Waiting was prolonged and strenuous. Days stretched into weeks and weeks into months. Within 365 days I found him only for a maximum of 32 days and those days were also not certain but arbitrary, not scheduled but sudden. He appeared and then vanished, just like a tiny dot of slippery mercury, always eluding from the clutch. I begged silently for any news of him from any source, from any of his acquaintances on the bus. I started making friendships with them. They were getting quite familiar with me due to regular encounters. But I could not manage to ask them about him. I mumbled, I stumbled, I fumbled, I stopped. My pains got numbed and my eyes did not reflect my remorseful heart. There was no name for the relation. There was no destiny, no identity. Whenever I tried to think over it only a guilt-ridden confusion overlapped my tangled conscience. I felt helpless and did not want to indulge in burdensome contemplation.
My disturbed conception and my inner struggles only led to extreme fatigue on my part. But my search for him remained the same…same fanatical delusion. I could not control it but honestly, I wanted to do so. I wanted desperately to halt, to stop, to erase all those crooked roots of insanity out of me. Sometimes my frustration of not finding him day after day made me mad. I wished to cry out but tears did not touch my eyes –it was also prohibited. Even when I found him my heart brimmed but just for a moment because the fear of losing him again, made me afraid and sad. The fear of plunging into pain haunted me even though I sat very next to him. In reality, I was getting out of my control and I apprehended more. When I met him after an era, all the hues of emotion worked within me creating a whirlwind that washed me away. I bitterly wished to hang myself –all such feelings for a person whom I did not know, and most of all he did not care for me took a toll on my weird conscience. I craved a little attention, a small talk on his part, at least his attentive glance. I wanted to come close, to tear the shred of mystery in those eyes that kept me hypnotized. I wished to step out of his lethal charm. In my heart oscillating heart I felt the stabbing pain…cleaving in remorse and detachment. I was too tired to think more of it. I wished one day I would be too tired to love him anymore.
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.