The Gift

‘Even if we could turn back, we’d probably never end up where we started’. An encounter with this quote in one of the books suspended his reading. Something deep was imbibed in the line. Regardless of zero correlation, it made him remember her. The statement was flammable and in no time, he experienced an urge for contradicting it. Her friendship was the best thing which could have happened to him. However, it had gone astray since past some time and he could not think of anything better but this to achieve his contradiction.

Rekindling anything is tough and this situation was nothing different. After brainstorming for three weeks, the idea of gifting her on upcoming birthday sounded best to him. He was not oblivious of the fact that she did not like these formalities yet his belief that she’ll for sure be elated upon seeing the gift, overpowered any other thoughts. Somehow with her, he believed in instincts.

He was excited. He was happy. He had planned everything perfectly but little did he anticipate the upcoming jolt. A week prior to the day, he expressed his intent to meet her. She was a highbrow. It took her less than a minute to figure out what he had been up to. Their discussion that day ended up on a completely opposite lane than its start. Somewhere in the middle she even mentioned about not meeting him ever if he happened to get her a gift. She was apathetic. She was indifferent.

He had anticipated her reaction, however, the one thing which he did not anticipate was his strong aloofness to the efforts. She was unmoved, she remained untouched - totally opposite to the person he used to know some time back. The lines of the book danced strangely around him - ‘Even if we could turn back, we’d probably never end up where we started’.

The next morning, a gift was ordered with two changes - content and shipping address. Her smile was invaluable - true but beginning that night, he started appreciating his own smile even more.

That eatery and a rainy outing

With a slow downpour, nature was playing a mysterious beat. ‘Just two more blocks, keep walking’ she exclaimed. Headed towards an expensive eatery in the high-class locality of the town, it was a mini farewell treat from her. Throughout his 8 years of stay in the city, he had never been to that market and with a non-tucked shirt; he looked shabby amidst the classy crowd. ‘We are certainly non-dressed to be at this place’, she added. He preferred being quiet.

An ardent lover of 5 rupai wali ice-cream, such exquisite places haunted him and today was no exception. “What do you wanna have? I’m sure, all these will satisfy your sweet glands!” she asked. “Anything you like. Just make sure it doesn’t have a complete chocolate crux” he was still settling in.

Tempting, enticing and alluring, nothing could more aptly describe the desserts which were placed in front of him in the next few seconds. However coupled with a returning eeriness, his mind was already afar. With mismatching expressions, he expressed his mood. “Please don’t tell me you even don’t like this. God! What do you like then? This is the best in town” she was bewildered. He perfectly understood why she was puzzled, he knew what the occasion was and he even liked the desserts but he failed in expressions, again. All he could utter was: “They are good”.

And so one of their last few outings got killed!

An Untold Story (013)

Forty four minutes lasted their today’s meeting.

Her diary:
He noticed smile but failed to read eyes!

His diary:
She was smiling throughout but her eyes spoke differently.
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.
.
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In the other world, fate wore a wicked smile.

An Untold Story (012)

It’s probably care which makes me go out of track and do things which occasionally are termed stupid. I still remember “Grow up” which you texted me once. Hopefully I shall learn to grow up and to be more rational and lesser sentimental soon.

Although he was a regular writer yet he somehow didn't publish anything that day and saved this draft.

Unknowingly he was hurt deep down.

.

.

.

Season was changing and so was the companionship.

An Untold Story (011)

That day, he spoke of his feelings.

In parallel, she spoke of the other guy.

Modes were different but timings perfectly same.

They were best friends yet a chasm burgeoned somewhere!

An Untold Story (010)

Draft -> Delete -> Draft -> Delete

This vicious circle entrapped him.

An inability to express things ‘in person’ had once forced him to choose writing as a way off and now it was conjuring. She on the other hand was a live twitter: either stay within 140 characters or prepare yourself for a slaughter.

He deleted the draft for twelfth time. Things were not so continuing between them and he felt dejected, confused and lost.

“An e-mail! Really? Won’t it would portray me as pushy, dunderhead and perv considering that we aren’t that regular anymore?” questioned his left brain. “Are you insane? Whatever you’re writing is true. Expressing oneself is not wrong. Only this road is less taken by” replied the right counterpart. “But this is nothing new. I’ve had told her this a dozen times. Girls aren’t that obtuse!” left stood confused. “Rome wasn’t built in one day either. Reiterations braces solidity. Plus this would be an out of box kind of thing. She’ll cherish this” right tried its characteristic ‘acting out stories’ attempt. “What if she doesn’t? Long messages freak her out and this even crossed a page!” “Life isn’t limited to 140 characters. Firstly nothing shall happen. Secondly don’t you believe that everyone deserves a second chance? If anything otherwise happens, apologise. This is precisely why ‘sorry’ word got invented! Loose out man. Relax. Trust your instincts. They somehow already know what is correct”. Bang! A modified Steve Jobs was quoted by right in within no time.

“Your message has been send” flashed the screen. After thirteen attempts on that Friday evening, the ‘logical’ left was once again overpowered by ‘daydreamer’ right.

The next moment he experienced drapetomania.

He closed his eyes and made a wish.

Hope was all what he had!

An Untold Story (010)

Draft -> Delete -> Draft -> Delete

This vicious circle entrapped him.

An inability to express things ‘in person’ had once forced him to choose writing as a way off and now it was conjuring. She on the other hand was a live twitter: either stay within 140 characters or prepare yourself for a slaughter.

He deleted the draft for twelfth time. Things were not so continuing between them and he felt dejected, confused and lost.

“An e-mail! Really? Won’t it would portray me as pushy, dunderhead and perv considering that we aren’t that regular anymore?” questioned his left brain. “Are you insane? Whatever you’re writing is true. Expressing oneself is not wrong. Only this road is less taken by” replied the right counterpart. “But this is nothing new. I’ve had told her this a dozen times. Girls aren’t that obtuse!” left stood confused. “Rome wasn’t built in one day either. Reiterations braces solidity. Plus this would be an out of box kind of thing. She’ll cherish this” right tried its characteristic ‘acting out stories’ attempt. “What if she doesn’t? Long messages freak her out and this even crossed a page!” “Life isn’t limited to 140 characters. Firstly nothing shall happen. Secondly don’t you believe that everyone deserves a second chance? If anything otherwise happens, apologise. This is precisely why ‘sorry’ word got invented! Loose out man. Relax. Trust your instincts. They somehow already know what is correct”. Bang! A modified Steve Jobs was quoted by right in within no time.

“Your message has been send” flashed the screen. After thirteen attempts on that Friday evening, the ‘logical’ left was once again overpowered by ‘daydreamer’ right.

The next moment he experienced drapetomania.

He closed his eyes and made a wish.

Hope was all what he had!

An Untold Story (009)

A damaged friendship was the result of her obliviousness. A month after she forgot their meeting, silence had overpowered talking. Whatsapp’s pings got still, Facebook had an updated ‘close friend’ list and messaging was non-existent. 

Talking through numerous metro rides, they had nurtured care, trust and admiration. Ironically, on the day which marked exactly a year of their first metro ride, everything stood exterminated. Standing in front of each other in metro, they had nothing to talk. 

While she was clueless, he preferred being clueless.

Same route,

Same timing,

Same metro,

Today, everything was same but feelings.