WoW: When love lost….It was my last day in the city

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

When love lost….It was my last day in the city

It was my last day in the city. My city. It was a Sunday. It is a Sunday. The wind blew from the Arabian Sea in the evening. I scampered on the busy road to meet her. Love didn’t triumph on that day. It failed me. The place would take off at midnight. The heart was heavy. My soul and heart shred into million pieces. I was dying at every second. It seemed that the dock of life has stopped. I cursed. I ran. A seesaw of emotions choked me inside to reach every breath taken. What’s the point, I wondered. Our fate has been sealed. Stupid love. Stupid religion. I choose to run away from the city that I have stayed long enough to call my own.

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If only I could stop the trail of time by conjured magic. It wasn’t meant to be. A matter of hours when we would go our separate ways and will probably never see each other. We met and fell in love in the city. The breeze, monuments, and stars in the sky witnessed the pure love that grew on us. The city embraced us in its cradle. Her name is S. The city that I loved so much suddenly suffocated me. The susurration of a broken heart. I was dying at every second. Love is second to none, they say. How can it happen to me? I didn’t have any choice but to leave everything and go back.

Woe betides me. We wanted to make the most of it by spending the last day together in the city. It mattered to us. I woke up early on that fateful day and stormed my way to Barista at CST, ordering Latte for the love to flicker like sugar steered and disappearing in the coffee. The love didn’t filter inside. My life fell apart. Time was moving fast. I didn’t want to leave the city. What I would do without the city, the selfless embrace that it gives and holding me in its womb, the monsoon, and the blustering echo or scything to explore every single path and wide roads.

The heart break is no fiction. I lost on love. I was the vanquished. A dejection that pushed me to the brink to abandon everything. I had to get away from love, longing, monsoon and the city. I was calling her Jaan. I was counting the minutes between shuttling to the room, shopping and locking the baggage. We met after six pm. The same place that we first met and fell in love. It was the iconic library where we studied together, laughed, fought and held hands. The pain bellowed. We sat on the same white bench. She promised that we will meet some day. I didn’t nurture hope. It’s better that we don’t speak or reason on what could have been. There was no point. No words expressed on our break up. We walked together to Fab India for she had to exchange the gift I gave her. The Kurti didn’t fit her. We spotted a celebrity. She gave me gifts that I have preserved till now, the CD and card where her words flew like lyrics that couldn’t quench the thirst of love. The first time that I lost. We hugged and traveled for the last time in the local train, sashaying our way on the crowded platform at CST.

Not all love stories have a happy ending. Pain can be empowering and define one’s journey. The time for take off approached. I fastened the seat belt. I stared at the sky and stars to make a wish for them to fulfill. It was her. The plane rifled in the sky and in the fleeting minutes, the city disappeared from my gaze like a dream that flitted away in an invisible manner to never become true again. I visited the city after ages and every step taken reminded me of her smile and gaze. It was closure. I shall be back with a vengeance to carve new memories and live every second one day. Love for humans is an illusory attachment. The love for the city remains eternal. Someday, we shall unite for time has stitched the heart that lost on doomsday. A story of love nurtured and took shape in the city. There is a purpose and meaning behind everything. It wasn’t meant to be. The city is capacious like a home for every lovable and lost soul warbling the song of love and pain.

PS: As I was writing this post, I received a terrible news on the sudden passing away of a super talented, fashion and travel blogger, Pari Knitha Urs who was a Facebook friend that I never met but who was always encouraging, kind and never shied to help. May God bless her soul. She was blogging on The Wanderer’s Diary.

Love

V

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