Read Chapter 1 here: http://bit.ly/1LZJxmS
Sadness engulfed me as I watched the droplets of water hit my window. I hated rains. To elaborate on that, I hated rains in any city other that my hometown. Rains, everywhere else I have lived are like a joke. You put on your rubber boots, take your pretty umbrella and you are good to go. Then you watch people trying to hide from even the slightest drizzle. Hilarious!
Now imagine the craziest, most passionate lover you have ever had – if you have been lucky to have one. Remember the obsession? When all you wished for in a fight was to get out of it alive! Yet, you loved, you loved every bit of emotion and madness and insanity it would drive you to. You still, silently miss that part of yourself that could feel so deeply, even if it was anger and hurt, because all the ‘must haves’ in the world can not add up and fill the hole in a passionless self.
Those were the rains I grew up with. For days, cascading so heavily it would tear down anything that tried to come between you and it. Pouring endlessly, until our ears got used to the sound of water gushing through pipes, clouds roaring and the window panes praying for mercy. How I wish I could jump in that knee deep water, on my way back to school or sit on the short wall in my courtyard and watch the rain flood our garden. How I wish that short wall and garden still existed! I miss that rain! I missed my crazy lover!
Passion was what drove us towards each other. An overwhelming feeling that everything you know your life should be is one step closer today. The thrill you feel in the sound of each other’s names! That feeling of new blossoming love, when your heart feels like it was never hurt before, when you are convinced there are no ghosts under your bed and when you believe if everything else comes to an end, you won’t be alone! That very ardor spiralled into adversities and drove us into a colossal tornado of emotions we did not know we had, leave alone the capacity to construe the frenzy at heart. It was brutal, for us and our art. So we decided to amputate each other from our lives, to save what could be salvaged.
Hypnotized by the grey sky, I lay motionless, watching the world slowly turn dark before it would be artificially illuminated. I would often sit in my balcony to watch people, who did not bother with the curtains, and observe lives in their most comfortable setting. A mother cooking dinner, kids running around, news channels, TV serials, dinner table discussions, people contemplating over their lives. Now, as I lay there, I hoped someone was watching me.
For me the nights had always been more alive than the day. Something inside me would wake up, as everyone else decided to surrender to torpidity. But today, it felt as if someone had pushed me under a bus and I was just recovering. I felt exhausted. With all the strength I could gather and a sliver of false hope, I turned my head, wishing to see the silhouette of a man standing in the corner diagonal to mine, possessed by his canvas. He wasn’t there!
My thoughts drifted back to our first meet. We had just exited that bar and I did not know what to expect out of it all.
To be Continued…Share This: