Samrat took out the card from his pocket and handed it over to his friend, as he struggled to keep his right foot strong upon the pedestal with his left foot raising to balance his straight body. "Three...yes, that will do for now." he said as he gave the card to his twenty year old sister, Pari who following her brother's orders went inside the rectangular street side air-conditioned room to collect the particular amount that her brother had to draw out in order to fill her course fees.
At the age thirty, married to an overly responsible person for whom life is all about job and family and nothing about some small talks and relishing memories, a three BHK apartment in the posh colony of Ballygunge, owner of an Audi TD, a renowned CA and also the regular father of a regular seven months old child, one cannot possible dive out of the humdrum careful life and dodge into that life which seemed to be so very close just ten years back when a smile woulddn't cost a boss's nod or a wife's command; when smile appeared because...o well, no one knows the reason behind those silly reasonless laughs! Samrat turned around and took a puff from his half burned cigarrette intending to crush it atleast this time. It was just one more evening in his past favorite city Kolkata- the yellow cabs hooted down the streets not caring to even throw a glance at the hundred helpless arms waving at them to halt, the rickshaw pullers cuddled up on the dirty pavements or on their proudly owned vehicle jabbering away in their unorganised accent, and a tired crowd walked up and down the streets hurrying from every where to every where. It was possibly one such evening when he had stood all alone in the midst of the thousand noisy black images listening to his own heart ache and yet not allowing his dignified tight mouth to even utter a word as a defence to the wrong claims thrown upon him by that person who had, maybe, meant the galaxy to him. Why didn't he speak then when time right stood beside him waiting to carry out his order? Why didn't he ever make an attempt of going back in time and fix something? She always said, "Maybe time never stops and maybe we can never go back. But we can atleast try to recall and say sorry." He always knew it was true, he knew that every moment; then why didn't he just gather a little faith and say it? Maybe she would have stopped.
Samrat's eyes began to blur, his head felt heavy. He walked towards his car unlocking the door and entering it, his tired body easily letting him slip inside and lean against the steering wheel, the wheel's edge against his bonny chest. Ariana was the best dream ever, and there's no denying of the fact that he too was her best dream. Her eyes were unbearably red that night when the rumor of him betraying her upon the other girl spread like some contagious disease in the entire fist sized town. She didn't believe it, he was sure, but the words thrown in her ears were too rude for someone like her to bear. She believed in him, and he knows that even if today he speaks she would believe him only. Then why did he keep quiet when amidst everybody else her voice echoed, "Samrat, please speak. I believe you, I know it is not true, please. I want to hear you, talk to me." Her voice trembled as a thousand hurricanes hit the shore...he just looked at her and nothing more.
"Dada, open the door." Samrat looked up. Pari was now banging the glass tired of calling her tranced brother. Samrat shook himself out and opening the door he uttered something that sounded like a whispering apology. He couldn't really explain things to Pari, she still had a long way to run and one musn't stop one from running for then athletes will never take birth. Samrat drove away, his guilt just like any other day hanging from his tearful glances.
