It is not a story of a high-profile girl, hovering in elite society, with parties, drinks, own car. She is an ordinary girl, from muddy earth, dusty road, and pungent life. But she is extraordinary with her own dream, her own perception of life. All the characters and places are imaginary, just drawn for the sake of a story.
“Did you remember those days when I needed you so badly and your attitude was so indifferent, fluctuating, careless, and even sometimes cruel? You treated the relationship as a frisk that you can easily join and depart without bothering a fig for the other. I allow you to stab me not once, not twice but repeatedly only to add a scar to my open wound. I waited, waited so long as if to let the dumb agony piercing me just to reach the saturation point when nothing more can touch me, can bother me. I could not find the reasons why you came to me with a hungry heart to placate the storm within you and then evaporate casually as if there was nothing between us. Every time you returned to me I thought my scars would heal. But it only ripped me from my root. Your idiosyncrasies pushed me into a deep delve of desperation and I calmly waited for you to push me down again and again ignoring the fringe of my existence just to see what was next for me. But now I’m tired, too tired to seek the reason, to get shocked and to be surprised.
Akash you looked abash every time I stood beside you. You proved that you didn’t want to be observed with me in daylight, but only at night when you can seek me hungrily, desperately. Maybe it was a transitory whimsical passion on your part to whom who was so available to you – so available to entertain you, any time, any place, any situation.
But all I asked, and prayed for, was your sincere love, and care. I wished to worship you as the power in me that would make me brave enough to struggle with any adversity, and inspire me to breathe afresh with your love. But every agony you injected in me, every inhumanity you showed me, just gnawed inside me through these years. There were so many faces of you that I could not decide which is yours. Every time you came just to quench yourself and got lost, untold, unknown, breaking my heart in incessant pain. And now there is nothing to break.
THE CLOCK IS GOING TO STRIKE 12. THE WORLD IS WAITING WITH EXUBERANCE TO WELCOME THE COMING YEAR. AND I AM GOING TO TAKE MY OATH AT THIS AUSPICIOUS MOMENT.
I’ll never let anyone sell me like a cow in an auction for anyone’s pleasure. So I must say thank you, thank you for bringing me up in this sky, uplifting me in this air of maturity without knowing while all you were doing is to bring me down, to ignore me. Experience will change one and let one find the right way to live his or her life. Love should not be so easy, so available that one can not perceive its value. Keep in your mind the hardest way is the best way. LOVE IS UNNEEDED IF IT STRIP YOU OF YOUR DIGNITY.”
Life beyond Love, a Novella
The crooked lines printed in blue and painted in pain release the maze of bygone days and knock on the closed door of memory. I curl up on my couch wrapping my stole over and viewing the convivial sky. Memories are creeping as if someone is digging the grave of the past. The midnight clock is banging on the city door. Lighting and fireworks are sparkling over the new sky. And now I must return to my soil, to my sky at SANTAGHAR, my home, my village, my abode.
To be continued…
Hey, I am Munmun, the phoenix fabulist who wants to tell you stories. I love to read stories and I love to weave stories. I feel life is an amalgamation of multiple stories, colourful threads, and threads of pain, pleasure, hope, and hopelessness. We just need to pick those hues and arrange them, knitting them with our own emotions and perception. So let’s celebrate the stories of life.