Love in Times of Terror- Part 4

I am writing fiction after a long, long break and ‘Love in Times of Terror’ is a short story that I have decided to publish in 4 parts over the next few days. I hope you’ll like it and do leave comments and feedback J

You can read the previous chapter here- Part 3

Source- istockphoto

Shirin got up and sat on a boulder near the edge of the mountain. Her face was showcasing the fury inside her.

“What do you know about me Rakesh? Do you know how it feels when your brother is dying in your arms, pleading with you to save him but you are too scared to even move. Do you know how it feels to see your parents’ dead right in front of your eyes but you can’t hold them, can’t hug them a last time? Do you know how helpless it feels?”

Rakesh was silent as he let Shirin cry out her tears of frustration.

When she was calm again he spoke. “No, I don’t understand your grief. Neither will I pretend to. But what I do know is, killing innocent people for no fault of theirs is not a right thing to do. Would you have felt satisfied if you had sacrificed the lives of those poor men and women or would you have gone killing others, till you feel that the murder of your family was vindicated?”

Shirin looked at him helplessly.

“What do you want Shirin? Do you want a hundred more young boys and girls like you, out on the streets, seeking revenge? Because when you kill innocent people, you are doing exactly what you had experienced, to the loved ones of those dead. Their children, brothers, sisters, wife, husband will seek revenge, just like you did. An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind but it will not ease your pain.”

Shirin started pacing, wringing her hands in frustration.

“I don’t know Rakesh. Few years back I was restless, every day I had dreams of my parents dying, of my hands bloodied with my brother’s blood. I hated myself for being helpless, for not avenging the death of my family. That’s when I met Rashid Ali, who goaded me on about how Indian Army killed innocent civilians in war. He held speeches, well attended by young men and women, on how Kashmir deserved to be independent and not a bone of contention between two countries. I met other victims of war, who were members of Azad Kashmir and they spoke of how they had suffered and how Rashid helped them to overcome their grief. We were taught how to handle arms and guns. We underwent rigorous physical training and learned how to survive in extreme conditions.

And then I met you Rakesh. You, with your soft words and gentle demeanor captured my heart. My resolve broke. Rashid knew that I was becoming weak in my purpose. And he gave me this mission, this mission to plant a bomb in the IT Capital of India. I knew that backing out would mean irking Rashid’s ire. And Rashid can be a dangerous adversary. In fact I’m sure once he realizes that his mission has been botched, a plan would be hatched to destroy me.” Shirin held Rakesh’s face in her hands.

“I’m scared, Rakesh. I want to know how life with you would be like. I want to know how our children would look like. I want to build a family with you. I want to grow old in your arms. I want to live with you.” The tears streamed down her face.

Rakesh wiped them and kissed her wet cheeks.

“Then you have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be with you every step of your way. I’ll never leave your side, and that’s a promise. Let’s go to the police and confess everything. Do you trust me?”

Rakesh extended his hand forward and Shirin placed her hand in his.

“I would trust you with my life, Rakesh”. Silently they walked away from the sun, setting below the horizon, hopeful of the future that lay ahead of them.

~~~

Love in Times of Terror- Part 1

I am writing fiction after a long, long break and ‘Love in Times of Terror’ is a short story that I have decided to publish in 4 parts over the next few days. I hope you’ll like it and do leave comments and feedback J

Source- istockphoto

It was 7 AM in the police control room located in Bangalore. Geetha, who was manning the calls during the morning shift sat back in her seat with a cup of hot tea that had been bought from the neighboring tea stall. She had asked Ramu, the boy who supplied the tea, to add an extra spoon of sugar in her tea. She liked her tea to be hot and sweet and the extra sugar had begun to show in her expanding waistline.

No longer had she taken a sip of tea, the phone line started to ring. With a sigh she picked the receiver and said in a disgruntled voice, ‘Police Control room, Bangalore’.

“Listen carefully, today around 3 in the afternoon a bomb is going to explode in the IT Park located in Springfield. The bomb is so powerful that it can wipe off the whole IT Park from the map of Bangalore. It can kill thousands of men and women who work there."

“Who is this? And how do you know this?” Geetha had been receiving such hoax calls ever since the terror attack in Mumbai, so she did not feel the need to panic.

As if sensing her lack of trust in the authenticity, the caller immediately said, “Do not think that it’s a hoax call. If you ignore my warning, thousands of innocents may die. The bomb has already been planted in the parking area. I don’t know any other details.”

Now Geetha was a little worried. It did sound like the caller was scared and telling the truth. The voice was muffled to an extent that she had difficulty in identifying the gender of the caller.

“Why can’t you come to the police station and tell us in person”, probed Geetha hoping to get more details.

“I can’t. Listen I have got to go now. But please don’t take this lightly." The call was cut abruptly, leaving Geetha staring at the phone.

The audio equipment had recorded the entire conversation and Geetha replayed the conversation multiple times until she was convinced that the call required the senior office to look into the matter.

She went in search of the inspector in charge. She even forgot to gulp down her now tepid cup of tea.

***

As Rakesh came out of the shower, he saw Shirin already dressed for work. She was applying kohl carefully to her eyes. Rakesh came and stood beside her. Her eyes looked hypnotic and entrancing as she looked at his reflection in the mirror. He took her in his arms and kissed the nape of her neck.

“You look so beautiful”, Rakesh said admiring her beauty. She had worn the light blue kurta that he had gifted her on her last birthday.

“Stop it or we will be late for work”, reproached Shirin lightly with a slight smile on her lips. But the smile did not extend to her eyes. It never did. Cocooned in her own grief and busy in fighting her inner demons, she failed to recognize the pall of gloom that hung heavy on their relationship.

Shirin sat behind Rakesh on his bike and they headed off to their office located in the Springfield IT Park. It was a cold, wintry morning and Shirin hugged Rakesh tightly, holding him more for warmth than for safety.

She felt blessed and lucky to have him in her life. Had it not been for Rakesh, she would have been a lost soul in this world, without parents, family or friends. Ever since her parents’ death, she had isolated herself from the rest of the world, shutting down her contacts with her family and friends. It was only Rakesh who had been able to break down her barrier and invade her heart by his charming and loving persona.

He had provided her comfort and peace in a storm and for that she would be ever grateful. She couldn’t think of living without him, she loved him so much that it sometimes hurt her and terrified her. To place so much trust and to love someone unconditionally made her anxious but she was slowly learning to enjoy her life again.

Rakesh turned back slightly and asked her “Hey, can you take off from work at 2 PM today? There’s this new movie and I thought we could watch it together. What say?”

“I was about to suggest the same. You know me very well” Shirin replied.

***

You can read the next chapter here- Part 2

The Love Proposal with Closeup Cupid Games

So Valentine Day is just around the corner and all single men and women with special someone in their life must be planning to look their best and make the day memorable for their loved ones. And if you are planning to propose to your crush, then you need to read this post. Because I’m giving out ideas for ways of proposing to your lady love or your handsome hunk.

If you are uncertain about how successful these ideas will be when they are put into practice then fear not. Because I am an ardent Bollywood movie lover and everybody knows that Bollywood, over the years, has given some crazy and quirky ideas for proclaiming your love to your beloved. For example, I really loved the way SRK proposed to Anushka Sharma in Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi. You know, how SRK takes Anushka on a date and at the end of the date, he proposed by turning off the city lights and then a few lights turned on in random order to form the words-“I Love You”. So romantic! If you don’t know what I am talking about then go ahead and watch this video.

                                                   Source-youtube.com

                                               

Of course you would need the co-operation of other people to make this idea work. 

In college there are so many opportunities to propose to your crush. On Valentine day the cultural team, quite thoughtfully, organizes Rose Days where guys and girls having a crush on the members of the opposite sex can send roses and make their feelings known. It’s all ordinary and even if a heart gets broken on this day, then it is taken not too seriously. There is always the next Rose day in the coming year where you can try your luck again J

But as we grow older and become more serious about the matters of heart, a proposal is do-or-die situation. If a proposal is rejected then we mope for months and try to bury our sorrow in a bottle of alcohol. So the proposal has to be impressive enough to make an impact and make your girlfriend/boyfriend say yes.

The classic way of proposing never goes out of fashion. A ring in the glass of champagne during a dinner date or a long and blissful getaway where you can serenade your Valentine with music and dance is always a safe bet. Make sure you pamper your girlfriend and say all the right things because what you say matters more than your gift or your actions. Speak straight from the heart and see your beloved’s eyes light up with love!

Think of more unique and zany ways to propose. You can go on air and send a special message confessing your love on radio but make sure that your valentine is tuned in to listen to your proposal.  You can also send lots of red roses with singing telegrams that gives a personal touch and your love is sure to be impressed. Surprise her and woo her by taking her out to the beach side on a moonlit night and, if you have a good voice, then sing to her.  

If you are more sporty types, you can also propose to your girlfriend during a football or cricket match by using the score board to pop out the big question. It is a good idea if you don’t mind a little bit of public drama along with your proposal J

I asked myself how I would like to be proposed and instantly this thought rushed into my mind. Underwater! Yes, I am a Piscean so I am a water-body. I love beaches and it has been my dream to snorkel and explore the underwater world in pristine waters. Wouldn’t it be romantic? This would require lot of preparation and pre-planning but I think it’s worth it. And if you think there won’t be much scope to talk while doing the proposal then you can always use the below idea of holding up a sign.

Source- http://blog.theheartbandits.com/

So hope I have been able to help you out by my suggestions on how to propose this Valentine Day. However you do the proposal, remember to speak straight from the heart and keep it quirky. J

 This post was written for Closeup Cupid Games contest hosted by Indiblogger.

The Touch Of Love- #BringBackTheTouch

As I sat in the open restaurant of Rennome in Prague, I gazed at the few couples cuddling cozily under the awning near the idyllic river Vltava, flowing subtly and gently in the cold February night. The  weather was perfect and the soft music floating in the air heightened the charm of the dulcet evening. I looked at Varun seated across me and talking animatedly on the phone, probably to someone in his office at India. This was supposed to be our 5^th wedding anniversary vacation. But ever since we got here Varun had been constantly on the phone or the laptop, trying to seal a multimillion dollar deal with another conglomerate.

Source- stockarch.com

I berated myself for agreeing to come for the trip. I knew that this would happen, after all I had plenty of experience from the past few dismal years of our marriage. Varun was the CEO of their family business that had expanded it's reach to several industries. Being a successful and a high-powered business man had its own perks but unfortunately finding time to spend with one’s own wife was not a part of it.

I sighed as I pushed away the plate containing delicacies that promised to titillate even the drabbest palate. I was not interested in the food or the ambiance that exuded love, warmth and passion. How did our marriage decay into apathy and indifference? Had Varun and I drifted so apart that it was impossible to even salvage the last vestiges of our marriage?

I looked at Varun’s handsome face that were now lined with deep frowns and the few silver hairs that gave him a more distinguished look. My memory took me back a few years, to the early days of our marriage, when we were still enamored with each other and we couldn’t get enough of each other. During the day, when Varun was at work and I was in the house, we waited eagerly for dusk when we could be together.

We just couldn’t keep our hands off each other and I remembered, with a smile on my lips, how Varun would hold my hands beneath the table when our whole family was having dinner. I remembered his touch that could quicken my breath and make me melt in his arms passionately. Where did those days go? I missed his touch so much. How is that Varun, who used to be so perceptive to my feelings, now felt distant and cold.

Varun looked into my eyes that were already brimming with unshed tears. He quickly disconnected the call.

“Meera, I am so sorry. I have been on the phone for so long but this mess in our office has to be sorted out”, he said reaching for the glass of champagne.

“It’s ok Varun. This is not the first time you have ignored me because of your work and I am sure it won’t be the last too”, I replied, my tone more caustic than I had intended.

Varun’s hands froze and he looked at my face. All though I had been suffering silently, I had never voiced my feelings, in the hope that Varun would change. But I guess that was never going to happen.

“What’s wrong Meera? You seem upset”, Varun said reaching for my trembling hands on the table.

I withdrew my hand before he could touch it.

“I am tired of waiting for you Varun. All you care for is your work and your company. When was the last time you held my hand? When was the last time you said you loved me? When was the last time we kissed? I cannot pretend to be in a marriage that is shallow and meaningless. It takes two people to be in a relationship and if you cannot be there for me, I guess it’s better to be separated”.

By the time I finished speaking , my words were coming in short spurts and my face was streaked with tears.

Varun quickly came to my side and held me in his arms.

“Meera I am sorry. I really am. I know I have been occupied with my work but it does not mean that I have stopped loving you. You are right. I have not been spending enough time with you. But please don’t talk about going separate ways. You are my pillar of support. Without you I cannot even think of a life that’s worth living. Please, can you forgive me?”

I buried my face in his shoulders as we hugged for an eternity. Our intimate moment came to an abrupt halt when Varun’s phone started ringing. He switched his phone off and stood up.

“Now, my beautiful wife, would you care to join me for a walk”, Varun asked extending his hand.

As I smiled radiantly and placed my hand in his, I knew that my Varun was back. The touch that had ignited my love for him had been rekindled. 

This post was written for #BringBackTheTouch contest sponsored by  http://www.pblskin.com/ at Indiblogger

Love

I tried so hard to convince myself that

Love is not everything in life.

I looked around and saw millions of people living a loveless life

And yet they appeared to be perfectly happy.

And then my eyes fell on the wet pillow soaked with my tears,

I remembered those lonely nights when my arms reached out to hug you but all I found is an empty space.

And I realized that love is not everything,

But without love, without you, life is nothing.

WriteTribe Festival of Words Day 1- If Only

Day1 Prompt- 9 Sentence Fiction

Rashmi was waiting in the airport lounge for her connecting flight back to California, where she lived with her husband and kids, when she thought she saw a familiar figure sitting some two rows in front of her and talking animatedly on the phone.

 She inched hesitatingly towards the person clad in an expensive suit that failed to hide the tall, muscular frame beneath it and tapped on his shoulders.

“Oh my God, it’s really you Sanath”, she exclaimed as the person turned back, a little annoyed for having been disturbed while in the middle of an important call.

“Rashmi, wow, it’s so good to see you and that too after so many years”, he said as he stood and shook her hand awkwardly, but Rashmi was not surprised as she knew Sanath from her college days and she also knew that he was a man of few words.

Sanath and Rashmi had been part of the same circle of friends in college and although they were never very close, they still used to go out for movies and restaurants with their gang.

They sat together recalling fondly their college days and catching up on the news about their common friends when Rashmi wavered slightly remembering something that she had heard about Sanath from her friends during the college days.

“I don’t know if it’s right to ask you but, I’m curious about a rumor that was doing the rounds in our college that you were madly in love with a girl”, Rashmi asked.

“Oh that’s all in the past and I’m sure that she must be happily married to a guy she loves and probably has a dozen kids by now, but, yeah, I was crazy about her and I was heartbroken when I heard the news that she was getting married to a guy of her parents’ choice”, Sanath said brushing the topic aside with a nonchalant shrug.

 After few minutes Rashmi’s flight was announced and as she bid farewell to Sanath and walked away, Sanath was looking at her with wistful eyes and thinking, ‘if only she knew…’ while Rashmi shook her head and whispered, ‘if only he had told me’.

It's a Small World!

I was running behind my two year old son, who was galloping around in the wedding hall, trying to play tag with his uncooperative mother. My eyes were glued on the little tyke, praying fervently that he did not hurt himself, when I dashed against the broad shoulders of a man. I lost my balance and my eyes scrunched tightly shut, I braced myself for the impact of the fall on my back. But the fall never came. Instead I found myself in the long and sturdy arms of the man, whose shoulders, I may have caused some serious damage.

I opened my eyes to profusely thank the stranger but I found myself staring into a pair of familiar dark brown eyes that crinkled in amusement. Time stopped for me, the loud cacophony around me fell silent, and the hundreds of people who had come to bless the newly wedded ceased to exist for me. It was just me and him. I remembered the last time I had seen him, it was the day my dreams had come crashing down, the day I wanted to die, the day I realized that life could be brutally unfair.

“Raksha, instead of just drooling over him, why don’t you over there, and speak to him?” Neeta asked exasperated.

“But what will I tell him?” I asked eyeing Vikram and sighing longingly.

“Well, you can begin by telling him that you love him. That you have loved him for the past 3 years. That every damn day in class, you sit behind him and watch him instead of paying attention to the lecture. That you have never missed watching a cricket match that he was playing in. That you secretly write love letters to him but never post it.”

I gasped at the last sentence. “How do you know that? I never showed you those letters.”

“The last time I came to your house, your cupboard was open and I was just curious”, replied Neeta a tad guilty.

“You have been pining after him for so many years. It’s time to confess your feelings for him”, Neeta prodded on.

Suddenly, the object of my fervent desire, Vikram Mehta, turned to look at us. We quickly lowered our gazes and pretended to be engrossed in the boring book in front of us. When we dared to look at him again, he was walking out of the library with a swagger that made me swoon. Vikram was undeniably one of the good-looking boys in our college. This, combined with the fact that he was the cricket team captain and son of the richest industrialist in town, made him extremely popular in the campus. And I fell in love with him the instant my eyes set on his dark brown ones’. 

I knew that a plain Jane like me could never make a popular boy like Vikram, my boyfriend. I still pined for him, I followed him like a lost puppy, I dreamed of being pinned against him and kissing him feverishly. But I could not muster enough courage to even say a ‘hi’ to him.

That night as I lay in my bed, thinking about my conversation with Neeta, my friend, I realized that she had been right. In few weeks’ time we would be graduating from college, and after that I wouldn’t be able to meet Vikram ever. I decided that I would tell him about how I felt, he may laugh at me, he may reject my proposal but at least I would get it off my chest. I decided that I would propose Vikram on the last day of college, during the graduation party, that our juniors were hosting for us.

Just before the party, I smoothed down my burgundy gown that I had borrowed from Neeta. Neeta’s family was well to do and she could afford to spend her pocket money on such exquisite gowns. My father would have fainted just looking at the price tag on the dress. Again I was reminded of the huge difference between me and Vikram, but I brushed it aside quickly. I didn’t want to discourage myself. Today I was going to pour my heart out to my sweetheart.

As I entered the party venue I could see a lot of young boys and girls dancing close to each other. Slow music was playing in the background. Oh, how I wished that I and Vikram could dance like that- wrapped to each other and drowned in our love. I found Vikram on the dance floor, but he was with a girl. My heart stopped and I felt the world spinning  around me as Vikram enclosed the girl in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips.

As Vikram raised his head after the long, wet kiss I could see that the girl was Neeta. I was in shock and I could feel the hot tears stinging my cheeks. I wanted to scream, I wanted to hit Neeta, I wanted an explanation, but I stood rooted to the spot. 

Neeta saw me and came rushing to me.

“Raksha, can you believe Vikram proposed to me? He asked me to marry him.” she gushed.

“How can you do it, Neeta? You know very well that I love him.” I cried ignoring the stares that we were receiving for creating a scene.

“Oh, come on, Raksha. What you had for him was just a crush. Did you seriously believe that you had a chance with him? Vikram and I have the same status level and we mingle in a similar society. We are a perfect match. And you? Well let’s say that Vikram never noticed you in the 3 years that you followed him like a dog.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran and ran, till I reached my home and threw myself on the bed. I howled, I cried, I shouted at myself for being so stupid. I didn’t know what hurt me more, the fact that I had lost my first love or the fact that my best friend had betrayed me and left me shattered.

Over the years I slowly forgot the pain and hurt. I prayed that I would never meet Vikram or Neeta again, but life had other plans. It’s a small world and after 10 years, here I was, face to face with Vikram again.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked as I straightened. 

“Err, yeah, we studied in the same college. I’m Neeta’s friend.” I realized that age had not been lenient with Vikram. Except for a patch of hair on the back of his head, he was bald. He looked haggard and there were huge bags under his eyes. His fit and trim figure had gone mellow and he had an ungainly paunch.

“Ah, Neeta! We separated a few years back. An ugly divorce, if I have to say! I’m glad that I managed to shake that blood sucking parasite off my back.”

I winced at his words.

“I’m sorry, but things were nasty with us, and now I’m just happy that I got rid of her.”

There was an awkward pause between us and in that fraction of a second I realized I was happy that I had not proposed to Vikram. I was glad that I had never been a part of his life. I was relieved. I felt liberated as if I had been freed from a huge burden that I had been carrying from a long time.

“I have to go but I must mention that you look lovely. Wish I had fallen for a girl like you back in college!” Vikram shook my hand as I smiled at his comment.

 I was still smiling when my husband surprised me by sneaking behind me and wrapping his arms around me. I looked at his tall, trim and handsome figure with few gray hairs that added to his charm. We smiled as our eyes spoke volumes of the love that we shared. Life was good again!

This post is written for Wednesday Prompt at Write Tribe. The prompt 'It's a small world'  is provided by Shilpa Garg 

Return Home

I was tending to the garden at my home in Mumbai. I had been away for couple of months to my Mausi’s house in Kerala and when I reached back yesterday, I was aghast looking at the appalling state of my once lovely garden. So today morning, as I soon as I had my cup of morning tea, I changed into my old clothes and started watering and clearing the dead plants. I was bent over the plants when I heard a voice behind the wall, that separated our house from the Singh’s.

“Hey, you must be Shruti”. A guy in a sweat soaked T-shirt and track pants sat on the wall, with a pair of headphones dangling on his shoulders. He looked as if he had come back from a strenuous workout.

“Yes, and you are?”

“I am Neeraj, your neighbor and your childhood sweetheart.” He smiled and my heart gave a leap for some unknown reason.

“Neeraj? You are Meera aunty’s son?” I tried to look busy digging the earth and pulling out the weeds. Neeraj was Mr. and Mrs. Singh’s son and also my childhood friend. We always played together when we were kids. In fact we were inseparable, leaving each other only when our parents threatened with dire consequences if we didn’t return to our respective homes and finish off our homework. I remembered in my pretend games, I always used to make him my husband, and prepare imaginary dishes and serve with great relish.

I felt my face going crimson as I blushed stupidly.

“Hello, are you there? You seem awfully quiet”, he was about to jump and come beside me when I heard my mother calling me.

I rushed past him muttering an “Excuse me”. There was something about him that flustered my otherwise composed self.

I saw Neeraj again at the breakfast table when, uninvited, he sat to eat my mother’s hot ghee laden parathas. My mother being the quintessential Indian mother heaped the parathas on his plate, much to my amusement.

“So apart from gardening, what do you do?” Neeraj asked me.

“Well, I was working as an accountant in a firm but I quit after my accident. I took a break for few months and went to my aunt’s place in Kerala”. I replied a little hesitatingly. I was still guarded when I talked about my accident.

“Oh, an accident? What happened?”

I looked down at my plate but my father replied.

“She was crossing the road, when a car hit her and she was injured badly. She had to be hospitalized.”

There was an awkward pause before Neeraj continued.

“I’m sorry. But glad that you have recovered completely. You should put it behind you…”

“Stop. Who are you to give advice? What do you know about me? You just met me like an hour before and now you are here, poking your nose into our matters. You are a neighbor, so behave like a neighbor.”

My sudden outburst had shocked my parents and Neeraj. I got up and went to my room. I don’t know why I had lost my temper. Yes, it was true I had barely survived the accident, I had multiple surgeries and then I was kept in the ICU. By the time I regained consciousness, a month had passed since the accident. I had felt disconcerted and unstable for the next few days drifting in and around sleep and consciousness. I remembered a silhouette, someone standing beside me every time I opened my eyes, tears in eyes and sometimes the cool teardrops falling on my face. It felt like a dream but that dream kept returning back to me often, haunting me. I felt that I was missing a link somewhere, a sinking feeling of forgetting something but when I thought about it, I felt dizzy and nauseous.

Was I being insane? I didn’t know, but somehow I felt that I had changed after my accident. That I left behind a part of me, a very significant and vital part of me, in my life before the accident.

I knew that I was silly to shout at Neeraj who had innocently tried to perk me up.

The next day I headed to Neeraj’s house to apologize.

He was watching the television with a concentrated gaze on the television. I stood near the door studying him. He had worn a tight fitting shirt that showed off his toned muscles. There was tattoo of a star and a heart on his upper left arm with some wordings. I inched closer to read what was written.

You’re the star that shines bright in my heart.

'I had seen that tattoo before! If only I could remember where’ I pondered. I must have done a sound because Neeraj turned suddenly towards me.

“Hey, I’m sorry for yesterday. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I am not very comfortable talking about my accident. But still it wasn’t your fault.” I muttered even as my heart beat wildly.

Neeraj was smiling at me. There was something about him that quickened my pulse, that made my heart beat like wild tribal drums.

“I will forget about it if you come to watch a movie with me today”.

“A movie?”

“Yes, don’t sound incredulous. It’s just a movie. I’m dying to watch this movie and I have no company”.

I agreed and we both had a wonderful time together. The movie was horrible with bad dialogues and even worse acting but, Neeraj’ s jokes and his company kept me cheerful for those couple of hours. He made sure that I was comfortable, bringing me coke, popcorn and ice-creams. As I reached back home, I realized that I was happier than I had ever been in the past couple of months. In fact I couldn’t remember when I had laughed so much.

The next day when I saw Neeraj at our breakfast table, I was pleased and happy. Neeraj was a cheerful person, someone fun and pleasant to be with, someone who could bring a smile on my lips even on a gloomy day. Every day he used to pick me up in the evening and we would go around the city in his car, listening to music, chatting, cracking jokes and reminiscing about our school days. Some days we would have dinner in a restaurant that Neeraj praised to have exceptional culinary delights.

Those few hours I spent with Neeraj were the highlight of my life. When I was with him, I felt happy, I felt alive. I was on a high, talking and arguing with him. I laughed, I cracked witty comebacks at his jokes, I was a different person altogether. And more importantly, I didn’t think of my life before the accident.

I didn’t know if I was falling in love with Neeraj but I enjoyed his company and I basked in all the attention that he showered on me. A few times I caught Neeraj looking at me longingly, but when I met his gaze he averted his eyes quickly. I didn’t know what to make of our relationship.

One evening when we were returning back from dinner in Neeraj’s car, I was gazing out of the window silently.

“Hey pretty lady, why are you so silent? Do you want to hear one of my funny jokes? Neeraj said hoping to snap me out of my pensive.

“Sure”, I replied.

“Well, once there was a murder and the police brought in a potato for interrogation. They tortured him for hours subjecting him to third degree torture. And when the potato could not take it anymore, he broke down shouting,

‘Main batata hoon, main batata hoon’”

I giggled and slowly the giggles turned into guffaws. I doubled over with laughter clutching my stomach as Neeraj, sitting next to me, looked at me in amusement.

But as laughter ended I howled with sorrow and grief. The tears ran down unabashedly down my cheeks. I wailed loudly folding my hands into a fist and banging them on my head.

Neeraj had stopped the car to the side and held me until my sobs died down.

“You remember the first day you had asked me about my accident. The reason why I was upset was, I had lost my memory in the accident. I cannot remember anything that happened in my life in the past 3 years. Nothing. And I know that something important happened to me in that period. I just know it. I have dreams of someone holding me, begging me to return back. But I cannot recall anything, no matter how hard I try. It’s so frustrating. Every day I try to remember and when I can’t, I try to forget the wispy memories. It’s a war out there in my mind. Every day, every moment.”

Neeraj was looking straight out of the window. Silently, he started the car and drove till he reached an isolated house in the outskirts. It was a small house but with a large, spacious garden at the front, that seemed well looked after. There were flowers of all colors blooming and their fragrance wafted alluringly in the cold night air.

Neeraj took my hand and led me inside the house.

The living room was warm and cozy with flames burning in the fireplace.

“Where are we? Whose house is this?” I asked Neeraj.

He showed me the mantle above the fireplace where a dozen or so photos were kept.

The first photo showed Neeraj kneeling below me with a ring in his hand and I was beaming with happy tears. In the next photo, I was wearing a red bridal sari looking gorgeous, the next photo was of Neeraj’ s, in a groom’s dress complete with a turban and atop a horse, the next photo showed Neeraj and I dancing with the bharatis. There were rows and rows of photos, on the wall, as picture frames, all displaying the blessed and loved life that we had led as a couple.

“After the accident, the doctors warned us not to force you into remembering anything. You would get your memory back and we only had to give you time, to recover slowly, to recall as years passed. But I couldn’t stay away from you, Shruti. It was torture for me to see you but, not be able to hold you, to see you cry, to see you depressed but not be able to help you remember those wonderful moments we had spent together. Every day I hoped that you would remember something, some moments of us and I prayed that you would regain your memory.”

I sat down as the memories flashed in my mind, like the photos taken lovingly and placed all over the house. Those loving years Neeraj and I had spent as husband and wife in this house. Neeraj stood over me and his tears fell on my face. I knew now the person beside me all those months when I was in the hospital, the person holding my hands and praying, and talking to me although I could hardly hear him.

I knew I had returned, I knew I had come home.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.