Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category

Flowers For Him

This wasnt written to be posted on the blog. But then I got bored and posted it here. 😐

She glanced at her watch. It was 2 minutes to six. As she wrapped up her work for the day and walked to the station, her mind carelessly slipped away into the memories of that day – the day he had gifted her the watch and the ring that still shone on her left hand. The starlit night, the candles, the dinner at Taj, the wine and most of all, the smile of satisfaction of his face – everything came back in front of her hollow, hazel eyes.

The announcement of the 6 o’clock fast local to Churchgate snapped her back from the past. Hurriedly she got on to the train, took her usual seat by the window and gave a faint smile to the familiar faces she had been seeing everyday in the last one year.

Today, was a special day and she wanted him to know that. She had been planning for this day for the past month. Plans and ideas were thought of and thrown out everyday. And with some help from her friends, she finally decided on how she wanted to celebrate the day.

She gazed out of the window, taking in the post monsoon cool breeze of the city and playing out the evening in her mind over and over again. All the while, she had a silent wish in her mind. She never said it aloud, lest it fails to come true.  In half an hour she had reached her station. She got down and started walking out to his place.

On the footpath, she saw a lady selling flowers. Remembering his love for yellow carnations, she instinctively went to her and bought a bouquet of his favourite flowers. ‘This would be a nice touch’, she thought. With the flowers in her arms, she continued her walk.

And then she reached the hospital. Her heart best faster as the elevator came closer to the 11th floor. All arrangements had been made. She got the same music and the same wine. She made sure that the menu was the same as it was a year back. All she wanted now, was a miracle. A miracle to bring her life back to what it was meant to be.

With all her surprises in place, she waited with bated breath on the terrace of the hospital as the attendant brought him to her on the wheelchair.

Today was 26th November 2009, exactly a year after he had proposed to her in front of the Gateway of India; exactly a year after he went into paralysis after a bullet injury on his spinal cord.




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She stood there. At the edge. Looking down at the lights and the people. Fighting the cold winter wind and her own mind.

Just one step ahead from there could take her away from all the pain, suffering and humiliation. She would no longer be a victim. She would no longer be taunted for her ‘loose’ character. And if there was something she wanted, it was this freedom.

But something was holding her back. Maybe there was still some hope. Maybe justice would be done. Maybe she could start life anew. Maybe her family and friends would come back to her. Maybe she still had reason to live.

But that couldnt happen. The last 90 days of her life had consumed all the optimism she had, all the faith she had in people she loved – her parents, her friends and  him. She was and would always remain a dark blot on the people she knew. A blot which had to be washed away forever.

Maybe she could run away to a different place. Live with a different name. Build a new identity and a new life for herself. Maybe she could.

Just when she had some hope for a new life, destiny took over. And as she was floating down into the next world, her next life, she smiled. She smiled for she realized that to live wasn’t her destiny. She had to die. This wasn’t the world where she belonged. She smiled for she knew she was going to the place she really belonged to. The place where happiness could finally embrace her. Death.

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This post is a promise I made to someone. I pray that may your love never have to pass any test of race, religion or caste. May the purity of your love overcome all your differences. May you always remain together.

 This wasn’t the life she had wished for. When she stumbled upon some old letters and poems, hidden in an obsolete corner of the cupboard, old dreams, wishes aspirations began filling up the void in her heart.

 The only daughter of an aristocratic Muslim family in Lucknow, she had wished for more freedom in her teenage days. But with time, her aspirations for freedom gathered dust and she thought she was really lucky that she was allowed to continue her studies.

She met him in college. Chance encounters turned into deliberate meetings and a random acquaintance turned into a very special relationship. He took her away from her shackled world to a world where it was just the two of them and their dreams together. For the first time in her life, she set her soul free. She believed nothing could ever take him away from her.

 It was only when her father thought it was about time that she got married that she realized that his religion would never allow them to be one. All of a sudden she saw her world of dreams crashing down around her. But her faith in their love gave her the hope that her Allah and his Ram would definitely understand their love and that their destiny will fight all odds.

 With this hope in her heart, she told her parents everything. Her father demanded to meet him in private. She was overjoyed as she thought her love had triumphed. Little did she know that the private meeting wasn’t that private. He was bashed up by her father’s goons and threatened that if he ever tried to come back, he would never see his family alive.

 That was the end of her fairytale. All she could do was weep with the pieces of the beautiful future she had dreamt of which lay shattered in her hands. She never knew what happened to him – If he was alive or dead, if he still thought of her or had quietly resigned to his fate like she had . . .

 “Ammi, bhook lagi hai.” Her daughter’s call from the hall brought her back. She wiped the tear in the corner of her eye, kept the letters back in the obsolete corner and went back to the life she had never wished for.

 The reason why I am writing this is to tell people that divisions of religion, race, tribe, caste, color are divisions which only our brains can recognize. Our hearts are yet to come to terms with these divisions. So let’s not tie down love with these shackles. 

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