Try as we might we could never get away, until now. We were kids, when we became friends. He, nine and I seven. We would quarrel much more than talk. Any sort of conversation we had soon ‘upgraded’ to a sort of argument. Now that I look back, it seems strange and special. We would hurt each other and then cry for hurting each other. We cared a lot but never bothered to hide it. Kids as we were, we never learned to hide anything. We were both equally stubborn and said whatever came to our minds. Perhaps that was the reason for our too frequent quarrels. We never wanted to hurt but it would happen somehow and the interesting fact was that we were both right at our own place, and sooner or later we acknowledged that and thus, after one hour of a quarrel we would spend 2 hours either laughing or planning a new mischief or worst, a new adventure which surely spelled a disaster for the household
Till at last he left. His parents sent him to Mumbai for his education when he was twelve. But as I said at the very beginning we could never get away. All those years when he was in Mumbai and later in London, I never felt he was gone. Those ten years whenever he came to visit his family, my destiny played strange games to lure me away from Varanasi and we never met. I used to be desperate to meet him once but it wasn’t until 10 years later when he finished his studies and came back that I could meet him. He arrived unexpectedly.; even his family was surprised. Don’t you dare ask about my condition! I was dumb before a moment. My heart madly wanted to jump out of my throat and run to him but I held it tight; and my feet, they were stuck to the ground. All the joy, the sorrow of his leaving, the eagerness, the desperation and the pains were hitting me like the waves of the ocean hit the rocks. He was calling my name and running towards me. I ran away to hide; deciding that if he couldn’t find me I would quarrel with him for the whole day. But he did find me. My love was back; yes I never knew how or when, but I had fallen for him and the faith in my love for him told me that he loved me too. We spent several days together till one day he said that he never loved me that way. I was heartbroken and ready to end everything between us; but he kept on caring for me saying that I was still his best friend.
Till a day dawned when he finally realised that he too loved me and told me so. It was all beautiful; too beautiful to last long I guess. We were happy, we planned things out with random quarrels now and then and people thought we were crazy. We were I guess; two people mad in their love since years could be anything! But suddenly something went wrong; that all our hopes and our dreams; everything died a sudden death. He said I was wrong, he didn’t trust me and told me to leave. I left, heartbroken and angry; wondering if it was a nightmare. I wondered why he didn’t trust me when I trusted him more than myself. Where did all his promises go? In my hand was a crumpled paper he had given to me when we were kids. He had vowed to never leave me and always support me and in a kiddish fashion, we had signed to make it legal. I wanted to show that paper to him but I didn’t. Why should I? Those bonds existed till we were friends; but now..
Till another day, long after he had gone away to London again; we suddenly realised that it was all a misunderstanding; which gave rise to more of its kind; that we were both right at our own place and wrong too. It wasn’t his fault but it wasn’t mine either. No, we were both at fault, though he shared the 80% part of it. He apologised many times but I couldn’t forgive him. I tried not to, but before I could stop myself, I had forgiven him. Yet, I couldn’t trust him again; though the flame of love which I had suppressed was beginning to burn brighter than ever, slowly burning away all those pains and anguish and regrets. I could feel things changing, perhaps because I had never stopped loving him. He did everything; begged for forgiveness and I could feel my pain slowly but steadily vanishing in the ocean of our love.
So the bitter truth was that I felt everything. I felt his anguish and his guilt; but I pretended I did not. I remained passive as if nothing touched me; though the truth was that his touch could still stir my soul; his eyes still had the magic of making me shiver.. But I pretended the opposite. Till a bitter day he concluded that nothing can be done, that I would never come back to him; and today even our hearts have learned to pretend. I can’t feel anything anymore; as if my heart is now a dead stone. We live as neighbours, we are close; but farther than we were when he was in London. That’s what I meant by my first line, it seems that we are finally separated; though this separation is of the length of just one word. Another terrible truth is that we sometimes work under the same project; cross each other dozens of times daily and exchange many professional words. But the magic word which could melt our hearts; the water which could extinguish the flame of pain and regret in which we both are burning; the spark which could once again ignite our dying flame of love; the one word-“sorry” remains unspoken. How strange it is! Sometimes I wonder why these things happen only after we’re grown up. We quarreled a lot as kids, still we were the happiest. Why do complications come in now? Perhaps the answer lies in the fact that when we were kids we obeyed our hearts; but now we listen to it and ignore it like we ignore a stone on the road. Had he obeyed his heart and trusted me, there would never have been any misunderstanding. Had I obeyed my heart when it told me that he could never lie about such a thing; had we obeyed our hearts then and if we could obey our hearts now; but as I said, even our hearts have learned to pretend so well that these eyes can’t even dream to imagine the otherwise picture of our lives. The unspoken words, the unsent letters and the undone tasks, the unfulfilled dreams all narrate the unfinished story which can have a happy ending with just one word- “sorry” seems so strange and weird that it can’t be one’s imagination, it’s painfully true!
