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Just Saying

Just Saying

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

An Ugly Love Story, by HAC. Chapter-2

A night full of tears can make your morning lighter. She cried for hours that night and the very next day she was all cheerful about her life. Arjun didn’t expect her there in the coffee shop again. However, she did come. Not because she had a thing for him, but because there are so many routes to travel in life, but the routes most familiar are the ones where you build your house, make it a home, live there and never leave.
She did not wish any alteration in her life, she wanted this life. She liked the table where they used to sit and gossip about the bitchy girls, big boss (her favorite) or anything that was present around them. She liked everything.

“I also like your voice,” He appeared out of nowhere, as if reading her mind, and sat next to her. He wasn’t wearing his uniform today. He was possibly on leave. She looked at him like a Smurf look at the other Smurf.

“Stop insulting me. I’m UGLY and there is no better way to say this. I don’t have a pretty pair of eyes or a vocal cord hampered by Cadbury. I know, I don’t have a slim figure. Large is the size of my tees. You know what ‘L’ means to a girl? And, even for a moment if we forget about the shapes and sizes, my face looks like Japan after World War-II. You shouldn’t be making fun of me in public.”  Her voice had the a genuine shiver of depression. As she sipped her coffee, she felt his hand over her hand.

“If you ever want to see the real world, blindfold yourself for a day,” He paused, “Every person reveals himself/herself to you when you are blindly into them.”

“Why are we even talking about this? We should not be…” Her mind was having a second thought. Was she a good person? She didn’t even know. She just knew that God was so harsh on her when He created her. If not beautiful, He could have made her a petite average looking girl. She was way too angry on god.

“Can I meet you tonight at 8? Anywhere you wish to meet. Maybe… I can change what you think.”
She did agree to it that day. Perhaps! She too was tired with this thought of ugliness. If not look, maybe she too wanted to feel beautiful. That night they met at an ordinary terrace of her building. She was wearing an XL t-shirt with a big Micky Mouse on it and purple printed pajamas followed by chappals. There was nothing extra-ordinary about  that night but something happened that brought them together.

“Can you see me?” He asked her. They were sitting next to each other. All lights on the terrace were off and moon was sliced enough to not to act like a zero watt light bulb.

“I can see your outline,” She reverted back and joined her hands on her knees.

“What do you feel is the most beautiful thing around you?” He asked her and could predict her answer as well.

“Stars,” She said without thinking.

“Then what about the moon?” He asked.

“It is also beautiful.”

“These are the things you can see, close your eyes and tell me, what do you think is the most beautiful thing around you?”

He closed his eyes too.

“I cannot feel anything,” She said.

He held her hand. His heart skipped a beat, her heart caught a beat. It wasn’t an answer that could be expressed in words. Love is something like that, a silent answer to an invisible question. Most of the people complaining that they cannot find love, because it is the answer to be felt. How about closing your eyes, getting blind, and wait for a tap on your hand. Love will come, blind, warm on the skin of your hand.
They both opened their eyes and he felt the outline of her face getting widened at cheeks. Her outline was smiling at him. His outline was staring at her.

She blinked in the dark.

He blinked in the dark.

*****
Shimla: Few Years Later.


Her hands were shivering as she started tapping on her cell phone’s screen. She was short of energy. She had now become pale and petite. The cell phone could fall out of her hand any moment. She held the mic icon on its screen and started recording the audio. “Come back, please… I need to close my eyes and feel the answers to my questions.”

The cell phone finally dropped down from her hand. As her thumb moved away from the screen, the voice note got recorded and was sent automatically. A single tick appeared in front of it. The other tick, which meant that the texts were delivered, didn’t appear, just like the last nine messages.


The cell phones kissed the floor and its screen turned black.




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