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Love In The Time Of Virus: The Lockdown And Thereafter

Love In The Time Of Virus: The Lockdown And Thereafter is the sequel to the recently published book, The First Call: Love In The Time Of Virus. If you enjoy reading the long story, I sincerely recommend you to give the book a read!

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 59; the fifty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​IndiCreator. For Creators. By Creators.. Share Your #LockdownTales at indicreator.com

Prologue

On a summer evening in 2022.

Leela read the first draft of the eBook – The First Call: Love In The Time Of Virus. She held her baby bump, while rising up from the chair. She looked around for Ram and she called out his name… “Ram… Ram…”

Ram came out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee. He placed the coffee cups on the table, sat on the sofa laid in the living room and helped Leela sit next to him. Though he appeared calm, his heart beat faster than usual, “So… how’s it? Do you like the story? Did it capture the feelings?”

On any day Leela could read him like a book. She understood his curiosity. “Are you seriously a one-woman man?”

“Hmm” Ram smiled.

“At times these blank smiles say a lot of words.” This time, Leela said the exact same words Cathy said a couple of years ago. “I am in love with this story. I can feel my presence in the story, so I am sure you did justice to each of the characters.”

“Are you in touch with Cathy?” This time Leela did not have any eye-contact, and before he could answer, she showed a photograph uploaded to a popular social media platform. The ever-smiling Cathy with her son… probably the baby is a year old. “Looks like she has adopted the baby of a virus victim.”

For a moment Ram was lost in his thoughts. Leela called his name again. “No, it’s been more than 18 months.” Ram looked at the photograph closely, “She and her baby, look awesome together.”

“I agree. I have a huge liking for Cathy and now, I respect her more.” Leela showed her excitement for the first time after reading the story. “By the way sub-title says… Love in the time of Virus. And you just wrote a couple of paragraphs about the pandemic situation.”

“Well, people have read more about the pandemic situation and lockdown in news articles, blogs, and on social media platforms. They are well aware of it. And as my sub-title says- love in the time of virus. The story is about love… that too without any communication between the two… Ram and Leela. The purest form of love. And…” Ram paused for a brief moment, took a deep breath, before justifying his views. “There is a fine line between trust, love and need. One can understand the actual meaning only if you know how to read between the lines. The First Call post the pandemic situation is for the love. And it is about our sweet love.”

“And to those who cannot read between the lines, will you be writing another Coffee Read? Please don’t say… ‘Not this time’.” Leela carefully placed her words.

It’ll be a blog post for Blog-a-Ton.” Ram smiled.

The baby kicked her bump. “Looks like he is hungry.” Ram and Leela sipped the coffee with biscuits. They looked much like a perfect couple like that you see in the movies.

Ram penned the blog post under the title, “Love In The Time Of Virus: The Lockdown And Thereafter”.

Lockdown

April 2020

The World Health Organization declares the tragic 2020 Corona outbreak a global pandemic. The virus has rapidly spread to all 195 countries of the world. In the past two weeks, the number of cases has increased thirteen-fold affecting 1/3rd of the global population. The number of deaths increases by the hour, toppling this 1/3rd with at least 40% deaths across the world, making it the worst epidemic the world has seen. At the moment, with no vaccines in place for the new virus, in the days and weeks ahead, WHO expects to see the number of cases, as well as the number of deaths to only go up.

‘Wake up. Get ready’, ‘Stay at home’, ‘Self-isolate. Prevent the spread.’ Is what they stress on during the press release.

The world has never faced such a scenario before…. Ram switched off the television out of frustration. He always wanted the situation to get better and stable, but that’s not the case in reality. It’s been almost thirty days since he had shifted to a flat share, with a few of his colleagues, so that they could work-from-home. Ram was depressed, despite living with his colleagues in the co-ed flat share in London and working as a team.

His mobile phone rang. It was a video call from a special person and uplifted his mood definitely.

“Hello! How are you, my love?” Ram spoke in an excited tone.

The phone displayed the ceiling fan. “Hold on for a minute, Ram” A voice was heard feebly. Leela switched on the focus light and sat beneath it. She held the phone at a distance, bringing her face into focus. In the bright light, her beaming face was radiant. A sharp nose complimented her heart-shaped face and peacock-eyes. A mole on the upper right side of her rosebud lips grabbed everyone’s attention. The thick wavy black hair complemented her beautiful face. She was considered tall at 5’6”, and the perfect curves made her a very attractive woman for any roving eye. She wore a gorgeous peacock-blue sari paired with a set of golden bangles on the right hand, and the watch Ram gifted on her birthday two years ago, on the left. Her stone studded neckpiece was the highlight. She looked angelic.

“You look….” Ram paused, looked into her eyes deeply in love and said, “very cute and gorgeous, darling.”

She smiled. It was more of a blush. He asked, “What’s special?” and after a pause he added, “I am so happy to see you in a sari.”

She blushed even more. “Karna uncle and his family came home this morning to discuss about the wedding.”

Ram spoke in a hasty tone, “In this lockdown?” He paused, trying to calm down. He asked, “Anyway, Karna uncle lives next door to you. I don’t see any reason for his rush. And what did you say?! Who is getting married? Why are you dressed up like a bride?” And a thousand more questions.

“Because I am the bride!” Leela spoke wistfully. “I want you to be the first one… the special one to see me dressed in this sari.”

A voice from outside the room called her name loudly, more than a couple of times. The voice belonged to her mom. Suddenly, the call the call got disconnected. Ram’s Wi-Fi also got cut off and his mobile phone signal dropped to zero. Lights flickered before giving up. It was a power and signal outage.

He called out loudly, “Cathy”.

Cathy

Cathy, his colleague, and now, flatmate and roommate, walked into the room. She wore a pair of cotton-blend shorts with an elasticated waist, revealing her long smooth legs, and a wide top with dropped shoulders, long sleeves and a drawstring at the hem; they look quite good on her. And her nick-name was “Hotcake”.

“Was that you?” Ram looked at her angrily.

“Not this time.” Cathy, responded, as usual with her punch line.

“Can I use your phone for a minute?” Ram asked her without any second thoughts.

“I thought you’d apologise.” Cathy promptly sat down on his lap, “Anyway… the phone signal is down, and so is the power.” She glanced up into eyes that gave every indication he could read her mind, “That’s true… it was human-beings all these days and now even worse, everything is down: power, mobile phone, radio and what not!”

“What about the wired telephone?” Ram shot the next question.

“I don’t remember seeing one in this house.” Cathy answered bluntly.

“Even the walkie-talkie is not functioning anymore.” Mike said standing at the door.

“Under lockdown with all modes of communications disabled!” Gary grumpily added to Mike’s statement.

Ramya came running to the living room, “We do not have to work anymore.”

“No work. No money.” Cathy responded drolly.

“Hey hotcake… do you mind getting up from his lap.” Ramya tapped on Cathy’s back.

“This could be momentary” Ram voiced his opinion on the disabled technology, not paying heed to Ramya and Cathy.

“Or this could be the end to digital life and together with the virus, which is already a global pandemic, could erase the human race on earth.” Cathy glimpsed up at Ram’s face.

“Why are you looking at me?” Ram demanded answer.

“Why not make love before we too succumb to virus?” Cathy carefully placed her words before adding salt to the injury, “Leela will get married to Darshan anyways.”

Furious Ram pushed her down. “I do and will always love Leela.”

“Good one, Ram!” Ramya was visibly excited, obviously shipping Ram with Leela, rather than Cathy.

Cathy was hurt. Ram helped Cathy get back on her feet. “I’m sorry. What I meant was… not this time.”

Mike pitched in to make peace. “We must stay united and try to make the best out of this pandemic situation, guys.”

“I second Mike.” Gary added, “We must stay together in this lockdown.”

“Aye.” Said Mike, Gary too, Ramya and Cathy followed.

Ram nodded his head and yet his thoughts were with Leela. ‘Will Leela marry Darshan due to family pressure?’

Ram had no answer. As he helped his flatmates around his flat, there remained inside him a deep void.

Leela

Leela had to undergo the worst phase of her life. As soon as the phone got disconnected, her mom entered inside the room calling out her name. “Leela, will you…” Her mom stopped, admired her beautiful daughter and complimented her. “My beautiful princess, please come down to meet your king.”

Leela cut her mom short and said, “enough joking, Radhika. Let’s go down and meet Darshan and Karna uncle.” It was better to get to the point with her mother Radhika, who would otherwise just continue throwing her tantrums, trying to guilt-trip Leela into marrying Darshan.

“Stop calling Darshan by his name. He is going to be your husband in a few days.” Radhika passed her advice to Leela.

“I’ve no interest in marrying him. Forget it. Let’s not argue now.” Leela tried putting an end to the never-ending conversation.

Darshan sat on the sofa that was placed opposite to the door. Karna uncle sat next to him. Leela’s dad Raghav stood next to the door, waiting for his wife and daughter to join them. Leela entered the living room with the candle, for the power was not yet back.

Darshan could not stop admiring Leela’s beauty… she looked flawless. Leela’s mom sounded formal while speaking to her brother Karna and offered coffee to all.

“Hmm… it’s suffocating here. Shall we go to the garden?” Leela proposed the idea so that she could get a chance to open up with Darshan.

Karna acknowledged her request, and Darshan stood up from the sofa. Raghav asked Radhika to arrange the table in the garden, who happily agreed.

“Leela… hmm…” Darshan cleared his throat. “You’ve become a beautiful woman. You… I” Darshan stammered and struggled to utter a word. “All these days I saw you as a bubbly refreshing girl. I must say this… I am lucky to marry you.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Darshan. You look very smart and I am equally excited to see you after a couple of years. But I must confess this to you: I am in a relationship with Ram, my collegemate… we have been in love for six years. We planned to get married once we get settled in life. We always dreamt of a beautiful comfortable life. However the equation changed, due to our family pressure. Ram promised to speak with mom and dad once the pandemic situation is back to normal. We even planned to marry in the month of August. That’s during the summer break in London.” Leela spoke without looking at Darshan.

“Is he in London? Forget about August, as far as I know he may not be alive till that time. Hope you are aware of the stats and situation in western countries. If you ask me, I’d say that they are building their own grave.”

“Darshan…” Leela shouted, aghast that he could be so tactless and stone-hearted.

‘Chill baby, you are doing well, chill.’ Leela tried to contain her anger and calm down. “The situation is almost the same everywhere. People are dying in hundreds and thousands every day. I trust the power of our true love. Despite all the odds we will sail through this situation to lead a beautiful life in future.”

“Be practical, Leela. The chance of Ram surviving is very slim. Even our survival is not 100% guaranteed. Anything can happen to anyone. That’s why I’d love to have my own family and that too, as soon as possible. Please understand and accept the beautiful life ahead of us. Let’s marry and create magic.”

“I completely understand your need, and also the expectations of us. Anything can happen to anyone, I agree. But why me, when I am not ready for this marriage? I love Ram and I know in my heart that he is doing well. I’ve got a good vibe of this.”

Darshan could not handle it anymore. He said, “Kill your bloody vibe. Get ready for our marriage. I will ask uncle to quickly prepare for the marriage. I will prefer to not having any more discussions on this topic. Period.

Ram

Ram dragged a bean bag to the living room and sat down comfortably. Yawning, he cracked his knuckles, and stretched his legs. “Looks like someone is not hungry. That’s fishy, isn’t it, Gary?” Chuckling he gave a sideways glance at Cathy, trying to tease her.

“Cathy is angry, so she is not hungry.” Mike, as usual, came to the rescue.

“She is in lockdown mode. She is being considerate about our food stock levels.” Gary thought to himself.

“Maybe, or maybe not. I do not know. What I know for sure is… she is angry at someone. Someone she loves a lot actually” Mike responded subtly.

“I am neither hungry nor angry. I am going to sleep.” Cathy frowned, got up from her bean bag, and sipped on a cup of coffee before making her way to the bedroom.

“Good night folks.” Ram grabbed a cup of black coffee, a perfumed wax candle before making his way to the bedroom.

Cathy undressed quickly before jumping into the bed; a habit she developed during her high school days.

“Good night, Cathy. Sleep well.” Ram spoke before she covered herself with the blanket.Cathy sat up on the bed holding the blanket on to her bosom. “This is the limit. I cannot handle the stress anymore. I need you. Let’s talk like adults. Are you game?”

“Of course, let’s sort it out.” Ram appreciated her efforts, giving her a thumbs-up.Cathy walked up to him holding the blanket on to her bosom and sat close to him. “Help me with the answers. Be straight and to the point please.”

“Are you still in love with Leela?”

“I love her to bits and pieces.” Ram whispered looking into Cathy’s eyes.

“Okay, this is the expected answer. Here’s the next. Are you hopeful about her upcoming marriage, considering the pandemic situation?” Cathy leaned to her right and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Love and hope are two beautiful interlinked words. Do you expect anything more?”

“Smart answer. I’m totally hooked to this chic conversation.” Cathy sat up, looked into eyes and asked, “Just answer ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, okay?”

“Are you a one-woman man?” Cathy raised her eyebrows and added, “Are you still a virgin?”Ram blushed. He could not have eye-contact with her. “Fortunately, yes!”

“Unbelievable! For the past month, you have been sharing the room with a woman, who sleeps in the nude. And yet you never tried anything on me. Have you at least… seriously, you have a great control.”

Ram blushed. Chuckling, Cathy said, “And look… you are blushing. Leela is lucky.”“Okay, the last: do you like me?”

“I like you. I admire you. You are… like a good friend to me. At least one of the few souls I trust in this country.” Ram finally held eye-contact with her.

“I have a huge crush on you. More than just a crush – I am attracted to you. Of course, I have the urge of making love to you. I’m not a virgin. I lost my virginity at the age of 19, with my ex-boyfriend. I also had fun with a couple of guys I met in the dance club. I am open-minded and as a woman, I don’t really believe in the concept of virginity. My mantra is to never regret about anything in life.”

“I like your openness, Cathy. I am in-line with your thoughts. Likewise, I have set few principles in my life. And….”

Cathy cut him short and said, “I respect your views. Is there a harm in hugging a woman other than your love?”

“No…”

Before he could add or justify his views she said, “hug me tight and sleep well.”

The wet-winds blew off the candle. She giggled, “Even Mother Nature understands our conversation.”

“No toe-curling kisses. No bed-rocking sex. Just a gentle warm hug. Never slept in such a bliss.” Cathy typed a status in her messenger. Only later did she realize the hard-hitting reality. No power. No signal. No social life. It’s just about the worst ever pandemic situation the world has encountered. Once in every five minutes a soul leaves the body.

2.0

Ram stared at the portrait sketch of Leela’s photograph for a while, which he sketched after landing in London earlier this year.

Someone is specialmissing your special one a lot, is it?” Cathy interrupted his train of thoughts.

He acknowledged with a nod. “Feels so hard without talking to her. Make me wonder how did people survived long distance relationship prior to the technology invasion.”

“There is a fine line between trust, love and need. Our ancestors had a great understanding of these. Whereas we younger generation are so bad at managing emotions and end up in nasty things.” Cathy kept it simple.

“It is easy to say, but hard to follow.” He said looking into her eyes. “I pray for her survival every second. And,” he paused, took a deep breathe, and said, “Anyway, there’s no point in cribbing about it. I accept and I am waiting for the day to live my life with her.”

***

Power restoration project headed by World Health Organization successfully restored the power globally after as many as 30 days. The house, the road and what not… got its actual glow back. Everyone in the house was excited and shouting at peak, while Ram quickly escaped from the celebrations to grab his smartphone. He quickly switched it on as he had 30% charge left on his smartphone when he switched it off. The first two signal bars looked much like the last two lifelines of the game. He quickly dialled Leela on her mobile phone.

The connection was slow, but not dead. Ram patiently listened to the ring.

The first call got connected. “Ram…”

“Leela… Leela.”

“Ram… Ram… Ram… Leela…. Leela Ram…. Ram Leela…”

Words failed to help the lovebirds. Cathy stood shellshocked, but in a way she was happy for Ram. She understood his true love for Leela.

Virtual

May 2020

“It’s scary to hear what you’ve to go through, Leela.” Ram said placing the smartphone in the holder. He adjusted the neckband.

“It’s horrible, Ram. No one should go through it. This incident happened in the third week of complete shutdown. Darshan came home with rape on his mind; an ideology suggested by his friends that he should rape me to subdue me, and it is justified as anyway he would be marrying me. I was listening to music in the USB MP3 player, the mega-powered backup battery and 16W speaker I always use to listen music even during power failures.

He came inside the room after seeking permission. I said yes and turned back cribbing in silence. He increased the volume to the maximum, locked the door and looked at me from top to bottom. He powered me down to the bed, in no-time he tore my t-shirt exposing the inner-garments. I resisted and screamed, but it went unheard due to the loud music. He bit my lips very hard to the extend it started bleeding and even slapped me twice when I tried pushing him away. All I could see is my dreams crushing into nothing.

He released my right hand to unzip his pants. The zip stuck midway. He lifted his legs to unzip or pull the pant down. I used the opportunity to knock his balls with my knee. It was a hard kick and so, Darshan threw himself off from the bed, coughing hard in pain. Bleeding from mouth, I got up quickly, trying to escape. Darshan twisted, turned and rolled in pain. He looked completely helpless. I wanted to inflict more pain on him, stamped on his manhood with all the power I could gather, until he passed out. Still unable to calm down, I kicked his belly hard. Unconscious, he lay there unmoving.” Leela wet her handkerchief.

Ram could not speak a word. He did not expect to hear such things from her. He waited for her to continue.

“Our parents took us to hospital, where we were tested for virus and given treatment. A couple of weeks later, I took Darshan to a psychologist, where he revealed the dark secrets of his life. Darshan was abused by his uncle from his early childhood. He had spent many days losing his self-esteem. That’s why he had a huge problem when someone insulted or ignored him. Regular visits to the phycologist helped him live a better life.” Leela spoke at one go.

“That’s cruel. I cannot image such things, Leela.”

“It’ll take time to heal. Of this I am sure, my love for you is eternal. We are meant to be together forever.”

Cathy walked in apologising and saying a ‘Hi’ to Leela. She spoke for a brief minute about the lockdown before they hanged up as Ram had to join a meeting.

***

“Do you remember this poem?” Leela dropped a text on WhatsApp

Okay, One, two and three,
Let’s the fun begin with tea,
Get up from the bed,
Freshen up Mr. Red,
Wear the sexy red shirt,
Come to our heaven Mr. Flirt!
Yours,
Lady Book.


“Of course, I do. It’s on my birthday. And of course, it’s our proposal day.” Ram responded. He always liked the swipe right feature of WhatsApp when replying to chat messages.

“Life has changed so much. I never imagined living in lockdown in the year 2020. It was supposed to be the most happening year – every class mate of us said this right?

A virus changed our way of life.” Leela was quick to respond. However, Ram read the message only in the morning. “Did you sleep so soon?”

***

“Oh yes, I did. I was tired.” He texted her in the morning.

The conversations on WhatsApp chat, audio and video calls continued. WhatsApp became the way of life, right from dawn to dusk and even after that, they lived together virtually – the new normal, cherishing simplest things of life making it the biggest memory of their life.

Unlock

August 2020

The World Health Organization declared that the virus outbreak had killed 70% of the global population and erased few countries from the map. With only 30% of the global population surviving the pandemic, this was worst of the pandemics the world had seen. Social distancing was also regulated across the globe before announcing the end of pandemic on the 150th day from the first reported case.

***

Cathy held Ram’s hand for a brief time. She always knew that when the time come, Ram would fly back to his hometown. But in her heart, she had believed that she would have got more time with him – than the 30 days of lockdown as they lived in the flat share, followed by the second month of the global power outage and then, the post power revival unlock period. The time they shared was too less for her heart, and when the time came to say goodbye, it left her heart sore. Those beautiful days and nights had come to an end.

“So much happened in the past 150 days. So much to the extent that we look at this world like a fresh start. So much that…” Cathy blurted, she paused, took a deep breath and she said, “You have to go now, Ram… but my heart says ‘don’t go’”.

Ram kept looking into her eyes deeply. Completely wet. Fresh tears-brimmed in her powerful eyes.

“Will you come back to this country?” Cathy was hopeful.

“Probably, not.” Ram looked away as he knew he would hurt her with that response, but he wanted to be truthful to Cathy.

“In the last 30 days we shared a beautiful bond….” Cathy was completely emotional.

“Hmm” Ram smiled.

“At times these blank smiles say a lot of words” Cathy paused, looked straight to his heart and continued, “A part of you is inside me… and it will stay with me forever. It will make my life meaningful.”

She wiped off the freshly brimmed tears. “Memories. The memories of past 100+ days. I meant.”

“I’ll… leave. I do not want to cry in public. I will miss you very much, Ram. And yes, I love you, Ram.” Cathy ran from the airport.

Ram waved goodbye to his colleagues for one last time. Sam, Mike, Gary and Ramya was sad too as they had all fought against pandemic situation together.

“Tough times make people stronger. Whoever said this, go to hell.” Sam murmured.

‘Bye!’ All of them waved together.

2022

At around 11 PM in the night.

Leela slept on the bed by the time Ram finished typing the story. It was more of an extract from the first book plus he addressed the gaps in the story.

By the time he crossed 4000 words, he was sure to stop and close the story, but his policy of ‘have-no-regrets-in-life’ pricked his heart. He cannot fail at second attempt too.

He recalled Cathy’s words: “A part of you is inside me… and it will stay with me forever. It will make my life meaningful.” After a pause Cathy added, “Memories. The memories of past 100+ days. I meant.”

“Just memories inside her? Is her son the baby of a victim? As Leela thought… what happened in the last 30 nights of unlock was more than a beautiful memory. Cathy might call it as a sexual need. I might say ‘hmm’ as these unspoken silences speak a lot of words.” Ram typed the unspoken words.

He kissed Leela’s cheek, “What about Leela? How will I tell her that I am not an one-woman man? And I am neither a cheater.”

Ram deleted the last couple of paragraphs before he pressed ‘CTRL+Z’.

Before he published the post, he made his mind to confess all that happened in the last 30 nights to Leela in the morning.

***

“Good Morning!” Leela woke him up and gave a cup of coffee.

“Good Morning. Sorry, I had a disturbed sleep. What’s the time?”

“10:00 AM for us. 4:30 AM in London. Cathy must be sleeping at this time, right?” Leela carefully placed her words.

Ram was in complete shock. Leela continued her word-play, “Cathy and her son are happy to become the permanent residents of India.”

Ram did not look up. He felt bad and guilty yet again.

“You want to live with two wives and two kids, is it?” Leela nailed the final words.

Ram did not have courage to speak.

“CatRamLeela… sounds nice right?” Leela said with freshly brimmed tears. “No, I am not crying. I will be happy for the sake of my baby.”

After a pause she shouted, “I know… I know this is coming. It is hard to digest, Ram.”Ram had no say. He could not even hug her.

“I want to confess the truth, Leela. I cannot live with regrets. I do not want to cheat you, my love. I always want to live a happy life with you. I texted Cathy because I do not want her to live in pain, for the mistake we committed knowing the fruits of it.

In all ways you are the most affected in this case. I checked her decision before proposing the idea to you – Cathy, her son, you, me and our baby – all of us living together leading a happy life.

I leave the decision to you.”

***

Leela posted a new photo for the first time in a while. The caption read “#CatRamLeela #HarryHermoine wishes you a Happy New Year 2023!”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Show your support for the hastags #BlogATon59 & #LockdownTales. Participation Count: 42.

PS: I’d like to thank “Nika” for editing the first book, of which few parts are extracted and used in this post.

PPS: It takes lot of explanation/justification to understand what made Leela accept Ram’s proposal. I shall do that in the book. If you have enjoyed reading the story, please vote for me and do read the book 1, The First Call: Love In The Time Of Virus.

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RETURN


This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 58; the fifty-eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Saravanakumar Murugan, the editor of Shades Of Life book series.

This short story is now a part of the upcoming short story collection as requested by multiple readers. Thanks for the love!

Happy Endings. If the end is not happy, then it is not the actual end!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Show your support for the hastags #BlogATon58 & #Aativas50. Participation Count: 41.
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Hold My Hand


This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 57; the fifty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Madhu Vajpayee, the author of Seeking Redemption and Shades Publications, the publisher of Friendship- Bonds Beyond Time.

He closed the gate, stood there, looked on his right, and then on his left. On seeing a speeding car, he said, “Hold My Hand”. She didn’t.

“Hold My Hand, dear. Let’s cross.” He repeated his words. She didn’t. He turned back to shout at her. And on seeing the word at the gate, “Graveyard,” he realized that she is no more. A teardrop escaped from his left eye.

He wiped off the tear and walked across the road. In the midway, he felt her fingers in his, it was… her soul. Her soul smiled and he smiled.

“Together forever!”


Info:- Drabble refers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 100 words.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 40.

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The Secret


This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 56; the fifty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write.

On hearing an unfamiliar scream, he rushed inside the room. His lovable wife, looked at him and the new-born angel, and whispered, "I will..."

He waited her to complete the sentence, but on the seeing blank lines in the heart monitor, his heart skipped a beat.

The doctor held his hands and said, "We could not save your wife. Sorry." Tears poured down from his eyes. The nurse gave him his angel, and the doctor asked him follow the process to complete the formalities.

And what she wanted to say remained a secret till her daughter published her debut novel.


Info:- Drabble refers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 100 words.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 39.

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The Rain


This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 55; the fifty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Rashmi Kumar, the author of Hooked, Lined and Single and Jyoti Arora, the author of Lemon Girl.


Sitting by the windowpane Sinamika stared at the pouring rain through the window, the road had become a stream, the trees and the plants appeared green and fresh, the dogs and cats, the cows and hens, became sick of rain, and there was no existence of life on the road.

She looked at her Father, Venkat, he was still sleeping in an easy chair, she had to wait for him to wake up, to sail the paper boats. Her favorite time pass on any rainy day. She looked again through the window; a car flew like a lightning on the road. She closed her eyes, calm, yet melodious drizzles, made her swim in the memories of last year’s rainy season.

* * *

Appa, I am going to sail my paper boats.” She stood up from the chair after making her paper boats. Her Father got up from the easy chair, brushed her hair, and said, “It’s still raining, dear. You might have to wait a while!”

She put up her long face – the drama queen – sat by the windowpane and waited for the rain to go away. Her Father came close to her, and said, “Maybe, we should try something else.”

“What should we do? Cook Pakodas and eat?” She frowned, looking down, without having any eye contact with her Father.

Amma is preparing pakodas and tea. She will make it ready in another thirty minutes. Till that time…” Cutting her Father short, she asked, “We will watch TV, is it?”

“No, Sina... We will go out and dance in the rain.” The moment he said this, she jumped on her Father, hugged him tight, and shouted, “You are so sweet Appa!”

Her Mother came out of the kitchen, saw them smile happily, washed her hands, and then she said, “But keep an eye on the road, Sina Appa. These days the car drivers fly like a rocket.”

“I’ll take care of her,” her Father assured. They went out much like the happy mouse after finding the new cheese mountain in the book, Who moved my cheese?

Sinamika looking upwards stretched her hands out, in the rain. She hopped clapping her hands in the rain; her Father too did the same. On seeing them out in the rain, the dogs came out of the kennel and the hens too, joined them and made sounds like one happy family. It was a picture perfect frame.

In about half an hour, her Mother came out and asked them to come in and wash their hands and legs, to have hot pakodas and tea, as she was almost done with the cooking part.

Sinamika ran out of the compound walls shouting, “No… No, I want to play more in the rain.”

They heard a big explosion. Her Mother ran inside to check if something happened in the kitchen, her father ran in next, stopped near the door, and called Sinamika to come in. She refused to come in.

He heard another big explosion inside, followed by a huge scream, when he went inside; he saw his wife caught fire because of the explosion of the kerosene stove. He quickly got a sack, and wrapped it around her, and rolled her down.

He heard a screeching sound outside, followed by Sinamika’s scream. He ran out of the home, only to see her daughter lying in the pool of blood mixed with water stream, hit by an over speeding car that passed through.

He broke down into tears. He composed himself quickly, knocked his neighbor’s door for help, took his wife and daughter to the hospital in the car.

* * *

Sinamika, her Father called her name loudly. She came back to present, tear drops fell from her eye, she looked at her amputated legs, and then her Father, “Can you take me out in the rain. I want to sail my paper boats.”

His lips curved a little, he made her sit in the wheelchair, collected all the paper boats from the table, and took her outside the home.

She took her first paper boat with the help of her Father, looked at the sky, “Amma, this is my letter for you. I want you to return after reading this,” she said and sailed her paper boat in the stream of water that led to the place called Hope.

The second was the letter to God asking him why He snatched her Mother away from her, the third was the letter to the Government requesting to find the car owner who took her legs away from her, the next was her secret wishlist and it continued.

* * *
She Hopes that all her letters get a response!
Will it happen?

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 38. Image Credits: Monsoon by Yann (Wikimedia Commons). Shared with GNU Free Documentation License CC Attribution-Share Alike.


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Forever

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 54; the fifty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton

Forever.
She is Forever.
She is “Forever”… the creator, the living God, the purest Diya in God’s throne, and every single bit of faith I have in God.
She is “Forever”… my first love, my first friend and my best half. That’s why I believe in relationships.
She is “Forever”… a magical musician, a valor protector, and a wonderful teacher. The first song she sang, the first time she protected when I fell down, the first rhyme I learnt, is the best that happened to me so far.
She is “Forever”… my first poem, my first prose and my first special post. Maybe, that’s why I’m able to write.
She is “Forever”… a 21-year-old lady, a super-active woman, working round the clock, round the year, non-stop. She never sleeps and he has food only when she gets free time.
She is “Forever”… a super Amma for… me, my sister, my brother, my sister’s son and daughter, and for my future daughter. Even today, my sister’s son and daughter, call my sister Priya Akka and my mom Amma.

Above all, she is “Forever” my pillar. There are so many “Forever” about her. I will never be able to end this write-up even if I list them all… because I’m her son… Forever and Ever!

Happy Mother’s Day Amma!!!

This post is dedicated to my super Amma and to all the angels in this world…


The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 37

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Life is a chocolate




Life is a chocolate has been adapted into a chapter in the recently published book: The First Call: Love In The Time Of Virus. If you enjoy reading the story, I sincerely recommend you to give the book "Coffee Reads" a read!

 



 


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 53; the fifty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Soulmates: Love without ownership by Vinit K Bansal. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

 


The chilly winds blew up the dead leaves in the air piercing the numb silence of the graveyard. The damp close air with reduced visibility reminded her of the world she lived years ago. A bowlful of memories locked up in the torn piece of her heart belonged the person living in the gravestone. She went down on her knees, placed a Swiss dark chocolate on that gravestone, pressed her lips on the name “Varun” engraved on it. Tear drops filled up the space between her lips and the gravestone. And the clouds too poured down their grief to mark the end of a beautiful story.


* * *

The thousandth ray of morning sun fell on his face. He twisted, turned, and tossed up on the three-years-old hostel-bed. The fresh aroma of the tea activated his brain that ordered to him to open his eyes to greet the day. He saw a card and a plastic cup of tea kept on the table. He extended his arms, took the card in one hand, opened with a smile, as ordered on the card. It read…


Okay, One, two and three,
Let’s the fun begin with tea,
Get up from the bed,
Freshen up Mr. Red,
Wear the sexy red shirt,
Come to our heaven Mr. Flirt!
Yours,
Lady Book.

He threw himself out of the bed, sipped the tea in a minute, rushed to the bathroom and freshened up in less than half-an-hour, ran to the heaven. He saw a card on the library door. It read…


Words we love, reading
Again and again, feeding
The hunger inside, seeding
The peace of love, wanting
For more from his pen, leading
The world of poetry, dancing
With the host of daffodils, loving
Reading whatever he was blessing!
Yours,
Insane Poem,

The first line itself was enough for him to run to poetry section and grab Wordsworth, still he read till the last word to enjoy the words. A card fell down from the book. It read…


Come to the place,
Where we first met.
Come to the place,
Where we first fought.
Come to the place,
Where we first cried.
Come to the place,
Where we first smiled.
Come to the place,
Where we first sat together,
Come to the place,
Where we first ….
Yours,
Idly & Kuruma.

“What’s was that word ending with ‘er’” He said to himself. He turned the card to see a smiley that made him laugh. He kept the card along with other cards in his shirt pocket, ran to the canteen, only to find the ever-smiling sweet-enemy classmate, Aron. Aron showed Varun the card he was dying to read, but Aron did not allow him to read till he paid for his breakfast. It read…


I am the synonym…
Of your smile, tears (happy and sad), mood (good and bad), status (Facebook & Twitter), the ordinary words that you scribble and yet sounding beautiful when I read, and of course, the Swiss dark chocolate that you love a lot.
Yours,
Swiss Dark Chocolate.

And on the backside of the card, it read… “Meet me at my home now!” On reading the card, he ran to hostel parking lot, then to his bike, to be surprised to see a “Swiss Dark Chocolate” with “I …. …” written on the cover, and kept on the engine. He started the bike, changed the gears and flew to heaven.


In about half-an-hour, Nithya received a call from him on her mobile phone. She said, “Loser. Loser. Loser.” A stranger spoke, “Mam, can you please come to Apollo hospital. Your friend met with a road accident. I’m…”


She fell unconscious.


When she opened her eyes, she saw him covered in white, placed inside coffin. Aron walked towards her and handed over a Swiss Dark Chocolate with “I …. …” written on the cover. Aron said that Varun was admitted in the hospital in “braindead” condition. Doctors operated Varun’s organs to save a small boy who was in need of a heart. She looked at the chocolate, pressed her lips on the cover, and...


* * *

The chilly wind blew up the dead leaves in the air piercing the numb silence of the graveyard and made her skin shiver. She went down on her knees, placed a Swiss dark chocolate on that gravestone belonged to her, pressed her lips on the name “Varun” engraved on it. The bowlful of memories flashed before her eyes. Tear drops filled up the space between her lips and the gravestone. She said, “I …”, and her heart stopped beating, but her lips whispered two more unsaid words.


Varun saw her unmoved for more than ten minutes. He came out of the car, running and shouting “Mamma” with a Swiss Dark Chocolate in his hand and a card in the other. It read...


“Life is like a dark chocolate. Bittersweet. Depends on how you see it. You can make it sweeter by turning the odds to favours or by losing to it. Choose your way, Varun :)”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 36


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Life is a chocolate


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 53; the fifty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Soulmates: Love without ownership by Vinit K Bansal. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The chilly wind blew up the dead leaves in the air piercing the numb silence of the graveyard. The damp close air with reduced visibility reminded her of the world she lived years ago. A bowlful of memories locked up in the torn piece of her heart belonged the person living in the gravestone. She went down on her knees, placed a Swiss dark chocolate on that gravestone, pressed her lips on the name “Varun” engraved on it. Tear drops filled up the space between her lips and the gravestone. And the clouds too poured down their grief to mark the end of a beautiful story.

* * *

The thousandth ray of morning sun fell on his face. He twisted, turned, and tossed up on the three-years-old hostel-bed. The fresh aroma of the tea activated his brain that ordered to him to open his eyes to greet the day. He saw a card and a plastic cup of tea kept on the table. He extended his arms, took the card in one hand, opened with a smile, as ordered on the card. It read…

Okay, One, two and three,
Let’s the fun begin with tea,
Get up from the bed,
Freshen up Mr. Red,
Wear the sexy red shirt,
Come to our heaven Mr. Flirt!
Yours,
Lady Book.
He threw himself out of the bed, sipped the tea in a minute, rushed to the bathroom and freshened up in less than half-an-hour, ran to the heaven. He saw a card on the library door. It read…

Words we love, reading
Again and again, feeding
The hunger inside, seeding
The peace of love, wanting
For more from his pen, leading
The world of poetry, dancing
With the host of daffodils, loving
Reading whatever he was blessing!
Yours,
Insane Poem,
The first line itself was enough for him to run to poetry section and grab Wordsworth, still he read till the last word to enjoy the words. A card fell down from the book. It read…

Come to the place,
Where we first met.
Come to the place,
Where we first fought.
Come to the place,
Where we first cried.
Come to the place,
Where we first smiled.
Come to the place,
Where we first sat together,
Come to the place,
Where we first ….
Yours,
Idly & Kuruma.
“What’s was that word ending with ‘er’” He said to himself. He turned the card to see a smiley that made him laugh. He kept the card along with other cards in his shirt pocket, ran to the canteen, only to find the ever-smiling sweet-enemy classmate, Aron. Aron showed Varun the card he was dying to read, but Aron did not allow him to read till he paid for his breakfast. It read…

I am the synonym…
Of your smile, tears (happy and sad), mood (good and bad), status (Facebook & Twitter), the ordinary words that you scribble and yet sounding beautiful when I read, and of course, the Swiss dark chocolate that you love a lot.
Yours,
Swiss Dark Chocolate.
And on the backside of the card, it read… “Meet me at my home now!” On reading the card, he ran to hostel parking lot, then to his bike, to be surprised to see a “Swiss Dark Chocolate” with “I …. …” written on the cover, and kept on the engine. He started the bike, changed the gears and flew to heaven.

In about half-an-hour, Nithya received a call from him on her mobile phone. She said, “Loser. Loser. Loser.” A stranger spoke, “Mam, can you please come to Apollo hospital. Your friend met with a road accident. I’m…”

She fell unconscious.

When she opened her eyes, she saw him covered in white, placed inside coffin. Aron walked towards her and handed over a Swiss Dark Chocolate with “I …. …” written on the cover. Aron said that Varun was admitted in the hospital in “braindead” condition. Doctors operated Varun’s organs to save a small boy who was in need of a heart. She looked at the chocolate, pressed her lips on the cover, and...

* * *

The chilly wind blew up the dead leaves in the air piercing the numb silence of the graveyard and made her skin shiver. She went down on her knees, placed a Swiss dark chocolate on that gravestone belonged to her, pressed her lips on the name “Varun” engraved on it. The bowlful of memories flashed before her eyes. Tear drops filled up the space between her lips and the gravestone. She said, “I …”, and her heart stopped beating, but her lips whispered two more unsaid words.

Varun saw her unmoved for more than ten minutes. He came out of the car, running and shouting “Mamma” with a Swiss Dark Chocolate in his hand and a card in the other. It read...

“Life is like a dark chocolate. Bittersweet. Depends on how you see it. You can make it sweeter by turning the odds to favours or by losing to it. Choose your way, Varun :)”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 36

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An Unsent Letter Written By A Girl



 



 


An Unsent Letter’ won BRONZE BATOM in 52nd edition of Blog-a-Ton.



 


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 52; the fifty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Metro Diaries by "Namrata". To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

 


Unsent Letter by a Girl Who Was Gang Raped
Unsent Letter by a Girl Who Was Gang Raped
Unsent Letter by a Girl Who Was Gang Raped
Unsent Letter by a Girl Who Was Gang Raped

 


The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 35

 


This post is also a part of IndiSpire Edition: 55.


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An Unsent Letter Written By A Girl




An Unsent Letter’ won BRONZE BATOM in 52nd edition of Blog-a-Ton.

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 52; the fifty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Metro Diaries by "Namrata". To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Unsent Letter by a Girl Who Was Gang RapedUnsent Letter by a Girl Who Was Gang Raped

click on the image to enlarge
image source

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 35

This post is also a part of IndiSpire Edition: 55.
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The Dream

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 51; the fifty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Red Ink Publishers and "Curse Of The Red Soil" by Durgesh Shastri. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

It is a dream come true moment, especially for me. Usually, I keep it short and simple, but not this time, as I want to thank a few people for supporting me always. I request each one of you to please bear with me.

Before announcing the results, I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making our dream come true. The dream of having 100 entrants in a single edition. I am glad it came true, and that too, in this special occasion – Blog-a-Ton’s Centennial Edition and my 75th Edition as Marshal – what else I could have asked for! #BlogATon100

I would like to express my gratitude to Blog-a-Ton Founder Marshal Vipul Grover, for creating the grand platform, for trusting me, and requesting me to Marshal it along with Leo. And, how would I, thank Leo for all his help. Without his support, it would have been really tough to Marshal Blog-a-Ton alone.

...the
journey
so far...
On 5th July 2009, Blog-a-Ton was born, a misnomer of the word Blogathon and on 1st August 2009, our first edition was hosted by our Marshal Vipul Grover and after 17 editions, he willingly took a break. Our Ravan hosted once after which, Leo and I took the responsibility on our shoulders to march forward towards our dream. I am a happy man today. Some of our BATOM’s (including myself) are now published authors, and we can proudly say that Blog-a-Ton helped us a lot! Some write because of BAT, some breathe for BAT, and that is what Blog-a-Ton is all about! Celebrate Writing! Keep writing for BAT!

Coming to the results, here is the list of participants and the cheers they garnered. I am happy to be one of them. Thank you so much for voting me.

* * *

“Get up, Sweetheart. The time is 06:30 AM.” She whispered in my ears.

I woke up with a start. I cleared my vision and looked around for my laptop. It was lying on the computer table next to my bed. "Was it a dream?" I asked to myself.

She spoke in a high tone, “You literally spoke each word loudly. Enough dreaming about Blog-a-Ton. 100 participants, 100th Edition? It can happen only in dreams, but the reality is… it is tough to find 100 passionate writers.”

I kept mum. She got irritated and left the room to prepare coffee for me. I got up to freshen up. After fifteen minutes, I went to our living room.

She was there waiting for me with the coffee. I sat on the couch. Sipping the coffee I said, “It’ll happen. I’m sure I will be hosting the 100th Edition.” She interrupted and said, “I am sure you will host the 100th Edition, but I doubt if there will be 100 passionate participants participating in that.”

“I’m sure of that too.” I said looking into her eyes.

“100 writers writing on the same topic in a single day. That is highly impossible unless you announce prizes. Moreover, your hard work go waste each time. You spend half-an-hour on an average every week for Blog-a-Ton and two-three hours on the result days, but the result is… You know it better!”

“But… I’m happy!"

She did not say a word after that because she knew my dream. I am very sure that my dream will come true one day and I am eagerly waiting for that day. The Marshal’s dream!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, start following Blog-a-Ton and Subscribe to Blog-a-Ton Reminders. Participation Count: 34
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Soulmates


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 50; the fiftieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Soulmates: Love without ownership by Vinit K Bansal. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

“We broke up.” He sent a message on WhatsApp to her. He kept staring at the phone for her response for the next ten minutes, but there was none. He was clearly upset.

There was a knock at the door and then a voice spoke – his favorite person in life - “It’s me.” He opened the door and let her in.

“Don’t tell me that you broke up again.” Curious, she was.

“We did!” He did not speak another word.

“Two break-ups in the past eleven months. This is not good for you.” She said looking into his wet eyes.

“I do not know, why? Things are not working out. My expectation. My wish.” He paused, crying literally. She hugged him and said, “Okay, let her go. Maybe, she is not the right person for you.” He added, “Maybe, just maybe, I’m not the right person for love.”

It took thirty minutes for her to convince him that whatever happened was for good.

He said, “Okay, let’s not talk this, anymore. Maybe, I’m yet to find my soulmate.

She nodded her head, knowing him well – after all, they were friends for more than fifteen years now – she asked, “Shall we go for a drive?”

The mood in the air changed. He smiled. She smiled. They went out of the room happily. She raced on the road, as usual, to their favorite spot. She ordered two Chocolate Sundaes before he was about to say, “Chocolate Sundae for me.” He smiled. It was like this. Every time, he would want to tell something to her, before which she would do that. He would smile happily. She knew him bit-by-bit. And, she was his habit.

“What a girl expect in love?” He asked.

“Love and security, what else it could be?” She answered in a happy tone. She knew, for sure, he would not discuss more on the topic.

She was right. He smiled and said, “Shall we go to beach?”

She never disappointed him in their friendship. It was always, “yes-yes” to all his requests. They were standing in the beach holding hands of each other. The waves touched their feet now and then. They were enjoying the evening recalling some of the sweetest memories and adding treasures to their photo collections.

Two hours or might be three hours had gone by. They did not worry about the time, but her dad did. They had to leave.

She dropped him at his place, as usual. Before he got out of the car, she said, “It is easy to find a partner, but it is very hard to find a Soulmate.”

He smiled. She smiled. As usual. And, she left to home.

That night, at half past one in the night, he sent a photograph on WhatsApp with the text, “My Soulmate is here.

She updated her status on WhatsApp, ♥ love-struck ♥”.

No wonder, why she was HAPPY. He sent “Her” photo with the text, “My Soulmate is here.

And, they lived happily ever after.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 33
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down memory lane #truestory




Down Memory Lane has been compiled into collection of stories and published on Amazon: Sixteen & Half. If you enjoy reading the story, I sincerely recommend you to give the book a read!

 



 


Down Memory Lane’ won SILVER BATOM in 49th edition of Blog-a-Ton.



 


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 49; the forty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

 


“SHE SHOULD BE BACK IN AN HOUR. THESE DAYS SHE ALMOST LIVES IN THE CHURCH.” HE MUTTERED ADJUSTING HIS THICK-RIMMED SPECTACLES THAT WAS GIFTED BY HIS WIFE NISHA FORTY YEARS AGO.


The sun had gone down, the birds flew to their nest, the ants marched to their hole, the two-legged so-called human-beings jogged to their homes, and the wonderful four-legged pets followed. He sat on the wooden chair placed in the garden in front of his house with a photo book in his hand. He wore a round neck t-shirt, the favourite blue jeans, and a scarf wrapped twice around his neck and tucked into a thick sweater, both knitted by his lovable wife forty years ago. As usual. He did not look as old as his age. In fact, he looked very young. And his skin did not feel cold. Perhaps, Brussels was not as cold as it used to be.


He lighted his short-lived sixth-finger after three unsuccessful attempts. He inhaled its smoke, and after a minute or so, he let the smoke out through his nose, much like a train spewing out smoke through the chimney. He looked at the watch, then he muffled under his breath, “She used to complain that I spend very less time in the initial days of our marriage life, but these days she spends very less time with me. Maybe, when she is back, I should propose her the plan of visiting Bruges. Honeymoon at sixty-five is not at all a bad idea!” He spoke the last line a bit loud, blushing like a twenty-year-old young man.


A loud horn disturbed his train of thoughts. He saw a truck that passed by his home. He abused the truck driver for spoiling the peaceful evening, while completing his nineteenth cigarette of the day, his best friend for life.


Waving bye to the kids passed by the garden on skating shoes, he opened the photo book one more time to travel deep down memory lane. A habit he developed during his late twenties. On seeing the first photograph, his face curved, then it shone in his eyes, and finally the smile lit his whole face.


It was the same photograph, which she gave him in their second date, when he asked if he could have her photograph to show it to his mom. She was just nineteen at that time. She looked very beautiful in blue shorts and pink t-shirt. He could still recall the colours despite looking at the black and white photograph. Her face complimented her size zero figure and the smile she carried on her face is a medicine for all the traumas he had suffered in his life. And her blue eyes were something he always loved looking into till eternity. He kissed the photograph whispering, “My Dear Lady Love, I love you so much.”

It took three licks on his wrinkled fingers to move to the next page. His face lit up again on his achievement, he looked around to check if someone acknowledged it. Nobody noticed him, except a small dog, which barked on seeing his face. He laughed and then looked into the photo book again.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


The golden sun went down, the beach roared loudly, the birds flew into the sky, and she went down on one knee, making the moment picturesque. Usually, it happens the other way, but his charm always made it possible.


“I might sound weird or trashy, but this is how I am. This being our fourth date, it might be early to confess, but I have to admit that I am in love with you. Even if this were our third or fifth date, I would have proposed you because I am heads over heels in love with you.”


She paused for a second, for his response, but he kept mum. She continued, “Just nineteen, yet to kiss a man’s lips, say something…”


“Ouch, my knee hurts. Will you at least take these rare pebbles?” She whispered much like a six-year-old offering a chocolate.


He took the pebbles from her hand, helped her to get up, and then sealed her lips passionately.


“I love you right from the moment when I first saw you in the flea market. You were wearing a blue jean pant and white tops. You looked like an angel. My heart told me that you are my life. Maybe, it is God’s wish. Otherwise, He would not have made us meet again and again.”


They sat there, hand-in-hand, drinking champagne, celebrating the day of love.


***


“A girl going down on one knee, confessing she is head over heels in love, offering a few rare pebbles she had saved from her childhood, and asking me to take at least the pebbles as her knees hurt. It is the best proposal I have received so far. By the way, she looks very cute when she blushes,” he blushed looking at the photograph, and then he took his handkerchief out, pressed on his lips, kept it back in his pocket.


He heard an old woman voice from behind, lifting his head up, he checked if his Nisha was coming... No, it was somebody else living in the neighbourhood. He shook his head before turning to next page.


He gave a flying kiss to the photo book. It was the picture of their first kiss on a not-so-hot Sunday, which apparently turned out to be the day they lost their virginity. He recalled those romantic conversations.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


“Give me a break. I need to breathe.” She said pushing him away.


He hugged her from behind and pressed his lips all over her neck. It sent down thrills under her spine.


“I am feeling butterflies in my stomach, my hands are shivering, and I guess I am melting down.” She said in one breathe.


He held her hands tight, pressed towards her bosom, pressed his lips all over her neck, and whispered ‘I love you’ umpteen times.


It took less than five minutes for them to undress and move toward the bed. He pushed her on the bed and went on top of her.


“Do you love me?” She asked biting her nails in tension.


“I have no doubts in that!” He said pressing a kiss on her bosom.


“Wait...I’ve questions to ask.” She said pushing him away.


“Do you want me to answer now?” He said almost brushing her bosom.


“Not exactly, but I want to know if this is love or lust.” She said before they become one.


When they were done, he said, “I am and I will love you in a way that nobody has ever done in the past, neither read in books nor be seen in movies in future.”


***


“Hello Amol, how are you and your family?” The hairdresser said while locking the door of his salon that was next to the lawn he was siting.


“Hello Ron, Nisha and I are doing well. Cutie is living with her boyfriend in Bruges. How about you?” He said without a pause.


“My family and I are doing fine. Do you need a haircut? Do you want me to book an appointment for you?” He said looking at his shoulder length hair.
Amol checked the length of his hair and then he said, “I think I am good,” paused for a minute, then he spoke, “Maybe, you can give me an appointment this Saturday at half past nine in the morning.”


“Sure, I will book that slot for you.” He paused, looked at the watch, then he insisted, “It’s six in the evening, Amol. Do you need my help in getting to your home?”


“No, I am okay. I am waiting for Nisha. She will be back any time from Church.” He said sitting on the chair.


Ron smiled, greeted him good night, and left the place. Amol greeted him back, waved bye, and fixed his gaze on the road. The car flew into the street along with other cars, a few pedestrians walked by, but Nisha was nowhere to be seen. He turned to next page in the photo book. It was indeed a very special photograph for them. The dream came true moment when they stood next to each other in the wedding hall in the most beautiful dress to swore the oath that make them one.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


In the centre of the wedding hall, they both stood next to each other. She stood on a high-heeled white-coloured sandal wearing a snow-white splendid sheath wedding gown that ran from the bottom of the toes to the top of her chest and it perfectly hugged her figure following her curves to elegance, as if it had been made for her. The one-shoulder strap bodice adorned with subtle floral embellishments on the edge and the skirt part, the echoing floral embellishments had drowned from the left side waistline in front and become more to the sweep train. A small heart-shaped pendant hanged from a thin necklace around her neck, tiny heart-shaped earrings dangling on her ears, complimented her radiant face gleaming of happiness. She looked much like a queen in the bridal set. Amol, the king of her heart, suited and booted in dark blue, was smiling broadly. His white shirt glittered like the diamonds complimenting the diamond studded watch and the oxford dress shoes. He looked much like a king!


The Church Father started the wedding ceremony after completing the usual formalities.


“I, Amol, take Nisha, to be my Wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till the pebbles she gave turn into sand or death do part us, according to holy ordinance; and thereto I plight my troth.”

She blushed when she heard the line, “till the pebbles she gave turn into sand”


“I, Nisha, take Amol, to be my Wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till the death us do part, according to holy ordinance; and thereto I plight my troth.”


He kissed her for eternity before they drove to Bruges for an extended honeymoon.


***


“This is the moment that means a lot to us. This is what defines us. This is our life.” He said lifting his head up. A pedestrian passed by smiled at him, and he smiled in return.


He knew the next photograph is going to be special, so he lighted the twentieth cigarette of the day, inhaled its smoke, and after two minutes or so, he let the smoke out through his nose, and flipped to next page.


Michael, a young kid, 6 years of age, entered into the society skating along with his mother. On seeing him, Amol shun the cigarette in the ashtray, and spoke to him.


“Hello Michael,”


“Hello uncle, how am I skating?”


“You have learnt the art of skating well. I appreciate your talent boy. You should also learn playing football. Okay?” Sid spoke in one voice.


“Sure uncle, I will be next Courtois.”


Michael’s mom greeted Amol goodbye, and took Michael inside.


Amol smiled on seeing the boy mastering any art he learns felt happy. He saw himself in the small boy. He smiled and then opened the photo book and continued to travel down his memory lane. It is the photograph of Nisha confirming to Sid that she is pregnant.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


“Amol…” she called him aloud. He was busy fixing the broken pipe in the kitchen. He did not respond a word because he wanted her to fresh up as soon as she is home. She searched for him in the bedroom first, living room, and then the kitchen. On seeing him, she hugged him.


“I’m dirty, almost done with fixing these pipes. Please wait for me in the living room. I’ll come there after taking bath.” He said without touching her.


“We are pregnant!” She exclaimed holding him tight.


He turned and looked into her eyes. She kissed him all over his face. He did the same to her. And they both bathed together in the tub holding each other for a long time. That night they slept holding each other tightly.


***


He would never ever forget those happy tears she had in her eyes in this life. In fact, he would call it as diamonds of happiness and not tears. He flipped to next page. Nisha was nine months pregnant when he clicked this photograph. He remembered how he teased his lovable wife complaining her growing tummy.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


He made her sit on the chair, came in with the measuring tape, and wrapped it around her waist.


“Oh my God!” He screamed looking at Nisha, and then he said, “It is 36 inches now. You can never be a size zero figure again.” He winked at her.


“Amol...I’m not going to kiss you again.” She said kissing his palm.


He got up and said, “Our baby must be happy now! She has got a good space inside to play football.”


The moment he said that, Nisha felt tickling inside, and when Amol kept his hands on Nisha’s tummy, the little angel kicked him. They broke into laugh, sat near the window with a glass of apple juice and sipped together.


***


He kissed the photograph again and turned over to next page. It was blank, but he knew the reason behind the blank page, so he ignored it, and flipped to next page. His eyes gleamed in happiness and he slipped into a beautiful world that only he could see. It was the first photograph captured when their cutie set her foot on this earth. When he held her for the first time in his hands, he felt that she is the God’s gift for their true love. He kissed his lovable wife on her forehead and the little angel who completed the family.


The light was inadequate, the weather was very chill, and yet he sat in the lawn patiently waiting for his lovable wife to return home. He felt the need of another cigarette, but all he had done with all the twenty cigarettes. He made himself warm rubbing the hands on his arms and his body.


He flipped the page. When she was three, he clicked this photo, and the ones that followed were captured the most beautiful days of his life!


***


“Uncle, it is getting colder. Can you go inside your home?” He heard a voice from behind.


“You are disturbing me, Sid.” Amol said fixing his gaze in the photo book.


“Nisha aunty is back home. She is looking for you.” Sid said in his maximum voice.


Amol’s face shone in happiness. He got up from the chair much like a young boy, carrying his photo-book in one hand and opening the entrance door with another. He turned back and said with a million-dollar-worth-smile, “Thank you, Sid. That’s so sweet of you.”


“You are welcome uncle. Aunty is tired so she asked you to cook today as well.” Sid said with a smile on his face.


“That’s okay. I can cook for my sweetheart. Good Night!” He walked into his home waving bye to Sid and Isha.


“Nisha aunty...but you never introduced her to me.” Isha paused for a minute, “but I never saw an old woman inside.” She questioned with puzzling eyes. Sid signalled her to come inside, after which he narrated all he heard from his neighbour.


“Nisha aunty died in a truck accident when she was nine months pregnant while returning from Church. On hearing this from his friend Richard, Amol uncle had heart attack and was admitted in hospital. He did not attend her funeral too. Though his friend informed all that happened to Amol uncle, still he was not ready to accept it, and when he accepted it, he was unable to handle to life’s misery on him. So, he drank thirty beers and smoked fifty cigarettes or more that night, after which he became lifeless. He was hospitalized for a week. When he came back home, he started acting weird. Initially, Richard uncle thought he was teasing them, but later he realized that Amol uncle started to live with his imaginary Nisha, and they were blessed with a baby named cutie; the worst kind of hallucination. After the second heart attack, Amol uncle stopped working, and it seems that in this period, he developed the habit of travelling down memory lane by viewing the photo book. Initially he cried after seeing a blank page, he even filed a police complaint that his first family photograph is stolen, but after that incident Richard uncle made sure that he diverts Amol uncle from viewing the photo book after the wedding photograph. It works out well for him.”


“This is the height of madness.” Isha said in disbelief.


“Love itself is madness!” Sid said.


Isha hugged Sid, and he continued, “Amol uncle loves to cook for his wife, so the best lie is what I said minutes before.”


“Is he cooking daily?” She again asked in disbelief.


“Yes, he does. After having dinner with his imaging wife, he starts drinking. He drinks ten beers and smokes twenty cigarettes a day, sponsored by Richard uncle.”


“But he should be treated.” She insisted her words firmly.


“They did all they could do, but nothing helped Amol other than the photo book, the imaginary Nisha and cutie. At a point of time, Richard uncle got irritated when Amol asked to click a photograph of his family, so he tried to convey the truth, which resulted in third heart attack. After this incident, it seems that Richard uncle follows this technique to get the things going.”


Isha gave a blank look and Sid continued, “Today, Richard uncle informed me that he will be late so he asked me to divert Amol uncle. I hope I did my best to stop him travel down memory lane.”


“It’s a beautiful love story, Sid!” Isha said before closing the door.


“Yes, it is a beautiful story of love filled with emotions. And, it’s going to be fifth story of my short-story collection.”


“That’s awesome… good luck to you, Sid.”



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