Where Oceans Meet by Himanshu Chhabra

Where Oceans meet is the debut novel of Himanshu Chhabra (Himanshu Appie Chhabra), released in June, 2019, this book is a dream project which turned into a reality.
Scroll down to know more about the book.

Blurb:

L O S T

Jai, who doesn't know his name yet, wakes up every day in a struggle to know his identity. Battling and tossing between his nightmares and crowd of Mumbai, he grabs onto his hope tight.  Three months in the forest of Humans, he keeps on looking for his could-be name, his could-be identity, and his could-be life.

He is a survivor.

meets Radhika,

L O S T

Radhika fights against her odds, steadfastly struggling through her own battles.

She is a warrior.

Radhika recognises him in a bar and initiates a conversation.

 You look familiar, she tells him.

They get drunk and subconsciously end up in an apartment, their Apartment, where they get to know that they have been married to each other for years.

This book takes you on a journey of a survivor's breakthrough, a warrior's zenith, their past, present and future.

About the Author:

Himanshu Chhabra is a Tax Adviser and a Consultant, who had no intention to be a writer. There is no back story to it. Writing just happened one day on its own and kept on happening again and again. Then he started to enjoy it and realized that it was what he had wanted to do all along.

He started with blogging in 2012 with a blog named ‘Purple Pen’, which had over 4.5 million views. The blog left a stirring impact on the blogging industry and thousands of readers appreciated his writings.

He has been part of many anthologies such as ‘Uff ye Emotions 1 & 2’ and ‘25 Strokes of Kindness’ and has also been a part of various projects as a ghost writer. Beside writing, he also enjoys an intimate bond with photography. 

He is from Hisar, Haryana. If you want to get this book signed you know where to find him.

As a hybrid author who enjoys stiff drinks [read: water], music, late night drives, romance with universe and five-star reviews on his books, he can be found on facebook.com/HACwrites and would love to hear from you at officialHimanshuchhabra@gmail.com

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The Weird Kind of Love, A Short Story by Himanshu Appie Chhabra

“We can never have a romantic relationship,” he finally said, seeing her volume down the music again.
“This was supposed to be a romantic late night drive where we hold hands and listen to music.”
“And?” she questioned.
“And, you are reducing the volume repeatedly,” he was annoyed.
“Because, I need to talk to you,” she complained.
“You will end up spoiling a romantic night.”
“Who said I think late night drives with music is romantic? It all happens in movies. In real we both are weird. You are weird. I am weird. To me, romance isn’t having a glass of champagne with you but to have a coke and complain about how expensive champagne is. It isn’t in the candlelight dinners but how we always end up outside Dominos at midnight, just before it is supposed to close down and have choco-lava cakes in our car. It isn’t in a movie date where we share a popcorn, but how we let everyone else go and form a queue in the interval and when everyone comes back we go and pick the first thing we see, quickly.”
“You always pick Aloo-patties,” he finally laughed.
“That’s not the point. Let’s not focus on having a perfect romantic evening with perfect romantic music and focus on this weird kind of love. There are a different kind of love out there and only our kind of one is real for us. The weird kind of one,” she spoke.
“I am not weird, you are weird,” he punched on her arm.
“I am not weird, you are weird,” she punched back.
“Up for a choco lava cake?” she asked and turned down the volume again. This time he didn’t complain.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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The First Consequence, A very short story by HAC

“It wasn’t really a great idea to invite me over for a drink right after your break up this evening.” She placed the bottle on the coffee table and comforted him with a hug.

He looked pissed, still hugged back, trying to be cheerful.

“What happened to your eyes? Someone made you cry or didn’t sleep last night?” he seemed really concerned. “I am extremely sorry, I didn’t know you were in such a bad state, else I wouldn’t have called you.”

She opened the bottle in response. She was too tired of answering people, when they already knew it. “Let me bring the glasses,” he excused himself, noticing she didn’t want to answer. He came back with ice, two glasses, and snacks.

“Since when you started to drink it neat?” he questioned, seeing her putting no soda or water in it.

“Since the day my boyfriend started behaving like a real d*ck,” the glasses were clinched and she found her throat burn, as she emptied it.

“Don’t remind me of my girlfriend,” he gulped down his sorrows too and corrected himself, “Ex-girlfriend.”

“Why people fall in love? It was really a stupid idea to make him my boyfriend. We were good as friends.” It was a long conversation and the bottle was almost empty by then.

“They fall in love because they are unaware of the consequences,” he kissed her out of nowhere. Their lips met, and she kissed back. Alcohol here was to be blamed.

“And, what are those consequences?” she broke the kiss only to kiss him again.

“If we were aware of them we would never fall for each other repeatedly,” the glass fell off the table as she leaned over him and lay on his chest.

“I’m sorry for pissing you off,” she finally said.

“I’m sorry for making you cry,” he too didn’t keep her sorry for too long.

They both slept right there on the couch. It was the most comfortable nap for both of them. “We can never fall out of love buddy,” she blabbered before surrendering her mind to sleep completely.

“The first consequence,” he closed his eyes and disposed a sigh of relief.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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Grenades and Soap Bubbles, A short story by HAC

“The fault in our stars,” he chuckled. She looked at him as a murderer of the moment and went back to reading. Their flight was delayed, while he was getting bored, she almost drowned in her book.

“I’m a grenade and at some point I’m going to blow up,” he disturbed her again with a quote from the book and waited for her to complete it.

“And I would like to minimize the causalities, Okay?” she completed it with a smile.

“Okay,” he smiled back.

“I didn’t know you had this quote still in your skull, what else do you remember?” he has her full attention.

“I remember that no one told Hazel Grace that she was not a grenade, instead she was a soap bubble,” he chipped wafers in his mouth.

She waited for him to explain. He didn’t. But kept looking at her.

She gave it a thought and put her opinion on it “Soap bubble? Yeah! I guess. She surely short-lived but didn’t hurt anyone. Like a soap bubble, she floated through everyone’s life and spread happiness. Everyone around her carried the same spark in their eyes that one can see in a kid’s eyes, laughing and clapping at a soap bubble,” she closed the book and ran her fingers on the cover, as if feeling it.

“No, I meant somebody blew through her mother to bring her into life,” he laughed. “But you make sense too.”

She laughed with him, and declared him a total jerk. Totally unaware of the fact that he had seen her cry while reading the book. And, he chose to be a boy first that could make her smile with lame jokes before being a man who could comfort her in his arms and wipe her tears off. Because, wiping off tears is soothing, but making her believe that tears do not exist… is a whole new story. 

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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Magician, A Short story by Himanshu Chhabra

“You are a charmer,” she said, curling up under my arm so that my hand rested on her head. She read an abstract from my laptop before concluding this statement.

Before I could give her a response, my mind stopped me to notice the beauty of how we were surrendered with the darkness and how she soaked all the light genesis out of my laptop screen. The light was evident of the intensity with which she was looking at me for the response.

“Magician to be precise,” I finally responded. With no clue why I said that, and what I was supposed to say next. She made herself more comfortable in my hold. And, in that particular marathon of second, I felt the glory of every new cell she touched on my skin and sadness of every cell she untouched. I felt my skin fragmented by the fragrance of her skin.

“I am a magician. Have you seen them doing their tricks? Have you seen how magic works? How they take all your attention to one irrelevant point and do something where your attention isn't. Same goes with me. I will look deep into your eyes, as if I will dig your soul out of them. I will neatly keep all your attention with my eyes. Your eyes quaffing mine and then I will put my palm on your waist. You will think that you got my trick. That I will do something with your waist. You will pretend that all your attention is in my eyes but your mind will secretly follow my moves on your waist. How limited I am with the way I touch you, soft and tranquil. And, I will do nothing. I will just hold you for a while and then move my hand away. You won’t have a clue that your heart isn’t there anymore. I would steal your heart with stillness of my eyes and coldness of my touch. That's how you will know that I am not a charmer but magician.”

She smiled.

“I don’t believe you.” She folded my laptop and we were accompanied by complete darkness.

“You don’t believe what?” I asked.

She held my hand and placed it on her waist, “That your hand will land between my second base and the third base and you will pull it away.” She pressed her lips against mine.

She was right. I didn’t pull my hand away. (I won’t tell you where they went. Ummm… Abracadabra, they disappeared.) The magician was amused itself the way he was tricked by his own trick.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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Snowflakes and Samar, Chapter-2 by Himanshu Chhabra

“I will manage, you just take care of her,” He told his grandfather and he smiled in return. He was visiting his grandparents after almost a year. He wasn’t a guy who would visit his tiny village every once in a while. There wasn’t any railway station nearby, not even a bus stand. However, there was just one bus stop that somehow managed to stop two or three buses a day.

He checked his wristwatch and did a few calculations in his mind. He still had time. On his way, he bought a box of strawberries and filled his water bottle from hand pump.  He had a thing for strawberries since first standard. He used to believe that they are candies and are manufactured in factories.

A breeze full of sand hit his face and he brought out his shades. He ate the red part of the strawberry and left the green leaves in the air. Sun wasn’t at its best, but was playing hide and seek with the clouds. The clouds were all grey and black.  It could rain any moment. He reached the bus stop and almost leaned on the pole.

A humming distracted his thoughts and he turned around to find a girl. Hair tied neatly on the back of her head, he could manage to see her face quite clearly. With depth of black kohl in her eyes and the glow of pink on her lips, her face grasped his sight for a long while. Her ears held earphones that river down her waist getting lost in her denim’s pocket.  His eyes traveled through the wire. She was beautiful.

He tried to get her attention by walking to the center of the road and looking far away to spot the bus. She ignored him completely.

He got some attention when it started to drizzle and he opened his umbrella. She plugged out her earphones and looked around for a shelter. There wasn’t any except the umbrella followed by an attention seeking stranger.

“Hi,” she tried to initiate a conversation.

“Hi,” He pulled out his shades. Shades in rain, not so cool.

“Can I?” She pointed at the umbrella and then at the sky.

He nodded.

“Thank you,” she said and ran to stand next to him. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. The beauty was magnified. She pulled out the rubber band from her wet hair and rolled it over her wrist.

“So, do you often come here to listen to the songs,” He looked into her eyes and smiled.

“No, actually I was going back home with my boyfriend. We had a little argument, it heated up a bit and he decided to push me out of his car. But, look he dropped me to a bus stop. How sweet of him,” She said sarcastically. She was all okay when she starting the sentence but was almost fuming when she completed it.

“Look at those clouds, how beautiful they are,” there were these dark grey clouds with silver linings, decorating the sky.  “These clouds are same as humans. Not always white, not always grey. 

Sometimes white, sometimes grey. And those who are grey, carry thunders along. They break into drops and fall sooner or later and become white again. Same is with human beings. They soak themselves with too much of feelings and emotions and become grey. They hold thunder in their hearts.  When they become too heavy, they break down into drops and fall.”

The cracks in sky become bigger and the size of drops grew. He look around and found a box generally used to transport fruits. He places it near the road and then look around to find a stick. He found one.

“Can I have your hair bands?” He asked as a few droplets manage to slide down his cheek and neck.

She rolled out hairbands from her wrist and passed them to him.

He pushed an end of the stick in the soil and tied the umbrella on the other. The box was tiny but was big enough to accommodate both of them. They sat down and he opened the box of strawberries. He offered her and she pulled out one from the box.

“You have got green eyes,” she bluntly sliced the strawberry into two pieces with her teeth.

“Wow, and you have got a pair of black eyes…” He picked one for himself.

“Black are usual, green eyes aren’t,” she ate the second half of the strawberry she was holding.

“If you look at it this way, everything here is unusual. I have hardly visited this place twice in my life time. Same goes for you. It’s the fifth day of January. Have you ever seen a rainfall in January? I never carry an umbrella. It belongs to my dad. They left it here last year. It was his favorite so I picked it to surprise him. Not even a single thing should be here right now. Still, we are here, having strawberries in heavy rain under a yellow umbrella.”

“What else is unusual?” She was still lost in her eyes.

“And… If I have a choice to mark things unusual. I would say your eyes are unusual. It’s incredible how I can distinguish the black color of your eyes with the rest of the black colors in the world. Your lips, they are unusual because I have never seen any lips and then the very next moment imagined what kind of impressions they leave on everything they touch.”

“Damn! You are good…” she blushed.

“I will call myself honest,” he chuckled and they both laughed together.

The conversations didn’t end that day. They missed the last bus. It stopped right there in front of them. It even waited for them to tag along. They didn’t. The sky was stuffed with clouds, but they were seeing the sunset of their lives.

*****

A yellow Volkswagen beetle stopped in front of her building and he dialed her number. He came there to pick her. They were visiting the same village, the same bus stop once again. She had chosen the day they met to be the first day out of the five days she got. However, nothing was going as per her plan. He was already down and she had no clue what to do. Everything she had planned now seemed impossible. One just can’t plan the unusual.

Her phone rang. She was too scared to take the call because if today she failed, there won’t be any beginning to their story. There won’t be any Snowflakes in summer. 

...to be continued...

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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Snowflakes and Samar, Chapter-1 by Himanshu Chhabra

Snowflakes and Samar

The metro honked and paced out of the station. They were still standing there. With her sobs dying in his chest and tears surpassing the holes in his sweater, leaving salt spots on his soul. He filled the gap between his fingers with her hair and supported her head. Her little arms were trying hard to lock him in them. “ Don’t go,” she fisted his sweater with both hands and hugged him with all the energy left in the universe. 

She could feel his dim heartbeats one after the other. Until he decided to depart. His hands trailed off off her back and her eyes constantly pushed back the tear shores hitting the dryness of his eyelashes. The next metro was already there on the platform. He had to leave now.

“Please don’t go,” she screamed her heart out. The station echoed for a while.

“I Love you December…” His soul muttered. Yes, he was still in love with her. The love that was so pure that it refused to ski down his eyes.  However, there was no way it could last forever. There was no way Samar and winter could happen together. They were all opposite, always fighting with each other. He still remembered the day when he gave her this name. When he called her ‘December’ for the very first time. The day when Amber became December. He still remembered the exact words her said to her, “Amber, oh my December. You are the one where every season ends. You are the one always beside summer. No matter how many years pass by, we would still be there accompanying and always before and after each other. We are the seasons that control time, sunsets and sunrises. We are the seasons that make this world move upside down.”

He remembered a lot more than that. He remembered every breath they exhaled on each other’s skin. He remembered every whisper over the phone call, witnessed by so many nights still hidden somewhere beneath the blankets and pillows. He remembered every dress she wore. Every word she ever said, as well as every word she was about to say.   

The metro honked and he knew now was the time. He scooped up his bag and hung it on his shoulder. A door opened right in front of him and he left. He left without looking back at her. The last thing he could hear was a sentence badly wrapped with tears. “Please stay for one more day… Please.”

The metro started to move and soon he was out of her sight. She had lost him. Her cellphone that was already lying on the marble floor lightened up with a text.

‘Samar: We need to talk.’

She quickly picked up her cell phone and started to type a reply. However, sooner she realized that the text was sent an hour back. There was nothing left to talk about now.  An hour back, when things were different. An hour back, when they were still together, madly in love. An hour back, right before the moment that made them apart. An hour back, when the ‘Stay’ did not split into two words- ‘Don’t go’.

She fell down on the floor and stared at her cell phone screen for a while. All she could read was his name over and over again. His sweater was no longer there to soak her tears. They fell on after the other on the floor. All lonely and distant from each other. A stranger helped her to stand again and handled her bag and cellphone.

“Thank you,” she sobbed. The stranger was gone before she could thank him well.

“You want one day from me, and I can’t spend another day with you,” someone was standing right behind her. The voice was familiar. The fragrance was familiar. It was Samar.

“I want you to tell me five words.  The ones that could convey exactly what you are feeling right now. I don’t want sentence. I don’t want stanzas. I just want five words from you. And, in return I will give you something.”

She turned her head towards him and went completely blank for a while.  He always had this effect on her. He held the power to stop all her senses with just a blink of an eye. She wiped her tears and ran to hug him.

He stopped her. “Five words…” he said.

She stood still with tears in her eyes and finally spoke after a couple of seconds later. “Sorry… Love… Silver… Again… forever.”

She said the first five words that hit her mind. The feelings were conveyed. His mind filled the space around those words with more words. Words that formed sentences and stanzas. Words that couldn’t make him stay but made him say. “Five days… You have got five days. Not from the future, because I cannot see any future with you. Not from the present, because we are nowhere near each other in the present. I give you the power to spend five days with me from our past. Any five days that can make me fall in love with you again. Any five days that can make me stay. I promise I will behave like a person I was that day. There won’t be any adulteration in feelings from my end. Just try to make every moment count.”

He finished and started to walk towards the staircase. “And… don’t play it as a game. There is always someone who loses in games. And, you won’t want any of us to lose.”

He finally disappeared.

...to be continued...

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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"Why aren't you a doctor?", by Himanshu Chhabra

"Why aren't you a doctor?"

"Because People would have died," she reverted.

You could possibly be right, if you were a doctor people would have died. It confuses me, if you weren't a doctor what could you possibly be? I kinda thought about it for a while.... For a really long while and the best possible match was.... You are the second line of a beautiful poetry.

And I..... I will end up being the fourth line. Rhyming with you. Because then only I would know that I wouldn't even exist here without you. The poet would have created me keeping you in mind, he would have crafted every word of mine parallel to you.

And..... And..... There would have been just a thin line between us; the third. The line we would have crossed every night when the readers would have closed the book and kept it safe in the shelf. Ink clots would spread here and there just likes our clothes. Naked, we'd make love with a "comma" and "full stop."

Poetry writing poetries.

The poetry would have been named "Birth" and the poet would have signed under the poem as his name "Death." And... Between both of them, the words written would be all of our life.

-Impelled HAC

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Nothing but Traveller, HAC

"Stop! Stop!" She moaned.

She wasn't suppose to make love to him. But then, he fondled and she was flipped miles away from home.

He could have stopped.

She could have stopped him.

But... travelling was the only way to reach home. Reaching home took all her energy. She was tired, washed with sweat and powerlessly unwinding in his arm.

"What are you thinking?" Her home asked her.

"That if I hadn't travelled home today, for how long I would have wandered."

He just smiled in return, as if he felt what she was talking about. Maybe, she was a home too. Maybe, he walked the same journey. Maybe, Love is when a home meets another home, but both are nothing but traveller.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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No Matter What, A short story by HAC

"Dad! Why people change?" She asked, when she gained some consciousness and noticed her dad tucking her into bed.

"They don't change for you if they really love you."

"No, everyone changes," Her soul cracked and tears cleaned the make up from her cheeks. Two bottles down her throat, finally blew her into pieces. She then refused to go back home. Driver called her dad, he drove to the pub and brought her back home.

"You saw me change?" Her father held her pieces, cupping her cheek, "I saw you plucking flowers from garden and I saw you destroying yourself in a bar. I always held your hand and brought you home."

She kept looking at him and then started pinning her index finger in air, as if poking the air bubbles.

"But then why he changed?" A tear had already drew a thin line of Kajal on her face.

"Perhaps! He did not love you enough or he is not a dad yet."

She thought for a while and then started laughing, "Don't worry! I am not pregnant."

He smiled, turned off the light and walked downstairs. His eyes fell on a photograph from her childhood. He remembered the days when he was an alcoholic, never really caring about anyone. Then she was born and he changed drastically. Little did she know about how he left alcohol or how he chose a drawing book for her over a bottle for himself.

For her, the only thing that changed was his name. With time, How he became a Dad from Daddy.

People change, no matter what. However, remember, still there are a few who will always hold your hand and bring you home.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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An Imaginary Boyfriend and the PlayStation, Short Story

"Chand Mubarak," She wishes me.

"Moon looks beautiful today," I look at her, pausing the video game I am playing.

"How do you know? You did not even go out," She throws her hand in air. "Oh! Am I your moon?"

I nod.

"Now Switch off the play Station and sleep. If you will behave like this, I will leave you someday," She keeps hand on her waist.

"You are not supposed to leave. Moon is allowed to leave only once in 15 days and with the promise that it will come back next day," I puff a flying kiss at her, with my both hands still on holding game-pad.

"So, you are saying that I am allowed to disappear for a night and can come next day and you won't have any problem with that. My boyfriend will be so happy listening to this," She winks at me.

"How can you be so unromantic?"

"A romantic Writer and an unromantic girlfriend... we are not supposed to be together."

"Trust me, we are supposed to be exactly where we are. The biggest writer of all wrote us this way."

"Eid Mubarak," She smiles.

"Eid Mubarak," I resume the game.

Be it Eid or any other day, we argue, we fight,  our opinion differs, but at the end of the day we know that my playstation or her imaginary boyfriend will never come between us.

Ummm..... I am not sure about the Playstation. *Resumes the game*

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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A while, A Short Story by HAC

"How long will it take you to forget me?" A tear touched the edge of his lips while he managed to blabber this sentence out.

"A while," She knew that things change, people change, relationships change, but the only thing that wasn't changing was- A while. If he had asked this question to her even after 10 years past this day, she had replied with the same. She could never get over him and could just convince herself all her life that she will be over him in- A while.

Moisture was already pricking the back of her eyes. And finally a tear drop skied down her cheek.

It started raining heavily and she opened her yellow umbrella.

"Get under it, I don't want any of us to fall sick," She came near him.

He held the umbrella and pushed it a little up to match his height.

"How long will it take you to forget me?" Now it was her turn to hear a lie. He didn't lie, instead, he just asked if he could walk her home and take her umbrella as their last memory.

She nodded.

"And can we have a conversation on our way back home?" He requested. Another nod came in reply. The rain and conversation didn't stop at all, as they walked back home.

A while- that is what exactly it took them to talk and resolve it. A while- that is what it took them to fall in love again.

Cause... If ever it rains in your love life, all you have to do is- make sure you both are under an umbrella. It is okay if it rain clouds or eyes, but all that matters is that nobody gets wet.

And eventually, Love is nothing but a walk full of conversations, back home.

PS: I wonder home many more love stories were there in books, if it rained at the right time.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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An Indifferent Love Stroy, by HAC

"I do not want an extra ordinary love story where one of us dies. And even if it has to be like this, I should be the one dying, not you." Moisture was pricking the back of her eyes.

"You are drunk. Too much of Alcohol got past your lips. We had decided that life will be a grand party for the rest of the time left with me and we will not whine about the fact that I am dying."

He got annoyed and started walking away, putting the yards between us.

"Stop! Please…" She shouted. It was raining again and her dress was getting soaked.

He stopped, and came back to hug her. He knew that the time left was too worthy to be spent on fights. Every second spent in anger was the second wasted. "Why you always do this? Cannot you just stop whining?"

"I am just scared."

"Scared of?" He enveloped her in his arms, hiding her face completely.

"Scared that there will be a day when I will ask you to stop and you won't stop, cause it won't be in our hands and will anymore. And, I cannot live with this truth that there will be a tomorrow without you."

He had no answer to it. The quiet was so palpable. They could almost taste it.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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Diverged. by HAC

                                                                                              

“Why do you come here every day?” He assumed that she asked it.

“I knew you would ask me why I come here every day. But, I have no reason. My family stays here.  And, coming home every day is not even questionable. So, stop asking me. It annoys me. I knew that you would be tired and wouldn’t be making dinner tonight,” He said and placed two polybags on her cemented grave.

“I won’t hear any excuse. So what if you are not feeling hungry. It’s almost 7:30 and the sun will be down any moment,” He waited for her to reply.

“Fine! Even I’m not feeling hungry,” He looked at the other side.

“Why don’t you accept that I’m dead,” He assumed that she said this with her trademark irritated expressions.

The moisture in his eyes lasted for a while and then slightly and silently, tears skied down. His heartbeat felt the burden and skin felt the coldness that left him alone. Taking the palm in-between his teeth, he tried to feel the pain. The pain of losing her was different from everything that can hurt, make you bleed, may crack the bones or worse, make you feel dead. It felt like as if someone has pushed his hand inside your chest and the hand is squeezing your heart to make that person bounce out of it. It feels like someone is continually scratching his\her nails on your delicate heart in order to remove the footprints of that person.

“If I decide to accept that you are not alive. First off, I won’t use ‘dead’, ‘not alive’ sounds less harsh. If I decide to accept that you are not alive, I’m scared that I would lose a part of me. When you died, I precisely diverged in two people; the familiar one and the unfamiliar one. The familiar one, that I knew the most, decided to walk away with you. And, the unfamiliar one bought my body to stay. I don’t come here just to meet you. I come here to feel complete. My other part is here, somewhere hiding in the bushes, maybe.  When I come here at my home, I feel alive. I don’t want to…” his voice trailed off as his sight rejected to give him a clear view of her.

The wind gushed and he felt a touch on his shoulders. His sight, too blur to see.

“I don’t want this stranger to stay in me, I want myself. Sneak out of this death thing and come back. I promise I will give anything to keep you alive. Just sneak out once, we will go far away where no one would ever find us.”

He started moaning and coughing. His cheeks were wiped out with tears and his words gave us. He had so much to share, and the best he could do was cry it all out. This was the quickest way to lighten his heart. 

There is this promise that ‘Our love will be forever’ and there is this thing called ‘life’. The latter one often laughs over the former one and the former cribs in the land of destiny.  He could feel it cribbing in the silence of their bedroom.  He never felt complete, doesn’t matter how many pillows he kept around him or how much he curled himself in the blanket.

“I feel that every breath is polluted now, my whole life is tainted as you had stopped breathing. I’m sorry that I find my home here.”

He opened the door of his car, parked next to the grave, made himself comfortable by pushing back the seat and closed his eyes. In no time, he fell asleep. The leather seats still held her fragrance.

“Aashna, come please,” he was dog tired, yet the sleep wasn’t around.

“You are such a kid, you should learn to sleep without me,” She said, as she walked out of the washroom after changing her dress.

“I don’t have to learn that, you are not divorcing me, right?” He arched his eyebrow.

“Right! But you never know,” She furled her arm over him in the blanket.

“I don’t want to know…”He hugged back and slept. In her Fragrance.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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Here and Together, by HAC

"I'm short of inspiration," I had this feeling that I cannot write anymore.

"Humans are never short of inspiration. What is the problem?" Asked the saint-cum-best friend sitting next to me.

"Neidhi, I have an imagination block. I cannot imagine new things anymore," I explained it to her while she finished my chocolava cake. (She had already finished hers.)

"What?" She kept the disposable spoon down and made a cute-puppy-caught-chewing-the-shoe expression.

"I cannot imagine new things anymore," I repeated.

"Leh..." She threw her hand on the table like a slow and laziest ninja. "Come with me," she picked her Activa's keys and with the other hand pinched my shirt. I followed her.

She drove and I sat on the pillion. (Do I have to tell you how she drove? Well, leave it.) She didn't tell me where we were going. And, after half an hour, we were out of the city.

"Here," She parked the Activa near a tiny hill and we had a twenty minute walk on never-trimmed grass.

"Now, lay down here," she said.

I laid down and she laid right beside me.

"Now look at the sky. See at the clouds and just tell me what can you see in them. My mumma told me this when I was a kid." She pointed at the sky.

"Haven't your mumma told you that there are no clouds on a clear day," I gave her a dear-puppy-you-wasted-my-one-hour-&-I-will-kill-you-now look.

"Oops!" She slapped her head. "Ummm.... But you are happy that we are here and we are together."

"If I had a gun with 6 bullets, I would have shoot you six times and banged the gun later on your head, for just in case. " I faked a smile. "Yeah, I am happy."

There are moments in your life when you make a less happy expression but somewhere inside you are really very happy. Just like when a dad says "Only 86%", just like when your crush texts you and you reply him/her casually, just like when the person you loved once, texts you after 2 years and feels guilty about things he/she did to you. That was one of those moments. Here and together.

We furled our fingers and our palms rested together.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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Best Friends- A Very Short Story. HAC

"Forget her, she doesn't worth it," She said as she walked into the cafe. Since last few months, I had called my best friend 'n' number of times and she was there 'n-o-p-q-up to-z' number of times.

"Thank you for coming," I stood up and hugged her. At moments, I don't want anything but a long pain-decoding hug. When she hugs, It seems like it is okay to be broken.

"Stop hurting yourself, Let her go," She whispered in my ear and tightened her arms on my back.

"I try, but I'm situated in her," I said. She hadn't responded to it but I could feel her grip getting lost.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra


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An Ugly Love Story, by HAC. Chapter-10

“She is becoming unconscious,” said the Nurse. He passed the medicines to her and went to his grandmother. She was still sobbing. He told her that Ruhi’s gonna be okay and she didn’t need to cry.

He knew that he was lying, but he couldn’t tell the truth. His eyes finally started to drain the pain from his heart. Sukoon started crying, as she noticed her family crying. There was a silent wave of pain that had hit their family. Arjun picked up Sukoon and hugged her. Her tears were getting embraced by Arjun’s Shirt, Arjun’s tears were getting lost in Sukoon’s hair. With the other hand, he was hugging his grandmother. She hugged him back and broke down into tears.

“She will be Okay,” His voice was cracking.

“She has to be Okay,” He knew that this day would be coming soon. He knew that one day Ruhi would leave them. He knew everything, yet he failed to accept it. He had seen so much of his life in her that now it was becoming impossible to accept that Ruhi was dying.

“We have given her medicines and injections. We have done as much as we could do and now we will have to wait till morning,” An alien hand touched his shoulders and he looked up with eyes full of tears. The doctor operating on Ruhi was standing in front of him.

“Can we talk to her?” Arjun asked.

“We have given her strong seductions, you can talk to her until she sleeps,” Doctor smiled in assurance.

He wiped his as well as Sukoon’s tears, “Do you want to come?” He asked grandma. She nodded and closed her eyes. Tears swept down her eyes. He looked away and hid his own tears.

He managed to walk those three steps to ICU door and touched the knob. He could hear the noise of sobs coming from inside. They were not normal sobs, they were charged with pain. He paused there for a few seconds and later twisted it to open the door.

He couldn’t spot Ruhi in there, it was dark. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and his heart adjusted with the pain, which was lying on the bed on a wet pillow, with a heavy heart. She looked at the door and recognized the man and the little girl.

“I don’t want to die,” Her vocal chord sounded rusty and her eyes had the colorless blood in them. She was shouting louder, as if the candle sparking before its last light. Most of the people die keeping the pain inside, but she couldn’t. Her life and her  Sukoon  were standing in front of her, having eyes full of tears. Who invented diseases? Who invented death? What was her fault? She loved her family, but why she couldn’t just stay with them. Who gave this right to the death to decide her fate? “I want to live,” She held Arjun’s shirt and begged. Arjun could make it right, he always did. He always found a solution.

The pinch on his shirt loosened and her moans were resting also. She was sleeping, he assumed. She was dying, he didn’t want to assume. He sat down on his knees and cupped her hand on his cheek. He wanted strength, he just wanted her to stay near him. Her fingers were moving on his cheek. She was alive, she had the life inside her. She couldn’t die.

“Please don’t go,” He choked. She turned her head to him and looked into his eyes. His eyes were wet and her pillow was wet. “I don’t want to go, please, make me stay,” She was struggling with breaths. He leaned ahead and embraced her in his chest.

Sukoon climbed the bed and hugged her from the other side. She slept every night this way. On the other hand, Arjun’s hands were shivering. His hug was loosing the calmness. She could listen to his heart-beat.  They were missing sometimes, sometimes too fast, sometimes giving up and sometimes normal.

“Sleep,” He said and wiped his palm on her eyes. He knew that maybe he was inviting death for her, but he couldn’t see her crying more. He didn’t want her to feel guilty that she ruined something by stop breathing.  She slept after some time, and the seductive overcome her senses. Sukoon  was sleeping too, maybe last time with her mother.

And he?

His skin shivered the whole night with the fear in his mind, his heart was too scared to pump blood and his eyes were so deeply in love with tears that they didn’t give up on them.

Hours past and the sun was there in the sky. Everyone was waiting outside and doctors were checking her body. She didn’t wake up. She was lying motionlessly on the bed. Though, her heart was still pumping blood.

Doctor came out of the ICU and said, “The patient is Okay and the medicines worked. She will wake up after a few hours. We will keep her under check for two days and if everything looks okay, we will discharge her.”

Everything was found okay. She was discharged after two days and she was brought back home. Sun was hitting the horizon and day was about to sleep. She was wrapped in a shawl and was looking at the balcony above the house, as she walked to the door with Arjun.

“I missed our balcony the most,” She smiled.

“Then, let’s go there,” He smiled back.

“Sukoon, Can I pick your Mumma today, instead of you?” Arjun looked at the little girl.

“Yes, because she is ill, I will let her take my place,” She pouted and the whole family laughed.

He picked her up in his arms and Sukoon walked along with them. They climbed the stairs and he dropped her down when they reached the balcony. The orange sun was in front of them, hiding behind the trees.

“I like darkness,” She said and adjusted herself in his arms.

“And, I like you both,” Sukoon said and hugged them. He hugged them back and darkness slowly homed around them.

“I’m tired,” She blinked.

“Then sleep,” He blinked back.

She closed her eyes and slept to never wake up again. She didn’t die, she just slept and never opened her eyes. That is what she was screaming in the ICU- I don’t want to die. 

Her voice that echoed in the ICU. And, Sukoon was wrong, Ruhi didn’t take her place. She took Ruhi’s place, for years that were coming, in her daddy’s arms, as if the reminiscence of Ruhi.

*****

Because… Some people don’t die, they just sleep when they get tired. Ruhi was tired. And Ugly? Ruhi was wrong. She wasn't ugly, in fact she is the most beautiful character I have ever created. Tonight, after I post this chapter, I know it will be very hard for me to sleep. I lost someone, and I will always cherish her existence in me.

Good Night.

THE END.

Author:
Himanshu Appie Chhabra

(To follow him on his Facebook Account. click here.)

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