She could not operate machines. Not then. Not now. She always alleged Technology eats away the little joys that make me happy. Squinting into the wide screen with eye brows meeting in the middle and typing around the haphazard arrangement of alphabets gave her liquid pain across her cheeks and an acute sting in her skull. She preferred pens, ink pens, for their sheer simplicity and beauty. She loved filling them with ink when they ran out of it.
She took out her aged diary, dotted with tiny speckles of her daughter's mischief, picked up her pen and started doodling little hearts in red ink at the torn corners of the page. It brought back memories. Memories of happier times. Memories of innocent smiles. Memories of him, and them. One abstract thought, and she tore the page off. That painting hung in her living room for a very long time now but ironically it was a metaphor today. The sky had stopped pouring. The dew drops wanted to fall off the frail stem, demanded closure, but something kept them desperately dangling.
A tear fell, hot as acid, and scarred the flimsy white.
Nostalgia won. Again.
Nostalgia won. Again.
She wrote. And then, some more.
She could not find it in her heart to forgive him for dying on her. She felt cheated. He promised to grow old with her and watch bad TV throughout the day's length. Why did he have to break it ? Time moved too fast for her to keep up with its pace. They said it'll be painful for a few months and then her life would adapt itself to this subtle change. Why hadn't her pain subsided ? Four long, wistful years had rolled by. Hadn't she suffered enough ? These questions itched her fate and she couldn't scratch it. Once again, there were no answers. She didn't know what to feel anymore. It was a tiring task. Right and wrong agreed with each other. Her face broke into infrequent tremors of grief, pain and wishful longing.
She too needed closure and somehow it hid itself well.
A sudden squeak of wood against the floorboards and a barely audible thud. Her husband was home. She could hear him hang his trench coat behind the door. She had been a faithful, loving wife to her husband all these years yet somehow she cursed herself for betrayal, a part of her cried for a different destiny, mourned the irreparable loss, everyday.
She got up and hid the brown diary back into its place.
She could not find it in her heart to forgive him for dying on her. She felt cheated. He promised to grow old with her and watch bad TV throughout the day's length. Why did he have to break it ? Time moved too fast for her to keep up with its pace. They said it'll be painful for a few months and then her life would adapt itself to this subtle change. Why hadn't her pain subsided ? Four long, wistful years had rolled by. Hadn't she suffered enough ? These questions itched her fate and she couldn't scratch it. Once again, there were no answers. She didn't know what to feel anymore. It was a tiring task. Right and wrong agreed with each other. Her face broke into infrequent tremors of grief, pain and wishful longing.
She too needed closure and somehow it hid itself well.
A sudden squeak of wood against the floorboards and a barely audible thud. Her husband was home. She could hear him hang his trench coat behind the door. She had been a faithful, loving wife to her husband all these years yet somehow she cursed herself for betrayal, a part of her cried for a different destiny, mourned the irreparable loss, everyday.
She got up and hid the brown diary back into its place.
The first part of it reminds me of a Nicholas Sparks novel in general. i love how wonderfully you've described the pain. But sometimes it never goes away, love is that strong! Totally loved this.
ReplyDeletexoxo
Sonshu
sonshus.blogspot.com
Nicholas sparks :) Thank You Sonshu.
Deletewah.. Touchy one :(
ReplyDeleteGives a feel :)
great work !
Thank You for appreciating Deepak :)
DeleteWe die once but few memories kill everyday. Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteThank You CD :)
DeleteYou got me carried away with this writing! I can see a promising writer yawning to rise! Very nice composition:)
ReplyDeleteRahul Sir, As always, your comment made me so happy :)
DeleteThank You.
Its so touching...However, You are just one step away from this $100 Giveaway :)
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Thank You Sbn :)
Deleteamazingly beautiful, short and yet leaves such impact!
ReplyDeleteLong write-ups that take up time and make no sense aren't what appeals me :)
DeleteThank You :)
A touching and poigant piece!
ReplyDeleteThank You Arnab :)
DeleteWelcome to my Blog :)
ONE word: Touching! :)
ReplyDeleteThank You :)
DeleteThought provoking piece indeed. Very well written.
ReplyDeleteNostalgic. The sheer mention of the ink pen gives it a class. Very thoughtfully written.
ReplyDeleteThank You DB :)
DeleteWhen I started using pens, I was handed an ink pen at first :)
Love :D <3
ReplyDeleteThank You sweetheart :*
DeleteYour best so far..in the way it unfolded. And you captured the mood of the story beautifully. :)
ReplyDeleteKeep 'em coming, young lady.
I'm glad you liked it :)
Deleteand yes, I'll keep'em coming :)
very painful space to be in! no wonder four years or even four minutes would seem like eternity if one were in a situation like hers and when i read the lines "the husband" it just gave a whole new dimension to the internal suffering
ReplyDeleteSujatha, indeed it is a very painful space to be in.
DeleteGlad you understood and felt what I wrote.
OMG you are a magician girl <3
ReplyDeleteI feel I might the samw way....someday....sigh
This was just too beautiful...im speechless
Thank You sweetheart and I'd rather you not feel this way ever in your life.
DeleteWOW... this post i can relate to so closely... i literally almost got goosebumps!!! Very nicely written with a beautiful choice of words...
ReplyDeleteCheers... :)
Thank You Pranita :)
DeleteFound your blog through Indiblogger...you write so well...lovely!
ReplyDeleteI'll check out yours also :)
DeleteVery soon :)
That is one awesome piece of writing. The usage of words, the painful emotions behind them. Loved it. :)
ReplyDeleteThank You Akshay :)
DeleteHey! =) you are a very good writer. I really imagined the situation. Great work ^.^
ReplyDeleteThank You Dana ;)
Deletewow it was written beautifully..I am touched with the message behind the story..excellent piece ;)
ReplyDeleteWelcome here Sie :)
DeleteThank You.
Fantastic Write...
ReplyDeleteShamsud, Thank You :)
DeleteThis actually sounds a bit like a Nicholas Sparks novel =O I LOVE it!
ReplyDeletethat is the second one I got for this piece.
DeleteIts flattering :)
Thank You.
Sometimes, no matter how long you wait, it never seems to be enough.
ReplyDeleteNever Ever. Closure wishes you to pay a heavy price.
Delete<3 <3
ReplyDeleteAyu! Ur way beyond amazing! :*
:* Thank You Twish :)
DeleteLoved it..!! Beautifully composed. You are so good at writing. Engineering was a wrong choice ayu :P
ReplyDelete:*
haha :D I know that now baby :D
DeleteTime heals the pain, but the memories..they never leave. The nostalgia hits us, again and again.
ReplyDeleteVery well written. It was amazing :)
Thank You Philo :)
DeleteAmazing :)
ReplyDeleteStay Blessed ^_^
Thank You Shashank :)
DeleteAshwini, Thank You for reading :)
ReplyDeletePain, reduces sometimes, when shared. :)
ReplyDeletePerhaps, she should have done it long time ago.
Nice read.
Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete
Thank You BA :)
Delete'a part of her cried for a different destiny'- The choices of words is admirable! Its a true reflection of many hearts.
ReplyDeleteSharing a part of my blog name feels more connected :) Will come here often.
wow!! loved this one lady :)
ReplyDeleteFor a moment I thought this was a ghost story! She is mourning his loss and he gets back home? Took some time to realize what it was all about. My bad, really. Habit, you see. Should really cut down on thrillers.
ReplyDeleteEither ways, you really know how to play with words, don't you? Narrative is so clean and lucid. Thoroughly enjoyed. :)