Poush (December/January)
My heart erupted with joy
one afternoon in late December when I heard the sky waking up with a grumble. Memories
resurrected with that call from the sky. I was in school and I still had two
periods left but soon as I heard the first crackle overhead I gathered my bag
and dashed out of the school.
A drizzle started painting
the streets not long after. I ran harder as rain orbs started to seek refuge in
my lashes. I carried in my bag my sketchbook and in it her sketch. I clutched
my bag to my chest as rain began escalating. My only concerns right now
included reaching the park quickly as possible and protecting the sketchbook.
The clouds seemed to be
pouring out their three months reserve of tears right now. Soon, the rain
sheets were blinding. The gutters flooded out into the street. I ran until my
legs burned and my lungs gasped for breath. I tried to avoid all premonitions
swirling in my head at that moment.
She will not be there.
She’s moved on from your
stupid promise.
She’s might be in Australia
or any other country that she had said she would fly off to as you vainly make your attempt.
She hates you for your
untoward advancement toward her that day.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.
I wanted closure. I wanted this. I just ran. I slipped. I fell. I rose up. And I
ran.
My heart was threatening to
explode when I reached the revolving gate of Nadipur Park. Lightening forked across
the sky above as I walked in. Wiping the implacable rain off of my eyebrows I made
for our fabled canopied bench.
And there she was. Soaking wet,
like she had swam through a flood, like me. Amid the rabid scolding of the rain,
I solemnly walked up to her, and she scooted over like did on the first day and
I sat beside her. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t even look at each other.
Just watched the rain wash the earth in ablution of its uncountable sins.
She led me to her house
after the rain had let up enough for us to walk again. She lived in a
two-storey building in one of the alleys of Gairapatan. She lent me her dry
clothes and put mine in the washing machine. I, clad in her grey t-shirt and
similarly hued trousers, was sitting on the carpeted floor infront of the sofa
in her living room when she came in holding two steaming cups of tea.
I placed the cup she handed
me on the tea table and stood up to look into my schoolbag. I fetched my
sketchbook, soaked all around the corners. I flipped it open. The page I’d
drawn her sketch on had stuck itself to the previous page. I peeled the pages
apart. The pastel painting was now a smudged mess and her beautiful figure indiscernibly
disfigured. I tore the page out and held it out to her.
“It’s barely recognizable
now.” I remarked.
“Well, it is beautiful.” She
said with ersatz admiration. Why does she do that? Pretend. She took the
sketch, placed it in her palm and pouting her lips blew on it. She mostly
seemed concerned about the part I’d signed my name.
“I’ll pace it above the
washing machine,” she said. “It’ll dry quicker with the heat. Thank you very
much.” She said before leaving the room.
She came back a few moments
later, holding between her fingers, a neatly folded piece of paper. She held
out the note to me. “Here’s my end of the promise.”
I shook my head. “I want you
to read it out to me.”
She smiled, nodded and began
unfolding the paper. She held her breath for a moment and exhaled. “Okay ready?”
“You
gave me memories
And left
after I couldn’t forget you
You exposed
my heart of its hidden desires
And left
them all unfulfilled
You filled
up the pail of my heart
And left
upsetting it at the end
You helped
me taste hope
And left
me choking on it
I’d
kept you safe inside the tales of my heart
And
you left scratching it from within
I try
to forget you but
Forgetting
means my heart shattering
What wretched
moment you chose to walk away
That you
could not return
In hopes
of sweet dreams
I lay
in your lap
You left
me at the cusp
Of a
cursed eternal sleep”
She choked up in many a
couplets of the poem.
“I think you’re confused as
to who left.” I said.
“The poem isn’t about you,”
she said sobbing quietly. “I’m sorry. The poem is addressed to rain.”
“I love you.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She
broke down crying.
“Give me my clothes. I’ll
take my leave.” I rose up.
I didn’t bother grabbing my
clothes when I walked out. The rain was still in full swing outside and the sky
a hunting ground of lightening. I was about to head out despite it all when I heard
the door open behind me. I turned around. My heart was the mirror of the sky in
the background, I couldn’t hold my words. Amid a gush of tears I spewed them
out.
“Forget what I said earlier.
I don’t love you I’m sorry but I actually hate you. I abhor people like you. You
pretend. You sugar-coat your words. You praise falsely even though you know their
skills will amount to nothing. When you saw me there, you thought you’d indulge
a little kid’s fantasy. Tell me to my face that I’ll never live up to my
expectation. I don’t want to hear it any other way. The rest of the world does
it, so why can’t you? And the sad part
is that it is from you that I want to hear of my shortcomings and the truth but all you can spout is false
complements, and half-assed commitments. And maybe you think you’re protecting
me and some form of you showing your love but what you did was cruel not an act
of love”
Bawling, she ran towards me
and held me in her arms. She cried violently, wailing out into the rain. “It is
the opposite… I led a purposeless life… I had no inspiration… no friends… I lied
about going to IELTS classes… I do not work… I don’t ever leave the house…
except for rainy days… and that day meeting you there… it changed my life… you
gave me purpose… you gave me something to look forward to… when I proposed we meet on other days besides when it rained... I was steeling myself if I could finally walk out of the house... when the prize was you... those moments in the rain in the park… those were the only moments I lived for.”
I lived
on with feelings frozen
Never
expressed in words
And I clumsily
held you in my arms
On that
rainy twilight
Inundated
streets and no lights
Everyone
was rushing back
Lady,
you started running
Through
a deserted street
Unconcerned
about getting soaked
From the
pouring rain
The sight
of you splashing
Through
the puddles fades away
Morning
comes late in the winter
So I need
to hold you tight
And say,
“Don’t go away!”
“Don’t
go away!”
Autumn came and went and it
was time to switch to our winter uniforms. I wasted who knows how many pages of
sketch paper reimagining this final encounter of ours in different lights and settimgs. Before you suddenly
disappeared. I couldn’t at first believe your neighbour’s account that you had
your visa approved for Australia. My mind had imagined the worse. But before I decided to go to the police I got
a letter from Australia addressed to “The Forger” with the school address. It was
from you though the sender’s name was “The Poetess.” I had a hard time
explaining I was “The Forger” and even harder trying to explain who “The
Poetess” was. Your letter was a poem. So, I was glad to hear you were in Australia,
for real. Then I received another poem in the school mail. This time from New
Zealand. Then another one from the US of A but the letters and the poems
stopped after that. Never got another letter since. Maybe you’ve lost my school
address. Maybe you believe now that I’ve passed my high school the letters won’t
reach me but I still drop by my school once in a while if the school has
received any letters addressed to “The Forger”. I sent back countless of my
sketches your last address of Illinois. But wherever in the world you are, remember
that every time it rains, I think of you.
Rain, darling, is the most
alluring of magic.
To the
sky welled up with tears
Oh, be
strong like my heart
Believe
you’re strong enough
Not to
feel the hurt
Lady,
you started running
Through
a deserted street
Unconcerned
about getting soaked
From the
pouring rain
The sight
of you splashing
Through
the puddles fades away
Morning
comes late in the winter
So I need
to hold you tight
And say,
“Don’t go away!”
“Don’t
go away!”
*** The End ***
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