiled at her sweet presence every time she came.
Aprita had come all the way to his room
many times like this before, but today she felt it different. As her eyes
looked front at the door, she inhaled strongly opening it. She would be soon
joining him, to live with him here in her future life, the thought made her
blush.
Her first step inside seem to change
everything, she presumed. She pondered over the fact, her followed up actions
would give their relationship a new turn. She knew she wanted this change. She
wasn’t ever so strong, but then he was her strength.
“Aprita” his voice called her name. She was
dumbstruck as it echoed in her ears.
His voice never felt so good, her name
never sound so beautiful and she never was so nervous. She turned to catch a
sight of him, standing at the staircase. She had always been delighted to watch
him, but today the thought of him being here worried her unusually.
There was a little distance gap between
them, she noticed, yet she felt so affected by his warmth of presence.
“Vaibhav you early today?” she managed to
speak as he filled the gap.
“Yeah, was kind of tired. Rather I should
ask you early here today?” He said as he passed by her and entered in.
She breathes hard, motionlessly standing at
the entrance.
“Anyway good you are here, I needed to talk
to you about upcoming event” he stated. His hands freely moved, as he got rid
out of his sweaty t-shirt.
It wasn’t anything new; he was quite
comfortable with her around in his belongings. Indeed she was his childhood
pal.
She felt Goosebumps on her skin quite
surprisingly, as her cheek went red, admiring his naked strong muscles.
“Stop lusting at me and come over here” he
demanded smirking at being noticed by her.
“Huh?” her eyes widened up.
“As if I don’t know you were practically
checking me out, that too shamelessly in front of me. Quite bold you are
getting these days, Aprita.” He laughed on his own words as he spoke them and
pulled her near making her sit along with him.
She could feel her body stiffening at the
sensation of his touch and their close proximity. Her eyes gazed him blankly,
as he continued to speak about the event preparations.
“Its perfect right?” he questioned at last
satisfied with that he has described everything.
On not getting back any response he
glimpsed at her, only to find her look at him intensely.
“Arpita!” He exclaimed as he rolled his
eyes and shaken her form.
“Yes, its great idea” she blurted out.
“Sure?” he tried to confirm and she simply
nodded positively. They both shared a sweet smile and she felt soothing. At
that point of time, his eyes fell on the envelope which was still in her hands.
“What’s that?” he enquired confusingly.
She looked down in the direction of his
eyes and observed him referring about the letter. Out of sudden, reality struck
her. She was supposed to drop this letter in his room, that’s what brought her
here. She happened to forget about it in his presence.
“Err… “He snatched the envelope before she
could complete her sentence. He instantly opened it without permission,
ignoring her protests.
She sulked with the realisation, as she saw
him going through its content.
Yes, she had written it for him. Yes, she
wanted him to hold it. Yes, she wanted him to read it. But definitely not in
her presence.
She gulped in uneasiness, trying to absorb
his transforming expressions.
Vaibhav looked up startled as he finished,
directly into her puzzled eyes. She felt it awkward to face him at the moment
and he too realised that, a little late.
They both heard a knock on the door and he
broke the trance as he went to respond at the door. It was the housekeeper; who
had arrived to perform her routine duty of the cleaning the room.
He let her move in and walked out right
away, without giving a slight glance to Aprita, whom he knew, was there for
him.
She stood transfixed watching him go as the
maid made her way in and started to broom the floor.
If time ever stops, hers had stopped now.
She sensed a kind of emptiness in her heart.
“Ma’am please can you shift a little” the
lady requested her softly, interrupting in her hustles of thoughts.
She faked a smile in respond as she left
the room. Arpita rushed to backyard area, on the passage giving a hurried
greeting to the family.
She wanted to be alone with her
vulnerability, she wanted to cry her heart out, she wanted to weep for her love
not being reciprocated, she wanted to break the silence that was hurting her,
and she wanted to calm her rising up mixed emotions.
**
Sakshi muscles refluxed in pain as she
settled in the seat and her tired eyes looked up in confusion.
The doctors had read the reports twice and
after being disheartened from the results, had narrated her same. She didn’t
know how to react and just smiled weakly.
She collected her reports along with the
prescribed medicines and left for her home. As she drove, her tears made their
way again to her soft cheeks. They were reluctant to stop. Vaibhav, her mind
thought of him at her current state.
Vaibhav was supposed to accompany her to
visit doctor but due to an important urgent meeting, she managed to get go
alone. She needed him and was tediously waiting to hear him.
She wiped off the salted water from her
cheeks, leaving a translucent stain mark behind. Her hands worked on steering
wheel and eyes strained on the roads. The noise of the traffic around helped
her not focus on the cries in her heart.
Her phone vibrated seeming to end her
prolonged wait. It was his call; her hand froze as her feet mechanically
put on brake. She picked it up glaring at the screen. By then it had stopped
ringing and she sighed.
She knew she had to confront it.
Recollecting herself, she dialled his number and unexpectedly the call was
attended instantly.
“Hey, you fine?” she heard him concerned.
She stayed mute.
“Sakshi?” he anxiously uttered.
“Yes.” She answered silently crying. Her
heart engulfed with the pain, which felt so fresh again on hearing his voice.
“Reports?” he asked uncertain.
“I got them.” She spoke choking, as her
throat felt a lump due to her upset emotions.
“Doctors said anything?” he asked a bit
low.
“They said my body isn’t showing any improvement
on the treatment being given.” She spoke robotically repeating the words said
by the doctor.
“Hmmm…” he couldn’t utter anymore.
Both paused unknown of words to be said or
asked.
“talk to you later” she over the
conversation and pressed the end button, as her head rested back on her driving
seat, allowing her tears to drop that she had been holding on. She couldn’t
help but let them flow down.
**
Under no circumstances, He had felt so
suffocated. He never felt so helpless.
“Aprita, I know I am the reason of you
being unsure. If only I hadn’t been so unsure about of my own feelings…” he
spoke to himself in the lonely room. His own words haunted him.
He always had a hint that she loved him,
but he had always hated the fact of being loved. For he had lost belief in the
4 letter single word- Love.
Vaibhav ran his hands roughly all through
his hairs. He felt frustrated at the current state.
His decision to admit his love to Sakshi
had been delayed. But that set right, He knew sakshi wouldn’t have agreed upon,
being unsure of her life and future with him, she would have denied for his all
through support at that time. He simply couldn’t risk that. She had no one
along, else him. He never said a word to her and she left him without
hearing his unsaid words.
Didn’t love always give pain? It had
always brought unsure feelings along. Either if spoken as in her case, or left
unspoken as he had experienced in his past.
Desk’s Drawer
In this
story,she is remembering after marriage ,the time which was spend with her
lover in college days. Her husband comes at that time and she is happy in her
present life.
In the kitchen I was busy with the preparation of lunch. At that time
my mobile phone rings & on the display I saw a blue shirt person’s picture
is blooming. That is my dearest husband’s call. A sweet smile take place on my
face & I receive the phone.A bright voice comes from the opposite
side.”Hello darling,I reached in the office”.
In reply I say “hmm…punctual employee,good”.
After me he says that”don’t worry darling I will be also a punctual
husband,as usual 6 o’ clock in the evening”.
“Ok… ok Mr punctual,now you finish your works to become Mr punctual
husband & let me finish my works too to become Mrs punctual, wife of Mr
punctual”I replied.
“Great…so bye My would be Mrs punctual wife”he said & I replied
“yeah,bye dear…see you in the evening”.
After the phone call I increase my speed to become Mrs punctual.
Today I take leave from my work to make the day special. No its not a
special day, there is nothing to celebrate. But I want to celebrate my past , I
want to spend some time with my old memories which give me such a beautiful
life. I know it will sounding awkward that I want to celebrate my past though
past always had a bitter experience, a bad time. As it is said that after every
bad time there comes a good time and my bad time turns into good time by which
person , I want to dedicate this day to him, I want to remember those golden
days which was spend with him. And I can remember the day when I met with him
for the first time.
That day as usual I reached college by the hostel bus with my friend
Sikha. On that day we reached college before one hour to catch the person red
handed who left a letter with a beautiful rose in my desk drawer everyday. We
hurriedly went to our classroom but there was no one. So we decided to hide and
wait for the person. After half an hour a person came and we became alert but
he was the peon. so both of us felt disappoint.
I asked Sikha “does he will come today?”.
Sikha replied “don’t know ,the lecture will be start after half an
hour. so lets wait for fifteen minuts more”.
I said in tired voice “ok, lets see”.
After fifteen minuts there was no one, we lost our patience & we
just went to come out but at that time a person came in blue check shirt &
blue jeans, an old black bag on his back, torn shoes & properly combed
hair. First we doubted that does he is that person or not?, as we were fooled
before. Then we saw that he went infront of my desk, looked outside the door
then opened his bag & we saw that he brings out a letter with a red rose,
putting it into my desk’s drawer. We shocked & silently stand just behind
him. And when he turned back he was shocked to see us. A fear took place on his
face. I opened my desk’s drawer & brought out that letter & red rose.
He was sweating being catched. I looked at his feared eyes & asked
“did you write it?” .
He replied hurriedly “no,yes…no no…I mean”.
“so you are the person who everyday leave these in my desk’s drawer” I
said.
He was silent & cleaning sweat from his face with his
handkerchief. I opened the letter & asked him to read it. He was looking at
us with shocked eyes. I again asked him in higher tone to read it. He forwarded
his right hand towards me & took the letter. His hands were shivering. He
started reading – Dear Mo…hi… I stopped him & told him to read the poem
which was in the letter. He was not able to utter a single word properly out of
fear & started to read the poem like this –
You ha…have bea…u.
I snatched the letter from his hand & told him showing anger “does
anyone read poem like this?Do you not ever read poems?Uttering every word by
breaking it like a nursery student.
He was standing like a statue & sweating. I was feeling happy in
my mind making him afraid. Then I started reading the poem. There was written
that-
You have beautiful blue eyes
In which I want to stay in distinguish,
Then no one can see me in your eyes
Except my & your eyes.
I want to spend with you my whole life,
If you give me the right.
You are a lovely princess with sweet smile
I want to walk with you mile & mile.
Believe me these all are not lies,
I really want to be your prince with the red rose of medium size.
I read every single sentence & looked at him every time. He was
still standing like a statue & became more afraid in my every look.
After I finished the poem Sikha asked that boy “you wrote it?”.
He nodded his head in yes. Sikha again asked “for me?”.
He replied hurriedly in higher tone “no no…its for your friend. All
this letters & roses are for your friend”.
Seeing him tensed both of us laughed. Then he understood that we were
just pulling his leg & a smile took place on his face. Everybody came for
the class & we took our seats.
In the whole class that boy was staring at me, trying to read my face
whether my answer is yes or no. After the class I went to the hostel bus & that
boy was still looking at me, trying to know my answer.
Suddenly a cat comes into the kitchen & glasses falls by which
sound I come out from my old memories . It was 2:30 p.m. I take my lunch ,clean
the kitchen & then on 3:30 p.m I come to seat in the balcony with that
diary where I kept all those letters & roses with love & care. I open a
letter & remember that day when he gave it to me.
It was next day of our first meeting when I again got a letter &
rose in my desk’s drawer. In the letter there was written that-
Dear Mohini,
I don’t know did you understand my feelings through my poem or not. But I
really want to express my feelings to you. Yesterday I was shocked to see you
suddenly. For the first time you were standing in front of me. I was speechless
& nervous seeing you closely first time. I was not able to utter a word out
of fear. Now you know that the person who disturb you daily is me. So I thought
I should write my thought about you. I don’t know when I fall in love with you
but I know that now you are the person whom my heart loves a lot.
Yesterday my poem wants to say you that for me you are my princess
& if you give me the right I will be glad to walk with you as your prince.
I don’t know will I be able to fulfill all your dreams or not because I am not
very rich, even my study is running with the help of the scholarship. But I can
promise you that in every step of life you will find me always beside you. May
be I will not be able to give you gold or diamond, but I will always gift you a
medium size red rose. And like that rose’s colour my love will be deep &
our relation will be beautiful. May be I will not be able to give you a rich
lifestyle but will always give you a life where I will be always ready to hold
your hand. If I fight with you, I will make you happy & if you fight with
me, still I will make you happy. I just want you beside me in my every birth. I
am waiting for your reply.
By the way , you are very intelligent, caught me very smartly. Trust
me , I want to become caught by you every time, in every life.
Yours & only yours Ayush.
After reading the letter I was not able to concentrate in the lecture.
He was staring at me. I was feeling awkward by the situation. After the class I
rushes to the hostel bus & went out without giving a reply. He was upset.
Everyday I got a letter & red rose of medium size in my desk’s
drawer. He was upset for not getting a reply.Like this one week was over.
Sunday came, I was looking at all his letters & roses.
At that time Sikha asked me “what are you doing?. If you love him then
tell him the truth”.
I replied hiding my face “who told you that? I don’t love him”.
“oh… really & that’s why you kept his all letters & roses so
carefully. Don’t try to make me fool. I am your best friend Mohini” Sikha said.
“Then why don’t you try to understand me Sikha. You know why I am
silent. You know why I am not giving any reply. I can’t tell him No because
I…& not even can tell him yes, because my life…Sikha please understand me”
I cried & hugged Sikha.
Sikha said “calm down Mohini. I should understand your
situation.Sorry, I am really very Sorry”.
Next day I went to college, opened the desk. I was shocked , there was
no letter, no rose. I told to my mind that good he forgets me . I felt pain
seeing empty desk, though I want to look happy. I was feeling that someone took
my heart & going away from me. I looked at him & he was listening
lecture. I was sad.
After the class Sikha came & gave me a letter. I asked her “what
is this?”.
She replied “read it”.
I opend the letter. It was from Ayush. There was written in the letter
that I want to talk to you.Please come at least for the last time. Waiting for
you in the college park on 5.30 p.m.
“will you go?” sikha asked.
“Sikha time is came, I have to reply” I said.
In the evening on 5 o’ clock I reached in the park. Ayush was already
waiting for me. He was standing in front of me & I want to print his face
in my eyes as it was our last meeting.
He asked me “hi Mohini, how are you? I knew that you will come.
Instantly I turned back & said “listen I don’t love you. My answer
is No. Now you got your answer,so please don’t try to disturb me again. Let
make this our last meeting”.
He replied “I don’t believe it”.
I was shocked after heard it. Then he again said “if you don’t love
me, you will not come here thirty minutes before.If you don’t love me, you will
reply me before. If you don’t love me, you will not keep those letters &
roses so carefully. you will throw them or destroy them, if you don’t love me.
If you don’t love me, then you will not become upset after not getting any
letter in your desk today. If you don’t love me, then you will not turn back
& will say all these looking at me.
I was surprised to know that he understands my feelings & me very
well. I made myself strong & turn back. I said him in high tone “stop all
these rubbish, I have no feelings for you. You are not the person about whom I
dream.So please leave me alone”.
He replied “please don’t lie.I know …
I shouted at him “please stop it”.
He was not believening on my reply. I became hyperd & suddenly
fainted.And he hold me.
Next moment when I got my senses back I found myself on a hospital
bed. In front of me there was my parents, Sikha & Ayush. Doctor said to me
“congratulations Miss Mohini, you got your donor”.
I became tensed. Doctor again said “don’t worry, you need not to pay
anything. Tomorrow we are going to do your operation”.
After said this doctor leaves. My parents put their hand on my head
& leave with Sikha.
Ayush came nearer to me & sit on the bed. He told me “so, this was
the reason, you were lying to me”.
I was silent. He again said in choked voice with tears in his eyes
“please Mohini agree. Everything is final. My kidney matched with you. If I
give you my one kidney I will not die but if you don’t agree you will…”
He was not able to utter the word “die”. Then he told me “I don’t want
to loose you for this stupid reason. Please accept my love, Please confess your
love. Please Mohini Please”. He was crying like a child.
I was week from physically already but now also mentally. I don’t want
to loose my first & last love. I was crying & then replied “I will
agree only on one condition that you have to gift me a letter with a medium
size red rose everyday, not in the desk’s drawer but in my hand even after our
marriage”.
Then we both laughed together & he said “promise”.
I come back to my present by the sound of the door bell. I open the
door, my husband is standing with a letter & red rose. He give it to me
& says “I love you Mrs Mohini Ayush Misra”.
You ha…have bea…u.
You have beautiful blue eyes
In which I want to stay in distinguish,
Then no one can see me in your eyes
Except my & your eyes.
I want to spend with you my whole life,
If you give me the right.
You are a lovely princess with sweet smile
I want to walk with you mile & mile.
Believe me these all are not lies,
I really want to be your prince with the red rose of medium size.
I don’t know did you understand my feelings through my poem or not. But I really want to express my feelings to you. Yesterday I was shocked to see you suddenly. For the first time you were standing in front of me. I was speechless & nervous seeing you closely first time. I was not able to utter a word out of fear. Now you know that the person who disturb you daily is me. So I thought I should write my thought about you. I don’t know when I fall in love with you but I know that now you are the person whom my heart loves a lot.
Yours & only yours Ayush.
Storyteller
I was murdered even before my birth. A
subtle kind of murder, where you die, yet you live. And all your life, you do
nothing, but stimulating death.
Janaka Bhavan- a dingy orphan
house often filled with exhaust from the nearby brick factories. My home of
childhood.
The plot it stood on was confined, and I would regularly feel being
choked down with its unperceived hostility. The walls of its little
compartments were bare of any strokes of paint, and the toys weren’t many, and
often broken. I did find an unbroken toy there, a roly poly turtle. I used to
stash it under my bed sheets, so that the other devils were not aware
of my only possession.
When those group
home workers, who had an air of vindictiveness around them, asked us all to
assemble in a line for our daily lessons, which was a humble way of referring
to some back breaking chores, I would sometimes sneak out from the monotonous
suffering. And then, running back towards my room, I would close down all the
windows, draw the curtains, and stand there in the shadows, to play with my
turtle, and sometimes write down poetry, all alone.
On one of such date, when I was drawing the familiar, speckled window
screen, I sensed someone disturb my solitude. I turned around, and found a girl
of my age sitting on my bed, with her legs folded and hidden under the bed
sheets. My turtle, I saw, was lying beside her with no cover.
Though her face looked radiant, I looked at her with my face struggling
to enunciate an emotional backdrop. She glanced at my unkempt appearance, and
said nothing. I knew her – Her name was Barsha, but we didn’t talk at all.
A part of me wanted to, but we didn’t.
‘What are you doing here on my bed?’ I asked her. Straight to the
point. She blinked a few times before answering.
‘Your bed sheet seems to be a lot cleaner than the ones in the other
bunk. My ones are being taken for a wash. It was stinking.’ She tossed her
head, and screwed up her nose.
‘You could have chosen any other room.’ I rolled my eyes.
‘Aren’t you supposed to go for your lessons?’ She asked after some time,
and an immediate grief took over her face.
‘I felt like writing poetry today. I began doing this thing a month ago,
you know, like creeping out from the lessons, and then writing and playing here
all alone. It makes me feel like a king.’ I tried to smile. ‘And
guess what? You are the first one to know about this thing.’
‘You are lucky.’ She mumbled. How?
‘Why didn’t you go? I mean, for your lessons?’ I asked her.
‘I can’t.’ She said. ‘God wasn’t too kind when he made me, or maybe
he did a mistake… He missed one of my legs.’ She sobbed, and struggled to say
more. I tried to look at them, but recalled that they were covered
with my bed sheets.
‘Everyone makes mistakes.’ I said, and inched closer towards my bed.
‘He makes too many, more than a man.’ She said, looking up
above towards the ceiling of the room. Tear beads rolled down her cheeks. ‘Look
at all of us. We are all his mistakes. Yet, people point at us, not him.’
I had this weird conviction that what she said was the truth, but felt it
perilous to assure her.I feared that God might hear it.
‘Hey, have you seen my turtle? We can play with it, if you don’t mind.’ I
said. I didn’t want to upset god by further debating about the flaws of his
golden thrones in heaven.
She sighed. ‘If you don’t mind, I will play.’
‘I won’t.’ I grinned and sat on my bed. She didn’t move, making it easier
for me to maintain a specified distance in between us. ‘Don’t you like it? It
is remarkably new.’
She nodded. ‘Can’t you open the windows a little? It’s suffocating.’
‘Let it be. Besides, I like this darkness.’ I said.
‘I know. I have seen you drawing those curtains over time.’ She said.
‘Now open the windows for me.’
‘Let it be.’
‘Open it!’
‘No.’
‘Please!’
‘No.’
‘Listen, what’s your name?’
‘Shyam.’
‘Do you know mine?’
‘Barsha.’ I said.
‘Do you know what it means?’
‘No. What?’
‘For that, open those damn windows!’ She scowled.
I was nine then, I am ninety today. I didn’t open the windows then, but I
open them now. And as soon as I open them, it seems as if not one, but a
thousand suns make way into my tiny little cottage, where the darkness awaits
nonchalantly for its end each day; it knows it can never be eliminated. I know
it.
Still, I let the light pour in through the windows. I even open the
doors, and see the children playing in the shades of my Banyan tree outside.
The plants in my garden seem to be growing with a rapid outburst every summer,
asking all the children to wrap themselves around their mother. I look at every
one of them from my room, sitting in front of the open door, and smile.
Now I have a notebook on my lap, and as I try to figure out a poem, I
think of myself as a storyteller. I write, I pause to admire the differences in
the verse, and then I write again. I hear the laughter of children playing
outside, and amidst them, a faint voice asks, ‘Are you a storyteller or a
poet?’
I do not answer it; instead I let my memories answer. I think about it
myself, and every time I think, I think about it differently. Differences,
I feel, is what sets the past apart from the present; the light apart from
the darkness; the thoughts apart from the memories.
Sunlight poured through the open windows. Barsha’s face was bathed in the
sunlight as she faced the windows. I, though the windows were open, hid myself
behind the partly drawn curtains. The room appeared like the evening sky,
where neither the light wanted to leave its reign, nor the darkness desired to
wait any longer.
Our beds felt like a burning coal, so we decided to sit on the floor that
day. It had been four years since we first met, and since then, on every off
day, we would sit like this, alone in my room, and she would listen to me, or I
would listen to her. We usually sat on my bed, but that day being too hot for
comfort, we sat on the floor, deciding to gaze through the window towards the
other children, who used to play cricket during that time. I helped her sit,
opened the windows, and then sat a few feet away from her,
to hide myself behind the curtains.
I wished she hadn’t noticed, but she did, and gave me a look enunciating
disgust.
‘Come here, Shyam.’ She said, patting the floor.
‘It seems to be cooler here.’ I grinned.
‘Liar.’ She said.
‘Sorry?’
‘You know very well what I am talking about.’ She narrowed her eyes to
me. ‘Well, do you know why I like the light?’ I shook my head. She
entirely faced me, and said, ‘Let us assume the darkness to be a hole. When you
open those windows, it seems as if someone has poured down water through that
hole. The water of light.‘ She halted to make sure I was listening
to her. When I said nothing, she continued. ‘You see, darkness is a void, which
can only be filled by the light poured in by somebody. And I would prefer
that somebody, rather than nobody.‘
‘I never had somebody. Not even my parents were there for me.’ I sighed.
‘Say, do you miss them?’
‘To miss, you have to know. I never knew them. You miss them?’
‘Never.’ She said.
All this vagueness of her answer made me realize where this small
afternoon was bending into. I felt a sudden presence of the past in my room,
where I saw myself crying on the footsteps of a Hanuman temple. I was
not more than six months, and was wrapped up with only a shawl around me. I
cried, I turned, I strived for something, but there was nothing. All I saw was
black, and the only light came from the temple, where the earthen lamp still
glowed, that showed me how small and vulnerable I was. That is why I never
liked the light.The truth.
Barsha dragged herself towards me, and shook my arm. I looked at her,
beads of tears willing to roll down. She buried her face against my chest,
saying, ‘You are thirteen. You are a big man. And big men do not cry.’
‘I do not miss them Barsha. But I want to know them.’ I said.
‘You have a new story?’ She asked, her head rising back again. I
knew what she meant, and why she asked it.
‘I did write one yesterday.’ I said, sniffing back my tears.
‘Let’s hear it out then.’ She said.
‘But for god’s sake, stop calling it a story.’
‘But isn’t it a story?’
‘It is a poem.’
‘Some would call it lyric, others would call it insanity. You call it a
poem. I call it a story. And you, Shyam, are its teller.’
Sixteen years has gone by since that talk, and it seems as if the years
had been blown by the wind of pain and despair.
After the catastrophic day’s work, I collapsed on my bed, never minding to
switch on the lights. The rented room felt like bliss, as I longed for a good
night’s sleep. The reflected rays of the streetlight fell on the walls of the
room, where seven of my poems were glued. A glimpse of them was enough to
remind me of our boisterous days. Our days.
I had not seen her for fourteen years. Still she keeps haunting me like a
ghost.
I remember myself begging the home workers to stop her. She was sleeping
tranquilly, and I swear, she would have cried if she knew what was happening
with her. To me.
My shouts were not enough. She didn’t even say a good bye. She just
slept, without a stir in her eyes. Her body was covered with a white sheet, and
after she was sent away on that bed with wheels, I ran to my room, opened up
all the windows, and sobbed all night. I knew, all she had left me with
were memories, which will sting and irk me till eternity.
Today, as I try to sleep, the faint light inside asks me to try
harder. When I try harder, the obscured print of her inside me urges me
to try even more. That is when I sit up on my bed and realize that I
cannot sleep.
I could be painted black from head to toe in a light less room, and still
the ghost of her would go on haunting me. She knows where I am. She is inside
me.
The pondering of her took me back when we were fifteen, and were sitting
beside each other, my arms around her shoulder. We sat on the veranda,
overlooking the arid and lifeless play field. Dusk was setting in, and I sensed
the perplexity in the stillness of our presence. I looked at her face, and her
cheeks being almost luminous, I kissed her there. She turned towards me, her
eyes watery, and breathe not at all rhythmic. There were numerous bruises on
her arm, fresh and clear.
I remembered, she was walking towards the dorm with the support of a rod,
and I was beside her. There was a bend in our way, a dim bend, and as we
turned, two impulsive guys pushed us back. I caught hold of the wall and
steadied myself, but Barsha being too fragile and weak, dropped down on the
floor filled with sharp gravels, and cut her left arm. I ran towards her and
picked her up, and when I glanced at the two bulky guys, I recalled that they
were The Ali Brothers.
I got a tickling sense that what they did was not an accident, but was
deliberate. And to the horror of my life, I was right.
They intimidated us for the next ten minutes. I dodged and screamed, but
the bend being too hostile and deserted, it took a whole lot of effort for
someone to hear us. I saw Barsha, her eyes filled with reticent tears. The
reason of their bullying was obvious. Barsha complained about them a week
ago about their immature behavior towards the smaller children of the
orphanage.
I tried kicking them, but their aim was Barsha. Only after fifteen
ponderous minutes, there came help. Until then, Barsha was scratched and
punched by them, and that left marks on her arms and shoulder. Marks soon to be
turned into scars.
‘You remember when I said I do not miss my parents?’ She asked. Her voice
startled me. I nodded.
‘I lied. I do miss my mother. She loved me a lot.’ She said with a
melancholy nod.
‘She loved you? She left you here, and you still think she loved you?’
‘She died when I was four. My father remarried. He never considered me to
be his child. I never considered him to be my father. His new wife was sick as
hell. I never liked her. She never liked me. We didn’t make it. But when they
informed about their plans, to leave me alone here, I was not afraid. I was stupefied
with fear. I cried then like I did today.’ She sighed.
I said nothing.
‘They hated me for my legs. But my mother never said anything about my
legs. That was one whole reason why I liked her. She loved to take me beside
the window, and sing lullaby to free myself from all evils. The light would
reflect on me, and I would feel free. She loved the light. And when you say you
like the darkness; that is when I begin to hate you.’
The voices inside me clamored, but I couldn’t fathom out what it was all
about. So I said nothing. She didn’t stop there.
‘I like the light, because my mother liked it. And sometimes, I would ask
this light to be a messenger to my mother. But being with you, I cannot every
time talk with the light, because you are different. But I want to be with you
too. And I wonder aloud, how come a stranger meet another stranger in a place
devoid of any history and comfort, both without a similarity and from two
disparate worlds, and still become companions?’
‘Stop being a Shakespeare. You do not have to be with me every
hour.’ I said. She giggled.
‘In this short span of time I have in my hand, I want to be with someone,
and that is you.’ Her tears had dried up.
‘Best friends are always with you.’ I smiled.
‘We are not best friends.’ She said.
‘Let me hear the reason out.’ I snapped.
‘You are a boy.’
‘I know.’
‘And I am a girl.’
‘So?’
‘We can’t be best friends.’
‘Why?’
‘We might fall in love with each other.’
Then and there, I felt my life to be a conspiracy. And once again, I
was right.
I spent every moment of my life trying to read and interpret the
invisible thread of time. And in all those misinterpretations, I forgot to
study it. The instant when she said that thing; I must have studied her, and
not read.
Today, in this forlorn room, I pray here stimulating tranquility and
peace, but instead, God gifts me a story. A story long snubbed like the dust in
the wind. The enchantment of it keeps repeating in front of me like a pattern,
and keeps whispering to me, ‘She died the very next week after you first
kissed her.’
***
After the poem, I close my notebook and keep it on the study table. I
stand in front of the door. I provoke the sunlight to keep falling on me to
communicate with her. The children continues to play under the shade of the tree,
and looking at them bathed in the light, I feel myself to be someone free,
someone who has freed himself from the labyrinth. Someone who has nothing more
to hide, and nothing more to achieve in his life.
The publishers of my poems had offered me a flat, but I decline. Why do I
need a flat when I own an orphanage? Who, but a mad person would choose
creeping inside an incarcerated building, all alone, rather than living like
free as we all are, taking pleasure of a theatre every day, with the actors and
actresses merely the orphan children? And above all the reasons, this orphanage
is where I smell her breath, even after ninety years of imperfection. This
universe is nothing but an ironical story. Where there was a time when I craved
for a father, but today I am a father of a hundred children. And she is their
mother, as I tell them always.
I felt someone tap the open door of my room. I turned and saw Tushar
looking at me with those familiar, charming eyes, with a toy in his hand. I
asked him to come in, but when he shook his head, I walked towards him.
‘You wanted something Tushar?’ I asked, bending a little to reach out for
his hair.
‘Father, you forgot? How can you forget? You are turning ninety one
today.’ He said in disbelief.
‘Oh, I am sorry. I forgot. So where is my gift?’
‘Here’ He said and raised his hands. I saw a maroon toy car with all
those marks and stains.
‘Where did you get it?’ I asked.
‘I stole it.’ He gave a mischievous smile.
‘From where?’ I gasped.
‘Secret.’ He whispered.
‘Now now, you must never steal something. Keep it back in the place from
where you stole it.’ I pronounced sternly.
‘What will you do then?’ He asked with incredulity in his voice.
I laughed. Here I was, a ninety one year old man, stimulating death lest
I should join the gilded paradise with Barsha, and he asked me what I would do.
I would wait. It isn’t a choice.
Looking at his eyes, I smiled and said, ‘I think I can do a lot many
things without it. I can still write, sleep, gather dreams, and sometimes, only
sometimes, I can tell you a story.’
After the catastrophic day’s work, I collapsed on my bed, never minding to switch on the lights. The rented room felt like bliss, as I longed for a good night’s sleep. The reflected rays of the streetlight fell on the walls of the room, where seven of my poems were glued. A glimpse of them was enough to remind me of our boisterous days. Our days.
I had not seen her for fourteen years. Still she keeps haunting me like a ghost.
No returns
expected; because it’s love…..
I always believed
in chasing dreams, especially when it’s about love. No matter how unrealistic
the dream might be…
One thing I knew for certain, my efforts will pay in some way, good or bad
depends. Believing in myself, I resolved to write a missive to my beloved, Omi.
To dear Omi,
Hello!
It may come to you as a surprise, I admire you. The moment I saw you, in the
shooting event that was telecasted live few days back on the television. Your
smile has got hold of my essence, such a refreshing it was.
Well, firstly, I would like to congratulate you on your vast success in the
shooting event; I admire you as an athlete as good. What a great marksman, you
are.
And lastly, wanted to allege that something has turned me on, I adore you a
greatly. May be, this sound crazy, unreal and foolish, but whatsoever I now
love you a lot. Hope you revert back with a letter or call, as you receive
this.
Contact me here. 032******68
With all the best wishes and boons
Yours
Maya
* * *
Unsure of what I have made out, what are the effects; I barely shoot it
over the address that I have set up over the profits after many attempts. I was
impatient, worried; but altogether I could do was to sit backwards and wait
till I throw anything from his side.
At my home there were a bit of discussions between me and my friends
regarding this spirit of love; everyone fired me with different questions and
subjected me to a test. The person I haven’t realized, I haven’t met, I don’t
know; how can I fall in love with him? Simply because he presents a pretty
smile, and he is a celebrity you are in the following. This just can’t be love,
it’s only that you like his sport, and so you admire him for it; you are a
crazy little fan of his. This is not what we all scream “love”.
Everyone attempted to wash my brain, probably they would have got
successful if it was some brains; well it was about heart. And then my heart
decided; and very strongly declared it as passion….. Just love.
Waiting is never easy, regardless of the subject that we are yearning
for. It creates anxiety, and a great heap of pressure deep down. But sometimes
we have no other choice since nothing is in our hands and all we could do is to
sit back and see how the things turn out in the coming future.
Faith is a large mess in life; we rely on this in our complete existence.
Keeping myself positive, I decided not to jinx it by believing too much more or
less it.
For me, I was shooting out aimlessly to reach out to my favourite gun.
Though I was occupied with my lectures and my professional life, being a
professor requires a large pot of elbow grease. I kept myself occupied so as to
avert any form of discussion within me.
And then the day arrived, I will treasure all through my lifetime,
unforgettable moment…..
* * *
I was turned on to see his message on my cell phone, but was uneasy as
well, what if he is not Omi and someone merely trying to misuse, or attempting
to create fun out of me. Hence, I merely replied back, saying don’t fool me
around, I recognize you are not the one I’m looking for.
And then he reverted back saying, he is the one and it’s up to me to
trust or not. I was still anxious, and then I asked one of my friends to call
him on my behalf and speak to him. I thought will ask few questions and go over
them with the data I know, so as to decide, whether the person I am talking to
is the one I wanted or someone else.
The conversation between them lasted for almost 15-20 minutes, and all
the curious questions were taken. Out of all this, I came to realize one thing
for sure, what an amazing man he is, extremely humble. He actually took an
effort to take the letter, and ring me back. This incident made me feel more
tied. I never imagined he would ever behave that for some ordinary mortal. For
this I will esteem him all through my spirit. He is a strong personality… He is
real athletic, really driven, motivated man and enjoys what he serves.
Everything went all right with that conversation, but the only problem
was, I was not the division of it. Since the complete conversation was between
Omi and my friend. Hence, I thought, will send him a message apologizing for my
action, since my friend was speaking to him without expressing the true
statement that she wasn’t me. Not her fault, I simply told her to do that.
He responded back saying, it’s perfectly fine and I can call him back if
I desire to. Without giving a second idea, I decided to call him back. And
started the conversation, it was the pleasure to talk to him. He had manly,
hard and determined voice; confidence can be heard through it.
While conversing, I remarked how much I like him, how thankful I am for
his call and congratulated him on his vast success. Even when everything ran
fine during the lecture, I was sort of disgruntled. The reason for it, I was
not able to understand.
The period of my dissatisfaction was, I didn’t mention it clearly that I
love him. I was unable to show my actual opinions, and this made me feel
pitiful. But was confused on the other side, will it sound nice and justified
if I say this to him, the very first time I talked.
Then I generated a midway out, let me text him asking, can we be friends?
In all likelihood by doing so will help me to know him more and slowly I can
vocalize what I feel exactly. I immediately did so, but there was no reply. I
waited for all most an hour.
Waiting for reply made me little sad, I was instantly scared to lose him.
His silence was killing me from inside. But I waited more, thinking he might
have got busy with something and will reply back as and when he will be
liberal. But afternoon turned into evening and then to night. There was still
no reply. The reason I didn’t call him myself because I never wanted to look
desperate, though I was.
That night was a long, long night. I was not able to sleep, my eyes kept
finding out on my telephone. I got over it in every single minute. I was very
restless; I started to cry and cried all night. I don’t know what to do? How am
I supposed to handle all this? This was the first time I was feeling insane and
helpless.
* * *
Following dawn, my eyes were puffed up. Everyone at home questioned, but
I had no answer. I just moved out of home for work. As I climbed down the
steps, I dialled Omi’s cell phone number.
“Hello, ” he said.
“Hello, it’s me Maya” I replied.
“Oh! Yes, I recall”
“You didn’t reply, to my yesterday’s message, I am sorry if I asked
something indecent” I said apologetically.
“No, it’s not like that; it’s just that I am already in committed
relationship”
“What? I didn’t get you,” I said with a surprise.
(The call disconnected, due to network issues)
Well, more than surprise, I had a heart break. The person I love is
already in love with someone, and now what am I supposed to do? How should I
react to this tale?
I thought back I needed to call him back and expand the conversation;
this sharp end will appear unfair. And so I grew up and strained to explain
him, all I want is to be a friend and not a girl. I strained to explain him
that I really look up to him and will cherish his friendship, if he gives me an
opportunity. But all passed in vain, he kept on reciting that his girl, don’t
like all this, and he is in no mood to lose his relationship for this
friendship.
I love him, however, I could reconcile myself with his friendship, but he
was stern not to pay that too. And in such a state, I was left with no choice
except to leave him. But this was surely not going to be easy for me. I wanted
to distress myself, and determined to accept a leave for a daytime and spend
some time alone analysing what went incorrect. And what should be my next step?
How do I make it work?
* * *
What I considered to be worst was just the beginning of bad. I was
struggling every night to sleep, each day was getting horrible and the pain
grew deeper and deeper. This pain will have to be suffered; these tears will
have to be shed. If I complain or make a plea, it will be a disgrace to love.
And one night, while I was lying down on my bed thinking about the man I
love, I received a call from his number.
“Hello,” I read enthusiastically.
“Maya, right?” female replied.
“Yes, whom am I speaking to?” I demanded.
“It’s Riya, Omi’s fiancĂ©”
“Oh! Ok.” I responded
“Mind, girl, don’t you even attempt to call my man, else mark my words I
am proceeding to defeat you” she said angrily.
“Hey! I remember, there is confusion, I haven’t called him”
“Whatever, mind it, I know what kind of girl you are, so if at all you
try to get in contact with him, I am going to sue you.” She disconnected.
I wish that I was never in love with you, and then this story of mine
wouldn’t be the true statement. Neither would I have sacrificed my heart to you
nor would I be compelled. There wouldn’t be the conventions of the globe. On
that point wouldn’t be this disaster. Maybe I have passed over the lines in
love. Yes, Riya was right, I was wrong. I should have stopped myself, at that
very point when he did not reply to my friendship’s proposal.
“Was I very wrong?” This question banged my head. Likely no, I only needed
him to be a friend, and when he said no, I didn’t even attempt to convert him.
It’s hardly that I tried calling him twice, but later on I quit, Then why all
this issue.
Yes! Agree, I love him, he is important for me, but I also accepted the
fact that he is not ready to be with me, not even as a friend. And so why am I
blamed, and what for? I need to take this question, from the person for whom I
induced to face all this, and hear this nonsense.
Whatever good or bad, god knows it well, whatever is there in a person’s
heart, God knows about it. And I was sure, I had no wrong intentions. It was
simply that I was interpreted wrong, and then it was my obligation to make Mr.
Omi understand that I am at no fault. I have not committed any crime, for which
I need to be litigated.
It got my ambition, to make Omi understand and see that I was not wrong,
it was just misinterpreted. All I wanted was friendship, nothing more. But I
understood such a wish will consume my life. I could sense the pain already,
but still I thought I had to do this. It was my entire fault that I fell so
intensely in love. There was no difference left for me in living or dying,
because I was already grappling with life. This incident had shattered me into
pieces.
I called Omi, just to talk about the conversation that I threw last night
with Riya. It was important to talk about it with him.
“Hello,” he stated.
“Maya here” I replied back.
“Yes, what happened”
“You don’t know, your girlfriend called me last night”
“Ok, what did she say”
“Threatened and abused me for no reason.”
“I am regretful, she is a bit insecure person.”
“No, that’s not the way. I was so hurt. She can’t say whatever she
desires.”
“I am apologizing. It happens.”
“But why? Tell me, have I done something wrong? Did I upset you? Then
why”
“Ok listen Maya, you involve to understand my commitments. It’s my
obligation to make her comfortable.”
“I go in, but is it going to be at the cost of somebody else getting
pain.”
“I am sad, but I truly can’t help”
“Ok! As you say” I said slowly.
“Listen, I really can’t keep everyone around me happy, someone will get
hurt, I am sorry that it’s you this time.”
“Well then bye!” I disconnected.
It was hard for me to make him understand, I was dumb. For him it will
never matter what I survived through all these days and particularly last
night. If he desires, he can forget me at any dot of time, I don’t even matter
to his spirit, but I cannot forget him just like that, as have loved him.
Though, at that place, was no value of my love or my feelings, however I just
can’t allow this to get off.
There were thousands of desires, each worth dying for, each related to my
love. Many of them I came to see only after talking to Riya. Why should I blame
Riya or Omi for the stock which will continuously flow through my eyes all my
lifetime? This was the worst and the most humiliating dismissal, I ever
fronted. During this stage, I moved around to drinking (alcohol) and then the
time came when my entire world was filled with drinks, agony and hurt. I was
thus let down by this spirit that I really started to believe that I should not
live any further.
What has happened to my heart, what was this pain for? What was the
remedy for this, after all? I hope for love for one who doesn’t recognize what
it entails to be loved. I was nervous and eager, he was cold and displeased,
and this created total misery in my spirit. When you and Riya both knew, I
actually don’t matter, then why was this issue created? Was it just to make me
feel disgraced? I had already withdrawn myself. I always loved you more than my
life; I don’t know what prayers are about?
Day passes well, since job kept me absorbed. But nights were horrible,
nothing was helpful. Whole night long I keep gazing at stars, drink, and cry.
The biggest problem starts, when our happiness becomes the attribute of others.
And this difficult phase has popped out in my life.
With every passing day, I struggle to brush over this pain. The nights
were more savage, just one question in my mind, how to resolve this conflict.
What should I do to make him see my situation? He should have at least afforded
me a chance to speak and meet me once. I never said let’s make out, all I
wanted was a genuine friendship. This suffering was taking over me.
* * *
While I was busy trading with my mess, one of my friends suggested me an
alternative direction to reach Omi. She pronounced “why don’t I grab one of his
allies and ask him to avail me, perchance he can direct me?”
I was so light, that I immediately agreed to what she said without giving
a second opinion about it. It was like using someone for our benefit, which was
definitely against my principles. But love made me so blind that I blanked out
everything.
To make him understand was one agenda, and next I have to fetch his
friend as well. This was another big issue, how to reach to his ally? In such a
state of mind, a thought clicked by, why don’t I try reaching Dev? He was Omi’s
partner in one of the shooting event. And he was the only familiar name for me,
out of his life. So he was my only option, I had to strike on him. Without
getting into too much discussion, I decided to make an effort.
It seemed, god was in complete favour of my every action. Without putting
much of the effort, I got to where I desired to. Dev and I set up a meeting.
The only problem was that I had to flee to a different city to see him. But it
didn’t matter, because it was worth. At last I am conforming to my friend, Dev,
who will help me reach to my Love.
Dev was a tall and handsome human being. He delivered a strong
personality, and he was a great friend of Omi. We both decided to meet over
lunch, and then he will take me to show one of the shooting range, where Omi
and Dev practice together. Though, I haven’t mentioned, him about my feelings
for Omi, but I thought will tell him once we take on.
The trouble with life is, you contrive it in a direction, and it creates the
other account. I thought Dev was my ally, but eventually he was not. Matters
turned out bad; he got our friendship to some other level and treated me
indecently. We were at one of his friend’s place; I was totally unknown about
the position and the intentions. All I could do in such a situation was to
plead.
All that was happening around was looking like a bad dream, though it was
the realism. Why things were turning out tough, was question for me. The
situations I was facing were difficult, but more than that they were soul
breaking.
Life is never uncomplicated, it’s always complex. And this time was the most
laborious of all times for me. Probably things could have spilled more, but
with the gods graze I was saved a small. Dev stopped somehow, after my much
request.
I was blank, completely smashed. Was my decision to meet Dev was ill
timed. I should have never started this. But to a greater extent than this, it
was my love for Omi, which made me pay such high price, costing my self-worth.
I recalled the courage, and asked Dev to drop me home. He agreed, the road
along which we were driving was long and quiet. The traffic was high, honking
all around, even so, no talks between us. In all likelihood he was sad, that
whatsoever he thought didn’t come around. And for me it was, whatever occurred
should have never happened.
I was going mad; I only wanted to get back home early. It was not just
about the forceful intimacy that I blended through, it was about the feelings.
The feeling which was cracked into bits in such a style that likely can never
be reached again, it was terrorizing my soul.
At times, many challenging situations don’t depress, but one bad
situation changes the man completely, lets out the person altogether. The
person I was anticipating to help me, to reach my destination, was the one who
took me away
from it.
More than love, this has worked out to be madness, and this madness will
surely get you fame Omi. As I ran out of the automobile, I confessed to Dev
that I like Omi; I came to discover you just because I want to know about him,
and I wanted to make him. Dev smiled and said no use as such, he is entrusted
to someone.
My solitude and I often read up this conversation, how it would have
been, if you had been here? In all likelihood, all this would have never
materialized then. The query was what am I suppose do next, should I rebel back
to Dev and say you were wrong. But wasn’t he aware of what he was doing, was he
so blind to see the difference between right and incorrect. The adult male, who
has fame, money and is admired worldwide, shouldn’t have done this to somebody.
But there was also this question, what made him think this mood? What made him
do this to me, have I given any wrong signals? These were exactly the questions
having no answers. But it was significant for me to get the response, since
it’s the matter of my spirit and my self-opinion. Everything was at stake.
After collecting all the courage, I decided to talk to Omi. It was the
most difficult decision I have ever learned in my lifespan, since talking about
all this once again will remind me everything and again I had to work through
the mental injury. But even then, I have to talk; it’s something that Omi
should know as well. I called him….
“Hello” Omi said.
“Hey, Maya this side” I replied.
“Yes, say, how are you?”
“I am ok and what about you?”
“Good!”
“Good, I need to talk,” I sounded out slowly.
“Even I wanted to ask something”
“Ok, you ask first” make him the preference.
“Did you see Dev?” he asked
“Oh yes, and then you experience everything right?” I stated with a
respite.
“Yes, why did you do that?”
“I did nothing, I was not aware about it, in fact, I am still driving
myself away from all this, it was so irritating” I bust down.
“Listen, Maya, whatever occurred, try to go out of it, it’s blending to
be hard, but it’s not inconceivable. After all, you are a strong girl”
“It’s so easy for you to read all this crap, this incident has claimed my
life” I replied aloud.
“No, your life is not so feeble, that anyone or any such incident can
take it. It’s precious and very pricey”
“You are articulating this, because of which all this took place”
“Maya, you can blame me, cuss me or whatever that can realize you
experience better, but don’t keep on punishing yourself just for this single
incident”
“Ok!”
“Life is long, there are many beautiful things, you will see soon” he
read with exuberance
“Agreed” replied calmly
“Here I promise, I will be your ally, you can ring me up every six months
and talk about whatever you feel like”
“Six months?”
“Yes, because you may not find me easily, so I stated six months”
“Ok! Thank you”
“Don’t thank me, you wanted my friendship, it’s yours now”
“Bound”
“Hope god gives you success” he disconnected.
Question answer round was over; whatever I wanted to talk about was done.
All I was left with my emotions and hurt. He was so right; Riya was his
obligation, love and everything, I was nothing to him. And it was and will
always be a difficulty to get both of us happy altogether. Why complicate
matters any further? May be it was insufferable for Omi to make Riya
understand, that I always needed Omi as a friend and nothing more. Or maybe,
The Omi never wanted to undertake to sort the mess so created.
Difficulties change the person, make them strong, and thusly did I. I
perpetually desired to tell Omi so many things about my tone, my desire and
love that I have, apart from the pain I went through, in this journey called
“love”, he never threw me an opportunity, or maybe I could not. No returns
expected; because its love…..
Hello!
It may come to you as a surprise, I admire you. The moment I saw you, in the shooting event that was telecasted live few days back on the television. Your smile has got hold of my essence, such a refreshing it was.
Well, firstly, I would like to congratulate you on your vast success in the shooting event; I admire you as an athlete as good. What a great marksman, you are.
And lastly, wanted to allege that something has turned me on, I adore you a greatly. May be, this sound crazy, unreal and foolish, but whatsoever I now love you a lot. Hope you revert back with a letter or call, as you receive this.
Contact me here. 032******68
With all the best wishes and boons
Yours
Maya
* * *
“Hello,” I read enthusiastically.
* * *
While I was busy trading with my mess, one of my friends suggested me an alternative direction to reach Omi. She pronounced “why don’t I grab one of his allies and ask him to avail me, perchance he can direct me?”
Life is never uncomplicated, it’s always complex. And this time was the most laborious of all times for me. Probably things could have spilled more, but with the gods graze I was saved a small. Dev stopped somehow, after my much request.
I recalled the courage, and asked Dev to drop me home. He agreed, the road along which we were driving was long and quiet. The traffic was high, honking all around, even so, no talks between us. In all likelihood he was sad, that whatsoever he thought didn’t come around. And for me it was, whatever occurred should have never happened.
from it.
Love has No
End, Only Beginning
Today! I told
myself. Today is the day, I tell her how I felt. I couldn’t seem to understand
how someone in few days can become so significant part of your life, mind and
body that life seems pointless just thinking about without their presence. She
was like that. She would be surrounded be her friends all the time, pack of two
girls and these two ugly guys. And I’ve never seen two guys grovel more, those
retards will do as she pleased. Maybe I was jealous that those retards got to
talk to her, be around her presence. She was a beauty, with her brown eyes,
curly hair and chiseled chin.Out of the world. Every day she would reach late
in class, and I would see her walk right past me. I felt like I was invisible
in her eyes. I didn’t had such super powers. I didn’t even had any powers.
We were in Bachelors of Commerce in Delhi University, year of 1999. I
have no idea how I got there, I wasn’t even that good with the studies, don’t
get me wrong, but I was just an average student with average looks. But I loved
to read and play piano, I had been practicing playing piano for more than four
years by then. I remember exactly how I got into playing piano. It was my final
exams of class 9th and I was listening to these cassettes for some
entertainment and I came across this song called “Nostalgia” by Yanni, and it
freaked me out how amazing it was, that song took over my mind for so many
days. I would be in quiescence every time I heard that sound of piano. From
that day, all I wanted to do was, be that guy who took over everyone’s mind
with his music. I joined music lessons the day after I finished my exams. I
can’t tell you how many times I practiced playing Nostalgia. My parents would
enter my room all worked up in the middle of the night. Best days ever, and now
I was sitting here in the back seat, hoping to catch her attention and there
was nothing I could do.
Our college had a fest in the winters. I was performing. She took part
in the classical dance. The day of fest, and the moment I saw her in the
auditorium, my jaw dropped down to the floor and came back where it belonged.
She wore a simple orange saree, with henna on her hands and feet. I really
didn’t cared about who was winning the dance competition, she was already my
future wife, in my mind. I stopped my practice and took the seats in the
auditorium as she practiced her dance with the other dancers and the moment she
started dancing. She could have challenged Madhuri Dixit and beat her just by
her face. She looked stunning. Funny thing is although they were playing a
classic music number. In my mind, I could hear the Beatles song “You’ve got to
hide your love” but I couldn’t. I know it sounds pathetic at each and every
level. But I was head over heels crazy about his women, and very few people can
understand this emotion. When you look at someone and your heart skips a beat
and you get the feeling, you know this person, some how from somewhere.
Even if you don’t get to be with them because somehow you feel like they
are too good for you. I was on that path, and nobody even knew how miserable I
was.
Anyways, it was one hour to go before the show begun. Somehow, I kept
myself calm. I wasn’t scared to perform on stage by the way, I had done that
before. I didn’t wanted to mess it up in front of her. Her dance performance
began, I was at the backstage, peaking through the side and above shoulder of
some guy, and I was blown away by her dance, and that face, twice in a single
day.
When my time to perform came. I was calm and relaxed, and the only
thing I hoped for and looked for was her in the crowd. And all I could see was
few friends and the college professors in the front row. I began with “Fur
Elise” by Beethoven, it’s a classic and I slowly took a transition into
“Nostalgia” by Yanni and I had my one eye on the crowd as I constantly looked
for her and I couldn’t see her, but secretly I hoped she was listening.
And the crowd cheer made me so ecstatic I got lost in the Nostalgia,
and when I opened my eyes, as I took a glance at the right…She was standing
behind this guy, all the time. A fluttery and a strange sensation passed
through my stomach, butterflies I guess and I felt for the first time in months
I had her attention. She was looking at me. I closed my eyes as I went from
“Nostalgia” to “My heart will go on”, from Titanic and I played it with all my
heart, I played like my life depended on it. As, I was about to finish, She was
staring to me, her eyes were wide open and they gleamed. She had a smile on her
face, and I could never ever forget that smile. You know how they say when you
die, your life flashes in front of your eyes, when that will happen, her smile
would be the first thing that will flash before me. And that smile meant
something, I knew it right there.
It’s been more than 12 years since we’re married. I wish I passed away
before she did.
“And this is how I fell in love with your mother,” I told my daughter.
Can We Forget First
Love?
My facial expression and
my position of how I had seated myself on the couch clearly explained my
situation of uttermost boredom to anyone by just taking a glance at me. I was
in one of those stupid “get-together” that the neighbouring schools held
annually. They say it’s to help us develop our social skills and to know other
people more. Well, in my point of view none of this was helping me to be more
social and neither had I come across anyone who shared the same view as me.
Everyone was so excited like as if Bill Gates was to adopt them. I sighed.
“Would
you mind making me understand why we have these ‘socials’ every year?”
I
think I almost fell off the couch as those words hit my ears. I turned my head
to see the face of the person who was the only human who carried the same sense
as me, uh! It was a guy, his school uniform represented that he was from the
school which was a mile away. His shoes was unpolished, neat tie, was wearing a
half cardigan and before I had the time to observe more he cut me off by
asking, “Are you enjoying this?”
I
just continued to look at him, I blinked twice, and I was just mesmerized by
the thought that his person belonged to the same race as me, considering to the
rest of the stupid heads who were scattered all around the hall.
He
patiently waited for my reply and I finally spoke, “Do I have to answer that?” I
said without changing my expression.
He
gave me a quick laugh and said, “Not necessarily.” There was still a tone of
laughter that lingered in his answer, I gave out a “tsk!” and raised my
eyebrows as I nodded my head and I could not stop noticing that on the left
side of his cardigan, just below his school monogram, there was this bright
object which was reflecting the lights of the hall as he moved and bore the
carving “ELITE OF THE YEAR” I smiled.
We
ended up exchanging some sarcastic replies and had a conversation regarding the
benefits of these annual get-togethers which we both failed to understand and
how also about hoe the rest of the thought of this event and yeah, not to
forget, I did tell him about my Bill Gates’ joke.
“By
the way, I am Heather,” he extended his hand forward. “Heather Drew.,” he added
smilingly. I lost track of time for a few seconds. This was my usual reaction
as I did not have the habit of shaking hands with people. Especially male.
I
smiled to cover up for those few seconds that I had lost.
“And
you?” he asked with a consoling tone, like he could understand my reaction.
“Oh!
I am Caroline.” I smiles and extended my hand towards him.
We
had a comfortable conversation. I was surprised as we shared the same view at
most points, and every time it did, I smiled quietly. The night went on in its
own pace after that.
“Well,
it’s time to leave.” I smiled again as I said those words, “it was pleasing to
meet you.” I added.
“More
likely is—“thank you or passing the most dullest day”— ain’t it?” he laughed.
I
laughed and replied, “Yeah! That too.”
After
that night, I came across Heather on the streets quite often. Sometimes we
would meet up when I used to go out to the market relating to some house chores
and he would say—“Hey! Getting prepared to hit on those stupid heads with those
tomatoes on the next social already?”—“Oh! Ya! Sure. How did you figure that
out, elite?” I used to tease him by calling him “Elite” since he was batched as
the elite student. He would deny and say that he was not elite and that his
school principle had either caught up a disease or someone had manipulated him
to batch Heather as the elite student.
We
used to email each other sometimes. He had asked my email-ID by saying that he
was collecting emails of all the people he knew to send them links of some of
his programs he was working on. “Ya, elite, program links huh? Or are you just
using his as an excuse to get my ID?” I had teased him. “Dude! Its no big deal
and I sure as heck am asking to send links. i need people to see it. You know,
advertising? Trying to get lucky and be the next Bill Gates.” He had somehow
holded onto that Bill Gates joke of mine and he would mention Bill Gates in any
chance he’d get. I had laughed and said- “hahaha…Chill. I know. And anyways you
are not banned from messaging me, ok.” So, that’s how we had started emailing.
We
had grown quite close. We did not talk a lot but somehow, I used to feel
comfortable. Like he understood me. Not to forget, as got to know more about
each other, we would keep having coincidence in several things. I would tell,
“Hey Elite? Are you my fan or what? You keep copying me.” And he would go with
the flow and say, “Oh yes Ma’m. Will you please sign for me here? Name is
Heather Drew. I’m a diehard fan of yours.” We both would have a hearty laugh
then.
I
did talk with others a lot, I was quite social and no, it was not because of
the get-together’s we had every year. It was just natural to me. I would meet
people here and there and Heather was just one of them. He never failed to make
me laugh when we met, most our time would pass with sarcasm.
~
Heather
was the heart of many girls. Why wouldn’t he be? He was like, perfect. He was
funny, he was charming, he was intelligent, he was a good guy and If a girl
looked at him, they would definitely feel, “he is different. He is not like the
rest.” I never quite understood thought, if he was interested in these things
or not or maybe that thought never crossed me and I did not enquire about it.
The atmosphere around us would mostly be light. I would get sober at times but
with him around, I had to break a laugh. I was always with sarcasm and he would
just follow it right up.
~
Its
quite hard to pin point when my mutual friendship managed to climb up a step.
Was it in one those moments when I would try to dig more into his love life
because I would have been sent out on a secret mission to out about it by one
of the girls who had a crush on him and he would say that he had a crush on me,
just to put a stop on me for furthering anymore questions because he knew I
would find it irritable and drop the investigation there? Or was it the
times when would say I’m so good? The time when we played confession and he
said he liked me (which I refused to believe and complain he is not playing
fair) was it when I felt the needle of jealousy hit me for few minutes when he
shared how he wanted to date that other girl? Frequent meets? His laughter?
Jokes? Or was it the first time I shook hands with him as we introduced
ourselves in that social?
I
was too afraid to admit it. I always dumped this thought when it crossed my
mind. Its nothing, is what I said.Music Fest. Big! That was the hot topic of
the students that was being discussed in every group you would go.
_________
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
MUSIC FEST
“Hey! Are you attending the music fest?”
______
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
re+ MUSIC FEST
“I don’t know super elite. I’m busy. You?
_______
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
re+ MUSIC FEST
“oh! Don’t miss the big gig, dude. You
might just miss BILL GATES singing ya, my friends pulled me in to go.”
________
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
BUSY
“haha very funny. OK, date girls and have
fun.”
_______
My
life turned catastrophic. I did not find any spare time. It was schedule one
after another. I was so busy. I was working up to be a doctor, a good one.
Somehow,
I managed to get time for the fest. It was a big thing; I did not want to miss
it. Heather was coming, that was for sure. The thing that confused me that day
was that why was I trying my best clothes. Trying my level best to look good. I
felt funny for some reason and I face-palmed myself because I had no idea what
was going. Anyways, no matter how stupid I felt I still ended up wearing one of
my “special-occasions-only” dress. I face-palmed myself again and set out.
I
saw him. Oh! I saw him. He crossed me. Oh my god, he…WAIT…W-H-A-T? What the
heck? Caroline, your study-level had ruined your sanity, dude! I focused on my
reality again. I was recruiting my friends and was calling them and asking them
in which particular spot where we were supposed to meet up and start to enjoy
the fest (you know, well, girl walk in ‘groups’, they are of the ‘group’ species.) I was talking on the phone,
with my voice at its highest pitch to exceed the loud music (more appropriately
I looked like I was yelling at the other person); that was when he passed by.
Heather. The crowd was in a chaos and to top that, the loud music so I don’t
think he noticed me, but I did. He was walking with his friends, he was walking
at the other end of his ‘gang’. He was eating something, which was
sticking out of his mouth, my guess is that it was a beef stick.
OK,
so don’t think I am one of those crazy stalker, its just that my eyes are
REALLY sharp and I tend to observe things at it utmost detail in just few
seconds.
I
hesitated to call out to him. Why?
“Seriously,
everyone here is a dead meat. You have any idea what I went through trying to
treasure-hunt you down?” I was pouring my frustrations over my ‘group’. “How could you all be so inconsiderate…” “Hey, who wants
a beef stick?” cried out one of my friends and so that was how my complaints
went totally ignored. Oh, well.
~
My
hair which was tied up in a pony settled down. I let out a snort. My lips had
curled up a bit as I bit my lower. “ok. So you got me. Happy? I’m with my
friends, so cut the crap, Heather. I am a girl, I do get embarrassed.”
“I’m
serious,” he churned his lip and pouted a bit as he raised his eyebrows and
rubbed his hand in his neck and let out a muted “ah…” Obviously he was blushing
and was trying to hide it. No?
I
raised my one eyebrow. Confused. My heart beat rate increased a little. What is
this feeling? Would our friendship be in an awkward state if I rejected? Maybe
I should accept his proposal. Oh! Yeah, you heard it right, proposal. I did not
know what to do. So many thoughts, so many voices and the loud music. Not
romantic at all.
“Ah!
I know this song!” was what I said. I am sure everyone around me went,
“Seriously?”
I
turned around to face my friends and gave them that handle-this-please look.
See, this is one of the most particular reasons why girls move in groups. So
they don’t get caught up in a situation like this or such. They came for my
help and one of them cried out to is group, “Girls’ discussion. Privacy
please.”
There
were a lot of oohs and ahhs. Before they told me what to do,
they had already started with the treats, the teasing and the congratulations.
Oh, well.
The
girls went up to him and said, “Congratulation!” he faced me and said, “oh my
god! You are accepting it.” He sounded so relieved and excited. I laughed.
I
had a boyfriend. Crazy.
It
was crazy but I was happy at the same time. We had lot of questions to ask each
other and one of them was, “When and how did you start liking me?”
He
was adorable, a perfect sweetheart who would make me smile and the occasional
sweet little words he used to say. Hey! I am not head over heels yet, it’s just
that I have the tendency to catch everything in details and well enough, that’s
I
got busy with my studies again. He was in my mind. He too had other
responsibilities of the school to handle. I was preparing for my very first
medical mock test. I had to focus, damn! During the day I was confined in my
room and so I had some time to talk to him at night. Here is one confession,
its not that I had time during the night, its that I “made”, more accurately,
“invented” spare time to talk to him, Crazy.
His
voice. Aw man, his voice. They could hypnotize you and take you to seventh
heaven. His laughter, tell me what would I not give just to hear him laugh. I
was insane and he was even moiré insane to even like me.
I
could not resist myself from keeping his contact name to his genuine name and
not so some crazy nickname (if a man checks a women’s contact, he will
seriously be offended.) When he used to call, and the way the phone screen
blinked on and off with his name. Nothing could take away that thrill.
“Hey.”
Our conversation normally started this way.
“Hi.”
“What
are you doing?”
“mh!
Nothing, and you?”
“mhh…not
much.”
We
would remain silent, both thinking what topic to start next on each end of the
connection.
“Do
you know…” and simultaneously even I would have spoken out something like, “And
today…” Again that silent pause, figuring who should be the one to speak first.
One of us would continue and the same cycle repeated over again. Sometimes I
would fall asleep on the phone and our conversation would end just like that
and the next day I would be saying, “I’m so sorry I fell asleep. Actually I…”
this was one the best thing about our relation. We would apologize for the
simplest things and I do not know about him but this used to make my heart feel
warm, loved, affectionate, happy.
I
cracked my mock test. I was so proud to let him know about it because I wanted
to impress him. I had to.
Was this love?
_______
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
hm?
“We havn’t gt 2 meet 4 some time.”
_______
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
hmm??
“Yeah. Want to spend some quality time? “
______
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
uhmm…!?!
“Yeah. Would love to J “
______
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
-_-
“You have grown tall ><”
______
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
confused
“I think I just said “we havnt met 4 some
time.”
_______
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
er..?
“So?”
______
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
…!
“How do you know I have become taller?”
______
In truth, I had
just scanned my eyes through some of his updated pictured but I felt like
playing up with him.
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
SURPRISE
“I can see you”
_____
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
HECK
“What?”
_____
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
SHOCKED?
“I am looking at youJ”
______
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
[no subject]
“O.O”
_____
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub: UH-HUH
“look out.”
______
To:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
From:
HeatherDrew14@
Sub:
-_-
“you gave me a heart attack”
_____
To:
HeatherDrew14@
From:
CarolineGLAMOUR17@
Sub:
haha
“Did i?”
______
I
could go and hug him that very moment and tell him how much I loved him. Crazy!
Will this end?
I
had got into medical field. Life as a medical student was hectic. Learning
this, doing that, I could meet Heather and go out only some time and he too got
busy, his programs he had worked on were paying off but we managed to sneak a
little from our busy life and make time for each other.
Days
passed. Night would go in imaginary thoughts. I was falling for him. Hard! I
would give up anything to be with him. I dumped my higher prior things-to-do
for him and while I would do nothing, I would pass the time thinking about him.
It was easy to drift away. So easy. The “organized” me had lost its
track. I had changed. I had started to believe. It was like I was blind-folded.
He was the sun in my eye. I was so lost that I had forgotten the most important
thing, someday it will end.
It
happened. That “someday” arrived. It came with no invitation, it came with no
hesitation, it just came in, like it owned the whole thing.
He
had landed a chance in one of the software companies. He had got an internship
and so he had to travel, travel far. It was not that far. It was within this round earth
only. Somewhere, a bit far from me. Maybe on the other side of the globe but
none of this was going to change anything, was it?
His
flight was in the morning. He had to leave before 7 in the morning. I was
emotional and I could cry and tell him not to go. Ask him if there was no other
choice, a better one? I wanted to tie him and handcuff him and say, “You are
not going anywhere, Mister.” But those were all in my head. We were still talking
through mails, as we both were very busy and by talking through mails we could
talk to each other plus we could do our own work.
That
day I had woken up super fast. That was unlike me. I called him up on his phone
to wake him up too. I was waiting for him to e-mail me, I was waiting for him.
I could imagine in what haste he must be right now and had decided its better
to chat through mails. My waiting was rewarded. He did come online and he
apologized for being late. Oh! I love him. Finally we bade goodbye and I sent
him off with a lot of smiley J though my condition was actually L but I could
not tell him, could I? Thank the Lord for internet, the person at the other end
of the computer will not be able to see the person at this side of the end. Is it
a bane or a boon?
My
day went like this—he must have reached there—he might be having lunch right
now— he is taking his nap— he reached here—he is there—and so on so forth.
Later
on, that day, I was given the privilege to help in the Operation Room in the
hospital. It was so thrilling. I was still confused as in what field of medical
should I be more interested in. I got busy.
My
phone battery had died and I had not noticed it. When I did, I kept it on
charge and as it got charged and turned my phone, I received a text, there was
a missed-call alert too.
The
text was from heather. He had changed his number though since he was in a
complete different country and area but I figured out it was him because at the
end, he had addressed himself.
The
text read—
I’m
so sorry but I think
its over between us—Heather.”
Those
two lines. Just two lines. Was our relationship so thin?
Those two lines, as I read it, a cold shiver ran down from my head to toe. All
the hair in my body was standing. I stared at it. I could not make out and read
it again and again. Everything around me felt silent. My heart beat in a rhythm
loud enough to be heard by my ears but the rhythm was unsettling. I was frozen.
Completely. My heart-beat rate neither increased nor did it slow down. It just
became loud enough to be heard physically. I was numb. My heart was numb. My
fingers danced above my phone screen. I inhaled a huge amount of air and
exhaled the same volume of air. I was left with nothing. Time continued to tick
ahead. Seconds became minutes and minutes passed without my notice.
I
hit the “reply” button. What was I a supposed to reply? I was clueless. I
wanted to say a lot of things and I wanted to ask a lot of questions. Nothing
made sense. I replied—“okayJJJJ” People are so gullible. How can they possibly
think I am smiling just because I put a smiley and a smile on my face? It was
over.
It
was over. All we had was in the past. They were memories. Memories which made
my life to what I am now. The best ones, he had given those to me, and it made
me cry time and again. He had become my everything and now I was left with
nothing. Maybe I was a chapter in his life but he was the author of my life. He
was my creator. He was my book. And all of this was over in less than a minute,
in two lines, over a text. Should I laugh or should I cry? Because I have
no clue what to do. Was everything to be forgotten? Was I to replay those
moments only in my mind? Is it legal to forget something that was once so dear
and loved. Can we even forget?
Funny,
he always said I would be the one to leave.
Days
passed. Night would go sleepless with swollen eyes. With each passing day my
heart felt less of a heart which had emotions but it became more a tool to
simply pump out blood. The pain grew, it could not be seen nor measured but
only felt. It felt more of a stone. Even stone would be better. I was not
living anymore, only surviving.
~~~~~~
Maybe
everything would have changed if I had wrote my actual feelings instead of
“okayJJJJ” Did he feel the same? Did he even care? If I had known that I had
the choice to resist, I could have done it but I was so clueless. I had no one.
But now, none of it mattered. What mattered was what was to happen next.
~~~~~~
“ohh…My…God..!!”
I screamed, “You are kidding me!”
“Nope,
I am not. You want it or not?”
“Heck,
I want it, man!” and I snatched the papers off his hand and ran down the lobby
with the biggest smile on my face.
I
am a 27 year old lady. I am still working as a resident and I am a cardiologist
who will give up anything for the best heart-affected surgery. I just love hearts. They mesmerize me.
I
was just offered a surgery for a heart-tumor patient few minutes back. I am so
happy. Its nearly an 8 hour surgery. I am so thrilled. This is the best
birthday gift ever. Oh ya! Today is my birthday.
I
am studying the reports I snatched earlier. Suddenly, I get the sensation that
I am being watched. I raise my head and I see a man looking at me. I raise my
one eyebrow clearly indicating the question, “Problem?” he continues to look at
me. I ignore.
Okay!
I can’t take it anymore. I put my report down and my other files on the table
and walk up to that man, “excuse me! Do you have anything of concern? Is
anything bothering you?
He
smiles.
Bryan,
my colleague, joins me and looks at the man and then at me.
“So…?”
Bryan breaks the silence.
“Bryan,
I think this man has some disorder. Check on him. He has been blankly staring
and smiling. I feel like giving him a punch on his face.”
The
man hears my comment and arches his eyebrow. Frankly, I don’t care.
“Sir?”
Bryan says.
The
man gives me that “you-don’t-remember-me?” look. I still don’t care. “Do I know
you?” I ask with a tone of impatient.
He
does not reply and extends his hand in front to Bryan, “I’m heather. Heather
Drew. Sorry for the trouble. I’m here for….” He is babbling away. Who the heck
is this man? God! I turn my back and walk away after telling him, “Good day,
sir! Nice meeting you.”
~~~~
“Sorry,
Sir. Actually, you may have known her before but I am so sorry to tell you that
she may not be able to remember you.”
“Why
so? Dr. Bryan.”
“I
have not been with her lifelong but once I sneaked into her reports when I
found one. It seems that she met with an accident quite a long time ago. She
lost many parts of her memory. Her best ones too, I guess. Poor her. She
survived with a long fight. She is a strong girl. Rumours say she had no will
to live but it’s a miracle how she survived. She is a great doctor.”
Heather’s
face losses its smile and he looks down.
~~~~
I
meet this man again at the gate of our hospital.
He
is disturbing me but fate wants us to meet us again.
“Sorry,
sir. Do I know you?” I ask with a polite tone and a great smile.
He
shakes his head and shakes my hand and replies, “I wish!”
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