Devakshi One-shots/Drabbles/Short stories

The Lost Years (Part 2)

 The Lost Years continued here...

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Dev tilted the bottle all the way into his glass, watching the last drop fall. He shook it some, hoping for more, but the bottle was empty. As empty as his own life. He was not amused by the metaphor. He carefully kept it down and sauntered to the bar to grab another bottle. He held it up and shook it, watching the liquid swish around. There. Now the bottle was full. His life, however, remained empty.

He laughed sardonically, wishing he could simply go and get another life. That wasn't going to be. This was it. This was the sad reality of this miserable world. He chugged his drink down in one go.

Dev had been holed up in his farmhouse for the past month, eating whatever he could find in the refrigerator his housekeeper stored periodically and drinking constantly. The main aim was to drink himself to oblivion, so he couldn't feel anything. He hadn't entirely succeeded yet. The pain was still there, so he needed to drink more. And he did. More and then some more. He will keep going, until he achieves his aim. If nothing else, he will achieve this: a complete erasure of this pain twisting his heart.

The buzzing of his cellphone interrupted his binge. It was Tina. Again. He was glad the screen didn't flash his mother's number. He was in no mood to engage with his mother right now.

Dev remembered that day when he told his mother off. He had gone home that day and the emptiness in the air nearly choked him. Sonakshi's voice wasn't anywhere in the house. But her scent was.

He had stepped into their bedroom and Sonakshi was everywhere. Even in that empty space where she had kept that stupid swing. That spot now looked barren, like a long living tree had forcefully been uprooted and thrown away. He had opened his closet and saw her clothes, hanging neatly, the sweet fragrance of her perfume engulfing him in a tight grip. The bathroom held all her cosmetics and other toiletries. He had picked up a hair-brush, running his finger through its bristles, coming up with a few strands of hair. Long, black strands. Her hair. He had touched them gently, expecting that somehow, she will materialize there, in front of him. And he will wake up and tell her all about this terrible dream he had been having.

'This love, that you are making fun of, will never come to your life again.' Her words had reverberated in his head, in the bathroom, in his life. Furious, he had thrown the hairbrush into the trashcan. She wouldn't dare come in front of him again.

It was then that he had gone on a determined task to clear her out of his life. He got garbage bags and threw in all her soaps, lotions, shampoos, cosmetics, hairbrushes, clips. Next, her clothes followed. Her shoes, her books, her jewelry. He kept at it, a man on a mission, until every single thing of hers had been trashed. Much better. He would take it all to the dumping ground personally. He would derive his pleasure throwing it away himself.

The adrenaline had come down and Dev had relaxed, dropping down on his bed. He would nap for a little while. All this cleaning had tired him out. Why do women have so much stuff? He had put his head on the pillow, breathing deeply, and had immediately sat up, his heart racing. He looked back at the pillow, at his bed. It smelled of her. That sweet strawberry scent. Sonakshi's scent. He had got off and stared at the bed accusingly, as if it had betrayed him too. Rage had overcome him and he had torn away the sheets, pillowcases, the blankets and packed them up in trashbags as well. Finishing up, he stood in front of the bed and stared at the naked mattress, bereft of sheets, of any personality, of any of her signs. He was just starting to feel comforted when his eyes had fallen on the wall.

The wall full of their wedding pictures. The happiest day of his life, the day when he wondered how a girl could look this beautiful. Her smile loving and her eyes inviting.

Lies. All lies. It was all a lie. He had climbed up on the bed and taken down every single picture and piled them on the floor. He had gotten out photo albums, torn them and added them to the pile as well. He then had gotten a lighter and flicked it open, slowly touching the flame to the photos. He had sat there at the edge of his bed, watching the flames engulf her face, her laugh. He watched as the fire devoured everything he had loved, devoured the girl he had vowed to spend the rest of his life with. He had watched her face slowly disappearing. He felt the tears streaking his cheeks, but he refused to acknowledge them. No, absolutely not.

He had been sitting there for a long time, watching the ashes that remained of his life grow cold, when his mother had walked in, offering comfort. His mother, his God. He had worshipped her, every single one of her wishes was his command. He had always striven to fulfill her every desire. He loved her so much.

He had made one mistake though: He had assumed if he loved her, she would love him just the same, she would care for him and his happiness. But no. She couldn't care for his happiness. She had betrayed him by getting his signatures on the prenup papers. She couldn't reconcile with the one decision of his life, his choice of life partner, expecting him to choose between her and his wife. How can any man do that? And when she beckoned to him, wanting to comfort him, as she had done countless times before, he had refused her harshly, that her lap, her arms would never ever give him any comfort. Not any more. He had informed her, in no uncertain terms, that he would comfort himself from now on, care for himself, live for himself. She looked shattered, but he couldn't care less. She and his wife had both left him all alone. Her darling Dev was done here. She hadn't said anything more. There was nothing more to say.

Since that day, he had been camping in the farmhouse, drinking himself out, hoping that the next drink would be the one that would stop the hurt, and bring peace. So far, it hadn't happened.

The phone kept ringing. Tina was persistent. He picked up and barked, "Hello."

"Sir, are you planning to come in today?"

"No." He offered no explanation, no plan for the future, nothing. None of it mattered anyway. Everything could go burn in hell, for all he cared.

"Oh. Okay. Do you need anything? Can I bring some food and stock up your refrigerator?" She sounded concerned. He didn't need anyone's concern. Concerned people betrayed him the end, anyway.

"Do your job, that is more than enough." He growled at her, curtly, cutting the call, before she could get another word in.

He looked at the phone in his hand and in spite of himself, found himself scrolling through his gallery. Her pictures. Each one bringing up a memory associated with it. Some happy, some funny, some love-filled, some silly. He selected one and zoomed into her face. Her eyes pierced through him. Her lips, her cheeks. That rosy glow she always seemed to have. He desperately wanted to touch her.

Admonishing himself out of his zone, he promptly selected them all, and hit 'Delete'.

'Are you sure you want to delete these photos?' The automatic prompt came up on the screen.

His thumb moved towards 'Yes', hovering on it. He tried to summon up the courage to press it, but ultimately hitting 'No' defeatedly. He couldn't do it. He just didn't have it in him. Instead, he opened his wedding album, staring at each of the pictures. She looked stunning. They looked happy, so happy. They looked so eager for the journey ahead. "You fools, you don't know what is lying in store for you." He reproached his screen. Dev then selected a number of them and paused. This time, he hit 'Print'. He walked over to the printer and took the photos out. All those pictures he had burnt. There was her face, her laugh again. Safe from the fire. Beautiful, just perfect. He got a new manila envelope and carefully put all the pictures in, closing it. As he slowly ran his hands on the surface of the envelope, he couldn't help but feel the tiniest fraction of peace flood his angry, restless, broken heart. The slightest bit of comfort, just by holding that envelope.

Dev threw the envelope inside a drawer and closed it with a bang, thoroughly disgusted with himself.