Monday, June 15, 2009

Notebook

“Let it grow, let it grow. Let it blossom, let it flow. In the sun, the rain, the snow. Love is lovely, let it grow.”

She looked at the notebook again. He had scribbled those lines years back. The worn out pages of this notebook was all that was left. It treasured a few scribbled thoughts here n there, scattered in the whirlwind of time.

He had called her after all these years. He wanted to meet. She was in a dilemma.

She came to office that day. She looked into the mirror. 10 years ---a long time. Once a petite 20 year old she has now turned into a married 30-ish woman. Her day starts with making scrambled eggs, dropping her kids to school, driving to her workplace and at night reading books as Vipul dozes off to sleep after taking a drink.

Her life was going on, when one late summer afternoon he called her. The images flashed again. How she waited for him for hours at the bus stop desperate to let him know, but he never turned up.

His voice sounded strange after all these years. He said he wanted to meet her. She was curious, excited. She thought for a while and then she called him.

She took a half-day from office. She got an Eric Clapton for him from the bookstore. She spent an hour at the beauty parlor, desperate to reduce those fine lines, those strands of grey here ‘n there and get rid of that tanned tropical look.

It was 6 in the evening. A busy Rashbehari crossing. She came out of the parlor. There was a lump in her throat. She was nervous. She looked at the watch. Its time to give him a call. Is he waiting for her? How does he look? Will he look at her in the same way as he used to years back, during her college days…She remembered every li’l detail, every late night conversation they had…

She finally dialed the number. It was busy. God! He must be calling her. She dialed again. The monotonous ring tone on the other side and then that voice picked up. She said “Ki re byasto khub? Dekha korbi bolechili”

He replied: “Oh tui… na re aj ektu byasto achi…aj hobena…some other time may be…
He uttered the same thing years back after she waited hours for him…

Mrs. Bose looked at her watch. Vipul will be home soon. It was time …Her lipstick was feeling sticky... She was drained out after a tiring day at office...Time to get back to her life… Time to get back to her world... The some other time never comes… Their time never came…

6 comments:

Priya said...

we tend to repeat some mistakes....we should make it a point not to give in...a few things doesnt change with time.....

sarmistha said...

ya... its true...and we still expect

A Hearty Rounder said...

such poignancy in emotions and such clarity in expression...intoxicatingly brilliant

sarmistha said...

thanks

sp.ajay said...

could not have been better put!!!

shadows getting older said...

eta ami just ajkei porlam. khubi good laglo :)