For seven days I went on doing my job without the desperation of desire to meet him. Yes, his memory, the desperate days, the gloomy months, the spiking pains all were within me like a gnawing ache, suppressed fever. But all my emotions and turbulent passions were muffled in a sense of tremendous fatigue and irritation or a sense of betrayal. On my turbulent sea- shore I was standing still. A compounding sense of unconcerned detachment clouded my sky and I felt numb.
I did not want to meet him. That was the ultimate truth. I felt naked, cheated, humiliated…no, not in front of him but in front of me, in front of Dipesh. I could not look in the mirror, could not think clearly how coldly I treated him through these months. I wished to be silent, not to think of anything.
Even on the bus, I did not search for him. In my heart, I didn’t care if he was there or not. I wanted to avoid him, as of the pain or the pleasure, whatever I got from my attachment with him I wanted to lock them in my closet forever.
I could not allow him to hurt my brittle soul any more. The eyes I loved so madly would reflect only indifference, detachment, and treachery to me. I could no longer wish to confront those eyes in changed circumstances. I should now step apart keeping the secret adoration peppered with the pungent test of defeat and relief.
I was brave enough….too brave to sleep a dreamless night.
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.