Mandira had a habit of recording her own voice. People maintain diaries, she maintained an audio log. She was, although, well aware that she (rather anyone) would never hear what happened with her on that particular day. “It’s fun,” she’d tell mother, “someday, if I get famous, you could sell these for millions.”
She had been maintaining a happy log for a while; particularly since she met Abhijit. He was everything she could have expected in a guy. She also knew that she wasn’t anything he wanted in a girl. They had a passing affair. She knew it wouldn’t last. On this particular evening, she came home and started her recorder. Sniffing and sobbing, she barely muttered the voice to say the following..
So, it has happened. He’s dumped me. It’s not a surprise and I knew it was to happen sooner or later. But I’d rather it happened later than sooner. I’ve a strange feeling waiting to get out of me, it almost feels like I’ve been cheated. If he knew this wasn’t his thing, which he did, by the way, why did he even play along!
Why cheated, did you ask?
Mostly, I think it is not the part where he just told me that it is not going to work out between us. It’s the part where he said that he’d have given me the elaborate it’s not you, it’s me speech, but I’m better than that. Because in his world, I don’t even deserve an elaborate lie to cling on to. Anything that could give me a moderate reassurance that I wasn’t a complete fool in getting dreamy-eyed every time I saw him. I put in so much of myself into this thing. Since the moment I heard his voice the first time, since the first time he laid eyes on me, he was all that I thought of. It is true that what I feel is none of his business, but he’s the one who led me on, right? I mean, yes, I fell for him, multiple times at that. It is, however, a little strange if you tell me that he for once did not have the slightest idea! He knew everything about me, even though he volunteered no personal information at all. I was a little stupid, I guess. Well, as they say, I’m a smart person only till I fall in love, as after, I’m infinitely stupid.
You remember how I once said that despise the word sorry? It’s the one word concocted to rid people of the guilt of anything that they may have done. I mean, I could stamp on a foot, intentionally or otherwise, say “ sorry” and presume that I’ve done my bit. It’s a little too easy, don’t you think?
Well, surprisingly I’ve come to realise that there’s a phrase that hurts more than a sorry. It goes “did I hurt you?”. Abhijit said these exact words! I’ve no idea what was he expecting as an answer to this one. He cannot be naive enough to not know that he has caused hurt that will take forever to heal. But the usage of these words exonerates him from whatever he did. Trust me, every nerve in my brain was itching to yell that it aches more than anything ever can. But what could I tell him? I did ask him how does it matter. But he said that it just does, because he apparently cares for me. If it were to happen ever again I’d tell him that if he really did care for me, he could have at least given me a chance. A lie, if nothing else. Or if I’m asking for too much by asking him to notice on his own accord that it hurts, could he at least get me a closure!
This is karma, I guess. All those guys who allegedly pined for me, but I thought of them to be too childish; I guess Abhijit thinks I’m too childish too. Though he may not realise that it is him, his presence that makes me glee like a little girl.
If one were to look at it from afar, this shouldn’t matter much. He made the last 2 years the most pleasant by just being himself. He gave me dreams that I’d never forget. He made me believe that good things can happen; that being optimistic isn’t so bad after all. Wait, it does sound a little oxymoronic now, now that I’ll never be able to believe good things can happen. I’m sure this is premature, but I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to love again. And if I ever do, I’m sure I’ll never be able to love anyone the way I did him. For he did not complete me, in the quintessential sense of speaking. He came and saw that I was broken, he helped me in putting it together, and he walked out, moments before gluing it all together.
I’m sure I’ll heal. I’ve healed through much worse. But I never wanted to heal through this.
She sobbed a lot, throughout this log. She had developed this habit of dreaming that he’s around her, this would bring her to smile even when she did not want to. At least till now. In half a hope that he’d actually regret saying those things and he’d come to her and hug her so tight that she’d forget anything ever happened, she ran her eyes around the room. He wasn’t there.
Mandira did not save the tape. She did not want to retain this memory. She knew she won’t ever forget him, or the way he just cut her off, but putting that on the tape would imply sealing the memory and framing it, then allowing the memory to nurture and eventually consume her. She never wanted to have one person have so much control over her. She felt helpless. And every atom of this helplessness made her angry. Angry because she knew she couldn’t blame Abhijit, but she couldn’t blame herself either.
She barely managed to erase the tape and lock the room and walk out.
There she sat, edge of a park bench. Sore eyes, quivering lips and a face so pale, it would put mannequins to shame. A lot of footsteps walked past her, some even ran. To her face, all of these were mere invalid noises and motions. She sat there for eternity, until it seemed like she was just an extension to the bench itself. Had she not gravity pull her into the ground and cried her eyes out, the people may have actually believed the extension theory.
I was there that day. The day it all happened. Even today, when I go to the park sometimes, I believe I still see that haggard look on an imaginary figure sitting quietly; albeit ready to explode any moment.
She had been maintaining a happy log for a while; particularly since she met Abhijit. He was everything she could have expected in a guy. She also knew that she wasn’t anything he wanted in a girl. They had a passing affair. She knew it wouldn’t last. On this particular evening, she came home and started her recorder. Sniffing and sobbing, she barely muttered the voice to say the following..
So, it has happened. He’s dumped me. It’s not a surprise and I knew it was to happen sooner or later. But I’d rather it happened later than sooner. I’ve a strange feeling waiting to get out of me, it almost feels like I’ve been cheated. If he knew this wasn’t his thing, which he did, by the way, why did he even play along!
Why cheated, did you ask?
Mostly, I think it is not the part where he just told me that it is not going to work out between us. It’s the part where he said that he’d have given me the elaborate it’s not you, it’s me speech, but I’m better than that. Because in his world, I don’t even deserve an elaborate lie to cling on to. Anything that could give me a moderate reassurance that I wasn’t a complete fool in getting dreamy-eyed every time I saw him. I put in so much of myself into this thing. Since the moment I heard his voice the first time, since the first time he laid eyes on me, he was all that I thought of. It is true that what I feel is none of his business, but he’s the one who led me on, right? I mean, yes, I fell for him, multiple times at that. It is, however, a little strange if you tell me that he for once did not have the slightest idea! He knew everything about me, even though he volunteered no personal information at all. I was a little stupid, I guess. Well, as they say, I’m a smart person only till I fall in love, as after, I’m infinitely stupid.
You remember how I once said that despise the word sorry? It’s the one word concocted to rid people of the guilt of anything that they may have done. I mean, I could stamp on a foot, intentionally or otherwise, say “ sorry” and presume that I’ve done my bit. It’s a little too easy, don’t you think?
Well, surprisingly I’ve come to realise that there’s a phrase that hurts more than a sorry. It goes “did I hurt you?”. Abhijit said these exact words! I’ve no idea what was he expecting as an answer to this one. He cannot be naive enough to not know that he has caused hurt that will take forever to heal. But the usage of these words exonerates him from whatever he did. Trust me, every nerve in my brain was itching to yell that it aches more than anything ever can. But what could I tell him? I did ask him how does it matter. But he said that it just does, because he apparently cares for me. If it were to happen ever again I’d tell him that if he really did care for me, he could have at least given me a chance. A lie, if nothing else. Or if I’m asking for too much by asking him to notice on his own accord that it hurts, could he at least get me a closure!
This is karma, I guess. All those guys who allegedly pined for me, but I thought of them to be too childish; I guess Abhijit thinks I’m too childish too. Though he may not realise that it is him, his presence that makes me glee like a little girl.
If one were to look at it from afar, this shouldn’t matter much. He made the last 2 years the most pleasant by just being himself. He gave me dreams that I’d never forget. He made me believe that good things can happen; that being optimistic isn’t so bad after all. Wait, it does sound a little oxymoronic now, now that I’ll never be able to believe good things can happen. I’m sure this is premature, but I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to love again. And if I ever do, I’m sure I’ll never be able to love anyone the way I did him. For he did not complete me, in the quintessential sense of speaking. He came and saw that I was broken, he helped me in putting it together, and he walked out, moments before gluing it all together.
I’m sure I’ll heal. I’ve healed through much worse. But I never wanted to heal through this.
She sobbed a lot, throughout this log. She had developed this habit of dreaming that he’s around her, this would bring her to smile even when she did not want to. At least till now. In half a hope that he’d actually regret saying those things and he’d come to her and hug her so tight that she’d forget anything ever happened, she ran her eyes around the room. He wasn’t there.
Mandira did not save the tape. She did not want to retain this memory. She knew she won’t ever forget him, or the way he just cut her off, but putting that on the tape would imply sealing the memory and framing it, then allowing the memory to nurture and eventually consume her. She never wanted to have one person have so much control over her. She felt helpless. And every atom of this helplessness made her angry. Angry because she knew she couldn’t blame Abhijit, but she couldn’t blame herself either.
She barely managed to erase the tape and lock the room and walk out.
There she sat, edge of a park bench. Sore eyes, quivering lips and a face so pale, it would put mannequins to shame. A lot of footsteps walked past her, some even ran. To her face, all of these were mere invalid noises and motions. She sat there for eternity, until it seemed like she was just an extension to the bench itself. Had she not gravity pull her into the ground and cried her eyes out, the people may have actually believed the extension theory.
I was there that day. The day it all happened. Even today, when I go to the park sometimes, I believe I still see that haggard look on an imaginary figure sitting quietly; albeit ready to explode any moment.
