The anecdotes of a far off friend who just vanished

The night is about to leave; there are no signs of sun yet. Sun anyways is late these days. The fog!

No! there ain’t no fog. No smog, no suffocation. The sky is as clear as a glass of purified water we get to see in one of the charming TV ads.

The wind is not strong, but is enough to talk to the loneliness. Enough to caress the jowl, and certainly capable of making one dither with cold.

The chilly gushes from the nearby river add to the agony. Only hopes of warmth are the dying stars and a couple of lamps twinkling far off the vista.

I still hold the last 100 rupees note inside my right thigh pocket. The pocket and the note help me overcome the cold, what if only a bit.

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“It buzzed”

“What?”

“Your phone”

“Ah! Um.. Sorry! I keep it silent during work hours. Didn’t notice. Thanks.”

“Mention not. It just blinked right away.”

Over the hedge of the barley farms

When the sun is just about to engulf

In the river on the far side of the trees

Right behind the square of bamboo bushes

Let me thank you before the kiss of dusk

For you’ve been a forever allurement

There were days when his texts made me smile.

Now! Now they scare me, if they are any, ever. It’s been six years since the last one.

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It’s getting heavy. Not the weather, the air filled inside my lungs. As if someone is smoking puffs and barrels inside. I feel like drowning, suffocating, and my eyes wide open. I’m trying to cry out loud but couldn’t, I am numb and I am deaf. I am about to turn blind. All I can feel is the pain, the emptiness, the shame and my veins… my veins are bursting.

Why didn’t you turned up? Why have you always been so careless? What is the point of being so pointless?

Casual! No, you ain’t. It ain’t any excuse. Words must count and this should extend to a time period also known as always. You yourself collar this time and again. Ok, you have had in quite past.

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I was in your city after 14 years. You married a couple of years back. No, I didn’t. I’ve no such intentions, never had any. Not counting your’s for the sake too. To be honest, I recently came to know this. Someone told someone else and it propagated. I don’t know the order of proliferation, not sure if you would even mind that at all.

At least I would not. It has never been my business anyway.

I didn’t inform you about my visit, I never do and you have known that now for eternity.

You nevertheless know that I am in the town. Ain’t we at the luxury of having common friends? Does it matter anyways?

We didn’t see each other for eight years now. Um.. wait! 9 years and half I suppose.

Wasn’t it you who said it is all over between us?

Over! For the matter of nothing! Ok, take my head off, almost nothing.

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The shivering has eloped. Not sure if months have rallied or only I have aged. I don’t feel any colder now. The hand cuffs, the wrist bones, the ache. The Vandyke, I just want to loosen it up. My hands are getting wet, actually only the palms are. Yes, the armpits too. You never miss to remind me of my panting oxters.

I feel like something flowing on the back of my right ear. It feels like I can not breathe. I’ve been encroached by a huge python and his coil will leave only hay out of me. The blood is about to flood out of my nostrils. I just take out my hands from the pocket. The note, it is acting as a tissue paper in my hand. At least one of my palms are dry, the expense looks quite less at this hour.

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“Keep this. In case you do not wish to come back, it will make you come back.”

I had no option but to accept your generosity: had it been those days and I have been writing it then, I would simply called it your love.

We met a number of times since then, you never allowed me to return the favor.

Turning back, when I ask back to myself…

I wanted to pay… Yes!
I tried to pay…Yes!

You wanted to take… No!

You tried to take… Doesn’t matter!

I still hold that note and roam around. Not sure what has kept me going. I don’t want to do this. I never wanted to. OK; I actually did at a point of time but that’s an age old thing now. Only if I could take out my hand and return it to you, only if you could hurt me beyond my threshold, only if I can set free of the web, only if the sun could come out early in the mid sky.

If only we can meet and cry and week and fight and……fade!

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The silence is so intense that my breath notes seem to be talking within themselves. As if I cannot miss a single note, as if the world’s rhythm is dependent only on me. As if this responsibility is taking off all the weight from my shoulders, freeing me up. As if I would never get a better morning. The air has the warmth and coziness I’ve been missing for years now. The sky is getting darker as if the spark of the day is just about to take oath. The river meanders in the shape of a beautiful smile. The happiness seems to be inherited in every twinkle of the stars.

I see a couple of fireflies moving from leaves to leaves, from twigs to twigs, burning, fuming, leaving, flying, sitting and vanishing in to the identity of the dwelling they take shelter at.

The flow is so neat, so clean, so pure, so painful but so effortless at the same time.

I take out the note from my pocket, straighten it up. I simply keep looking at it. It means almost you to me but I want to set you free. More than that, I want to free myself up. Dropping down when time is right is way better and commendable that hanging forever for no reason. Not all leaves are painted on the walls; they have to fall when time comes.

I tear it up, in 2-4-8 pieces and free them in to the flowing river. The sun has come out. The first ray just kisses one of the bits flowing through and finds its way to my face. I can see you, free from all malaise, I can see other chunks glittering, shining on the calm surface. I am feeling light, I can count them. I can feel myself; I can feel the freshness in the air.

I can hear the nightingale singing the melody of happiness.

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One of the pieces does not take the destined course though. It has messed up with a nearby bush against the flow and I could not free it up.

I am leaving your city and you. For ever!

I won’t be back if I talk senses.

But something somewhere like the last piece of the note is still hanging from the cliff.

Someday, sometime if you could just call, just wish… I won’t be very far!

After all life is all about beliefs and memories! And death! Even that does not seem to defy a thing… I believe, I do.