Fiction: Footprint of love


A fiction tale that I am doing after a very long time. A love story that I have tried to write in a different way set against the backdrop of Monsoon, and something that I have perhaps never tried before. Hope the readers will like it and looking for honest feedback.

Footprint of love

The water see-sawed from gentle to violent and roiled into a storm to reach a crescendo high and the windy breeze blustered its way past the Arabian Sea. The Monsoon has reached the shores in the evening and it became dark everywhere.  A feeble blip could be spotted on the buildings that sprawled in the city.

The Jamun and peepal trees warped in a half circle and the leaves splayed like glue on the wet pavement. Black umbrellas were pushed by the thunderous force and human bodies jolted and wavered to balance their steps.  She was caught in a storm and the body lay erect and stiff like a statue on the cement concrete and unfazed by the maelstrom of fury. No power on earth that could make her bulge away from this position. Everyone skittered to safety. The water splashed on her face. The sticky white dupatta and Salwar were drenched and the Kohlapuri chappal sat like a glove on her soft and flawless feet. She longed for his sight.

After all, they met for the first time, held hands and kissed voraciously on the parapet at Marine Drive before he left her to defend the nation on the border. He had to go. She couldn’t stop him. Tears were filled to the brim. Her soul has already died but the lifeless body was adorned like a bride wearing shiny attire and a bindi applied on her forehead as she sat on the parapet to wait for her prince every night. There was nothing on earth that could make her see reason.

The slim boy empathized with the Didi who bought a single rose and bunch of flowers from him every evening and his eyes became moist looking at her state. She tied the flowers on the bun and imagining that it’s the hand of his prince adorning her hair.

The last time he walked with poise in his army uniform towards her and warbled into her ear on a Monsoon evening. She loved how he bent on his feet and kissed her hand like a gentleman of royal lineage. He held her hand slowly and took off her chappal, as they trudged the rocks to sit atop watching the water flowing down. She bit him on his ear and not giving damn to the world.  It was just him, her and their universe. Thrusting her legs to stroke his ear and jumping within inches of his waist, he held her as she smacked his lip and swayed to the tune of intimacy, the love bites flew deep inside her soul. He untied the lace of her blouse and kissed her, running his finger deep inside her body. It started raining suddenly. They traipsed their way downstairs and walked on the soggy path together, clutched to each other by the waist and unmoved by the roving eyes.

It was the dreaded phone call that wrecked their world. Emergency was declared. He had no choice. After all, he had to urgently report to his post in Ladakh. She became furious like the stormy sea water.  She roared like a tigress, scratched his face before pushing him away. “Go! I don’t want to see your face,” she sniveled. He held her tight and pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

It’s been a year. The war has stopped. No one heard about Major Vikrant. He never sent a letter home. He pretended that she never existed. Perhaps, he found someone in Ladakh. Mitali was blinded by his love. She made the trip every night and waited for his footsteps in vain. But, the human instinct could never fail her. She knew that. The voice of reason of her loved and closed ones bore no impact on the soul that was drowned in his love. The tears have stopped. She has ceased to be human but a lifeless robot, anticipating that one day Major will wait for his Mitali at the parapet and pick her in his arm. After all, their love can never die. The mountains and the sea listened to her shriek at night. The dead soul was hanging by a thread and a faint hope like the dim light in the city was the only reason that kept her alive.  The chubby girl slowly lost her spark and the dark spot on the face echoed the bruise of a heart shred into pieces.

Thunder roared. Lightning struck. The grey sky and cloud slowly turned black. The rain slathered every space in the city. There was not one soul or animal wading on the parapet that wore a desert look.

The violent wind shook her off and ruffled the crumpled hair like a rush of divinity lashing on her.  It jolted the half dead soul that suddenly stirred to life after days, nights and months that felt like a life time. She slowly upped her face to stare blankly at a car. The door slid open. A powerful but unknown force dragged her inert body to life and Mitali wheezed towards a wheel chair rolling its way on the parapet. She stopped the wheel chair with all her force.  She felt dizzy but hanged to the human flesh that sat like a corpse. His eyes lid moved slowly and a feeble smile surfaced. It was him. Major Vikrant twitched fingers touched her skin. Stream of tears ran down on her face. He was inert like a stone but the facial nerves were moving. The love of her life was convinced that he will find his Mitali in the nest where the love once bloomed. It was written in the stars. Together, they will conquer love and brave the storm. It was a matter of time. They never lost faith. It started raining again and water sprinkled on them as she tightly held to his hand.

Love

V

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26 thoughts on “Fiction: Footprint of love

  1. Loved the ending, Vishal. May their reunion have the choicest blessings from the Heaven.
    BTW, This line is beautifully written…it created a picture instantly in my mind, of wet road and leaves…

    “The Jamun and peepal trees warped in a half circle and the leaves splayed like glue on the wet pavement.”

  2. A man in uniform cavorting on the rocks? Unheard of. But a sweet story nonetheless. Could do with some typo corrections ….( since you asked for feedback)

  3. Very beutifully written, this story is so warm and grand… like a vintage peice of art.
    I saved it last night to read it in the morning, and it made my morning today!

  4. Lovely, Vishal. You paint a picture of emotions so beautifully. Love conquers it all. A salute to all those martyrs who have whole heartedly sacrificed for their country and all those who continue to live shell shocked and bearing the brunt of the many wars.

    • A tribute to the martyr and today is Kargil Vijay Diwas who valiantly put the Indian flag on top, sacrificing love, family and happiness. War destroys everything in place.

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