With that screeching of the wooden gate and the stumbling exposé of my wardrobe, beneath the atypical bachelor heap of crushed garments, I happened to lay my hands on that old wallet of mine. The dusky old leathery smell and that overdosed fold, reminiscent of many a things, mostly memoirs. A spectacle of yesteryears which I had treasured in my life away from home. Borrowing a thread on a secluded piece of modern day papyrus I found some words, those promises and a bunch of expectations inscribed in her handwriting, it was her letter resting in my wallet.
Sensing a quicksand of pathos ahead, I still dared to read the first para. The occasion was my departure to london. It was Zenny writing to me the night before I fly, expressing the pangs of butterflies she’d felt because I didn’t meet her that evening. The start of the letter was mirroring a complain much similar to that of a soldier’s wife. Jolting me with both hands for traveling one more time away from her, once again leaving the void of my absence for her to fill.
Sharing eight sublime years definitely subjects any twosomes to those innumerable squabbles. Habitual incidence of such quarrels is another reason why it starts to feel a normal chore. And because of this normalcy I was oblivious to the very backdrop of her penning me those words. Sinking in emotions I reckoned my demons of insecurities during that trip and the reason why she wrote me that letter. Those weren’t just words, but an assurance to rest my fears about her. Fears that she has changed or will, fear that she’d exchange me for a different life. Knew nothing about stars or sorcery then, but I knew it was coming.
Hmm! reading a few lines enlightened me about the debut of that letter, I remember reading it while onboard the flight next day. Like every other time she had come to see me off and thats when she handed the scroll. Huhhhh! why doesn’t life offer a rewind, just to live those beautiful pages whence desired. I was made to believe that everything is alright, nothing can move that four lettered emotion in between us. The one that starts with an ‘L’ and ends in ‘E’ and the one that seals the bond with wedding vows...
Love today is defined with dynamic precision, which is why despite having an ear for philosophy I tend to alienate myself of any gyan thrown at random. Everyone seems to be a self-professed master with the philosophy of life and having dealt with issues such as love like they’ve been there, done that. The truth is no one can come close to what I feel and how I feel. Especially after reading those words which promised a lifetime of togetherness and then surviving in the reality that is today.
And it took just a few lines of that letter to add salt to my otherwise open wounds. Where did all that love fly Zenny? and why am I left to weep dry the ocean of salt contained in my eyes. For all the time that I’ve lived in these eight years, there wasn’t a single dawn that dusked without an exchange on the phone. And now I live days without being called, wonder if it at all qualifies to be living anymore. Haven’t spoken to Mom or Dad for the fear of passing my pain to them, its not for them to bear and know that I am in pain.
And now that I am left because she thinks her decision is right, it reminds of a piece of scroll @ Costa Coffee, whilst analyzing her priorities. I was at ‘the top’ on that list, and so it remains etched... Yes I was a priority on that list and on that very paper... confined in ink. Indeed anything scribbled on a paper is just ink and not an actual truth of life and so is the irony. Just like the words, those promises and the expectations in that letter that I found, inside that old wallet. And it will still lay in my wardrobe reminding me of a time we were together like a bygone dream...
