“Come back. Please. Somehow,” he muttered. Maybe he forgot that memories never reply. Memories just remind us what once we had. Memories, for us, are the assets but for him, were the heaviest liability. Picture of his beloved vanished as he opened his eyes and watched the reality which his heart always denied but, as usual, mind won the war and made him to believe; she is no more.
Several years ago she left him without a prior notice; maybe death was in haste. That day he locked himself in his room, cried, wept, yelled, and broke the vase and after some hours he wiped his face with his injured palm and unlocked the door. His elder sister exhaled a sigh of relief that he unlocked the door. Little did she know that something has been locked inside forever! His mother, seeing his wounded palm, ran towards him and pressed a cloth over the cut. Little did she know that something inside is bleeding and shall bleed forever.
“Is that paining?” mother asked. “No, it’s alright,” he lied. Faking and hiding emotions were never the fruits of his basket, who would have guessed that they shall be his favorite salad. He tied the cloth firm and walked out of house. His sister, his better half, knew it well that nothing would work, so she stayed quiet and mother too didn’t say a word.
He came out of the building and directed his walk at the streets to her house. He remembered how he used to walk these streets with a brisk of joy in his heart, thinking of meeting her, thinking of the way for greeting her, thinking of the prettiness she carried with her smile but today he walks thinking how she may have looked with her forever closed eyes. Anger and sorrow when mixed creates potion of regret, he tasted the bitter one right now. Streets on which he once ambled and bounced, today he hobbles and waddles. The streets, on which they walked together, enjoying each other’s company, were now traveled by him alone. He watched the stationary store where he used to meet her on school holidays, for buying blue ball point pen as a cover for the actual reason; watching each other’s face every day was one of their friendship-rituals. Someone from inside yelled her name, with grief. He moved further dragging his inner self to face the truth. At the T-point, stood the ice cream vendor, same vendor from whom they bought their choc-bar and butterscotch quite often while returning back to home from school. He went to the vendor and gave him a ten rupee note, clearing her yesterday’s debt.
Vendor asked, “You alone? Where is she?”
His mouth said, “I don’t know.” His heart said, “In memories.”
He finally reached and stood firm outside her house. Staring at the window of her room, he waited for her to come and say, “Just five minutes.” A wave of her last October wind pushed the curtains aside and showed the room where she got electrocuted in the morning. Tears rolled in his eyes. He clutched his firmest fist. Everything was quiet yet he heard drumming; chaos of inner self. He was the metal boy of his class but he realized that it takes something else to be strong. Strength required to get in her house wasn’t available in his soul. He dropped his head down, accepting his defeat. He accepted the truth. He made some decisions, some promises and some rules for his life right there.
He turned and walked away from her house. After two hours of wandering he returned home. Father along with brother, sister and mother was waiting for him. He entered the hall and saw his birthday cake on the table laughing at him. He made one more decision and killed his birthdays forever. After all he was gifted her death on his birthday! He rushed to his room, banged the door, locked it, took out his admission form for tenth grade and added an extra ‘A’ in front of his name, and made her immortal.
Eleven years passed, even without any hope, he continues to stand in front of her house on this day, staring at the window and waiting for, ‘Just five minutes.’
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