Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

As he started enticing her, she reminded herself for the last time…  ‘Please don’t think of him’ 


She had been married to Rajat for 6 months now. Arranged setup as it was, he was a perfect partner she could get. Quite a handsome piece created by lord, he was rich with perfect blend of brainy genes too. She had liked him at the first hour of their meeting itself.  

It had taken only 2 days for them to decide that they would want to spend their life with each other. He had adored her charm and wittiness, while she had fallen for his mannerism.

He started kissing her neck and she started pretending to be aroused. He unbuttoned himself in haste, and she guided him amidst the complexity of her clothes. At the end, she complimented the act and felt sad within. It had become usual of her.

Their marriage had been a simpler affair, the way she had planned always. With total gathering of 50 close family and friends, both were pronounced husband and wife in the picturesque beauty of Udaipur. Their honeymoon was no less than a fairy tale. Meticulously planned by Rajat, she has had joyful 20 days of her life.

She laid in the bed with broken heart, staring blankly at the ceiling. She could hear her own heartbeat, drumming loudly at the onset of something bad. She could imagine the situation she might face, leaving her married life in shatter. She could calculate the risk she had planned to take, where chances of failure were rather high. But she knew, it had to be done – not for him but for her.

She had skipped her cycle post first month of the marriage itself. She was embarrassed to share it with Rajat. She had waited for another month to be sure. Every pregnancy test had confirmed her about her fear. It was not what she had planned for next 3 years of her marriage. Finally she had decided to take medical help to get rid of the problem.

She dressed herself post the shower. Rajat seemed already asleep. He looked innocent and attractive. She kissed his forehead and decided to leave.

Life had made her meet him yet again, her first love at the doctor’s clinic. All this while, she had never missed him. She had been happy without him. But that day, at the table, he had squeezed her hand rather tightly to help her bear the pain. That day, he had spent whole day with her, caressing her tresses with his fingers while she slept. He was still unmarried. And he still cared for her.

She had decided to live with him for next few days, till the time she recovers. She did not want Rajat to know about her abortion.

She had missed the times she had spent with him, while he had cooked her all her favorites. She had missed the touch of him, while he had ensured her timely medicines and proper rest.

5 days with him at his place had made her realized, how much she still loved him.

She took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. She reconfirmed within self, yes- this is what I want to do now.

2 months of perfect marriage seemed useless to her. The charm she once had for Rajat, looked fake now. She started hating him close. She started hating her situation. And she started hating her practicality.

She would sometimes evaluate her decision of leaving her love. She would sometimes criticize her decision of choosing Rajat. And she would sometimes compare the both, to come to a conclusion.

She rang the bell again. The door clicked. He looked perplexed to see her, at the odd hour of the night.

She knew it was the time.

She had spent months telling herself, the reasons for which she had left the love of her life. She had not liked the outlook he had for the life. She often had disliked his head over heel love for her. And she had not imagined him to be a good for husband kind of a guy.

But after multiple failed attempts to control self, she had finally decided otherwise.

“Please don’t think of him, I reminded myself yet again…While I had another night with my husband… Oh The fake love should now not kill me”

Epilogue –He had requested her to go back, to her perfectly smooth married life. But she has insisted on spending night with him. She had forced herself inside, only to find his girl friend. She had been shocked; it was not what she had expected. He had finally told her to leave, in rather rude tone this time.


images (1) “Everybody seems overly excited, isn’t it”, he chuckled while writing ferociously in his leather diary.

The plump, fat possibly, in a tight fitted red dress lady was addressing her female fans around.  She often blurted a slight laugh by twisting her lips in some ugly pouts. He knew it never had worked for her.

He glanced across the room. Packed with 60 living creatures, room looked too small for him to find his distraction.

Sporadically, few of her female fans would look each other in admiration. The leader lady, he thought, was still beautiful. Even though little over-sized now, her figure was not ‘out-of-shape’. Her love handles seemed neatly packed inside the tummy tuck she might have worn. Her upper body revealed no extra fat which might have forced her cleavage to show off. She was now a plus size perfection!

He gulped his third pint of Tuborg. A young looking man passed through him to order whiskey on the rocks. He stared at him in dismay. The man gulped the drink in a sip and went towards the couch at the right end of the room, swaying his hips to indicate his drunken state.

He was not sure of his next drink. He drifted away from the bar, the place which might entice him to opt for another Tuborg.

‘Why king is made on the door always?’ he thought aloud to himself while entering the loo- 3 pints and already peeing for the fourth time. DAMN! Exasperated, he tried unzipping to do the business.

The party looked unchanged when he returned. Red lady with fat still attracted other females. The slouched man still lingered around his crowd. And he still stood ‘alone’ beside the bartender.

Someone cleared the mike with a husk ‘HELLO’. Standing in a golden dress with a slit, the Emcee woman looked no less than a celebrity. His heart skipped a beat, he assumed. He listened carefully again.

It was strange. At the age of 37, he was still exploring his options by going to various parties. Being a journalist, he always had been on move till now, travelling to places he had not heard before.

Though, not a single day had gone by, when he had not thought of getting married. After the resignation from his last employer, it had become difficult for him to stay in 2 BHK alone. He would get up; feed self with toast jam and milk, spending most of his nights in parties he would not know. The routine had been unchanged since past 2 years.

The plump lady in red dress had taken the stage. He could hardly hear now, possibly because of his drunken mind or over-excited applauding crowd.

He had decided not to attend any party tonight. After numerous failed attempts to get over with the last night hangover, it was sensible of him to stay indoors. However, the ex-colleague request had made him step out to cover another party for the weekend edition. Trying to fit into his best outfits, he had driven to the venue reminding self to be sober. It was work which he could not mess unlike his personal screwed life.

Though, he soon had lost his mind when he saw that lady in a tight fitted red dress. After the first pint of Tuborg, she had been easy for him to look at. He always knew, the drink would help him in need.

“2 Margarita, please” – a couple distracted his thoughts.

He had dated her for 12 precious years, when finally she had decided to move out. It had been difficult for him. He was 35, with baggage of job responsibilities and no emotional support.

She did not want to get settled at her age, which she believed was too young. 

He had resigned from his loving job to explore. Explore a solution to his remorse. But 2 years had not been enough. His otherwise cleaned house was a mess, his friends no more updated him with their lives and couple hangout was banned from his life.

He had become bankrupt emotionally though on and off freelancing projects had been helping him with his finances.

Tonight had been his confrontation with the past – the past he was still struggling to get over with.

He quickly gulped another pint.

In last 2 years, he had avoided every contact which might end him at her door. Their common friends were no longer his friends, their favorite joints were his hate list and their bedroom was his storeroom. She had been difficult for him to forget.

He was at his 8th bottle when she finally finished speaking.

She now knew him more than anyone else, yet he had spent the entire day rehearsing to propose her and be his best. That day he had decorated the house with her favorite lilies and roses. The dinner he cooked and the suit he wore seemed perfect for the upcoming celebrations.

Though, her verdict came as a surprise to him. She had already rented a flat elsewhere and the day was her last day with him.

He scribbled the last point in his diary and decided to leave.

Special comment by the host was the least he could ignore in this success party, he thought in anger.

Epilogue: She had worked her ass out to reach the place where she was. She wanted everything- money, fame and passion. Love had never been her priority. He was her best roommate and the person she adored. The bed activities she enjoyed with him were part of her friendship she knew.

That day, his proposal to get married had pissed her off. She always had told him about her plans and her ‘disinterest’ in marriages. She always had told him about her ‘willingness’ to continue like this forever. But his ignorance to all her wishes had forced her to move out of her comfort friend.

She had stayed at her friends place for a week to find a separate accommodation. She switched her job and made new friends. She even deleted his photos she preserved in her hidden files.

She had seen him at the party today. She knew he still stared her with love. She knew she still was important to him. And she knew she still did not want to marry him.

She had seen him kicking his bike, blabbering something in anger. She though stood there, watching him fade into the dark, sipping her last drink for the day in peace.

77088-20120920110901-lbIt was the fourth time that her phone rang. She stared at the screen, it was mother again.

She was only 10 when her parents had decided for her – Emily would go to boarding school for rest of her life. It was hard for her to understand the reasons behind. She had cried whole night, cursing her parents. She had assumed that her parents did not love her anymore.

She stared at the screen again. It was 11:00pm. Parents would not call her now. She switched off the phone and threw it inside the side drawer – among her hair clips, rosemary and candies.

Ms. Johnson had greeted her with open arms that day – ensuring that Emily meets the best of people and love the school. She was offered front seat near the window at class, Ms Johnson arranged for extra candies during break for her and also took her out for stroll during late evenings to watch rabbits behind the school.

She looked herself in the mirror; she was grown up adolescent now. She tried smiling hard, but her face seemed cold without emotion.

It had been 6 years now that Emily had made home away from home.

School did not allow phone calls during weekdays, Saturdays and Sundays were meant to be Emily’s best days in the week. She would get up early, visit church and would wait near the only phone on her floor at the corner of the building. Every weekend, her mother would call her sharp at 10:00am. It had become a ritual for her. After a hearty conversation with mommy dear, Emily would play with her best friend Carrie for an hour and would slurp delicious lunch at Ms Johnson’s house. Evenings were spent painting and completing pending home works. After dinner, Emily would again watch the phone till 9:30pm when her father would call. Everything had been routine.

Among the clumsy pool of 36 beds, she had got the 5th bed beside the window. After every 2 months, the settings changed, to ensure every girl gets a bed near the window- the only place where the fans looked bit effective.

She changed herself in the pink night dress, which she had brought herself last year from the Christmas money. She admired the settings for the last time and started packing her bags.

In 6 years, not even once had she been called back home. During vacations, her parents would come down to meet her, often carrying unnecessary gifts. Father would send ‘extra money’ after her 3rd year in the school, giving excuses she never understood. Sometimes, mother would talk about a little girl named Julie whom she disliked for no reasons. Everything was bizarre for her- her family, Julie and her ‘forced family vacations’.

She collected memoirs gifted by her friends on her 15th birthday, she then swept the ‘tiny wax animals’ on the table top she had brought from the Zoo; she also folded the bed sheets in neat rectangular shapes to fit the only truck she had.

After 3 hours of hard work, everything she had accumulated in 6 years was packed in a truck and 3 bags. She gave the final look to her bed and window with nostalgia and bid adieu.

Last weekend, she had not received any call from her parents but a letter explaining her things she did not know till now. Problems in marital life of her parents had compelled them to send her to boarding. During her 2nd year away from home, they had applied for a divorce to end daily remorse. Soon after the first summon from court, parents had realize the dreadful end of their love marriage. Mother had cried in father’s arm, recalling the happier times and missing Emily. That is when Julie had happened to them. They had then reconsidered their divorce appeal.

However, after Julie turned one, things got worse yet again. Both had their own reasons to get out of the marriage they had nurtured for 18 years. Mother was fed up of father and his emotionless life and father would complain of her demanding nature.

The letter they had written was a request more than the information. Divorce was at its final stage and before applying for custody, both wanted to know the decision of Emily -whom would she choose to stay with?

Mother had specified categorically that Julie had been the only hope when Emily was not around and she was too small to live without her.

 But nowhere did the letter mention- who wanted Emily to stay with them?

She was called before the jury in the witness box. She could see her mother sitting next to a girl in blue stripped frock, caressing her curls with her fingers and crying occasionally. She also saw her father sitting at the far end of the court, looking drunk, he seemed staring and conversing something to his feet.

Emily handed a letter to the jury and looked at the floor, trying to avoid stares if any. She was now confident of what she wanted.

‘Dear Mom and Dad, I have always seen you together and would love to see you guys like that. I want to imagine this as a nightmare I had because I did not do my daily prayers last night. I want to imagine this as a stupid game you guys play with me when I am angry at you.

Mother, I don’t like the little creature Julie, she is luckier than me to have you around but I don’t want to complain. Father, I don’t like to see you absent minded when you visit me.

I can’t choose one of you. You both are willing to let me go to the other one. I would rather assume my life intact by your divorce and return to my dear Hostel, where I have got a family which still awaits me.

All the best, do see me during vacations like always (if possible)


She received message from Ms Johnson – ‘When do I see you?’ and she replied ‘TONIGHT’.

She left the court without a word, her eyes unable to see anything because of the extra water. No one stopped her, and she did not wait.

Once she was out of the court, she dumped her phone and walked slowly towards her only home.

“I ran and ran, ran so fast…but the life I want, and the one I craft… gives me no happiness, as I still starve…Oh the sinful love, oh the sinful need”

loveHe slipped from his bed carefully, trying not to disturb his pretty wife.

Wife looked magical, with just the right amount of moonlight falling on her mane and face.

“It had been 3 days since they had checked in the hotel right next to the river front. His wife had opted for the place to have a romantic stay after 5 years of their wedding. All these years, they both had been crazily working to support themselves and their dreams – own house, car, stature and friends.

Now, their bank balance was as strong as they had ever imagined.”


He moved towards the window. He knew that something had waked him up. But he did not know what.

He turned back to see his wife again; tossing her sides, she looked like a baby. How can one be so beautiful and serene? He thought within himself.

“Initial few days of marriage had not been easy. Being an arrange set up, he had been skeptical about his would be partner. His dreams, his priorities and his work, he thought he would need to change them all.

But she was different. She had understood him well, giving him his own space and life. And things had been like always – without change.

He looked through the window – stretched wide, river seemed endless. Moonlight over the surface had made the river look picturesque. He could see trees, aiming high to touch the sky, just like him. He smiled. Possibly, the night had something important for him.

“It was the first time when they had planned a holiday for themselves, post the ‘compulsorily’ honeymoon package. Wife had spent (nearly wasted) a week in getting the perfect look for the outing- shoes, clothes and makeup. She had even placed her first kiss on his cheek, publicly in excitement. 

They both had traveled by road, towards east, away from the usual commercialized 5 star set-ups. A small hotel near the village had attracted his wife’s fancy, facing the mighty Ganges.”

He sat at the corner of the bed, near her feet. It seemed that each part of her body had been meticulously carved out by the lord himself. Feet accessorized with toe-ring and silver anklet looked perfect.

He wanted to keep looking at her, from a distance without disturbing her sleep. Though, part of him desperately wanted to touch the pearl body and enjoy the warmth together.

He stood to take a stroll to let the feeling fade.

He went near the window again. The river and the trees looked same. Nothing had changed in these few minutes, he thought, like his unchanged life in these 5 years.

Yes, nothing had actually changed.

He still did not know what his wife wanted. He still was clueless, what his wife loved. He still was new, to the marital pleasures.

The truth was harsh.

He became uneasy. He had spent 5 years with a beautiful girl, untouched.

The fact that he wanted to focus on his career and self had actually stolen some ‘addictive’ pleasure of life. He regretted being so naive to let it go.

Part of him started becoming angry.

It looked, with every passing second; his self retrospection was clearly dividing him into two.

One part was angry. Angry at everyone – his wife-who was smart enough to understand his wish to succeed, his family-who forced him into the marriage and self-who ignored the beautiful sculpture in his life. The other part was just sleepy, adding ‘really nothing’ to his emotions.

His wife had always been workaholic like him. He had noticed her dedication and commitment. She often have had ‘sleepless’ nights during her submissions. He had always appreciated and respected her for this. She was an independent individual with her own life.

And he was only a part of it. He had liked this fact – ‘not to be the world to his wife’

At the third night after their wedding, he had puked his mind – his want to become ‘big’, his dream to earn ‘a lot’ and his need to be ‘single’. His wife had just stared at him for few minutes before she confirmed-‘Understood’.

Post that, they had been singles, literally singles. Living under the same room, they were only good friends.

He knew that he had not been fair to her. He knew that he had not been fair to himself. And he knew that the ‘thinking’ was making him sick.

Wife had once told him, how much she loved the idea of love. He had then laughed off and excused himself for work.

He assumed, perhaps, the night was an indication for him to know his loss. He assumed, perhaps, the night was a mirror for him to know his needs. And he assumed, perhaps, the night was nothing but a knock of truth.

His assumptions made him confident. His assumptions made him lighter. And his assumptions made him happier.

It was morning already.

Rays had started filling the room, making it warmer inside. He looked at his wife. He knew, It was time for her to embrace the day and him.

 “Is it a need or my love, I don’t know… I crave for her and her untouched glow

It is time to have a broken fast, for she is only one now I want at last”


EPILOGUE: “That day when I got up, I saw him sitting on his knees. He had a strange look in his eyes. I think I knew that look. I think I have seen it before, when he had offered me a lift to my office. I have seen that look when he had taken me to a doctor and have fought at the reception. I know I have seen that look when he had criticized me shopping for days for that trip.

And I said before he could speak – ‘Understood, like always’ “


princessI had seen her calm, ALWAYS…

She stood straight out of bed, looking torn out. The room looked dark, with dried twigs and cramped feathers here and there. It has been quite a while since she last cleaned her room.

I remember meeting her one day. Calm, serene and elegantly seated, she looked like a princess. The emerald around her neck had caught my attention. Her skin glowed under the sun, showing her untouched beauty. God! she was beautiful. The beauty was incomparable.

She looked out of the window; the day was dull for her. She unwillingly walked towards the other room to get ready for the day, carelessly cleaning the floor with her torn out gown.

One day, I had told her that I am hungry. I had no money to buy food for myself. She had brought me the grandest meal of my life. I owe her. She had made me sleep on her lap, caressing my hair with her finger.

In fact, she had even gifted me clothes. The best of clothes, I knew. Soft, colorful and beautiful, those clothes were the best. She never had asked me to return favors.

She passed the mirror which was once her pride. The mirror showed her the outer world. She did not care to look at it. She knew, nothing was left to see.

Once, I had asked her about that mirror. She had taken me in front of it. I could see millions of people, rejoicing, celebrating and dancing. I had asked the reason. She had smiled and told me, they all are my people’. It was magical for me. She was care taker of millions like me. I don’t know, I think, I had started loving her more, possibly, respecting her more.

She sat on the broken chair. It seemed that her legs pained. With the blood stains on her face, she looked older.

There was a day when one among her people had thrown a stone at her. It had hit her right on the face. There was blood drops on the road, as she had walked towards her castle.

Some had criticized the act, but rest had related it with their right to the throne.

I remember her crying, but she loved her people. She never retorted.

She could hear the cry outside. She could hear people screaming for help. She could hear small kids looking for their lost parents. She could hear it all. But it did not matter to her any more.

She closed her eyes to let the last drop of tear fall.

I had seen her shattered that day. She was sitting on the rock, looking at the nothingness. I tried talking to her, but she had ignored me. It looked like her dignity had been targeted this time. It looked like she had lost the love she had. It looked like she was ready for the revenge.

She gathered herself together to have her next sleep. It was not the time, still she felt like taking a nap. She seemed tired.

It had been a long day for her. She had ordered for a mass slaughtering. It was hard for her to give such orders, but she knew, it was imperative to maintain the harmony.

She could not stand the ‘exploitation’ she had gone through over these years any longer, her people tearing her clothes publicly, humiliating her and often hurting her physically. It required taking an action.

She had initially tried to warn people with small punishments, but they did not stop.

I wanted to apologize to her, for the act we humans have done to her. But she did not hear yet again. I wanted to make her feel, that I understand. But I know, even my lifestyle has been a reason for her remorse.

She slept on the hardened bed of rocks, looking as innocent like a child. She knew, she would need to prepare herself to extend help next day, to the orphaned kids. She knew, being the mother that she is to them, she would need to feed hundreds of mouths tomorrow again, to whom the destruction had caused loss.  She knew, being the exploited nature that she is, she would still need to shelter them under her arms, who had once thrown stones at her.

I know, dear Mother Earth, you still are the loving princess of our lives.

I know dear Mother Earth; we still owe you day and night.

And I know, dear Mother Earth, these changes in the environment and frequent destructions are the results of what we have sown.

“And, I tried finding the calm and serene Nature yet again; she is alive and is still there… but lives in doom with anger and fear”





‘And I always thought, I am damn safe in my own cocoon’

She switched off the lights after taking her daily midnight bath.

She had always loved it -water, bubbles and self, completely immersed in the bath tub, thinking nothingness for an hour.

Like always, she had taken the same short cut back home from office, she had cooked the same boring oat meal for dinner and she had slipped into her old boring grey night wear to say goodnight to the world. Like always, she had thought.

She turned her back towards the only window in her room.

The window had been nice to her ever since she has shifted in the office. She would drink her morning coffee, looking down at the weird dog owners who would run behind their dogs from her window. She would sometimes, paint beside the window, looking closely at the passerby. She had also sobbed looking at the window, in the hope that someone somewhere was watching her cry. Like always, window has been her only companion in the room.

She did not want to be disturbed. She did not want to see the flashing lights of the vehicle passing under her window. She did not want to hear the roaring sounds of the trucks laden with fruits, vegetables or anything. She wanted sleep. She wanted peace. She wanted solitude.

‘She had always been a loner’; her mother had always told her friends, neighbors and relatives in despair. Though, she would always chuckle at her mother’s remarks. She knew, she was not a loner. She had friends. She had people to talk to. She had companions to hang out with. But her preference was to talk to self, her entertainment was hanging out alone and her friend was her only soul.

She looked at the clock again. 2.30 am. Still hours to go to wake up, she thought closing her eyes tightly. ‘Sleep, sleep, sleep please’, she authoritatively told herself.

She had shifted to a flat away from home for her job. She would visit her mother once in two months. Other than that, her weekends were mainly wasted in creating few more paintings, reading about psychology and cooking ‘good food’. She would also take out one Saturday for Feni, her flatmate and hang out buddy in the unknown city. They both would sneak into their converse, wear loose T-shirts and would walk through the lanes in Pyjamas. Amidst the solitude, Feni was her only interaction with the outer world.

She stared at the clock. 2.45 am. It seemed, the clock has been stuck. She switched on the lights to have a closer look. 2.46 am. May be, the clock moved faster in her supervision, she thought.

She switched on the TV to watch news.

It had been 5 months that she had stopped going out with Feni too. She would stay in her room whole day, only coming out to cook. Sometimes, she would even skip cooking and stay hungry whole day. She had also started avoiding Feni’s room. She would behave as if the room never existed.

The news seemed sad. It talked how the stars play a role in screwing every body’s life, or how a saint can molest a girl or how the country is moving and growing. Nothing interested her. Her eyes wanted to sleep. But her heart would not let her; after all, it was again a Saturday. A Saturday meant to be spent with Feni, her dear buddy.

It had been a usual Saturday with Feni. Though, she had decided to leave early alone. She had planned to pick some gifts for Feni. She had gone to a florist to buy some yellow and pink flowers of her choice, she had ordered a customized cake showing two girls on a bike for her and she had even brought a nice floral dress for her. After all, Feni was getting married!

They both have decided to meet at the Bakers, their favorite shop to try varieties of cakes and chocolates.

She had waited for Feni forever that day, but Feni had not come. Annoyed, she had thrown the gift in the bin while returning home. She had tip-toed straight to her room, sure of not asking for any explanations. She had cried whole night thinking about the possible reason of not showing up, and had later slept off.

She reluctantly decided to knock at the Feni’s door. She opened her door and stared for a minute towards her room. Lights were still on. She dragged her feet slowly towards the room. After gathering all her courage, she forced opened her room.

She had not cared to ask for Feni the whole week.  She had re-assumed her work following week and had ignored her room. She had often wondered about the absence of calls from Feni, it was so unlike her. Though, her anger would stop her anxious self.

After 10 days of ‘pretentious ignoring Feni’, she had decided to talk to Feni face to face. She had come home early that night and had gone towards her room straight away.  After an hour of continuous knocking and struggling to get through her room door, she had called the boys she knew. The male gang had broken the door that night to witness the horrific incident. 

Feni’s dead fiancé slept naked on the blood stained bed. The room smelled blood and flesh. It seemed, someone had dragged him in the room by his soft beautiful hair, which Feni had always loved. The mirror in the room stood unbroken with some patches of dried blood.

Shocked, she had vigorously searched for Feni. Walking through the messed room and broken flower pots, she had cried within herself.

‘Feni, oh dear Feni’, she had thought.

She stood staring at the bed. She could still visualize the dead fiancé. She could still smell the blood and the flesh in the room. She could still see Feni chattering nonchalantly over phone. And she could still see Feni fading away from the room and her life.

‘5 months or 5 years, you are always missed oh my dear…’


The wait

Posted: November 20, 2014 in Fiction
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,


Dated: dd/mm/yy

Titled : THE  WAIT

I am really weird. Trust me, sometimes, weird is even an understatement.

I see her every day.

Every day, I see her sitting from my window.  It is around 12 noon, that she is visible to me. I see her in different colours. Sometimes, she shines in her white dress with red flowers neatly embroidered over her petite neck. She never ignores me, for the weirdo that I am.

I see her smooth legs, her flawless skin, and then at me. Dirty. Yes, I am dirty. I have not used my bathroom since long. My clothes are shabby unlike hers. My shirt has turned dark brown with the dust it has accumulated over the years. I have pricked nails, longer than usual nose and wrinkled head.

But you know what, I don’t care.

I know she loves me, that is why she sits in my garden, a garden which by no means is attractive. Only an oak tree stands there, all alone like me, shabby, wrinkled and old. It has grown older with me in this house, almost 70 years now.

I have nothing special to boast about. My possessions are confined to the oak tree, in front of the window where I stand, this house- which needs repair and her. She is priceless.

She smiles at the sparrow which is sharing the bench with her. They both look similar in skin to me. Both are golden and they both shine. She often turns at the window and smile, perhaps at me.

It is 4’o clock. My stomach churns without food. But I don’t want to leave her. She will be gone like every day.  She does not like me going out of sight. She gets hurt.

Yesterday, I had to attend the nature’s call. And when I returned to the window, she was gone. I could no longer see her. I was sad.

Today, I had decided not to eat. This prevents any disturbance.

I am so elated, she is still there smiling and appreciating my eroded garden. I will definitely work on it from tomorrow for her, obviously. A beautiful girl in my beautiful garden, I would call then. I am dreaming.

Where is the girl? Am I losing sight in the growing dark? Let me switch on the lights.

No, she is not there. She is gone. Like yesterday, like day before yesterday and like 20 years ago. She has been doing the same with me. 20 years, and she still don’t praise my love for her.

I will not wait for her from tomorrow. I return to my room. I see her photo. Her picture is standing between the books kept for the support.
My hands are shaking, I feel weak. I take the support of the broken chair. I think I have just fallen down. It looks like history will repeat itself.

20 years ago, she had fallen from a chair and her head got hurt. I saw blood everywhere around her. People cried telling me to have patience, saying she is dead. Complete fools. She was never dead. She had always been with me. 20 years, every day, without fail. I have seen her sitting like always, in the garden. She has always spoken with her eyes, like always. I have tried telling my son. He thought I am mad and left me one day.

But I am not alone.

But it hurts in the head. I got hurt. The chair is broken and it did not support me. I am wondering, is there blood around me too? Wish, someone could see me lying here and would cry.

I think I will be like her after this pain is gone. I will also be neat, shiny and full of youth. I will also not grow old for another 20 years like her.

I think this thing, which people call death, is not too bad.  I can feel myself smiling. It is growing dark around; i think my eyes are shutting down too.

I am still thinking, will we sit in the garden together then? I have never touched her in these 20 years. May be, this is a chance to feel her again. May be, this is a chance to know her again…May be, it is a chance to… love her again.

…Pain is going…I… I think… I …am ….losing…words… should… call …son… it…Is …hard to …brea…the…

Leave… it…. she… I see… it… not day… still….. She is talking… taking me…

Signed : ____________________


“They both sit in the garden every day. He would just glance at her like he used to do at the window. She would smile, often shying away from his stare. They both look as fresh as daisy. He is not shabby. The oak tree still stands there. They feed sparrows together. They sometimes, see their own son standing at the window, looking blankly at them. They wish, he could be able to see them together, happy and enjoying. But all they see him, regretful and sad.”