Twisted AgonyI walked bare foot on the soft green grass, the brightest shade of green. It tickled the rough surface of my feet that had not seen a pedicure since ages. It was the twilight hour, just before the break of dawn on a warm Sunday. The place was unusually quiet. The tranquillity in the air was disturbed by the anxiousness in the heart, and then the tipping point arrived. I ceased to see the golden rays of the sun that painted the brick red roofs of the houses. I failed to admire the beauty of the pearl like dew drops that laced the needle thin leaves of the trees in the park. The river suddenly flowed with less vigour and enthusiasm. It was kind of indicative of the amount of verve that was left alive in my ordinary life with extraordinary events that could make a good story for a comic hero. It was that phase where you feel betrayed, heartbroken, and like you have lost everything that you ever wanted. People around me seemed pretty unmoved by the obscure thoughts that filled my tiny brain for some weeks now. Whatever I did, whatever I tried, I wasn’t particularly unsuccessful, but it didn’t give me the kind of eternal satisfaction that life has the seamless capacity to offer. My wrecked life seemed all the more miserable with every passing day until today when I spent the fourth consecutive sleepless night. I felt stifled by the wild thoughts in my head and ran out gasping for a breath of fresh air and ideas. I wanted to look back on the years that I had lived for the joy of reminiscing the days when there still was hope for better times ahead. There weren’t too many occasions that I could recollect from my rusty memory. When I tried to count the number of times I had laughed ever since I came of age, I could not go beyond four. That’s not what happy people with simple lives do. I knew I was far from that clan of happy souls and yesterday was the last time I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t.
She came to see me for the last time yesterday morning. She said it was all over. I knew it long before. There are some things that are best left unsaid. The past two months were painful not as much as for her as they were for me. She was the only one I had. I knew living without her would be easier said than done. From what I have learnt, there are things that we seem to take for granted, until one day when we wake up to find out they are gone. That’s when we know how much we had in life, and how little we cared. Time is the greatest healer. I tried finding solace in that thought. But certain things just make up for great quotes with little or no relevance for things as real as life itself. The future seemed foggy than ever before. I am the kind that prefers a noose to a slow death. The unpardonable offering of life that I had just encountered was more of the latter. The hardest part of which is the fear that preludes and the shame that follows. I was brave enough to fight the fear. Braver than ever before I thought for all the positivity that my friends filled me up with at those endless conversations over tea and the much hated Marie biscuits. Now came the hardest part. The part where I accept without retaliation how I made a fool of myself at all those arguments over the pettiest of matters and which not once ended in my favour except for the one where I decided to put my foot down. The fight was always one sided and the one where it wasn’t, she gracefully accepted her defeat and left. She left me in a life of solitude with no traces of her existence whatsoever in this house. She left leaving me in a quagmire of uninvited thoughts, unprecedented agonies and unrealized dreams. She also left me with a dozen unwashed dishes, a bucketful of dirty linen and an unpolished floor. Like a thunderstorm she disappeared behind the slam of the door and the clang of her jade coloured glass bangles, blowing incoherent words in the air. A defeated mistress, I kept staring at the door that was still shuddering by the impact and waited for the noise to die, first the reverberations of the slammed door, then the rattling of the window panes, then her crackling voice and finally the almost audible pounding of my heart. Kantabai quits and I live the worst fear of my life!
She came to see me for the last time yesterday morning. She said it was all over. I knew it long before. There are some things that are best left unsaid. The past two months were painful not as much as for her as they were for me. She was the only one I had. I knew living without her would be easier said than done. From what I have learnt, there are things that we seem to take for granted, until one day when we wake up to find out they are gone. That’s when we know how much we had in life, and how little we cared. Time is the greatest healer. I tried finding solace in that thought. But certain things just make up for great quotes with little or no relevance for things as real as life itself. The future seemed foggy than ever before. I am the kind that prefers a noose to a slow death. The unpardonable offering of life that I had just encountered was more of the latter. The hardest part of which is the fear that preludes and the shame that follows. I was brave enough to fight the fear. Braver than ever before I thought for all the positivity that my friends filled me up with at those endless conversations over tea and the much hated Marie biscuits. Now came the hardest part. The part where I accept without retaliation how I made a fool of myself at all those arguments over the pettiest of matters and which not once ended in my favour except for the one where I decided to put my foot down. The fight was always one sided and the one where it wasn’t, she gracefully accepted her defeat and left. She left me in a life of solitude with no traces of her existence whatsoever in this house. She left leaving me in a quagmire of uninvited thoughts, unprecedented agonies and unrealized dreams. She also left me with a dozen unwashed dishes, a bucketful of dirty linen and an unpolished floor. Like a thunderstorm she disappeared behind the slam of the door and the clang of her jade coloured glass bangles, blowing incoherent words in the air. A defeated mistress, I kept staring at the door that was still shuddering by the impact and waited for the noise to die, first the reverberations of the slammed door, then the rattling of the window panes, then her crackling voice and finally the almost audible pounding of my heart. Kantabai quits and I live the worst fear of my life!