When Love Is Not Enough

Trans-continental love is not easy. It has its own set of problems. Two determined, ardent and crazy-in-love people can battle them almost every time. But then there comes a time when you strongly consider tossing all the we-can-totally-do-this and its-absolutely-worth-it right out of the window. At one point, it is difficult to even determine who or what you are mad at more. Is it him, for having better things to do than be bound to an electronic device. Or maybe the different time zones are what drive you crazy. You could curse the mo**** f***ing cellphone and wi-fi networks to your heart’s fill. Or you could be enraged at yourself for being so needy. For not being able to be one of those people, who are happy and content all by themselves. The blurred line between being pissed off at something rational and an absolutely unjustified outrage becomes even more fuzzy.

You grovel in self-pity, find a million faults in yourself, re-evaluate your life decisions and drink wine in your bed while watching the zillionth re-run of Friends. You stare blankly at pictures from the past, seeking peace and gratification in that blissful smile you have on in that picture. You contemplate if it is your indiscretion for wishing that your person could actually be your-person, even if you are a thousand kilometers apart. If you should be blamed for wanting to be a part of their world and make them a part of yours. And you ponder.. what do you do when you need his benevolent eyes to know that you are stressed without even saying a word, his affable ear for your ramblings after a tough day at work or his soothing voice to calm your nerves. Or maybe you just need him to say how much he loves you.. one more time.

You wonder what do you do when you feel that love is not enough… When you need more than the satisfaction of having a transcendent and exemplary love waiting for you at the other end of the world.

Well.. you let it go. No.. not in that clichéd way where you let your love go and wait for it to come back to you. But you quit trying so hard. You sit back, give your phone a rest, and replay in your head all those amazing memories you made last time you took a trip together. Those memories, every little fun episode and every charming thing he ever did for you all come handy on a rainy day like this. And you realize how petty and insignificant the need of the moment was. Your frowns turn into half smiles in a fraction of a second. Your brain starts producing the same chemical cocktail, which fueled the I-can’t-take-my-hands-off-you phase. Then you miss him so much that you do something incredibly sweet for him, without expecting anything in return. And trust me.. this will be the moment, (provided if you are with the right person), when he will do an adorable small gesture, (or a big one, adorable nevertheless) which will seem unexpected and touch your heart in a way, like nothing before has.
Do this.. not because you have to, but because you both deserve it.. because you don’t quit at every little glitch on your way.. because these bitter sweet moments confer a unique hue to your relationship and make it a journey worth having.. and because it will help you revisit every milestone in your relationship.. Even though you are each other’s person and try your best to share your worlds with each other, there is still a large part of your lives which will always be only theoretical for your better half. And that makes it a challenge to not only survive but also wield the lesser-known perks of the situation. Trans-continental love is not easy. But it makes you stronger, consolidates the trust between you and makes you want each other even more. That first kiss.. when you run into each other’s arms at the airport is absolutely worth it. And you should do this.. because everyone has their on and off days and on some days, you are in his shoes and then you would want him to bear with you.

Freedom

To celebrate Women’s Day this year, I thought of writing about something which is vital and constitutive for life, development and gratification of men and women alike, but women more so, considering the prejudiced society we come from. 

Freedom .. a rather simple concept, but with numerous interpretations and limitations.

For Malala Yousafzai, it is a shot at education. For Nelson Mandela, it was self-respect and equality. For millions of people it is the right to be with the people they love. For thousands of girl children across India, it is simply an opportunity to live.

Fortunately for me, these were not the things I had to strive for. But as an average girl from a conservative society, with unorthodox dreams, I do not underestimate the significance of freedom.

For me, freedom is not  just my right or a mere concept anymore. It is personified.. My husband is freedom personified to me. I was born free. But my greatest fear in life was, that someone or something,  will put shackles on me. He has granted me freedom from that fear.  

He has given me wings to fly.. and at the same time, equipped me with a parachute, in case I get tired or my wings break. He has granted me the freedom to chase my dreams… also to waver when I am unsure… and then to steady myself again.. or just dream a new dream and start the chase all over again. He has given me the flexibility to go where I want and do what I want, the immunity to screw up and the ability to fix it. He has liberated me from the fetters of this judgmental society, the manacles of female stereotypes and remodeled my obligations into choices.

He has allowed me the freedom to be me, which is one of the greatest of its kind. And he has done so with unadulterated love, support and consideration.. without any signs of indignation, cynicism or disrespect.

This has earned him not only my love and respect but also immense appreciation and admiration. I hope every woman has a man like him in her life..  and every man becomes a man like him.

The Other Woman

As I watched him walk away, I felt a piece of my heart breaking. Everything appeared ambiguous and bleary as my eyes brimmed with tears. Those precarious manifestations of distress had surreptitiously welled up, scornfully loathing the pseudo smile I had managed to work up. I knew somewhere in my heart, that he had a morbid inclination too, or maybe I preferred to believe so... But somehow it wasn't very obvious. There was a spring in his gait, a sparkle in his eyes and a mirth in his words, which he tried very hard to façade, but unfortunately, I saw right through him, just like every other time. I did not understand it. Over the years, we had grown so fond of each other, shared every secret, sulked together at every failure and rejoiced in each other's every infinitesmal success.  Then why have we grown apart now...

He couldn’t possibly have stopped loving me. That morning, when he had walked up to me, I could already sense something queer. I have always had the uncanny knack of forseeing trouble. He, with great reverence, suggested that it would be better if we introduced some segregation in our lives. That way we could both lead our personal lives. Personal lives.. I didn’t have a life other than him. When he was sick, I nursed him. When my husband deserted me, I cried and bellowed in his arms. Every time agony struck me, this face brought a smile on my lips.  I didn’t want to, but I agreed because I didn’t want to dishearten him. For so long, we had resurrected each other's faith in the world, now it was time to validate our trust in each other. Times and things had changed.

The first time I descried about her, my intuition poked and jeered at me. ‘She is the one. She will snatch him away from right under your nose.’ But I chose to disbelieve. The first time he lied to me, it was for her. But I chose to ignore. Then he married her. I thought I could live with that. But then, she went a step ahead, and veered him away from me. He was as impeccable and mellow as wet clay. She molded him into something different and variegated. He was an altered person. His unconditional love for me had changed. And he left me, for the other woman.

He reassured me that we would always remain in touch. But I was sure, soon he would be dexterously engrossed in his work and his new life with her.  And I would just remain a fading figment of his past, en ephemeral sense of nostalgia and an occasional phone call. For him, I would always embody a lingering sense of guilt. And to me, he would always herald a few sanguine expectations.

My little boy had grown up. It made me happy, but it also broke my heart to see him walk away from me... leave my hand and lead his own life. But as his mother, it was my duty to let go.

CrossRoads

Say I am a fish. Alright.. that wouldn’t work for this story. So no, I am not a fish, rather say I am a mermaid. And I fell heads-over-heels in love with a man, a remarkable man indeed. However we both pertained to two completely divergent worlds. But for our surreptitious love to burgeon, we had to find a way to transcend nature’s boundary. Thus I prayed to God to lead me to a happily-ever-after. After praying for a long time, God rewarded my diligence and reverence by granting me only one wish. And this wish would lead me to my happily-ever-after. My predicament now is what would be the most idoneous wish to make. Should I ask to be transformed into a human so that I can spend my life with the love of my life? But then, am I ready to lose my existence for gaining love? Should I wish for him to renounce his own world and expect him to embrace mine as his own? Would that be too preposterous? Or should I wish for the extinction of this ethereal feeling of love from my notion and lead my life as it was? If I pick either of the options, then will I be able to live with the compunction of my choice? Suggestions?

A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream

Perched on heaven’s rooftop, staring down upon tiny flicks of shimmering light underneath, on the balcony of paradise, savouring the sweet smell of the summer breeze.. I was with you.. Was I dreaming with open eyes? We were so high up surrounded by nothing but nothingness.. not a hollow, not a void.. an abyss of the summer night sky. And I was with you. The night sky was clearing up, giving way to sneaking & peeking stars. They didn’t seem too far way anymore.

I looked into your lustrous eyes and thought.. if you smile at me.. it’s a dream. And you cast your mesmerizing smile at me. I slipped my hand into yours and thought.. if you grasp my hand back.. it’s a dream. And then you locked your fingers around mine and pacified my blatantly beating heart. I came closer to you and thought.. if you lock me in.. it’s a dream. And then you wrapped yourself around me, spread your warmth through my veins. I let out a silent sigh and thought.. if you kiss my neck.. it’s a dream. And then you arched your mighty self to brush my neck with your lips and made my insides shriek in silence. I ran my hand down your back and thought.. if you engulf in me.. it’s a dream. And then you snuggled into me seeking liberation.  It was moving too fast, my heart was racing and the night was pacing. I thought.. if this goes on forever.. it’s a dream and crossed my fingers.

Paradise shook and the spinning world jerked to a stop. Blinding final rays of the setting sun pervaded my vision. And before I could say goodbye, you were gone. Forsaken in a train, reaffirming my sweet dream. I looked out of the window and caught a glimpse of a magnificent edifice, enchanting in the dusk light, rising unto heaven. I glanced up trying to gauge its crest, and just as far as my vision could reach, there was the balcony of paradise.

And there.. perched on heaven’s rooftop, staring down upon tiny flicks of shimmering light underneath, standing on the balcony of paradise, savoring the sweet smell of the summer breeze.. were two white doves.... living my dream. 

Half Of My Heart

Half of my heart’s full of imagination,

half of it holds on to the truth.

Half of my heart loves to rock the boat,

and the other half sails it smooth.

Half of my heart never knows what to do,

while the other half is always prepared.

Half of my heart cherishes everything too much,

and half of it never dared.

Half of my heart leaps for the moon,

and half of it waits to catch it when it falls.

Half of my heart wanders in the apple orchards,

while half of it ravages the malls.

Half of my heart loves to snuggle and cuddle,

while the world curses the rainy & stormy day. 

But the other half pines for the sun,  

and the sand & sea at the bay.

Half of my heart’s sensible and poised,

half of it is crazy and wild.

Half of my heart is like a whimsical teenager,

While the other half is like the mother of a child.

Half of my heart senses you want me too,

but half of it still thinks it’s too good a dream.

Half of my heart..

believes  there is a transcendent connection,

while the other half is thinking of..

strawberries and whipped cream.

The only thing both halves know,

The only thing that is true..

As long as the Sahara is enveloped in Sand,

And the poles capped by snow,

I can’t stop lovin you <3

                                                                                     ~

 (Semi-plagiarized (read inspired) from ‘Half Of My Heart’ by John Mayer & Taylor Swift )

The Walk Of Shame

One fine evening, Lisa met her ‘prince’.

Honest expression of love, was his evince.

He descended at her door-step, like a divine sign.

In his black shiny car,

With chocolates, flowers and wine.

Extravaganza at it’s best.

Alluring eyes, charming smile,

One-of-a-kind conquest.

Food, violins and a velvet casket.

Embellished with a brimming pocket.

A common friend had set them up.

It was just a first date, she better buckle-up.

Blind date, she thought ‘O, What The Hell’

You never know,

It might just cast the spell.

She reckoned he too shared her zeal.

Thus when it was time to

Kiss goodbye or seal the deal,

‘The rules of the game’ were put on amend.

As the eventful evening came to an end.

One fine evening, Lisa met her ‘prince’.

Next morning,

 He wrecked and savagely frayed her heart,

At her inanity, she could only curse and wince,

Gather her clothes and head towards the start.

Smeared mascara and ruffled hair.

The ‘prince’ missed in his manly flare,

While she let herself out with a delusive smile.

A little drop of tear in the corner of her eye.

As she walked home in that dreary morning light,

She thought to herself, on her morbid plight,

‘I sought Love, oh I am so lame’

‘My name will go down the fool’s hall of fame’

‘Love is nothing but a deceitful name’

‘And I suck at this pathetic game’

‘Thus here I am, walking

The Walk of Shame.’

Image Courtesy: Deviant Art & The Shadow Girl

The Bitch Magnet

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

For years I meandered with you in my sleeve.

But I descried not a soul which

Would betide and never leave.

I found no takers,

But only breakers.

And for your own sake,

Now I have stashed you in my sneakers.

I have locked you in a chest and flipped the key in the ocean.

Until a decent lady comes along and takes me as her lover,

Shows me she is prudent.

And shows me what the deal will cover.

For I am weary of this fatuous dragnet.

And you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

You know not this heinous world, so bear with me.

It is infested with nefarious pretty predators

With no ethics or decree.

They cast their spell and snatch you away,

With dubious smiles and enchanting eyes.

And no one can evade their pernicious clutches

No matter how hard one tries.

Don’t misunderstand me for stifling you.

When you are there you crash and burn.

I m scared this time you may not bounce back.

The damage they cause is hard to discern.

Alas the word got out, and it’s no more a secret,

That you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

If I could sing, I wouldn’t sing of love,

Or if I could paint, I wouldn’t

Make a picture of a butterfly or a dove.

They are menacing weapons,

For the fragile yet strong-hearted.

And I wish, my revered heart,

From you I had never parted.

They poke and prod you,

Those stone-hearted bitches will never know how it feels.

And when nothing is left,

They wreck you under their heels.

Maybe it’s better to stay a forlorn hamlet,

For you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

I have been there and done that.

And trust me it’s more onerous

Than Mortal Combat.

Now I have come to terms, and gathered

That love is a part of life.

And I can’t put you at stake again and again

Just to find a freaking wife.

I have learnt to love my desolate life,

And so should you.           

We will consort and escort each other.

With all those subtle games, I am through..

And I have no regret,

That you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Break Free..

As I stand over your bloody corpse,

I know something within myself died.

But my swollen eyes show no remorse

They have for too many nights sobbed & cried.

I embraced you with your dreams,

While you crushed mine under the burden of your love.

No one heard my silent screams,

But the broken smile and my pale skin from above.

I had given my best,

But you failed me at my worst.

I thought I was blessed with a gold crest,

But in disguise I was cursed.

Cursed.. with an innate ability to love

And not let go..

But tonight I have murdered my love..

My undying love for a man,

A Man who trampled me so low.

Now I know that I have let go..

As I stand over your bloody corpse.

A void is formed by the death of my undying love,

for better or for worse..

I shall bury it deep under my garden,

And plant new seedlings on it.

Now only the earth shall bear my love’s burden,

While I go seeking another piece of shit.

And this, my darling me,

Is the fate of my cursed love.

Tonight I break free..

With it murdered and buried, while I walk above.

This is to elevate a loved one and help her make a new beginning. Together we shall rejoice forfeiting our sorrows, instead of grueling in self loath. :)

You Are The Only Exception

The world is a dreadful reflection,

where hate buds between every creation

and nothing is even close to perfection.

But when I look in your eyes, I see a new world

And a bright new sunrise.

With splashy days and silver nights.

I lay by you and you calm my frights,

and love forms a whole new generation

Coz you are the only exception.

When I am scarred, I have no consideration

And with pain I wish no association.

But when I‘m with you, there is no hurt

And I don’t feel the blue,

For an ounce of despise, the passion is more.

 For each bit of your scorn,

There is a white flag and no keeping score,

And I have no expectations

Coz you are the only exception.

Without you my life would have no direction,

and maybe, there won’t be any resurrection,

or even a simple reverberation.

But when I think of you, I have no regrets,

Mark my words and heed them too.

If time took me back, and I could do it again,

I wont change a thing, who cares what I gain.

And there would be no hesitation

Coz you are the only exception.

I hope one day, you come across this revelation

And know that you are my only exception.

PS: The name is inspired from the song ‘The Only Exception’ by Paramore.

A 'Real' Love Story

~ This is a fictional dramatization of true incidents ~

I was fidgeting with the curls of the phone-wire long after everyone in the office had left. It wasn’t something extraordinary for me, the long hours at work. I had nothing appealing waiting for me back home anyway. Solitude had inundated life, and I had engrossed myself in futile and wacky work. Alas I wasn’t finding the much sought after solace even there. Today was different than the other morose late evening surf sessions. My freaking mind was playing weird games with me. After pulling a couple of strings I had ferreted out what I had been secretly wishing for sometime now. But as I crumpled the little piece of post-it between my fingers, I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to use it anymore.

Maybe it was too late.. maybe it was too inappropriate.. maybe.. I was unsure if I should call him after all. Life has moved on and it has been a long long time… But if nothing else, he was still a friend. I could just talk to him to know how he was doing. I dialed the number a couple of times but disconnected even before the call went through. I was acting weird. I had always been sure about everything in my life. But this wasn’t in line. Finally I thought.. wtf .. I will just call. Maybe he won’t even answer.. it must be really really late there.

 “Hello”, he sounded the same as years ago. “Umm.. hello” I faltered. Wow.. I needed no further introduction. Even after these years he knew who I was (Impressive). After a few pleasantries, we talked.. really talked. Although we were talking after ages, it didn’t feel like it. I had never felt this magnetic force between us before. That night I slept like a baby. I was savoring the feeling of having something to look forward to (Oh.. Out of the world).

The past fleeted before my eyes. School days when every day orbited around him. Those 5 minutes when we could share our day with each other had been more than enough. Childhood fantasies never come true.. do they.. My young mind had envisioned a bright future with him. Alas time (and mountains of Ego) had forced us to part our ways. We had been friends, we had been foes. But our consideration towards each other had never changed to apathy. My joy knew no bounds. Getting a friend back was a great achievement.

The following night something prodigious happened. He said those words which I had never expected or even wished for. I had always wished to retrieve our lost friendship, but never our love. Maybe it was like one of those unsaid wishes. The love, the laughter, the anger and the tears it all came back to me at once. My sane half was bellowing and beseeching me to pay heed. Vibes from an ex are the devil’s call. But my impulsive half urged and argued, what if this was my chance to get back everything I had once wanted.. everything I thought I had deserved. What if this was life’s way of giving me back all that.. What if this was my only chance.. 

Alas sanity succumbed to impulse. As always, reason lost to love. Friends had often said how charming a couple we made together. But I had always warded off these things by saying that ‘the past is past’ and ‘I don’t wish to live in the past’. But today the prospect of reliving the past appeared so attractive. The third night heard me whispering ‘the magic words’ for him. By now all reason in me had perished. I was uber-sure my heart was leading me the right way. He sounded sure too.

I didn’t believe in myself anymore. I didn’t need to. I believed in him. My sane half still warned me 'He is still the same diffident and meek guy'. Years ago he had deluded me. 
‘But how would we make it work, you are so far away’.. he had asked. ‘We will make it work’, I had assured. What could I do to show him that I meant what I said..

I knew.. I hopped onto the next flight and headed East (Whoa.. it wasn’t Adrenalin in blood anymore, it was blood in Adrenalin now). 
There he was.. at the same place where we had met countless times years ago. In the lush greens of the park, he looked like a Roman God. His crescent smile and dreamy eyes made my stomach churn.

~ The End ~

© Awesome Love Story © Happy Ending ©

Conclusions:

- In love, the heart rules.

- Always abide by it’s (in)decisions.

- In love, it is always okay to take a leap of faith.

~ Oops.. Twist ~

But his eyes dug into mine in a cold stare. And then.. it hit me, ‘Oh My God.. What the hell am I doing.. I am such an idiot. This was such a mistake.’ His stare was slashing into my insides

I scrambled in my head but couldn’t articulate any audible sound. He stood there, equally still. ‘May my impulse rot in hell. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have thought that all this was gonna work out. Damned be his dreamy eyes and charming voice.’

I could discern in his eyes what was coming next. All I had to hear was the ‘I am sorry….’  I was surprised, that I wasn’t upset at all at the aspect of this whole childhood love-thing not working out. Indeed I was furious at myself for making me look so ridiculous and callow. Impetuous, stupid and still crazy about him.. oh I painted such a nice picture for him.. and the worst one for myself. The ‘twilight’ love evaporated into thin air.

He must be gloating in gratification, while jabbering out his zillion excuses about ‘How he didn’t want to make things more complicated and how its best for both of us to let things be the way they were’. I wasn’t even listening, I was too busy choking and drowning in the sea of my own shame and despise. He went on and on about ‘how he couldn’t do the same thing to someone else as he had done to me years ago’. Huff… Could I care any less.

Finally at the end of the long “heart-broken” monologue, all I could get out was a flustered ‘Alright’. And amazingly, he had seemed taken-aback and greatly  displeased with my ‘Alright’. Perhaps he was contemplating a more dramatic end to this “event”. Abuses flying at him.. Tears streaking my cheeks.. Yeah.. sure.. like I hadn’t scarred my self respect enough for one life. 

He tried to scrape the wonderfully sewn ‘fissure in our fabric’ by a couple of more apologies, some messengers who brought the same messages and relished playing a key role in reviving an extinct relationship.  Each time, I smiled assuringly and claimed ‘Its alright. No hard feelings. I understand.’ While I prayed in my head ‘ God please let this be erased from the memory of mankind.’

And fortunately for me, in about 4 years, those 2 weeks never came up again.

~ The ‘Real’ End ~

Great Story On Adversities of Love. Yet.. Happy Ending :)

Conclusions:

- In life, all organs of the body must stick to doing what they are best at, i.e.

Heart --> Pumping Blood ; Mind --> Making decisions.

- Never try to exchange these God-designed functions, otherwise, before the mind-pumping–blood can kill you, the heart-making-decisions will.

- In life, taking a leap of faith is alright, but only when its faith on your own instincts.

Love Me Or Hate Me

He says he hates me.. but he also hates to see me dour and dreary. He can’t brook my watery eyes and vents in prodigal outrage. He vexes, flusters and hurts me so many times, yet he makes me ecstatic so many more times. He comprehends my mind even before it materializes on my face. He never thinks about how to make me happy, yet his little inconspicuous actions bring a smile on my face. He says he wants me to relinquish my prerogative in his life, yet he spends every infinitesimal and momentous moment with me. He says we can never be together, yet he envisages a future with me. He says he hates me, yet in his hate I discern a clandestine love.

Perhaps this love is a mere figment of my imagination. Perhaps professing hate is much simpler than professing love, for it doesn’t tag along the encumbrance of expectations. Or perhaps proclaiming hate is much more exciting and thespian than the honest expression of love.

They say love is a four-lettered illusion. But what is a stronger illusion than love? It is hate. It is a four-lettered weapon which has proved fatal time and again when abused by perfidious and mercenary our-kinds. For it is much easier to incite hate than to incite love and respect. And it is human nature to take the easier way out.

Love and hate are never independent of each other. There is hate, only where there is love. Subject who are beyond the realm of love, are also beyond hate. For subjects we know not of.. we harbor only indifference and apathy. Apathy is not synonymous with hate, it is pure oblivion. Love and hate are not black and white. They are overlapping sets of feelings and there is a whole spectrum in between.

Hate is born where love fails. Failure to bear the ponderous burden of expectations anchored to love, incites disappointment and anguish, which gives way to hate. Good examples are public figures. Their actions give rise to immense love, affection and reverence in the hearts of the masses but when the same masses are crestfallen, unfathomable hate and resent arises.           

They have asked, what is love? For me the vital question is what is hate indeed? Not because I am proficient in the ways of love. I am just as confounded and drift as anyone else. But I believe that love can find its way, while hate to me is like a missile gone astray, vulnerable and perilous.

Thus, hate in itself is a mere illusion which makes one believe that they indeed despise the subject, while it actually reflects their disappointment in their love for the subject. At other times, hate is merely a façade. A façade used by cowards to hide their vulnerability.. Cowards appalled by their own ability to love..  For some others, hate is a tool for spicing up their rather insipid and humdrum lives. Being spectator to the formidable farce of violence mustered by the deep-rooted hatred is the only form of entertainment remaining in their dreary lives. Nevertheless, the tic-tac-toe of love and hate is what is holding the universe in equilibrium.

Love me or hate me.. your records shall always remain spotless. Love me or hate me.. I behold the mystic love in your eyes.

The Life After : IV

A drabble is a form of microfiction that renders a work of fiction exactly in 100 words. This is the concluding part of a quartet of 55-fiction posts. However I chose to post it as a drabble to grant myself the liberty of 45 extra words.

Read Part I, Part II & Part III

“A year.. nothing has altered.. the tears, the despair… the solitude, the anguish.  We strived to thrive in our asunder worlds, but foundered in severing the bonds and fetters of love.

The silver Maybach quivered vehemently on the colossal bridge. He pressed down the accelerator.. Tears blurred his sight. I was shackled by invisible manacles, helpless. The Maybach crashed against the cast palisade and whizzed into the air.

From the dazed mob emerged a smile, a smile I had missed for long. His eyes gleamed with an ethereal bliss, as he gazed into my eyes. Our worlds have united again.”

A Dark Night - II

Read The Dark Night I (first part) 
 

The pristine rays of dawn reflected from the old man’s rugged face. Enormous radiant eyes shone from within a frame of bones. Those luminous eyes seemed familiar. The old man grinned at him, just like he had done years ago. He was limping. There was something awry with his left foot. The queer gait, the versant eyes and the evil grin, he could never escape him. This was no mistake. His heart pounded faster and blood whizzed through his veins as he watched the feeble old man’s advent.

It had all ensued on an identical overcast and stormy night, eight years ago. His mother was away for a festival. He had stayed back to take part in a school play. It was almost nine in the evening. His father had put him to bed and settled in his study to go through some papers. He could not sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed. He overheard his father talking to someone in his study next door. He crept out of his bed and sneaked into the study. He hid behind the window to catch some action. He saw a man, about the same age as his father, with tattered clothes and unkempt hair, sitting right across his father. His father had his back to him. They were discussing something in loud raucous voices which he couldn’t assimilate. He was only eight, barely capable of comprehending the intricacies of life.

Suddenly the man seated across his father rose to his feet and his voice boomed. He had a harsh and harrowing voice. He had never seen anyone talk to his father like that. He shivered with fright. His father was trying to hush him. He pulled out a shotgun from under his ragged shirt instead, and shot his father twice in the heart. His father let out a shriek of pain and a pool of red spread all around his collapsed body. He felt giddy and as the sick stench of the claret strewed he passed out. His last memories were that of a pair of monstrous eyes gleaming with the bliss of gratification. He was sneering like a ferocious beast. There was a shadow of heinous resentment on his face. Slowly he had limped out of the house. In his subconscious mind, he was puzzled. What reason could have made such a beast out a man, lead him to slay another man and draw bliss and serenity out of it. His innocent apperception was unable to decipher the paradoxes of the human mind.

When he opened his eyes, his mother sat beside him, holding his hand. It was exceptionally silent. It had been two days after ‘the dark night’. He was treated with sedatives to calm down his nerves. He immediately asked, “Maa, where is father? Is he okay?”

“No son, he is dead.” She had replied in a nonchalant yet afflicted tone. “He was murdered by someone two days ago. We will never get to see him again.”

It was not the obvious misfortune but the oblivious apathetic timbre in his mother’s voice which had agonized him. His mother was a strong and vehement woman. She might have been docile but she had great perseverance, fortitude and virtue.

When he had divulged the truth of ‘the dark night’ to his mother, she had calmly put her fingers to his lips and said,

“Son let go of the past. The dead cannot be brought back. It will only cause you more distress and desolation.”

Just like always, he heeded her words and buried the truth in his heart. But there was discord and cacophony in his mind. He could not fathom why his mother lacked the hankering to identify the assassin. The demise of his father had stirred up the hornet’s nest. Every new day brought a group of insatiable debtors and grudging accomplices to their doorstep, squalling for money. She dealt with such daily predicaments with exceptional bravura. The grief and despair reflected in her eyes, but she maintained her poise.

She had renounced all hues and glimmer in her life. She now dressed up in crisp white Sarees. In her halcyon white attire she looked even more divine and pristine. She had followed the path of piousness She had walked the path of piousness and sanctity. She had always said “To seek revenge is a facade of the coward, but to forgive is a virtue of the bold.” He wanted to pursue in her trail. He wished to forgive, but he could neither forgive nor forget. Those ghastly and cadaverous eyes, that baleful smirk and that eerie gait kept bringing back the execrable flashback from the grave. They had been haunting him since ‘the dark night’.

For several years, he had woken up to gun shots. His mother would calm him down and put him back to sleep. Their lives were veered forever. He despised that man from the core of his heart. The mere thought incited overwhelming emotions. He wanted to hunt him down and strangle him. He had scorned that devil which had filched the peace and affluence of his family and shoved his mother into eternal suffering and agony. A widow is treated no better than filth by the society. She is looked down upon by even the lowest elements of the society. People who had pleaded before her with folded hands, now maltreated and taunted her. He could not bear such derision and disgrace of his mother. But she endured everything honourably. He loathed that man not for his deeds but for the consequences of his actions.

As he became older, he had unveiled many secrets about his father and the reasons behind his mother’s indifference towards his father. His father had not been the most righteous man. Although the proud owner of acres of fertile land, a successful steel plant and property worth many crores, he was a miser at heart. He was highly narcissistic and parsimonious. He was responsible for several immoral and nefarious deeds. The ferocious accident which had claimed several people’s life and health, was also the repercussion of his depraved actions. His mother had reckoned that whatever happened was the price that fate had made him pay for his unethical deeds. But these revelations could not dwindle his abhor for the beast.

As he watched the old man approach, those arduous memories were refreshed. The monstrous gleaming eyes were now encompassed by a skinny and eroding skull. But time could not camouflage his identity. That smirk on his face, years ago, was carved in his memory. Even after so many years, he could recognize this man in a crowd. His face was blank and his mind was crowded with emotions as he saw that man approaching him. He felt a stronger hatred for himself now than he had felt for the killer then. How could he have loved this man’s daughter all his life? She had her father’s eyes. The striking similarity was obvious now. How could he have never noticed? Worse.. even after knowing this truth, he could not love her any less. He was filled with contempt and despise for himself. He felt a burning heat on his face. He could not comprehend whether it was rage or shame.

All his life he had desired vengeance from this man. And today when he was standing less than an arm away, he peered at him palsied in laconism. The old man looked at him intensely with a scowl on his face, like he was saying something with his eyes. He turned to his daughter and asked her something with signs and groaning noises. Perhaps the disease had mutilated his voice. The voice which had reviled and slandered his father in his last minutes. He looked back at him. As he stared into his eyes, he realized, it was not the same. Instead of the satisfaction, it reflected suffering. Instead of happiness, there was redemption. He wasn’t grinning, instead his lips were drooping and cracked. At that moment realization struck, now he could speculate what had made a demon out of this man. The loss of his family and being downtrodden into poverty because of one man’s never-ending avarices was enough to arouse the beast in any man, to seek revenge. He had also been living with a desire for retribution for his miseries from a man who had done the same. He saw this man coughing, coughing until he choked.

Rage had given way to pity. Pity shone in his eyes for a man who he had condemned all his life. How this one moment has changed what he had believed in and lived for his entire life. How it had turned a man he had demonized lifelong into a feeble destitute mortal. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He saw his mother articulating the same words she had repeated so many times during her lifetime. But he had never believed those words. His mother believed in them but he considered them only as words of virtue out of religious books.

“Things happen for a reason. There is God’s will in every good or bad thing that happens to us. Therefore we should accept it with dignity and do our deeds righteously.”

“Every man pays for his own actions during his lifetime. God lets no sin go unpunished.” Now he discerned the authenticity of those words. Was God punishing this man for his sins? Is he going to meet a similar fate for treating this man as a demagogue?

A long whistle sounded! The train rumbled in and halted right in front of them. He stole a glance at her. She was engrossed talking to her father. But the old man refused to heed her. He could no longer bear the pain in his heart and the turmoil of emotions in his mind. His mother’s words were pounding on his ears. He was perplexed how his despise had transformed into pity and shame. A ray of hope for getting his love back into his life which had came into being today was eclipsed forever. He stepped into the train. The doors closed. As the train whistled again, she turned to look at him. She was stupefied. How could he leave without saying a word, without promising to meet again? The train started rumbling ..

“Aadi... Aadi..” she hollered at the top of her voice and scampered along the rumbling train. Their eyes locked for a brief second. They both got the message. They will never see each other again. He looked away, into the twilight. The train caught speed and rumbled off. He had to live with the pain. It was his redemption. This dark night had upturned his life once again. It had snatched away his love as well as his hate.