Friday, 22 January 2016


“It is half past eleven. The breezes seem to tickle me, but unable to make me smile. I feel drowsy. Things are uneasy. My heart aches and my eyes are welled up. I feel numb, the serenity of the road and the silence of the dark night makes me want to shout and scream, and pour all that I have inside of me, out. I am walking, without a direction. I don’t know where to go. I am clueless about what I am going to do in my life now. The white dress I’d worn has stains of blood and mud. I never knew it’d turn out this way. I cannot speak, my voice seems blocked. My body isn’t functioning well. I know I should see a doctor, but owing to what I’m going through, the thought has distanced itself from me. I miss him already. Terribly. I want to cry, but I cannot. I see a bruise on my left hand. It should’ve hurt. But it doesn’t. All that pains is my heart.
‘Ahana, where are you going? Wait.’ Shipra calls me from behind.
I turn around blankly, wondering what she’s doing there. She takes my phone in her hand and shows me seven missed calls of her. I don’t react. I just keep looking at her. She looks sad, I know, she’s cried, too. But I am way too hurt as compared to her. I’ve lost him. It isn’t even comparable. She shakes me, holding my arms. She takes out a handkerchief and ties it around my wound. It still doesn’t ache. A tear rolls down my cheeks. I want this numbness to end, I want to see him. He heals me. He completes me. And now, destiny has asked me to stay with the scar, incomplete, till the end.
‘He’s dead.’ As I say these words, I break down. I hug Shipra and I cry. Sitting on the road, I curse everything. I curse the night, the spirit of the universe and all that I can think of right now. I’m loud enough to attract the people passing by and the auto rickshaw drivers as well. But I don’t care. I need to get this out of me. It’s horrible. All I can think of right now is Hazel Grace, saying, “The only person I wanted to talk about Augustus Waters’ death was Augustus Waters.”
I need to talk to him. I need him. I need him to hug me and tell me he’s there, when I know he’s not. He’s gone, long gone. Thinking this makes me feel void, like I’m just a structure of flesh, but hollow inside. I scream out to feel better. Nothing helps. Everything’s stopped. Time isn’t flying like it did, when I was with him.
Strangely, whatever I think relates to him. Or maybe, I’m linking everything to him, because I feel that this may make God feel pity for me and maybe He’d give him back to me. I’m being mad, mad at God. How could He snatch him away me, when He knew he’s all I’ve got? How could God be so cruel and ruthless? I’m angry.
‘Shipra, he was all I had. He was my soul mate. He understood me. Who will hug me and assure me things are fine? Who will bring me chocolates when I’m mad? Who will kiss me when I need to shut up? Who will make me feel secure, the way I felt in his arms? Who will tease me till I get irritated, and then, still irritate me some more? Who will smile at me when I’m angry, melting all the furiousness with that one smile? How will I live? It was his birthday today. And the strangest gift he received on his birthday was death. The accident took him away from me forever. I need him, bring him back to me please, please, bring him back. I beg of you.’ I cry, as loud as I could. I know he is never going to come back.”


‘Where are you lost, Ahana? Cut the cake.” Shipra says.
I smile and cut the cake and eat a piece of it. I never liked cakes, but it is his birthday.
‘It’s been seven years for the accident Ahana. Why do you still celebrate his birthday, when everyone else remembers his death?’ Shipra asks.
‘Because he’d taught me to stay positive and oversee all the bad in life. I want him to be happy, wherever he is.’
‘And why don’t you just move on?’ She further questions.
‘Because I love him.’ I say, smile and walk away.

I’ve now learnt to live with the emptiness. But, I’m never alone. As I celebrate his birthday, as I live, I know he’s there, always. I can feel him around me. Love isn't always being with each other, it's being in each other's hearts.
And the best stories don’t have an end. They live, forever. Like him. Like us.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. Beautiful. The touch of TFIOS made it more profound. Kudos.

  3. Fantastic description of love and pain one has for someone.