The Masked Man
It was a muggy morning. After winter passed,` sudden heat touched the earth. The bus was already late; it stopped over the Elian Bridge suddenly with a jerk due to the enormous queue of trucks and a crowd of compact vehicles. Everyone got imbalanced and tumbled over others. In that propitious moment, I detected him, 87% wrapped in a handkerchief and helmet. But I could not miss those glittering eyes…those two cursed eyes that poisoned my soul to this unreasonable affection. The bus skidded the bridge speedily as the traffic mercifully spared some space, allowing a tough headlong. And I lost him. I frantically searched for him for these days, where he was, if he was safe or not, if he was transferred or not, if he was busy with urgent problems. He used to suffer from the lack of insulin and went to the South for treatment. He had heavy power on his left eye from his college, his subject was chemistry, and he was preparing for W.B.C.S. I knew everything about him from his little conversation with me and his gossip with friends. But I did not know if someone was in his life or not. And I never dared to ask such a personal question.
On my whole way, I kept on peeping through the window, but the masked man was nowhere. I did not know when I would meet him again.
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.