Of Curses and Goodbyes
He stopped at the window display. There was something that had piqued his interest. Something that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. A scarf maybe, or perhaps the boots. Yes definitely the boots. They were an odd color. A color you wouldn’t find anywhere else, an ugly color actually.
She had had one of those boots. Ones that were so ugly they made you stand out. She had always hated her boots, but was one of those people who didn’t do much about things they hated. He on the other hand had found those boots unique, strange as they were. They suited her somehow, because just like her boots, she was ugly… in a more endearing way though.
He thought of her. He seldom did. But today, somehow, he couldn’t keep himself from thinking of her. He had seen her picture somewhere, very recently. She looked different now. Not beautiful, no she would never be that, but prettier. Like she was finally happy. Like she had finally found some peace.
He remembered the day when she had said her last goodbyes. He had taken her in his arms and kissed her lips. Not because he wanted to kiss her, but because he just didn’t know how to make her stop crying. Just before she had decided to leave, he had called her one night and told her the truth, that he had never felt anything for her and that he had forced himself to, because she was such a nice person, but had not been successful. She had taken it surprisingly well. She had swallowed it without the usual hysterics. It all went so well, that he wondered why he hadn’t done it before. Of course later, she had started to stare right past him and had started to act all crazy and weird, but at that time, that particular moment, she had seemed so perfectly still and calm.
He remembered the night they walked on the cobbled street right outside Raheja Arcade, arm in arm, their bodies tensed. He remembered exactly how she looked like. Her round face shone in the moonlight. Her nose pin was looking especially radiant. She wore a light green T shirt and had gray pedal pushers. She was wearing those ugly boots of hers.
He had chosen to remain quiet because there was not much that he had to say. She had decided to move back to Delhi and he knew that his chat with her last night had triggered off her plans to leave. He was feeling really sorry for her but knew that it would be the best thing, for both of them.
She of course was silent because that’s how she usually was – weird and emotionally unavailable. Looking back, he didn’t really understand why the two of them were together, even for the brief time that they were together. She had appeared so intriguing, and of course, she was intriguing and engaging till the last goodbye but he simply didn’t know what to do with that, how to deal with it.
On that particular night, she had looked at him very intently and then taking his hands in hers, had spoken softly into his ears, almost as if cursing him for life. She had said, ‘You will never forget me, because you will never find anyone who will love you like I do. And when I am gone, you will pine for me.’
Her words had had the desired effect and when he had reached her place, he stopped for longer than he had intended to. Throughout the drive to her home, he had kept thinking about how much he would miss her. He didn’t love her, but he was smitten. Were these two really all that same? She could touch him in these forbidden places and evoke desires that he had never known before, pleasures that he never knew existed. And yet, when he thought of her, his mind always drew a blank. He just couldn’t feel anything. He never saw her only as a good lay. No that would have been disrespectful to her. She was everything that he would have wanted to see in his future bride. She fed him, fussed over him, loved him and the sex was just amazing. But there was one thing missing… he didn’t love her.
Over the three years, her words had rang in his year every time he set foot in Koramangala. He would look at the empty seats in the Barista cafe on block 4 and think of her. He also thought of her every time he read a poem or ordered a plate of pasta. His new love interest, this beautiful catholic girl would also sometimes remind him of her. He didn’t want to think of her but simply had no other choice. It was almost as if she had cursed him. Later, when he had run into her again, he had deliberately not looked at her, deliberately ignored her. He had wanted to forget her and had wanted to erase her from his memories, but she always clawed her way in.
Time did heal the gaping hole that her insignificant presence had left in his life, but he had had to fight for it really hard. In fact, he had had to leave not only Bangalore, but also India to lose the memories of her. And still on some days, some peculiarly odd ones, her smile would flash in his thoughts and he would recount the emotional shit that she had drawn him through. And on those particular moments, he felt a mixture of hatred and pity towards her. A feeling that he just could not understand.
Anonymous says:
Hey beautifully written i can so very much relate to this post … !! everything being so perfect yet u dont feel that u love that person and move away and then struggle .. n no matter how hard u try u just cant understand the whole feeling.
cheers buddy.
April 5th, 2010 at 02:50 pm
Anonymous says:
its really nice,beautifull story,
April 6th, 2010 at 01:51 pm
Anonymous says:
beautifully written..the feeling are described so vividly… evoked a sense of realness into it. an excellent breathtaking piece of a two-minute read.
May 26th, 2010 at 11:28 pm