July 2015
Tumi Robe Nirobe, Nibiro Nibhrito Purnima, Nishithini Shomo
THE BROKEN VOICE echoes through the empty hallways. Their steps halt and for once the crazy winds ceased.
The cries were not here anymore, the plea is, a plea of love and yearning. A plea of agony.
Sidharth Bakshi keeps standing in the hallway, his back touching the walls, on the threshold of her room, letting her mourn and letting the stars fall upon them. He knows he had lost his baby sister, and he is just helplessly watching her drown in the grief.
"Sidharth?" Mohua holds his hand and leans upon his shoulder, a shoulder she had always.
"Some tales don't get a forever, it's not written for them." He whispers looking at the closed door, the broken notes stirring in the heavy air of grief engulfing them in the pain.
For once his mind goes back to a few hours back, to moment he had heartlessly broken a fragile heart, to the lake where he had left her alone, where he had walked upon the pieces of his heart leaving her to die a death she never deserves.
For once he believed, Sheuli paid for his deeds, and the echo of the shattering heart will haunt him forever.
"He is.." Mohua started but only sobs comes out. Words had long lost their ways somewhere.
"..Gone." He started blinking his bloodshot eyes, for once he wants to cry but he can't, he was not supposed to. But the cries of Mohua echoes through the empty hallway, she is grieving for their loss.
An inevitable loss.
•°•°•°•
THE SKY IS FALLING upon as the screams of agony fill the by lanes. He stood there holding his mother tightly looking at the windows of the red-walled house, in hope, a losing hope.
The open windows of the hallway flapper, the sky mourns as the man in white salwar-kameez, with tears covering the face and broken shelf walks away from there, from her. The memory of their smiling face fading into the heavy rain so is the happiness.
He had lost his other half today, and his confidant too. For once his eyes lurks at the sides of the by-lane of Bidhan Sarani, a face similar to his smiles at him, the laughs became prominent.
He blinks his eyes and it's gone. Lost into the air and he knows it's going to be like that, lost, faded, just a memory.
A loss that took his life away, their life away.
•°•°•°•
THE SKY IS MOURNING, she sits under the rain with soaking clothes, the memory of the last hour rolls behind her.
The winds pass crazily kissing her hairs, the soft drizzles touching the parched lanes of Rabindra Sarovar. Her blackish-grey saree stuck in his shirt's button.
A tear rolls down her face as she whispers in a broken voice, "So you don't love me. Not even a bit?"
He smiles softly kissing her forehead, and for once she knows it's a goodbye kiss. She holds him tightly by the waist, pain engulfs her, them.
"I can't love you even if I want to Kuhu" He said with guilt but a voice of truth.
His voice carries the sound of truth and she can hear her heart shatters too as his truth hampers it.
"Sidharth" She calls him, maybe just tasting his name on her lips for the last time.
"Bhalo theko, Kuheli" He said taking a few steps away then finally turning around and walking away without looking back, looking back at her.
The sky roared and the clouds cries for her, with her as she keeps on standing there looking at the fading figure walking over her broken pieces of heart.
She is still under the rain, drenched in heartbreak. Mourning for a loss, for a person who was never hers.
A loss so unknown.
•°•°•°•
LATE MONSOONS were not something Sebanti Sarkar love, not anymore at least. Long gone the days when she used to love them when she used to sing on beautiful monsoon nights.
Those were lost the moment he left her, that too on a monsoon night.
As she looks out of her car, her mind goes back to the figure she saw today, after years. All the buried pain comes to the surface, all the scars start to bleed again.
Decades it's been that long, but the scars were still there. So is the guilt.
A ring of her phone bring a smile on her face, Abeer calling, and she slides it up.
"I thought you forgot about your old mother young lad," She teased and heard the laugh from the other side. A laugh she loved so much.
"I can never do that Maa, it's just I was busy with training and all"
"I know, I know. No wonder Rishab and you are so alike." She laughed at the distant memory.
"Of course we are, he is my Baba after all."
"Come back soon, I miss you." She said and he replied a quick goodbye.
Her son is always in a hurry just like his father.
His Father.
She gulps and smiles at the thought, a sigh left her lips as she looks at the petrichor.
Losses are a part of life, and somehow somewhere in some way everyone learns to live with those, Sebanti and Abeer had done that too. They had lost him, but he is still here.
She looks at the hazy lane as she hum, "Tumi robe, nirobe"
Perhaps life is just something in between losing and learning. The sky is mourning, it's monsoon after all.
And eventually the mourning souls will learn to live too, the grieving hearts will bloom too. But in between all love stays so are the memories.
They stay silently in hearts.
YOU ARE READING
Scrambled Tales
Short StoryMain ne har bar tujh se milte waqt tujh se milne ki aarzu ki hai tere jaane ke baad bhi main ne teri Khushbu se guftugu ki hai We all have a story we never told anyone. A collection of Short Stories.
