Hope you enjoy the end of year festive season. Sharing with you the last post on wrote on my other blog as part of ‘Reflection for A2Z, Blogging from A to Z (April 2015) Challenge’. A short story I penned. Hope you enjoy it.
Not Romance, Just a Short Love Story
I don’t know why I am sitting in this marriage! Zoya is getting married and despite the fact that I threw away the card when I told her that I am not on the verge of sanity to see the girl I love the most getting hitched to an unknown guy. I am sitting in the marriage in the company of my best friend Adi. She is sitting majestically, along with the groom on the throne.
Adorned in jewellery and decked in a shining gold sari, Zoya looks stunning beautiful, flawless and angelic. My heart is burning seeing her so perfect. How can she look so beautiful?! She never looked so perfect and divine, all these years we were together and she dressed on her special day for this unknown guy. Asshole! My heart is ripped apart seeing the bride and groom together, walking hand in hand, as they leave the venue towards the car.
I start growing hyper when Adi holds my hand, Dude! Chutiya! Don’t make a scene. I protest, “But, it’s her, Zoya, my Zoya.” I am almost in tears. Adi hug me, “No! Bro! It’s not her. It’s a Hindu marriage and Zoya is Muslim.”
I try to protest and am speechless. Zoya is gone and so are the guests. It’s only the two of us, smoking up and high on ganja and hashish. I am on the verge of passing out. I woke up in a jiffy, jumping out off the bed and almost doing a somersault. It took me a while to realize that it was just a dream. Zoya has been married long time back when she ditched me for her NRI husband, Amreeka returned. She took away my soul and I am sent back into nostalgic mood. I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge to pour myself a glass of juice. I lit a cigarette. After all, it’s just a dream. Forget her.