THE INK AND THE PAPER

But this time, I won’t let you

 color my scars again; For,

You are the ink and You are not

 supposed see the paper’s pain.

You’re not supposed to see the paper’s pain.

Like those disclaimers before the movies, I thought my life also bears no resemblance with others, just a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person is a pure coincidence. But the paper proved me wrong. The letters scribble on it mocked at me when I told them my story. And then I realized you were the ink to my papers. 

You came to me like a summer breeze , hot ,warm and making me restless. Your presence was something I have always feared. But slowly, as the summer turned into rains, and it started to drizzle, you showered me with your attention, love and care. And I started dreaming about your touch. Gone were those hostility and those ignorance. You made me come in terms of my past and made me spoon the threads of a beautiful dream. 

You know, we all are like these white papers. Everything leaves an impression. A dot, a line , a tangled mess of doodles, a tear drop or any stain, everything leaves an impression. Even some deep stretched wound of those who are close to us, leaves a mark. Still the paper remains white. Bearing all those scars on its soul, it craves for the ink which would see beyond the white of its heart. You were like that ink to me, Which poured itself empty on me and covered all those scars, with the color of its being. 

Sometimes I do wonder, Does a blank paper matters to ink , as much as the ink matters to it?. I often wonder, Does the ink feel proud to leave its permanent imprints on the heart of papers? Or its just another notch in its belt!? . Does it craves to touch that used sheet of paper, as much as the paper wants to be kissed again.!? Does the colorful ink ever gets intrigued by the blankness of the sheet!? I often wonder, does it know , how much it matters to the paper to bear it’s marks for the rest of it’s life!

 Unfortunately,no one asked the ink about it. Had they asked a new piece of paper could have refrained itself from falling in love with the ink. That’s the fault with the readers. They never ask. They only trust the ink. Had they known the deceptive nature of the ink, they could have tried to listen those suppressed sobs of the papers. The cries which still echos in the spaces between two words, the echoes which could be heard in the untouched parts between the lines.They could have seen the unrequited love which remains hidden in the commas and semicolons. And could have felt the torments of heartache which are witnessed by the periods and full stops. Had they known they could have stopped the ink from scribbling more and more poems on papers and in return stealing away bits and pieces of the innocence of the page. But unfortunately, no one ever asked, nor they have ever tried to hear.

You know. That’s why I blamed me, the people around me and you for what had happened between us. The way you touched me to the core, the way you drenched my heart with your tears and the way you made me fall in love with the protagonists of your stories. The way you kept on writing poems and stories about Us and the way you kept on Scribbling the lessons from the past. And the way you vanished from my life, without any bye, without saying anything had  left me craving for more . But no one ever cared. Not even  you! You’re supposed to steal my scars, you were supposed to color me with your kisses. I was supposed to take all the burden away from your heart. I was supposed to soak those tears of your bleeding heart. We both did our job. But in between I fell in love and you didn’t. Or was it like you said that you fell in love and left me waiting for you forever!? Had I known I wasn’t sufficient, I would have saved my self for someone else. For someone who after caressing me, wouldn’t have left me . Now see, I’m everything but blank . You will never come back to me. But someone will. Someone will come back and read me again and again. Someone will take me in hands caress those wounds given by you.He will be intoxicated by the way I smell, but would never know I have drowned myself in the aroma of yours.  Someone will fall in love with me. But he would never know me the way you did. He could never leave an impact on me the way you did. He would fall in love ; But not with me. He will fall in love with the girl you left behind. 

Time would change. The white of the paper would gradually turn into yellow. But the marks on it would still glow in pride. The words signed by the ink wouldn’t fade away. Time could not heal these wounds of the paper, it can only make it grow older with it. After some days, the corners would be tattered , but still those inks would matter. Those words, those wounds now define the paper. The scars she was trying to hide would now become her identity. May be the ink would return to it, after realizing it’s worth, but it wouldn’t be the same old blank sheet, naive and eager. The ink might try to reunite with it again, but that would only deepen the wounds, stealing away all the beauty of those scars. Now the paper knows, the ink and the paper were star crossed lover, for one has to die if they wish to remain together . 
I would not try to make you come back, but I’ll wait for you. Wait for the day when you will come back and see how you had helped me grow. How those small bits of your heart has now become the Alma matter of my survival. I would like to see that pride in your eyes, in the same time want to see that helplessness of not being able to touch me again. If you ever decide to come back, you will find me the way you left me, but what you couldn’t figure out would be the way I will flaunt my scars. For , I have learnt to believe in the power of being broken . For Now I believe in Scars being beautiful. 

I have crumpled myself. Tried to burn myself. I have leapt in to the ocean and I have flown into The hurricane, but no one had been able to erase those imprints. So I decided to flaunt them. I’m not going to tell them to you, coz you could never notice. Like a paper I haven’t been granted the power to pour my heart out. You are the ink, you are the one to speak. I was the one to get drenched and I’m still getting drenched. I’m yet to make people believe,that it’s not me but you. For the first time when I was drenched, it was raining blood from your heart. Now when I make people cry, I rejoice those tears, thinking it to be you. I’m living in these stolen moments, when people believe it’s my story and offer their condolences.

 But you know, I wish someday, they could see it all along. I wish they see the resemblance between the lies told by the ink and see the helplessness of the papers. In the same time I wish for you to see me, smiling and living without you in those stolen moments of yours. I don’t want you to see how much I have suffered. If you wish to come back, come n see how much you had mattered.

If you ever comeback,

I’ll be here waiting for you. 

With Those voids and some wounds too.

But this time, I won’t let you

 color my scars again; For,

You are the ink and You are not

 supposed see the paper’s pain.

You’re not supposed to see the paper’s pain.

🎭Nayana🎭

Just Another Phase…

But you will be treasured for life.

A/N – This is for all the people out there who have had either, numerous people to crush for or just one. Every single person goes through these feelings, sometimes it is lost, sometimes we are lost but all we keep with ourselves is memories.
And if it resembles any of your phases of lives it’s just a coincidence, this isn’t intended to hurt or showcase anyone’s personal feeling .

Happy Reading folks!

Waking up every morning, before rubbing my eyes open to the little notes of musings stuck on the wall of my room, I think and hope of meeting you and brightening my day manifolds.

With eyes closed I think of the encounter we had the day before. No exchange of words, no smiles passed, no tales attached either. Just a glance of you working as I walk past your workspace. That’s where everything started, started in my world to which you will remain forever oblivious.

Watching you engrossed in your work was the first thing I was hooked to in this place unknown.

One place, one crush.

This norm of mine didn’t even seek the need to be reminded of. In this crowd, the only face which made sense and I looked forward to was yours.

People fall for people who were meant to be just attractions.

I didn’t.

I didn’t fall for you, because I knew that the pure heart of yours had already got someone to nurture and love. All you meant to me was the light in the times of dark.

A single mention of your name, one look at your face and the bad day was already running for a cover.

There have been days when I have run errands just to have one glance of your hair, your hand, even your shirt. But it’s funny how in the times of crisis I never got to see you but again you have arrived during moments I least expected.

Years passed, more like in a blink of an eye, but now as this phase of life comes to a closure besides several other memories you and your workspace will turn into memories too.

There won’t be the same me zooming in and out of your work place looking for you. Tagging my friends along just to ensure I don’t get caught red handed looking and drooling over you.

There won’t be the same me getting teased in your name as I disclose “the name” to my friends. There won’t be the same me scrolling through the pictures of your good old days.

But one thing will remain unchanged, you will still be the light to my dark days. You are still going to be the reason for my laughter and smile when I will look back and search for the best of memories.

You will still be around but I will be long gone.

Gone to a different place and following the norm getting a new someone to crush for

… but you will be treasured for life.

~ Smaranika Dash

Le Papillon

वो सच्चा था , तोह उसका वजूद झूठा कैसे!!?
वो लम्हे एक ख्वाब थे, तोह मेरी ज़िन्दगी एक हक़ीक़त कैसे ?

(If he was true, how come his existence is a lie? If those moments were mere a dream , then how come my life is a reality??)

08/02/2016:

I think I saw you today. U haven’t changed a bit. The same hairstyle and the same blue American tourister bag. But no, I was wrong. It wasn’t you. You were like that breeze of Monsoon which brings a lot of lighting and thunders with it. It was Someone else. A student from the student exchange programme. He had a slight physical resemblance with you. N that slightest of resemblance was enough to evoke a whirlwind of memories. He wore a crisp black button down shirt with a pair of grey jeans, a stark contrast to your pull over and khaki pants. He was so opposite of you,yet so similar . He reminded me so much of you that its hard to decide, whether his entry was a blessing or curse!
15/02/2016

I was in the cafeteria standing in a line. A sudden commotion outside caught my attention. Upon peeping a little , I saw my cousin punching someone in the guts. Without thinking anything I handed over my token to the friend beside me and hurried to the scene. The matter was out of the hand and they were summoned to the Dean’s chamber. After a lot of pleading and writing an undertaking they let him go without any severe punishment. I forgot my class and went straight to the cafeteria. As I stood in the line to take another token for breakfast, someone gently patted my shoulder. It turned out that in a rush I had thrust the token into his hand , and he watching me run in such an hurry had bought my breakfast. Silently I took my plate and muttered an inaudible thank you n turned away.

16/02/2016
I know it was rude. But what could I do. I was so determined to hate him and he was making it difficult. I saw him again today. This time in an heated argument with the librarian. God! He had a temper. Upon asking the librarian , I got to know he wanted to issue an book but since he didn’t have any card he can’t burrow it. He said , he needed that book to complete the assignment. Thinking to return the favor I issued the book under my name and gave him .

26/02/2016

It had been 10 days. I saw him daily in the library. Daily in something dark colour and reading some book. I knew he could keep that book for a month . So I was determined not to bump into him before the end of the month. I deliberately avoided him as much as possible.

02/03/2016

It was a fine day. A light rain in the morning and slow soothing breezes had done wonders to my soul. Rather than taking the scooty I decided to hit the road with my foot. It had been so long since I had walked to the campus. As usual there were students practicing their usual sketing routine, perfecting their dance moves, and discussing god knows what. Suddenly my gaze halted on a sketch. It was an oil painting. Someone was finishing the oil paint of two hands. Where both of them were clinging the opposite ends of an old book .Though I couldn’t say were the hands approaching each other or they belonged to two departing souls. It had a medival charm to it. The hands in the focus and the background has black colour with a stroke of red to highlight the mystery.What intrigued me was the lower hand . It belonged to a girl. It wore silvery bangles. And a bracelet having a little butterfly. But there was a mole on the knuckles. Exactly where I have a similar black mole. The painter had his back towards me. But I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. His stiff back , broad shoulder and the hairstyle reminded too much of you.

08/03/2016:

He was popular among girls. Not as much as u, but I think his deep black eyes, strong sets of jaws and deep set dimples and his aversion towards girls gave him the impression of mysterious guy. He was a good student. Very good I must say. I’m saying this today cause he beat me in the online quiz contest. N I was unbeatable since the day of my joining. To my surprise all my friends wished to congratulate him. And my bestie couldn’t stop describing how he took some time to talk to her. It seems the whole college was dead set on making him some kind of celebrity.

11/03/2016

He was there in the entrance of the library. I thought of going to the cafeteria . But before I could change my mind the librarian called my name. He handed me the book and said thank you. I returned it to the librarian and turned towards the cafeteria. He caught up with me and started walking with me. I excused my self in the way and went to the girls room.

15/03/2016.

Now that he had returned my book , there was no point in meeting each other. But he was there, silently reading in the library or engaged in some heating argument or somewhere just sitting silently and looking down at the pond. Now that he had started mixing up, my friends seemed to mention him in every thing. Ishaan(that’s his name) is this, Ishaan is that, Ishaan said this, Ishaan liked that and blah blah blah..

Why!! Why is it like that??! I was supposed to hate him.why I’m listing to these talks? Why I’m marking his every datail. Why my heart skips a beat when I see him.??

From tomorrow onwards I would make sure not to cross his path.

25/03/2016

It was the last day for submitting entries for the college magazine. We, the team of editors had to sit down n go through every entry. we read. I love reading . So I was shifted to another world. Some one called for the attention N had to descend back to the ground.

Let me show you what you are.

For once look into my eyes

I promise you would see

the deepest desires

and some night mares may be,

You are that whisk of wind

which made a flame out of flicker

Now let me blow you away

In a direction that I chose for u to fly.

A speck of pain in the pleasure,

You are the scintilla

My dark soul desires.

When in the mid night

My lust for Selene overwhelms,

What craves inside my chest

Is to behold a pearl like you

in me, and to let

the rain drops drench the fire.

That rain drop on your eye brows

When descends down to the lips

Making it’s way through the cheeks

The flames again

Take me into their embrace ,

How I wish to lick those drops

And wonder would they taste like

The rain or the rose

or just like yours?

Not a classic piece of art you are,
Too mysterious for that.

You are a blend of colours

Mixing with others,

Yet brusting out as a fire.

You are my modern art

For some easy to understand

But what lies beneath the mask

Is only for me to unearth.

When in those late night

I lay bare my heart to the canvas

Those reflections of

yours under the moon

Hit me hard ,

And push me to make you mine

In those deep dark

mixture of colours and

To paint your cheek

With a rose red glare.

On the canvas when

I let the colors flow

And frame that lovely shape of yours

How I wish to color you by myself

And mark my signature there!

And wonder would it make sense to

Link our hands or our desires

Or our names or our souls??

Let me make love to

You in my own ways.

Let me make you mine

And never fade away.

Trust me for once I’m a

Life time kind of guy

Drench the fire in me

with your serenity and

Give your desires a wing to fly

.

The problem was it was too beautiful to discard yet too bold to be published. There was an heated argument. I was dead set on publishing the poem. We argued and finally it was decided that we would vote. We were only two people in favor of this. But we decided to use our vitto and pressurized others to select that.

28/03/2016

I opened my social networking account after a long time. Ignored all the 56 notifications. Ignored all those friend requests and went straight to stalker mode. Opened your profile. As usual you have uploaded loads of pics and many of them had beautiful faces in it. Some I knew and some I didn’t. I searched every girls account who had been tagged or had commented. But to no avail. I was still not sure if you are single or have been committed lately.

In a distrust state I logged out.
11/04/2016.

I was in the library, deeply engrossed in a romantic classic. I heard someone dragging the chair in front of me . Out of curiosity when I spared him a glance , I was looking into two deep brown set of eyes. His eyes were not exactly black like yours, they are brown at the outer side and gain deeper color towards the inner side. I found myself binded by those hypnotic eyes. He sat down and slided our college magazine towards me and pinned me under his gaze until I averted mine.

Silently I took the magazine and skipped through the pages to find that poem, and when I found it the under signed name was Ishan Roy . I looked at him and found myself burning under those intense stare. Then he asked “WHY” first silently , then again rephrasing and controlling his temper , “Why Meghna , Why?. In the past month you have been avoiding me like plague, and suddenly you were against the whole pannel for me. You didn’t even accept my friend request and here you are offering me favours over favours . You are a brilliant student.look at you! You are a piece of art. You have everything going for a girl. Smart, beautiful,intelligent, and what not.I have been unable to erase our little moments from my memory. And I have been inquiring every one about you,stalking you and what not. Hell I have been crazy enough to write poems. I have never been this desperate , n I must admit no one have ever avoided me the way you are doing now. Do u know how it feels.!?” With that he took a deep breath and continued” Thank you. Thank you for helping me. And if my presence troubles you that much , I promise I would never let you complain again. Perhaps I was stupid enough to wave dreams about us.”
With that he stood and walked away. I had a sudden urge to cry. It felt more like a stab of knife in the heart . I didn’t know when along with those stolen glances, silent eye contacts, those oil paints and this poem I was loosing bits and pieces of mine to him. Thats not it, I was also loosing some pieces of your memories too. N what had he said “Do I know how it feels?”

I wanted to scream , “Yes Ishaan, Yes I know how it feels to love someone, to do everything in your power for that person and to never have them reciprocated , or else to notice. I know Ishaan how it feels to see your dream shatter, I know how it feels to get hurt every night and yet to repeat all those things in the morning. I know more than you would ever know. And when I’m telling you believe me , I know . ”
But that was not my style . That had never been. I sat there like a statue and broke down silently. History repeated it self. The same library, the same date, the same me and heart break.

He forced me to take a difficult walk In the deserted memory lane …

17/05/2012
Our 10th board results were out. I was on the cloud nine. 96.7%!! It was more than I have ever dreamt of. Every one was happy.

I ran to your house. You came out laughing and hugged me tight. Yeah we did it Meghna we did it. You told me you got 95%. We took admission in one of the most prestigious junior college of our state.

12/06/2012

New Class and New school . I was afraid to death. But you were the confidence I never had on me. You told me in your casual manner there is nothing to fear when Rishav is there . I smiled , a small disheartened smile. You always had that power over me. You were the only one who could make me smile at any moment.

11/08/2012:
You were always crowded . You were an instant hit in the girls and a good mate in the boys. I was too busy in my studies to get noticed by anyone else. I felt like the distance between us had been increased. Actually thats not the way it was. We were exactly where we were before, but the space in between us had been crowded. But you always did find a way to reach me. Those little talks over our route to hostel, those small small gestures in each other’s special days, made me see you in some special light.

24/06/2014:

We both have qualified the entrance. I was more than happy. But when I went to you I saw you were already boozing with your mates. It hurt Rishav. More than I would ever care to admit . I didn’t know the reason though, It was a tie. I was torn between what to be worried first, that you were descending down to the path of self destruction or you put someone , before me, for the first time. Absent mindedly I found excuses to cover up your deeds.

25/06/2014

You called me . You sounded angry. You said I had started avoiding you. That you have waited for my call till 2 in the morning. May be u had. May be I did matter to you. But I was still disappointed. I didn’t feel like telling you. I just smiled. But to my amazement you said , I didn’t seem happy. I don’t know how you cold read me so right. I asked how, then u said “Idiot Meghna look at your balcony”. There you were , standing in your white pull over and deep green khaki, with as usual ruffled hair and that mischievous gleam in your eyes. I was dazed. You came over and pulled me into a hug. Like a putty I melted against you. I asked about yesterday. You mentioned partying with your friends. But that didn’t involve any description of girls in half drugged state , or boys putting shame to every sane man with their rich vocabulary. I thought you were enjoying in your style and didn’t want me to go into the paranoid state.

11/08/2014
It was the fresher’s day. We have been asked to wear Saree, n you have been order to wear kurta Punjabi. You were looking like a model in your deep green and golden kurta.

Seniors asked you to propose someone. You came to me and went on one knees, took my hand, kissed my knuckles exactly at the black mole and asked me to come to the dance floor. Before I could realize my heart was stolen by you. I didn’t knew whether it was The golden saree or the spot light or those slow romantic songs,or your touch made all my walls break and gave you full access.
Later that night I watched you getting high and being all cosy with other girls. I was like no one . You didn’t even acknowledge my presence . While dropping me off u asked me not to get bothered by tonight. I didn’t knew if it was for the proposal or the other things.

25/02/2015
A lot has been changed in these days. Our circle, our interests , our defination of enjoyment and perhaps the way we view people. But one thing was constant ,my love for you and your care for me. Days have passed by, I have grown to be nerdier , you have grown to be cooler , we still talk , we still study together , we still fight with each other and still fight for each other. That day in the cafeteria you have beaten the shit out of the guy who had commented on me. That gesture was sweet, but I don’t know why do I search for the old rishav who would have made the guy apologize me through his witty retorts.

18/03/2015

Now It seems you don’t find it comfortable to talk to me in front of your friends. I understand your dellema, I’m from the group of girls who burry themselves deep in the book, does all those stuffs In the library, teachers pet type, and you were one of those for whom every thing comes easy. But I didn’t complaint. I was more than happy with our study sessions, with our weekend trips, long drives everything. I loved you that much. I still do, it’s just that I was not happy with what I’m getting. May be love makes us greedy, may be I was being unreasonable. But what about instincts? I could notice your diversion of paths whenever you see me, I could feel your apprehensiveness when we talk in public, I could feel it to my skin. And as per your wish I started to melt down into the shadows. I started stalking you. I noticed my comments getting no replies on your posts. Unfortunately we , those who remain in the shadow have an ability to hear the untold, to look beyond the covers and to read spaces between the words.

11/04/2015
I was in the library , I watched you going with your friends to collect some books. I followed you and sat behind you. I heard you being accepted for the foreign exchange program. You showed him the letter which had arrived a week before. I couldn’t belive u hadn’t Informed me. I couldn’t control anymore. I went to him and sat. His friend took his farewell . I asked “Why!” Then controlling my voice , “Why Rishav, I was okay with being in the shadow , I was okay with not meddling with your life.I was okay seeing you flirt with other girls. I was okay with our weekly day outs. I was okay cause o thought everything between us is okay. I thought I ment something to you. You are leaving the country yet you didn’t bother telling me”

You replied in an aloofed voice , I hadn’t told anyone. Not even my family. I was going to break that in our dinner . And common Meghna, don’t be so naive. We are not in a relationship, I’m not answerable to you.”

Though he uttered those words with his playful smile, they stung me in those places which I never knew existed.

In an attempt to hide my tears I stood up. You held my hand . For the first time in months you asked me to stay. But The noise of my screaming heart was more powerful than your pleas . I looked at the book in my hand and read out the quote aloud.

“When you are

a bit less blinded,

Am a bit less naive.

When you know

what being sensitive means

and I have mended my ways

with maturity,

We would sit up all night and talk

Perhaps would talk the whole day along

That’s a promise

I would trade my heart to keep

But until then ,my friend,

(Let me love you and live.)
I couldn’t complete the quote and rushed out. I broke down .

11/04/2016

Calenders has changed. People has changed . My life has changed. Yet time has brought me again to the place from where I had started .
Rishav or Ishaan , two sides of a coin , completely different yet so alike . I wish there Was something in-between in the tossing of coins, for I couldn’t care more who wins the toss ,but in the end Its the coin.It has to live with both the results.

12/04/2016

I have to be honest with him. Atleast he deserves that. But to my surprise he didn’t even turn up at the college. Why is it like that, we miss a person when he is not around, and all we do in his presence is to lurk in the shadows.

24/04/2016

He was at the pond. Looking down at the water . Throwing stones into it. He was throwing stones, and then waiting for the ripples to die down and then again throwing one into the water. I waited for some time. Then I took a stone and threw it , breaking his presence pattern . He muttered a curse and looked at me. I went to sit beside him. He stood up, but I caught his hand and made him sit down. This time I started the pattern . He just looked on.
“I love someone, else.”

“So?”

“I can’t love you”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both”

“You are lying”

I looked at him perplexed and he continued,

“I know about Rishav”
He never ceases to surprise me
“I can tell you that you were in love with the idea of him , not with him.”
I smirked and started the stone game again.
No one would ever understand my love, my wait, my crave for Rishav. May be what Ishaan knows about Rishav is enough for him to judge my love , but what he didn’t know was we had a history of 10 years to back us up. The girl He is in love with is Rishav’s undoing. Rishav was the confidence I never had on me. May be in later years their equation has changed, but in the end they are the variables needed to make an equation. Like an one dimensional point has no equation, I was dimensionless without Rishav.

I stood up to go. Ishaan let me. He threw a stone, without waiting then the threw another, then other and other.
When I turned my back he said silently, He might come back, he might get around and love you back , but tell me one thing Meghna, can you forget all those shadows and dark hours you put together to have a single glance of him? Can you get past all those avoidance which made you doubt yourself!? I hope you could. I sincerely do. Cause if not, you would be burdened down by the consequences of your choice.
Once again I was wrong. This time not about you, this time it was him. It seems he could see into my fears , my insecurities and my love.

02/01/2017

Soon it was time for Him to board the train back to his home. Sitting by his side had become a daily routine now. He understands the ripples between the water, he understands the stones on the path, he understands the wrinkles on the forehead, he understands the gap between the stanzas.
He still painted. He painted water, he painted smoke, he painted fire , he painted lilies, he painted daisies, but in the middle he never forget to paint butterflies.
He still wrote poems, he wrote about desires, he wrote about love, he wrote about souls, he wrote about bodies, he wrote about flowers, he wrote about pearls but In some stanzas he a always used colors.
To day I got a mail from you, telling how much we have to cover on your arrival which was just 2 days after his departure.
Perhaps this was the moment of oblivion. I felt a brust of two opposite emotions at a time, yet none of them were potential enough to make me smile or make me cry. I just sighed. Perhaps thats what happens with a coin . It has to carry on. Perhaps thats what life is all about. A cocktail of emotions and a deep sigh .

30/01/2017

Ishaan and I were sitting on a bench on the platform.
“So”

“So?”

“He is coming, then”

“Yeah,he is”

“And I’m going”

“No, You are not”

“What!! I can’t get a refund now”
(We both new what you actually meant. I smirked at his attempt to make it easy, but good byes are never easy. Are they?? You keep telling me there is something good in every goodbye. May be there is. But there is also a bye in it.)
I said, “Oh come on, we would be in touch”

He just got up and stood. I dragged his hand, but unlike last time, he dragged me up.
Keeping my hand in his , he started saying the lines
“One day

One day we would talk ,

We would talk the whole day and

Perhaps all the night along,

But I then my friend

I wish you would be a little selfish

And I would be more persistent

When there would be no Rishav to wait for

And only we have met a life time before.

One day in another life, in another world, I would wait for

It’s a promise, I would trade my soul to keep

With each line he took a step away. And with each step he took a part of mine

His train left. I watched him dissolving into the smoke. I listened him voicing the unsaid. I felt him cutting my soul and taking a half with him. That moment I felt like the Meghna I had built over the past one year, in the absence of Rishav. I was back to square one , with only the part that had loved Rishav. Known only Rishav . But what to do with the time, the memories on which he had left an colored imprint of his bare soul.

01/02/2017
I was at the platform waiting for Rishav. But my fingers were fumbling with 10 digits, which every time dialed responded with “the no. doesn’t exist anymore”.

There was no trace of his social networking account. There was no address in the College profile, other than his college name. I had asked a lot of students from his college,but none had given me any solid information. Like he doesn’t exist. Like he was some one from the smoke and melted into it.
Rishav got out of the train and hugged me tight. And with a sound kiss on my forehead told me he had missed me.

08/02/2017

I hadn’t told Rishav anything about Ishaan. And surprisingly enough no one had never took his name in front of Rishav, like no one ever talked about Rishav in front of Ishaan.

Rishav Took me to his home. And his mother made us sit together. He now proudly introduces me to everyone as his fiancé.
Life is fine. But oddly enough Rishav had gift me a charm bracelet having butterflies on it.
It reminds me of me,of him and of you. It tells me as beautiful as a butterfly may be, it never stays caged. It reminds me every ugly duckling, insecure caterpillar has a beautiful future and every beautiful butterfly has an ugly past. It reminds me of the colors life had to offer. It reminds me how fast the colors change. It reminds to live in the moment. It reminds me never to forget him.

“वो सच्चा था , तोह उसका वजूद झूठा कैसे!!?
वो लम्हे महज एक ख्वाब थे, तो मेरी ज़िंदगानी एक हक़ीक़त कैसे?”

(If he was true, how come his existence is a lie? If those moments were mere a dream , then how come my life is a reality??)

🎭Nayana🎭

Letter to Gregory House. 

Love,
Someone who truly misses Vindaloo curry.

A/N- Dear readers, am sure most of you have not watched [H]ouse MD. It was a very, very famous TV series some years before, technically five. Hugh Laurie played the protagonist and no one else could have done justice to the character. It has shaped various lives and one such is mine. It made me realize the value of life and several others. The final episode of HOUSE aired some five years back but the aura of the show still has many viewers hooked and captivated.
This is a small tribute to House in form of an open letter to Greg. All this is my own content, however, some are [H]ousespired and the use of any kind of abusive words is not meant to hurt the feelings of the readers. And yes, Hugh Laurie wasn’t harmed in writing this piece. We love Hugh a lot!

—————————————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Greg,
So here it is. Not that you really show that you need this but trust me I can sense you smirk and raise an eyebrow as you ready yourself to read this letter.
You can save the energy of racing your gray cells at the speed of light (which technically you can’t), you read the envelope and it says from anonymous but it also freaks you out and you really want to know who I am. So without much ado, I am a FAN. You have loads of them and there’s this possibility that your house is full of the fan mails, let alone from the patients you have saved. There’s so much to ask and talk but let’s talk about your eyes. There’s something about your eyes, those blue ocean deep eyes. They sparkle differently, there’s this sapphire luster radiating when you get a mind-numbing case! The soft sparkle when you used to see Lisa every day at the hospital and you two did really hit it off, oh come on, I know whatever happened didn’t end well while it should have but get over it, though am confident the “Moving On” thing should have been pretty much the same except for racing the car into her HOUSE. See you play equally well as a noun and not to forget the childish one when you hear someone say porn!

 

By the way, how’s your love? No it’s not about WILSON, it’s about those tiny capsules you took on a daily basis, the very reason which awakened your feelings for CUDDY and the reason she left you. It’s weird what a tiny thing like VICODIN could do, let alone humans! Convey my regards to your boyfriend, you might have pulled up a thousand stunts to get rid of him but he’s like a boomerang, he returns to you. Because he knows YOU need him more than HE needs you. Am pretty sure you still make some really beautiful girls think he’s gay so that you can get under their pants but you continue to fail in doing so.
Lastly, I hope your leg pains really well and you are coping, dealing with the pain without the Vicodin. It has been five years now, long since you are gone. I miss you and so do a million others. I am still looking for the land where you vanished leaving the rest of us in tears!
I can proudly declare myself “psychotic” as soon as you reply to this letter. I know you cannot turn water into wine but you have and am pretty sure you are still saving lives in all possible ways, you can. And here I quote directly, “Everybody Lies, the only variable is about what”, so you may mark some of my comments to be true, even if they aren’t.
Love,
Someone who truly misses Vindaloo curry.

– Smaranika Dash

Mother’s Love. 

It’s more of a protective shield she casts on us, it’s there even if when she isn’t around making sure no evil can penetrate that shield of love and compassion.

 A/N- This is a very small tribute to all the mothers around the world traveling through lives of three mothers of the magical world. Hogwarts has portrayed several characters each of them having a life-long impact on all our lives. So this a little something for the Mother’s Love.

 
An invisible feeling which you can’t resist describing as beautiful, lest talk about the irony!

It’s something which was there when we were inside them, month after month and yet after all these years when we have reached our adulthood it still remains the same.
It’s more of a protective shield she casts on us, it’s there even when she isn’t around making sure no evil can penetrate that shield of love and compassion.

——————————————————————

This kind of love is universal, be it a red head pureblood or a blonde one. She knows what we need, she knows what we are going through, she helps us getting over tough situations, she offers a meal when no one around cares, she saves us even if we are the nemesis because she knows the side she supports is wrong, is bad, is evil.

And no mother will ever want a child, even if it’s not her own blood, to suffer a death, death will fear.

——————————————————————

Even if he isn’t able to make it through, there is Mother’s love in heaven too.

One mother reciprocates the gesture of another by taking her twin into her arms and treating, caring and showering love in all possible ways just to ensure he feels like the Burrow, it’s not much but it’s HOME.

________________************_______________

~ Smaranika Dash

The Reflection in a shattered Mirror

It’s not about love yet it’s all about love. When it comes to us it’s all about loving someone.

The clock on the wall created the background sound of suspense and thrill as Siddharth studied the email again and again. The expressions on his face changed from confusion to surprise then from surprise to acceptance n then to a forbidden look of disgust. 
As Nitansha sat there trying to read every  line of tension and every wrinkles that guaranteed his anger, She felt panicked . like someone has unearthed the burried skeletons of her past. The past which she had left behind her . The Past which she thought would never come up . She dared asking Siddharth What’s the matter !! 
Siddharth took  printout of some documents. Threw them on the table and asked her to start packing. 

She took the print out and started reading. It was an Email from Kaira. She didn’t want to read the letter any further. She wanted to rush to Siddharth. She wanted to curl into a hole and stay there. 
Now she did not know whether to laugh or to cry.  She took a look at the other papers. They were the print out of tickets to her hometown . The town where she had taken birth and brought up. The city was the witness of the mischievous deeds of her  childhood, the awesome creativity​ of her teenage years. Yearnings of adulthood ,heart breaks , fake smiles , suppressed sobs, those late night sneak outs, those early morning jogs, Late in the afternoon laughter and Early​ evening strums of guitar . 
She walked like a zombi . Packed everything n got ready for Siddharth to come n pick her up.

In the mean while her mind drifted to the day of her first night with Siddharth. He had said they should be friends first , then best friends and then Husband wife. He was mature enough to know the complications, misunderstanding of arranged marriage. He knew they had to melt the wall of  ice between them with the heat of truth . He had started the conversation with light mood then taking it to a seriousness of how to please which member of his family. like His Mom would expect her to be at the puja place by 7 in a saree. N his father would want her to arrange his news paper, Cup of tea with little sugar n Tulsi be ready for him in the garden when he returns from the morning walk by 6. His sister would love to have a bhabi who would open her curtains n wake her up before the college time n chose her dress according to the trend. He even didn’t miss the Gardner Raghav chacha and the cook Mohan Chacha . He said they wouldn’t tolerate each other n always kept the household busy in their playful banter. If looked from an outsider’s view they had a snake n mangoose relationship. But only the house members knew their day didn’t end without sharing their all day story over dinner. He mentioned His mother’s love for Banarasi sarees, Guava n her addiction with the kitchen . He reminded her not to put Brinjal in any of his father’s dishes n how much he loved to sit and eat with his family n his obsession with old family photos. Coming back to his sister he only had to say spend time with her, help her in her studies and makeup she would be wagging around like a puppy  within days . 

 When she had asked any special mention about him. He had said one thing. “Tell me everything that’s true or not ,but keep me well informed  about the whole story and your role.  and never ever try n keep something hidden from me”. Then he had smiled and said it’s better to lay open all your cards. I should know at least what I’m dealing with. She had managed to draw a faint smiled to hide her fear .  He was like a mind reader. He sensed her discomfort. To ease it out he had hold her hand and drawn smooth circles around it. 

In a calm and soothing voice he had said. I’m not a perfect Man Nitansha! n I know it. It would take sometime to know each other completely. But most importantly trust should be there . From this day onwards I promise to trust you with all my heart and want you to do the same. 
Then he started “well u know in the past, I used to like a girl. We were in a relationship. we both loved each other. But love was not enough. She had a different definition of love and mine was not complimentary to hers. we did not complete each other and our equations didn’t get balanced. We got separated. I used to see her every day in the college n every day was a torture”. Pain reflected in his eyes. Nitansha could read all those unspoken words , She could see all the unshed tears starting to melt down the glacier n she could sense a Part of Siddharth leaving him , leaving him for good . She could see him breaking into pieces. Her heart ached to collect those pieces and reform it something of her own. He continued “after a few days I stopped going college to avoid her. She got to know about it. One day she came to my doorstep . Papa asked me to meet her somewhere outside . We went to our Riverside spot. There she lectured me about How she was not the perfect one for me. Enlightened her faults Highlighted my Bests. But it’s not easy , U know. It’s not easy to watch your dream house getting shattered and to sit there without being able to do something. Even when your own engineer starts pointing about your fault. Even though u know u have done your best. Even though u know it were meant to be broken it’s not easy to accept that. I was in a trance . It would be a lie if I tell you that I’m over her. But I promise I would never compare you with her neither Would I like you to be her. I want another chance at love, at life n that’s with you.. ” Nitansha could not hold back anymore she wanted to weep badly. she wanted to leap into his warms. She wanted to Comfort him n may be take little comfort in his being. She wanted to collect those small pieces of his heart and wanted to keep them locked in a small box and wanted to throw the key into the ocean. Or to somewhere none else could find it. While She started to collect those shattered pieces She forgot, the broken pieces could sting. When Siddharth asked her about her past relationships She felt the pain of internal injury. She felt the mirror is the deadliest when shattered. Apart from reflecting your deeds zoomed and focused to a multiple times, it has the ability to tear the flesh and make you bleed.

She just smiled and told him about everyone who had ever proposed her n whom she had rejected . From that day onwards They had open access to all their letters and emails.  

The bell rang , making her return to the reality. She prepared her apology speech. Took in a long breath and opened the door. But he wasn’t there .He had sent the driver instead. He asked about him. The driver said he was busy. She felt a pang of sorrow . In their marriage of two years Siddharth had never missed the opportunity to kiss her good bye.. 

As she sat in the Car , n it started rolling,She opened the Email.  

Kaira had written! 

Dear Nitansha,

Arav is no more! 

The impact of those 4 words were so heavy that she felt someone has knocked her head with a heavy iron rod and snatched away the ground beneath her. Her head started spinning , She didn’t know how to react . So much was happening around her,like she was in a movie hall n some one was taking interest in all the tragic scenes , Like it was in a fast forwarded motion n she couldn’t find the remote to stop it. She continued reading the letter with eyes full of tears..

“I don’t know how much you know about me, But let’s hope at least u know me. I won’t spend time in formalities and directly tell u the story you never got to know about, whose consequences u know but the process you are unaware of. 

We (Me and Arav) were researching under the same guide. We both were Indians , believing in same culture, having some aspirations, facing the same problem of adjustments, Surviving to withstand the stress and to come out as the best. In this maddening crowd where we knew no body yet every body was polite enough to return your open eyed gazes with a humble smile,we were like a mismatch piece of a puzzle. U know it was not wrong. It was just new, it was odd, it was different. 

U must be thinking how come I’m so, comfortable in narrating these to you !! Well you were never an intruder to me. I have known so much about you that I doubt whenever someone wants to hear my life story it would be incomplete without mentionig you. let it, coming back to the point , We were stuck in a crowd which was in a race to overcome each other. Mornings turned​ into evenings , evenings to nights but the lights ! Those lights never went off . Like they were afraid of sleeping, like If they sleep some one would take advantage of that time n make their dream come true only to have patent on his name. The city never sleeps. They never take rest. They find comfort in beating each other. You were in the best institute of India . I know you must have known what hard work is. but trust me when I’m saying here, our Hard work is nothing compared to theirs . We tried to adjust. We tried to stand in the crowd then realized the crowd was changing within the blink of eye, everyone was being replaced in a jiffy . We tried to walk, we increased our pace, we ran , we stumbled, we rose, again ran, whenever we got tiered we draged  ourselves .. We were afraid if we don’t keep up with their speed we would be lost. N after loosing our family our relations we had only ourselves . We could not afford to lose us. 
Aarav! U know him .U know how competitive he was. Well he was like a fire, spreading his wings with whatever opportunity he got. He always kept himself busy. He was the guides favorite. Me!? Well let’s say I was not the best yet I managed to be in the toppers lists somehow. Our friendship Started when we completed our thesis and there was a party to celebrate. He was boozed to the levels of professional addicts. He had no sense of what he was doing. Someone requested me to play the violin . I started with a Happy note, but didn’t know how I ended up with a classical melancholic tune. before I took my leave from the stage, he came up to the stage n requested me to Play the tune once more. I didn’t know what probed me to grant his wish , May be it was that thing in his eyes , Which was clouded like a storm , yet their was lingering burn like a spark of lightning stroke. I felt I was trapped in a raging Strom. He silently Strummed his guitar. First slowly then Furiously, changing from high notes to lower . Then he started singing. A song so, soothing yet evoking the turmoil of emotions at a time . I wondered whether the vodka was strong or the ‘cocktail’ . 

He was singing to us, but I could see him complaining​​, could see his pent up frustrations , the unfairness of his life, the foggy image of his future. The uncertainty of his actions n the irrationality of his thoughts. He was aware of all these. He wanted to rush from them , yet he wanted to cling to them. They had become his addiction. A maddening addiction. That time I realized Addiction is not when you  destroy yourself in the pit of alcohol  or weeds. It can be a maddening restlessness where u feel numb , it’s the urge to leave all control and hide yourself in the desire to be found . It’s like throwing yourself in the ocean coz u know ocean returns back everything, but not knowing that it might change you from a person to a body, it may kill YOU in the process. 

A gut wrenching emotion surged inside me. An urge to Take him in the arms, an urge to ran hand through his curly locks n to let him cry his heart out,To hide him from the world, to cure all his wounds , to make him understand , to understand him , To protect him , To be by his side , To walk that extra mile for him, to wait for the eternity . I think What I felt that night was new to me. No one has ever made me that restless.. it was like mirror neurons were transferring his restlessness, his anxiety, his heartaches , a part of his soul to me . our soul connected over an eye contact. His eyes full of stories caught the eagerness of my learning eyes , held it, trapped it n bound me in it forever.
He used to tell me how it’s not about love yet it’s all about love. 
He had told me about you. Don’t worry!! all the beautiful things . He had told me about his parents, his friends but mostly all his talks revolved around you. 

The moment you had rebelled against seniors, the moment when he had envied you for stealing the lime light . The moment when you had actually stolen the limelight beating him in the guitar quest,the moment when he had taken the revenge in semester results. The moment prof.dutta had put you two together in a project group . The moment you had together ruined his lab. The moment he had put the blame on you and the moment you took all the blame upon yourself.The moment He had apolozised . And the moment you had forgiven. The moment he had shared his feelings and the moment you had gone down on your knees .  His moments , your moments and when they merged to be your moments. your careless attitudes, his responsibility towards you. His aloofness ,your sensitivity. His grave arrogancy,and your easy going jovial nature, He had told me everything .. If you go by his words it was all that a physical balance needs to stick it’s needle at zero. He had also informed me the immigration factor also, That turned the equation into an inequality. He wanted to fly high but you were not ready to leave the ground yet. your dreams were to live with your closed ones. And he had aspired to live for his closed ones. How silly n young u have been!! Had you realized that ,you  both were living by your closed ones, you might have stuck together. 

A single drop of tear rolled down her cheeks. 

  

The letter further read.

 Well we kind of started taking fancy into each other. Perhaps he found the perfect pillow for himself n I found the Shoulder . I were there by his side. In every ups and downs. He used to call me his support system . I was everything to him, his guide, his confident , his best friend , his soulmate, everything except for being the love of his life.But he was everything for me. My love and my life. 

After learning about your marriage, He kept himself locked in a room for days. Even I wasn’t allowed to enter. His parents were Stressed. They even left India n showed up here . But he wouldn’t listen to anyone. After a weak We Couldn’t take it anymore . We broke the door and went there. There he was . U know what! u would think he would be drown in misery , Would be sitting there in dark pit of alcohol n would be crying over you. but what we found, completely surprised us. He was working on another thesis on dwarf stars . He was surrounded by crumpled papers , pens and scales erasers n everything. His parents was too dumfounded to speak anything. His mother was just relived to see his son in a sane state . She went to offer her prayer. His father followed her.

 I could see the Small weary lines in his eyes, The furrow of his forehead . The uneven breathing pattern , The heavy sighs n that nerve wrenching restlessness. I felt incompetent standing there n not knowing what to do. I called his name. At first he didn’t answer . Then again, I called Arav ,he noded slightly. I went to him put a hand on his shoulder n looked down into his eyes. He stood up from his chair n went to the window. I followed him . He looked at the crescent. I looked at the crescent on the earth, incomplete yet hidden by the shadow of his past. I couldn’t bear the silence. I hugged him . N burried my face in his chest. He was not responsive at first . I couldn’t hold on anymore, seeing him breaking down piece by piece broke something inside me. I dare not attempt to readjust those pieces. I feared I could not face the bruises of his heart . I knew I couldn’t have that Arav back. I broke down into tears. He hold me there..hugged me tight and silently I could sense tears drops falling on my head. when my sobs restored in to silent tears I looked up to him He broke down at once. This time I was the one holding him. I didn’t utter a word. He cried the whole night. N tired he slept there in my lap. 
The darkest night passed. The usual Arav was back . But I knew He had burried the part associated with u in some dark corner of his heart. I didn’t probe further. Some memories are meant to be hidden. Some wounds are meant to be un treated. Some stories better be left unsaid n some water better not go under the bridge. 

After a year he proposed me. I said “Yes”. I knew what I’m getting was not the complete Arav but I couldn’t refuse what I was getting. I knew I’m getting more than I deserve. 
U know some are not that lucky . Some get the full moon while others admire the crescent. For me he was the crescent. Incomplete for the rest of the world but I knew the shadow that was covering his better half. He was the symbol of life, good n bad , black n white, light and shadow , full yet half . I knew I was not the one to complete him, for he was complete in his full glory. I was meant to be a star in his sky. 

Not every one has the glory of being Radha . Some wives are as cursed as Rukmini . Not everyone has the dedication of being Meera . Some have to find their solace in the fire of Accepting the past, like Rukmini. Krishna Was Rukmini’s yet he belonged with Radha. Everyone praises Meera for for her dedication, but somewhere the pain, the journey, the tears and the fears of Rukmini remains hidden.

It was a good journey. Like said earlier he was my everything and I was his everything except for love. We were like the bestest of pals. Who could spend the forever in each other’s company. We were like the siblings who Understand each others words even though they were unspoken. like Opponent we argue, we fight but then like children we forget those. Life was good. It was a sweet journey. Only the chemistry, that spark was missing. you were not there. Still Your memory was lingering in the air. Did I felt jealous!! Yes, but sometimes I felt relieved. Coz I know he couldn’t live without you.like you were the oxygen to his breaths  . I could sense  something was eating him up.But I didn’t know what. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I asked him many times but he wouldn’t utter a word. I felt sometimes contacting you for help but feared that would cause trouble in your life. 

On 20.04.16,(last night, even 8hrs haven’t passed) He met with an accident. Car accident. Can you believe it! He was such a cautious driver. No alcohol intake, No case of break failure. Just that the Car was in 120km/hr speed n he couldn’t see a speeding truck coming from the turning. I met Him in the hospital. 
He Was lying on the death bed . U know he asked me to forgive him.He confessed that the guilt of not giving me the love I deserved, not being able to erase you from his memory was eating him up. The feeling of being unfair to ‘us’ maddend him so much that he speeded up to an extent that  could numb his mind.He Handed me a diary. Asked me to read it n then to hand it over to you.U know what his parting words were

It’s not about love,still it’s all about love

Looking down at the retrospect , I realized Even the full moon is engulfed in the shadow on a new moon day. His funeral is in your city, Banaras. Hope you would pay him a visit for the last time. It’s too much to ask, I know. But he deserves this. so, I beg you Nitansha. 

_Kaira . 

She held the letter to her heart and cried it out. 
As the flight took off she wondered to the day of her marriage. How her mother had promised her not to Speak anything about Arav Infront of Siddharth. How she had restrained her from doing so giving her ‘Kasam’ . How she had lectured her every time that past is past. N she should not let it ruin her future. And now she had even ruined her present. She had broken Siddharth’s trust.  Arav is no more. In the airport when she had called her mother , she accused her of ruining everything on her own. She didn’t know what fate had planned for her. But at that moment She wanted to pay a last tribute to the parting soul. May  the soul that Had already burried in her get united with his soul at the holy bank Of Gangaa. She decided She would go to his funeral and upon returning she would go to Siddharth , n tell him all the truth. not that there was anything much to say. Then it’s up to him to accept her or not. 
The plane landed. she went straight to the ghat. Watching the fire burning his body , She burnt in the Fire too. She took a bath.

While returning ,Kaira hugged her. And handed her a diary. She took that with a shivering hand. And said “U know Kaira apart from Radha, Meera and Rukmaini , There were 16,000 gopis , who even after being rescued by Krishna n being with him, Didn’t belong to him”. With a faint uplift of her lips she bid farewell from kaira from herself, from him, from his memories and from the Past. 

In the end when it comes upon us it’s all about loving someone.

                                       _🎭Nayana🎭

Kaleidoscope

For him She was a gulal, intoxicating and full of life.. N for her he was the Holi, full of colors,full of emotions her favorite and her identity.

2017

She lied down and hovered into the mystic land of memories. As the Vast Arry of colors played Holi in the sky, she marvelled the beauty of the northern hemisphere. For the first time in a decade she felt connected to herself. The pink, green ,red,and streaks of violet  amalgamation in the sky matched the after Holi image of her Banaras. She realized the sky was playing tribute to her land . The sparks of electron and proton far away from the sun were creating the vivid illusion of colors flying in the air. The only difference was they could not color her body with their light. Yet they wore an uncanny resemblance with the colors , they dyed her soul with a happiness that had lost its touch from her life. The Game of colors over her head was like a show of fire works. Sometimes they brust into fits of color and sometimes like a rongoli arrange themselves into a pattern. So foreign yet in a sense so indigenous. His Words rang in her ear “wherever we may be , we would be connected. If by nothing else ,This sky will always be our roof”. She smiled. Her cheeks turned red. Somewhere far away the blue eyes of his saw the merry colors of yellow. Her fellow travelers saw the green of jealous seeing her. All the colors were there in her life ; perfectly arranged in a pattern to make the rainbow ashemed of its pride. But this wasn’t all. Her life didn’t have Her favorite black or his favourite white. Smiling she got transported to the Days she left behind.. To the days when she used to complain why aren’t they allowed to use  black and white colors in Holi…. And finally to the days when she got her answers within the questions..

🎭 10 years ago🎭

With the Dhol beating the thunders and the ‘pichkaris’ challenging the rain ,Bhang and paan took charge of  the new job offered to them i.e to paint the city in such a combination of colors that would put any modern art to shame. It was the day when people would get drunk by colors. Gulalls would intoxicate people only by spreading their color. Sweets , dance , music, and unlimited fun filled with crazyness was the essence of Holi. Holi wasn’t just a festival, for her it was an emotion . But unfortunately he was afraid of emotions. Theirs wasn’t a match made by cupid. They were arranged by the family, A couple made in heaven as they liked to say. It wasn’t her first Holi with him . By  this time she had known how he dreaded being dyed with colors. He was the Ultimate perfectionist who could not tolerate a single dot of mismatch, n it was a matter of his white kurta getting dyed in Gulalls . She Laughed imagining the scowl on his face when she would apply him color. This was her last Holi in India. She would have to go to abroad for higher studies. She didn’t know when she would get enough holidays to come back to him. So, she was determined to color him with her love. 

As a self established ritual, her Holi starts with him. So, After changing into white shalwar and suit She went to the Mandir. After doing Aarti she painted the feet of her elders. When she came to her room in search of him, he was no where to find. She smiled knowing he would be hiding behind the water tank on the roof top. So she started ascending the stairs. In a slow and calculated steps she covered the staircase without making any detectable sound. She went to the water tank and “boo” . But he wasn’t there. She got worried called his name. There was no response. She panicked for a moment. She hurridly stepped back as someone started calling her. When she was about to come out of the tank someone put a bucket of violet water on her. Shocked she started shouting. She wasn’t irritated by the sudden brust of colors. She was irritated coz it wasn’t him who had colored her first. She was dripping wet but she wasn’t the one to let it go. She threw the Vermillion in the direction of the attack. And ran down the stairs. She thought of going in search of him but someone dragged her out. Once she got engaged in the preparation she forgot herself. She danced into the beats of dhol. Danced with everyone and anyone who matched steps with her.But once in a while she felt restless. It seemed She couldn’t feel safe without him . Though there was color flying everywhere,she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the festivities. By the passing of time she grew more and more restless.. Children were running here and there throwing water balloons at each other. People were changing their masks. They were throwing everyone into the mud . Some were drinking bhangs and ladies were busy in dancing. They were smiling and enjoying. That’s what she liked about Holi. Every one forget their worries and enjoy themselves to the fullest. Though colored with gulals they seemed to drop their maks. There was no awakardness , no boundaries , no restriction. Holi was the perfect illusion of life god created for human. Wild, untamed , crazy and full of life.But it seems what he thought of Holi was a bit of hallucination. She Couldn’t be carefree without being with him.He was the protective shield for her. He used to guard her so, she could play a safe holi. Without him the whole Festival seemed colorless to her.Within a few minutes someone would come to her and apply color on her. She would fake a smile and repeat the gesture. When needed she even faked a smile or two. She tried his number but it showed out of coverage area. She started sensing a nervous attack. It had been lunch hour. N there was no trace of him since the morning. She took a few sips of thandai and bhang to calm her nerves . Without thinking she stepped out of the gate. She went to The Ghat to their spot. Where they used to sit and plan about their future. Again there she found herself to be alone. There was no Sign of him. But his aura was there. She could sense it . She smiled . Relief flooded through her. As she took a few steps ahead She stumbled upon someone. The sudden reflex of punching him in the gut was somehow turned into the sudden desire of slapping him hard. Without thinking twice she slapped him across his cheek. He was there in all his 6 ft glory smiling and welcoming all her angry outbrusts. Finally when she came to her sense she angryly threw her arm up in the air and with a sound of frustration stumped her feet in the sands. All the while he remained there watching her Various displays of moods . For him She was a gulal, intoxicating and full of life.. N for her he was the Holi, full of colors,full of emotions her favorite and her identity. They were so in love with each other. She was incomplete without him. The sound of chaotic murmures intrupted her train of thoughts . She came to her senses. There he was, in all his 6ft glory but not standing, lying on the river bank. Then she looked around and found they weren’t alone. He was wet and someone had painted him red on the head …

*A few days later* 
As someone threw a water balloon towards her ,She stared down at her saree. It was dripping wet but there has been no color on it. As she came out of her trance she took in her surroundings. She realized she was dreaming about a life she had left behind her. Now the widow home was her new residence and the white saree was her new identity. She smiled at the irony.She was wearing his favourite colour but he wasn’t there to appreciate. Her life had taken the shades of her favorite color but she could no longer approve. She realized Holi doesn’t include the two colors as they are the combination of all. Sometimes all these colors disappear from our life making it Blanche. And sometimes in a Newton’s disc they mix with each other to give white light. Sometimes all the gulals mix to create the darkest shade of black and as we go deeper into the fact they actually don’t reflect any light making it black.  How much we may say we all have different shades , in the end our life gets summarised under either of these two. Black or white. Good or bad, Gay or sad. Her last Holi was the last of her interaction with the colors . The last memories of her land. As they Washed down the Vermillion from her head and the colors on her dress ran away along with the water, she wiped away all the colors from her life. 

Back to 2017.

As the glorious display came to an end with the horizon bringing the new rays of hope along with the rising sun, her flash back came to an end. She sighed . After his departure she never had any courage to return to her city. Though she had knowingly avoided colors she couldn’t restrict her heart. Holi may mean many things to many people. But for her Holi still meant him. She was devoid of colors as she didn’t have any trace of him. She was denied of any attachment towards it as she could no longer associate herself with him,  yet she couldn’t restrict her heart against him. For her Holi means only him .

                                                -🎭Nayana🎭