The Experimental Blogger

They were to meet today. She was in the city for three days. Too many people to meet. She zeroed in on two. Guys she met on a social networking site. The one she was to meet later was not a stranger though. But this one was. She had never taken online friendship seriously. But still when the trip was planned, he came to her mind and she wanted to meet him in person. He came from a big city, was into a glamorous job (which according to him wasn’t really!) and someone who was completely different from her in terms of culture, family background and intellect. Yes, she thought highly of him. His vocabulary, the way he wrote and the way he talked about films, was overwhelming. She always wanted someone like him during her teens. Someone who could talk to her about things she had only heard of. Someone who could fill her with knowledge and make her feel good about it. When they met, she was a bit apprehensive. What if he thinks she was a dumb girl? What if he didn’t find her beautif...

To say Yes, it requires courage. But he didn’t lack courage at all. He had always been brave and strong. And a coward and weak. He stood for all that was right. And wrong. But this wasn’t about right or wrong. It was about doing what he ought to do. What he must do. And he did. He left her. The stars were fading away and the lights were out. They sat on the beach, with nothing between them. No words, no thoughts, no memories, no intimacy. Far away, somebody died. I think it was me.

“Why are you still not ashamed of it?” “And what, do you think, I should be ashamed of?” “Well, to start with, your choice? Of the work that you plan to do for the rest of your life, your current life condition, your health, and most importantly, the man you have decided to spend your life with,” he answered with a tone that was full of pity and sarcasm, both fighting to overpower each other. She thought of the last time he had thrown sarcasm at someone. They had laughed so hard that tears couldn’t’ control themselves and they kept coming out like tap water. They shared a relationship not many could boast of. They could be seen shouting at each other in a way that even scream would shy away from hearing them. And then of course, there were those numerous letters they had written to each other as both were in love with the pen. She was his strength and he was her role model. But there was something this time that carried a bitterness that wouldn’t go for years to come....

“Aur kitna khaogi? You just had an apple. The remaining ones are for us,” he said. She adored him. He was her favorite grandson. Now, lying in her dingy room, she thought of the days when she used to hide apples, mangoes, and apricots for him. Everyone said she was biased and she knew she was. She had eight grandchildren. Out of all of them, Kabir was the apple of her eyes. An angry voice pulled her back to reality. They told her she was losing it. Her memory often failed her. She was too weak to get up from her bed now. Diabetes, arthritis and high blood pressure wouldn’t leave her alone. At 86, all she wanted was attention. And that’s what nobody wanted to give her. She wanted them to sit with her, eat with her, laugh with her, watch TV with her. But they couldn’t stand her anymore. She was an old sofa that had to discarded soon. All her life, she had fought for Kabir and his parents. Her other children often told her that they too deserve her love and affection...