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| It was She, Part 6 [Concluding] |
| Monday, August 11, 2008 |
The Trials and the trails
His vacations were over soon. He went back to the college and the first night, he got that SMS
“Sorry, I am really sorry, but please don’t take me wrong. I am moving to Delhi for studies.”
He replied back “I remember the best 30 seconds of my life. I did talk to you. Thanks for it. “
There was nothing after that.
Months simply flew by but the dust never actually got settled permanently.
N.Delhi, 2004 and back
Delhi was bigger than Ranchi, he enquired Ramjas hostel and the Miranda house based on his leads- the probable places and kept his eyes open all the time in the streets of New Delhi. The same old tricks- keep eyes open, hope to have another stroke of “signs”, pretend to be a family to get things out. There were no whereabouts.
It was out of a Bollywood movie, he laughed thinking alone at times.
He returned back to college while he still had a few days of vacations left.
Hostel was sparsely inhabitant. He got time to turn the pages of his life and think through.
He realized it to be something which didn’t have an end- just a futile mirage, a fruitless endeavor, a self- indulging obsession, a tiring journey without any mélange with the destination, an aberration or even an inflicted paranoia.
“I just don’t want to be happy and am actually enjoying this. I want to keep the wound alive; my mind is prejudiced that I can’t be complete without this.” He tried convincing himself.
But he couldn’t gather any answer for some of his own questions.
“Why something had to be born and stay alive, if it’s not destined to grow or even die?
Why isn’t reasoning, grace and response part of love?”
Why can’t love survive without strokes of multiple coincidences?
Why the most natural feeling have to be so torturous to express and tortuous to attain?
Why the sweetest of all emotions have to be so grudged and tested?
Why I have to force things to happen when it needed no force to get into me?”
He disagreed to believe this is just “it”.
He wrote a few mails, sensing no response, held back. The sporadic mails written out in the moments of enlightening weakness, borne out of drunkenness started throwing mailer demons. Her number never got through.
He went back home after his final exams and had a couple of months before he would move to Mysore for his first job.
He desperately wanted to see her, talk to her, the one chance he craved for years. He was sure he would need no more than 30 seconds. That’s all.
He used his old method of dialing 198 to find out her home number but couldn’t break through the new address.
Raj felt a tickle in his ribs remembering his Sherlock Holmes modus operandi. How he went to the telephone exchange to get a duplicate copy of her telephone bill posing as a family? How idiosyncratic of him to try sounding like a girl on phone to get more information out of her family? He smiled and gasped. He didn’t have any regrets. He owned it and loved it. He was father of the relationship and he was just nursing it.
The effort was futile as she never picked up nor was she ever seen again. He spent most of his afternoons and the evenings at the tea stall near her house for two months waiting to steal a few seconds of her fading imagery.
He thought of dropping a letter but remembered the promise to her.
In utter hopelessness, he called up her father and spoke his heart a night before he would leave.
The jest was nothing more than “him not being a philanderer and wanting just a few moments with her and requesting him to spare her from any uncomfortable questions that he might want to ask because of his call. “
He listened like a thorough gentleman and responded as a thorough protective father.
The response was not unexpected but Raj felt relieved to have given a shot.
3 years later, Now.
Raj looked at his watch. It was 5 minutes to 12 midnight now. His birthday is a few minutes later.
He got to ward off the smell of smoke before his younger brother would come looking out and put the smoke alarm on.
He had asked him the same day when he dropped him off to his school, pointing to the next crossing with an innocent twinkle in his eyes -
“Big B, This was your silky route, I remember”
“Dude, go study, you are in 4th standard now, not a kid. Come with Shubham – I won’t be able to pick you up. Bye junior.”
“Bye, senior” he said giggling.
“Yes, it’s my birthday and she would be a year married now too.” He smiled.
The smile that insinuated him “Incorrigible, you romantic fool”.
“What “this” sign suppose to mean now?” This innuendo was directed to the moon above.
“Ye,,,,,,, sweetie, come on in” . He closed his laptop and shouted exultantly as he saw the junior running towards him, rubbing his eyes to be the first to wish him.
Long Live Love
-Dheeraj
P.S : Concluding Not Ending!Labels: Let's Talk Love, Turn The pages |
posted by Dheeraj @ 10:59 PM   |
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| 5 Comments: |
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Perfect ending.. ooops 'concluding' .
Encompassing all the emotions,feelings and the pain.
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Quite suitable conclusion for the story..
But, I will still say...
This is not the END...
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Everyone:
Thanks for dropping by, showing keen interest and following fairly boring story.. And yes,, THIS IS NOT THE END....:-)
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Everyone:
Thanks for dropping by, showing keen interest and following fairly boring story.. And yes,, THIS IS NOT THE END....:-)
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Anyways, just ωanted to say wonderful blog!
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Perfect ending.. ooops 'concluding' .
Encompassing all the emotions,feelings and the pain.