The beginning

It was late in the night and I was just about to fall asleep when I saw Whats App message from my dear friend – Hi, I have broken up. I sat down and contemplated for a second and I had this weird intuition that this time it was for real. There was no phone call from her, no message from him, just a simple message left on my phone. I could not sleep. I knew that even if I called on her phone, she would not pick up. I took a blanket and sneaked up the stairs to the terrace with some hot tea.

I looked at the crescent moon faded behind the dark clouds. I could spot two or three stars. I heard someone coming up. I dreaded if it was the landlord. I saw my boyfriend emerging from the door.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked.

“No,” I answered surprised.

“Me too.”

“Why can’t you sleep. I thought you were asleep?” From the terrace we could see a huge flyover and cars always rushing past by even if it was one in the night.

“Nah! I was reading about the Syria attacks. I started talking about it with Ma and all she could say is that think about people from your country first.”

I chuckled. “You really cannot sleep because of people dying in Syria”, I asked.

Google Images

“No I cannot sleep because I don’t know what to feel anymore. Feeling has become something ruined these days. I cannot even tell you that I cannot sleep.”

He walked past by me and looked up at the moon.

“Shreya has broken with her boyfriend”, I told him feeling a bit meek.

“Are you surprised?” he asked.

“No and yes”, I answered. “No because break-up is very common tale. Yes because they were together since they were sixteen. I saw them grow up together. Their first kiss by the sea, the accident when he came every day to the hospital with flowers, the silly presents. When I look back it was as if I was a spectator of a grand movie, even if only I was in it while seeing it.”

“Are you sad?”

“Yes. I am not part of a story anymore.”

“Yeah, we don’t have a story as such. I couldn’t sleep thinking those photos of Syria because I thought what if one day I got up and saw Kolkata in ashes like that city.  The grounds, the buildings, Park Street, just nothing left. I spent all my life not caring about anything or loving anything and time kept moving forward. And as time moved forward a lot of things disbursed- money, songs, friends, family. “

“And love?” I asked – he remained silent.

We looked at the city lights silently. We could hear someone playing guitar from a distant window. Someone was awake like us but he or she has an instrument to manifest and create emotions transformed in form of musical codes.

“With so many civil wars today, I wonder if people are fighting for something they love or against something they hate,” he said.

“I guess it’s like everyday relationship. After a point we forget what we actually loved and what was dear to us. I am sure when everyone will wake up, which they will one day, they will forget what all these bullets were for. And when they will not remember, all this will be part of history, a sad tale for us to read.”

He took came closer to me and took my cold hands. I was caught surprised. We both were not much of romantics. We had our share of break-ups and heartbreaks before we started dating each other. We were proud of being in relationship which didn’t expect anything and neither did we deliver anything much to each other.

“It is a beautiful night,” He said. I could feel my hands becoming warmer.

“And the answer is yes,” He said.

“Yes?” I didn’t understand

“I love you. Yes I love you.”

The guitar kept playing. It was one of those perfect nights when all the stars and planets align to make everything around you just perfect.

“Skip office tomorrow.” He said.  “We can talk here today till we see the sunrise.”

“And talk about?” I inquired.

“We talk about what we love and what we feel. The world seems to have forgotten about it. I think we might change history if we start tonight.”

He stood in front of me and I looked at him for the first time and I knew I was a part of another grand movie. Only this time I was the heroine.

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