In life, at some time or another we come to a point where some things are undeniable, indelible sculptures carved out on a rock. They are bound to happen. Their existences are finely, delicately and meticulously plotted by the scheme of things. Like after life comes death. Like water is thrown to extinguish fire. If injured then nursed back to life. When a mistake is made, apology occurs. When culpability becomes omnipresent, repentance happens. When a sin is committed, punishment persistently follows.
And one day, all those learned lessons of life, the morsel of wisdom that is often bestowed to children, they all turn contrary, vain, sans substance or depth, mere inked words on an immaculate piece of paper. And in a blink of an eye, the course of a whole lifetime is turned upside down.
That is the day I collided with her in a crowded corridor and it felt like I had finally found someone, I had lost along the way. That is the day, Shravan Malhotra met Suman Tiwari.
Ralph Nader has said your best teacher is your last mistake. I have made many mistakes in my life so many that if questioned on the Judgement day I would be incapable of counting them on my fingertips, but the only one that stays with me, breathes through me like oxygen is her, Suman Tiwari.
All the logical answers to the universe's questions , all my knowledge have failed me and I want to laugh out loud for all these lessons seem peculiarly trivial and absurd in comparison of what Suman Tiwari has bequeath me with as a present of her unfaithful loyalty.
After love comes pain.
After longing comes suffering.
After devastation comes nothingness.
After hatred comes hell.
Humans are made of heartbreak and broken promises, hopeful tears and sad smiles. Experiences that wreck the soul to the core and leave the heart numb. Wise decisions taken after sleepless nights staring at the crack in the ceiling that is sometimes a stolid smile, sometimes a frown. A brick of dreams which crumbles to pieces. Empty words muddled with feelings. Emotions that burn your lungs and explode within your chest like a volcano in eruption.
And yet she wore heartbreak with ruthless elegance as if it was a dress which threads had been stitched to cover every inch of her skin.
An anthesis. I would never find a better adjective in the dictionary to describe her. She is dark and twisty. She possesses as many facades as the Rubik Cube, I proudly claim to solve in mere minutes. The only difference is that she is untouchable, too far-fetched for me to reach.
My hair will go grey, my skin will wrinkle, my memory will fade to oblivion and I'll forget how to spell my own name but I will never succeed in perceiving the mysteries behind the unparalleled enigma that is Suman Tiwari.
Suman Tiwari is everything I am not.
She is loud and proud, so much that she puts the princess of beauty to shame.
I am soft-spoken and drifting, my words are waves crashing against a rock.
Her heart is as hard as a metal road, mine is as soft as clay.
She is all artifices, I am all simplicity.
Together, we make an evening in the city of lights worth your while.
