Curtains Drawn!

Imagine Dying! Dying in the arms of a lover you never loved. But only felt comfortable with. A lover who kept you warm in winters with their soft-balmy voice. And relaxed, in summers, with their incessant supply of affection.

You never fought with her because frankly you never cared. You said some of the meanest things to her because you were hurt. Hurt by the woman who left you a very long time ago.

The only woman whom you earnestly loved.

Life made you bitter. So much that you want to bite the hands that feed you.

Dying! Thinking about that one woman whom you loved with all the innocence of boyhood and the pride of a macho looking fragile man.

The one who quarrelled the most with you.

Everything she said jostled the core existence of your being.

She pushed you against the wall every time you thought things were beginning to get better between the two of you.

Still, you gave your all to her like a little offering made to a goddess-selflessly and without any qualms.

Still, she left you, like you knew she would.

Left you proabbaly for a richer man who doesn’t treat her right.

Left you and never came back. Not even a phone call. Sigh!

You are dying. Your present lover, if we can call her that, is caressing you, gently whispering into your ears, nothing will happen to you. You will be alright in no time.

But her words of comfort fall upon your ears like a mother’s chiding; interfering with your chain of thoughts…. Why did she leave? Does she still think about you when she is alone? Is she happier with him?

Those are the big question.

Questions you would want answered before this disease kills you. But, oh, this other woman won’t shut. If only she would let you focus, you can get it all figured out.

But your present keeps on asking, what is the matter with you..

If only she knew what is wrong, she thinks, she can heal you.

But you don’t want to be healed, you want to love. You don’t want someone to love you. You want someone YOU CAN love. As a man, you only know how to give. Nobody has ever told you how to take and say thank you.

And now you are dying. It is too late to learn. Too ugly to stress out on a woman, apologising for something she never did.

So you let your present caress you while you think about the grief your past left you with……Suffering in silence.

Inspired from Hemingway’s The Snows of Kilimanjaro!