*The Greatest Thing You Shall Ever Learn Is Just To Love And To Be Loved In Return. -Moulin Rouge
________________________________________________________________________
Sana Lakotia. That’s her name.
I keep eyeing the blinking cursor on my screen as I light up another cigarette; the last of the pack. I cough and a lump of phlegm springs into my mouth from the bottom of my throat. I swallow it up right away. My throat feels parched and I would like to have a glass of water but I just do not feel like getting up from my cushy chair. I try to concentrate and think on other important things to waver my mind as I surround myself in smoke rings.
As in most stories, I have so found out, there always is a solid start from where the story progresses forward but all I can think of right now is the end. I for that matter, to make things a little less obscure, will have to apply a reverse psychology to churn out tales from my ticking brain-as it keeps ticking toward one final explosion…ticktockticktock…Such as would devastate the world along with me, but of course. Until then I got many things to think of and do. It is not as easy as it seems, doing the things one thinks along. I smoke type backspace smoke type backspace… It’s been too long. I have to take a stand somehow somewhere. I sit determined, focused, hoping, breathing some life into myself to bring some meaning to my absurd life. But my mind looms back and forth. I smoke type backspace…and finally!
Smoking cigarettes for the major part of my life has led to the erosion of most of my memories. But one still lives on. A memory that refuses to die or fade away. A memory that has now been sidelined to just a name and nothing more; but still a memory I loathe to love…or do I loathe to detest? Whatever!! Today I plan to write about that memory.
Sana Lakotia. That’s her name.
Six years have passed since I last saw her. That final moment is etched firmly into my mind, a memory so vivid and visceral it defeats the purpose of the passage of Time. It stands out against all memories like a prized possession in the almirah of my mind such that I am left with a lump in my throat each time I remember that day. Gulp!
It was unlike other days. A dull haze hung over all morning giving me the feeling something terrible was about to happen. A dream-like situation where people seem to talk a little too loudly and a little too slowly and nothing around makes sense; more like a nightmare where you do all the running you can possibly do and still get to nowhere. I wonder still how Time affects the scope of things but then now it does not matter because things have already taken place and killed the possibility of an alteration as one cant go into the past unless he is in possession of a time machine which to my knowledge doesn’t really exist unless you have had too much to dope or are then Mr. Steven Spielberg himself.
I lay on my cushy bed besides the wide window with a view, blowing smoke rings and trying to finger them in a backdrop of wild imagination. As the sun set eliciting its presence by disappearing from behind Roma’s apartment- yes, the hot babe who lives right across my room- Haroun came running with news that confirmed my belief that the world was going to end. Sana was leaving, forever, and there was little I could do about it.
Now it was my turn to do the running toward her and like situations in movies akin to this it dint just rain, hell moved apart and it poured. Water as wet as water of course splashed about everywhere, buildings wept, rivers flowed through the roads and the sea roared into the inland but I am not sure of that because I was nowhere near the coast. But that’s I guess how it would have happened if something like it were to happen.
Through this deterrent jetsam, I somehow managed to reach the railway platform huffing-puffing and wet to find a crowd of people. My clothes clung to my body but it wasn’t the cold that gave me the shivers. As I pondered my chances of finding Sana on a probability scale, the crowd all of a sudden moved apart and through the pathway at the end I saw her. I stood there, drenched, bare-footed and ticket-less (but that was the last thing on my mind then) as I watched Sana leave. Silence. All around, except for the beating of my heart and strange as it seemed then it was more like a ticking of a clock…ticktockticktock. Time slowed down and came to a standstill. Absolute silence. Sana kept walking away. I knew she would not stop, not look back but I was so foolishly filled with hope that I still believed in a miracle or some freak play of fate that would make her come back to me. Six years later I still do.
Each step she took further away from me was like a knife stab in my heart. I wanted to reach out to her and how I wish now I should have done just that; tried my luck for a yet another one last chance. But all I did was stood rooted on the spot as the rain blended with my tears. Sana disappeared in to the blot of Time and she took a piece of my heart away. It was only when the train boogied its way from the station did my mind registered back to reality and I started walking back. Marald used to say, “At times in life, you have to let go.” I left things at that just like that and I do not know now whether to repent or make merry.
My relationship with Sana was special; she so blended with my own soul, even the Grim Reaper would have a hard time to distinguish. After she left me my hatred for her eclipsed my love. It burned my soul and I quite lost the ability to love anyone again. Though I have picked up the shattered pieces of my heart I have never really begun to love her again or for that matter anybody else…nor do I hold myself capable of hating her. For me who has always been an extremist, Sana epitomizes the desire to love and to be loved in return in full capability though that nobility has now been lost in the dim passage of Time. She now stands on a transitory edge of emotions where love/hate are entirely incapable of giving any meaning to the bond I shared with her…or rather did share once.
A lot has happened over these six years but my heart still reaches out for her. My heart refuses to reason with the fact that there is and can never be any reconciliation. All it speaks is the language of Love and in Love there will always be another chance.
I walk that dreaded path again as I write on. I hold no fear. I have learnt that the world will still keep spinning around no matter what; a lesson so important for me that it has kept me alive. But today of all days I find myself in the same position that I was six years earlier and that is the reason why Sana is so important. No matter how much I deny she remains still, the fulcrum of my existence. Today of all days, I have decided to relive myself from my misery and to divulge the deepest darkest secrets from my mind that have somehow withstood the tyranny of Time.
My wife left this morning. My dear lovely caring wife, heavily pregnant with our first child probably decided to take a walk and has never come back since. I woke up to find an empty bed with a note carelessly strewn across that simply read…nothing. It was a blank note. Quite atypical of my wife to be so unsystematic in leaving a note or perhaps she wanted to tell me that there is actually nothing to tell me. I have given up thinking what it is supposed to mean. That was three hours before. Having raided the fridge, smoked a pack of cigarettes, watched some advertisements on TV, I have finally come to the realization of how big my problem is; forget about the big part, it has struck me I do have a problem. My wife has left me and I don’t know why. I am worried for my wife and I am hungry. I think I will go and have a snack and a glass of water. It will help calm my nerves and allow me to write without further distraction.
I am not lonely though. There is Maria for company. Maria came to live with us a year back when my wifey dearest took pity on her and brought her home against my wishes. No amount of howling persuading begging would convince my wife to show Maria the door. I found out how serious she was of her decision only when I told her to choose between Maria and me. Maria stayed and has been a pain in the you-know-what ever since. So pampered is Maria by my wife that the equations in my home have changed completely. She is such a bitch that she now thinks she possesses me and not the other way round. Like right now if you were to come over my place you would see me so heart broken typing furiously on my laptop (and smoking away!) while Maria spreads herself over the couch -yes the same couch on which I am made to sleep every time I displease my wife which is often -watching some inane dog show on Animal Planet with such great determination that she looks as if she has found her purpose in life. I will one day avenge myself.
Let me now cut the crap and get back to my purpose in life and complete this story by starting from where it mattered most so that I can get my perspectives right. The end- dreadful and pleasant at the same time- will spruce up at the appropriate moment. And I will have to hurry up my pace because there is too much to say and Time, the fucking bastard, keeps ticking on…ticktockticktock. My wife’s gone and I can do nothing about her. Sana could be dead by now but she would be missed. That’s it for now.
I keep eyeing the blinking cursor on my screen as I light up another cigarette; the last of the pack. I cough and a lump of phlegm springs into my mouth from the bottom of my throat. I swallow it up right away. My throat feels parched and I would like to have a glass of water but I just do not feel like getting up from my cushy chair. I try to concentrate and think on other important things to waver my mind as I surround myself in smoke rings.
As in most stories, I have so found out, there always is a solid start from where the story progresses forward but all I can think of right now is the end. I for that matter, to make things a little less obscure, will have to apply a reverse psychology to churn out tales from my ticking brain-as it keeps ticking toward one final explosion…ticktockticktock…Such as would devastate the world along with me, but of course. Until then I got many things to think of and do. It is not as easy as it seems, doing the things one thinks along. I smoke type backspace smoke type backspace… It’s been too long. I have to take a stand somehow somewhere. I sit determined, focused, hoping, breathing some life into myself to bring some meaning to my absurd life. But my mind looms back and forth. I smoke type backspace…and finally!
Smoking cigarettes for the major part of my life has led to the erosion of most of my memories. But one still lives on. A memory that refuses to die or fade away. A memory that has now been sidelined to just a name and nothing more; but still a memory I loathe to love…or do I loathe to detest? Whatever!! Today I plan to write about that memory.
Sana Lakotia. That’s her name.
Six years have passed since I last saw her. That final moment is etched firmly into my mind, a memory so vivid and visceral it defeats the purpose of the passage of Time. It stands out against all memories like a prized possession in the almirah of my mind such that I am left with a lump in my throat each time I remember that day. Gulp!
It was unlike other days. A dull haze hung over all morning giving me the feeling something terrible was about to happen. A dream-like situation where people seem to talk a little too loudly and a little too slowly and nothing around makes sense; more like a nightmare where you do all the running you can possibly do and still get to nowhere. I wonder still how Time affects the scope of things but then now it does not matter because things have already taken place and killed the possibility of an alteration as one cant go into the past unless he is in possession of a time machine which to my knowledge doesn’t really exist unless you have had too much to dope or are then Mr. Steven Spielberg himself.
I lay on my cushy bed besides the wide window with a view, blowing smoke rings and trying to finger them in a backdrop of wild imagination. As the sun set eliciting its presence by disappearing from behind Roma’s apartment- yes, the hot babe who lives right across my room- Haroun came running with news that confirmed my belief that the world was going to end. Sana was leaving, forever, and there was little I could do about it.
Now it was my turn to do the running toward her and like situations in movies akin to this it dint just rain, hell moved apart and it poured. Water as wet as water of course splashed about everywhere, buildings wept, rivers flowed through the roads and the sea roared into the inland but I am not sure of that because I was nowhere near the coast. But that’s I guess how it would have happened if something like it were to happen.
Through this deterrent jetsam, I somehow managed to reach the railway platform huffing-puffing and wet to find a crowd of people. My clothes clung to my body but it wasn’t the cold that gave me the shivers. As I pondered my chances of finding Sana on a probability scale, the crowd all of a sudden moved apart and through the pathway at the end I saw her. I stood there, drenched, bare-footed and ticket-less (but that was the last thing on my mind then) as I watched Sana leave. Silence. All around, except for the beating of my heart and strange as it seemed then it was more like a ticking of a clock…ticktockticktock. Time slowed down and came to a standstill. Absolute silence. Sana kept walking away. I knew she would not stop, not look back but I was so foolishly filled with hope that I still believed in a miracle or some freak play of fate that would make her come back to me. Six years later I still do.
Each step she took further away from me was like a knife stab in my heart. I wanted to reach out to her and how I wish now I should have done just that; tried my luck for a yet another one last chance. But all I did was stood rooted on the spot as the rain blended with my tears. Sana disappeared in to the blot of Time and she took a piece of my heart away. It was only when the train boogied its way from the station did my mind registered back to reality and I started walking back. Marald used to say, “At times in life, you have to let go.” I left things at that just like that and I do not know now whether to repent or make merry.
My relationship with Sana was special; she so blended with my own soul, even the Grim Reaper would have a hard time to distinguish. After she left me my hatred for her eclipsed my love. It burned my soul and I quite lost the ability to love anyone again. Though I have picked up the shattered pieces of my heart I have never really begun to love her again or for that matter anybody else…nor do I hold myself capable of hating her. For me who has always been an extremist, Sana epitomizes the desire to love and to be loved in return in full capability though that nobility has now been lost in the dim passage of Time. She now stands on a transitory edge of emotions where love/hate are entirely incapable of giving any meaning to the bond I shared with her…or rather did share once.
A lot has happened over these six years but my heart still reaches out for her. My heart refuses to reason with the fact that there is and can never be any reconciliation. All it speaks is the language of Love and in Love there will always be another chance.
I walk that dreaded path again as I write on. I hold no fear. I have learnt that the world will still keep spinning around no matter what; a lesson so important for me that it has kept me alive. But today of all days I find myself in the same position that I was six years earlier and that is the reason why Sana is so important. No matter how much I deny she remains still, the fulcrum of my existence. Today of all days, I have decided to relive myself from my misery and to divulge the deepest darkest secrets from my mind that have somehow withstood the tyranny of Time.
My wife left this morning. My dear lovely caring wife, heavily pregnant with our first child probably decided to take a walk and has never come back since. I woke up to find an empty bed with a note carelessly strewn across that simply read…nothing. It was a blank note. Quite atypical of my wife to be so unsystematic in leaving a note or perhaps she wanted to tell me that there is actually nothing to tell me. I have given up thinking what it is supposed to mean. That was three hours before. Having raided the fridge, smoked a pack of cigarettes, watched some advertisements on TV, I have finally come to the realization of how big my problem is; forget about the big part, it has struck me I do have a problem. My wife has left me and I don’t know why. I am worried for my wife and I am hungry. I think I will go and have a snack and a glass of water. It will help calm my nerves and allow me to write without further distraction.
I am not lonely though. There is Maria for company. Maria came to live with us a year back when my wifey dearest took pity on her and brought her home against my wishes. No amount of howling persuading begging would convince my wife to show Maria the door. I found out how serious she was of her decision only when I told her to choose between Maria and me. Maria stayed and has been a pain in the you-know-what ever since. So pampered is Maria by my wife that the equations in my home have changed completely. She is such a bitch that she now thinks she possesses me and not the other way round. Like right now if you were to come over my place you would see me so heart broken typing furiously on my laptop (and smoking away!) while Maria spreads herself over the couch -yes the same couch on which I am made to sleep every time I displease my wife which is often -watching some inane dog show on Animal Planet with such great determination that she looks as if she has found her purpose in life. I will one day avenge myself.
Let me now cut the crap and get back to my purpose in life and complete this story by starting from where it mattered most so that I can get my perspectives right. The end- dreadful and pleasant at the same time- will spruce up at the appropriate moment. And I will have to hurry up my pace because there is too much to say and Time, the fucking bastard, keeps ticking on…ticktockticktock. My wife’s gone and I can do nothing about her. Sana could be dead by now but she would be missed. That’s it for now.
(to be continued)
6 comments:
I really wouldn't want to comment on the style of writing (only that to me it is better than Salman Rashdie)....however I did not for a moment feel that I was reading something wrtten by a immature writer...too good bro...u have the spark in you...keep it up...n you'll prove that "The Bitch still lives"...
may i please know when do u intend to post the second chap of your book so that i can post one more comment....
to express 15 min of ur thoughts in 15 pages is the sign of a great writer in being.
u hav tempo,u can hold the story nd let go wen u wish toi.e u hav command as to how much to reveal at a time..
hope u continue in the same nd dont hurry up as story telling needs time nd thought
Hi Praneeth, Once again you have prove yourself from this Novel (only the beginning)that u are not a ordinary guy but very intelligent and extraordinary person blessed with excellent imaginative thinking!!!
I am not a regular novel reader but i am very curious to read my beloved friend written peom or novel.
Its mindblowing !!!! Full 10/10 marks, Its a really special and a rare novel any one write,,
ITs a perfect novel, so well told and beautiful written, So deeply moving,,
Carry on the good work dude, Life has just started,,..... its a long way to go... Just remember Destiny decide faith, So have faith in your dreams and yourself, you can capture the whole world,,..
Now i am more curious for your 2nd chapter... See you than...
:-)
OMG!!... you better get done with this book asap Mister!
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