Day 395
She walks along the bridge cloaked in a limp fur coat that weakly hides her svelte curves. It also lends no hand in shielding her from the frosty wind that was an unforeseen caller at this time of the year. But, this is perhaps one of the last things on Inayat’s mind. She hardly notices the breeze whipping across her face leaving her cheeks as pale as the over washed linen hung in front of her mother’s doorstep. Nor does she pay heed to the frantic waves licking the pebbled shoreline. Even the seashells, that are crushed under her brown moccasins, miserably fail to pull her away from her myriad thoughts.
Inayat settles on to a sturdy rock and pulls up her knees to her chest. There is an icy draught that stings her from within. It’s her soul, freezing up. She hugs herself in vain, in the feeble hope of saving at least a part of it, before it becomes just another relic of winter, a pretty snowflake perhaps ; enchanting but inaccessible to the ordinary man.
She takes out her pearl necklace. Or maybe we should call it remnants of what was once a pearl necklace? More than half the pearls are missing and it resembles an indiscriminate string of beads one would find among the toys of a little girl.
“This set is made of a hundred pearls collected from different parts of the world.” He holds up the necklace to the moonlight. She sees her reflection in his glossy black eyes staring back earnestly. His face creases into a warm smile and he dips his forehead and plants a soft kiss on her nose. She blushes “Perhaps, forever is really not too far away.”
The memory bubbles out like water from a hot spring. The blazing heat of betrayal burns her eyes turning her vision foggy. Her sharp nails tear out another pearl from the set and she flings it angrily into the ocean. The waters swallow the pearl as though welcoming an old friend. It is, after all, the oyster’s child.
Inayat takes a deep breath and forces the tears inward. This was what she had been feeding the sea every day. For the past 95 days.
She places her head between her knees and shuts her eyes tightly dissolving in the noise of the water lashing out at the rocks around her.
***
Day 221
“Inayat.” He breathed her name under his blanket. An electric current passes through him and he jolts out of his bed. The voluptuous moon, juxtaposed against the sable sky, lights the dusty room. He stares outside lost in thought. Inayat meant kindness and that was exactly what was mirrored in her big brown eyes. Not the fragile kindness that every lady was expected to encompass. Rather, it was a firm kindness, an unyielding form of kindness that would bore into the darkest of your sins, excruciating of pains and alleviate them with just a glance.
“Her favorite piece was ‘Amy’s Theme’ from the album Shaitan. He had played it for the first time on his Grand Piano on the night she told him that she had conceived. She was dressed in a simple cotton yellow dress that seemed to have been tailored for her lithesome form. She swayed to the notes and danced across the hall, occasionally pausing, only to wink at him while she bundled her thick curls back into the silver ribbon. She whispered her secret to him only much later, after he had finished playing and they were nestled under the sheets. His joy was boundless and the memory of the events that followed still managed to turn his ears red.”
A sniffle escapes him but he shows no resistance when a single tear drop slides down his unshaven jaw. The moon hides herself behind clouds, ashamed at trying to entice a man who had already lost his heart. The room dimmed considerably and he went back to consoling his dil to rest for the couple of hours that remained till a new dawn was born.
***
Some things are always better left unsaid. But sometimes, they just tumble out of your lips and harshly attack the ears of your loved ones. And nothing you ever do or ever say can vandalize the memory of pain you brought.
One such day was the day Inayat’s child was born.
***
Day 202
The tiny eyelids refused to open.
Like a giant pine tree being felled, his world came crashing down. They had spent more than 200 days designing and redesigning their lives to welcome the infant to their world. And here, she laid stone cold on the hospital towel. Devastated would have been an understatement for Inayat’s heart. The acerbic stench of Dettol stung their noses as the cleaner came in to ready the room for the next patient.
***
Day 203
The Ambassador trundled its way home, navigating with ease the dry roads of the sleepy town. Silence seemed to suffocate the physical distance between them. They were seated apart and engrossed in staring outside the closer window.
Inayat took the effort to speak up first that day. Perhaps, she shouldn't have. Perhaps, the silence would’ve saved their union. But there are too many perhaps that have crept in between then and now. But unfortunately, he replied to her.
The words needn’t be recounted for a thing of pain must always be tucked away under quilts of warm wool and doused with mugs of hot milk said my grandmother. And I will follow her tenet and not cast light on the actual exchange. It suffices to know that it corroded their love deeply.
***
Day 280
Bound by the chains of time, Inayat immersed herself in long walks and as the walks grew longer, their conversations turned shorter. Words were withheld and sealed between the heart and lips. He never tried traversing the invisible chasm, fearing that he would destroy what little was left. She, on the other hand, anticipated an apology that would, unknown to her, never be pronounced.
***
Day 300
Dusk had fallen gracefully that day, displacing the glorious sun towards its slumber. Inayat had trembled ever so slightly as she dully registered the unlocked door and she had paused momentarily only to pick up the yellow paper near the footstool. On it, it was neatly scrawled;
“Gone for business. Will take long. Soup is in the flask.”
He never came back.
***
Day 400
Inayat’s eyes reddened as she watched the seagulls swoop gaily upon put on their unsuspecting prey. “As cruel as life” she thought grimly. She gazed at the naked ring finger on her left hand.
“Once bitten, twice shy.” they had said. But death had hardly shown any inhibition as it whisked away the father of her dead child to his abode. Inayat let her eyes brim with tears of longing and not too soon after, they spilled over onto her high cheekbones. For the first time in her life, Inayat; the epitome of kindness, an unyielding form of kindness that would bore into the darkest of sins, excruciating of pains and alleviate them with just a glance, could not forgive.
She walks along the bridge cloaked in a limp fur coat that weakly hides her svelte curves. It also lends no hand in shielding her from the frosty wind that was an unforeseen caller at this time of the year. But, this is perhaps one of the last things on Inayat’s mind. She hardly notices the breeze whipping across her face leaving her cheeks as pale as the over washed linen hung in front of her mother’s doorstep. Nor does she pay heed to the frantic waves licking the pebbled shoreline. Even the seashells, that are crushed under her brown moccasins, miserably fail to pull her away from her myriad thoughts.
Inayat settles on to a sturdy rock and pulls up her knees to her chest. There is an icy draught that stings her from within. It’s her soul, freezing up. She hugs herself in vain, in the feeble hope of saving at least a part of it, before it becomes just another relic of winter, a pretty snowflake perhaps ; enchanting but inaccessible to the ordinary man.
She takes out her pearl necklace. Or maybe we should call it remnants of what was once a pearl necklace? More than half the pearls are missing and it resembles an indiscriminate string of beads one would find among the toys of a little girl.
“This set is made of a hundred pearls collected from different parts of the world.” He holds up the necklace to the moonlight. She sees her reflection in his glossy black eyes staring back earnestly. His face creases into a warm smile and he dips his forehead and plants a soft kiss on her nose. She blushes “Perhaps, forever is really not too far away.”
The memory bubbles out like water from a hot spring. The blazing heat of betrayal burns her eyes turning her vision foggy. Her sharp nails tear out another pearl from the set and she flings it angrily into the ocean. The waters swallow the pearl as though welcoming an old friend. It is, after all, the oyster’s child.
Inayat takes a deep breath and forces the tears inward. This was what she had been feeding the sea every day. For the past 95 days.
She places her head between her knees and shuts her eyes tightly dissolving in the noise of the water lashing out at the rocks around her.
***
Day 221
“Inayat.” He breathed her name under his blanket. An electric current passes through him and he jolts out of his bed. The voluptuous moon, juxtaposed against the sable sky, lights the dusty room. He stares outside lost in thought. Inayat meant kindness and that was exactly what was mirrored in her big brown eyes. Not the fragile kindness that every lady was expected to encompass. Rather, it was a firm kindness, an unyielding form of kindness that would bore into the darkest of your sins, excruciating of pains and alleviate them with just a glance.
“Her favorite piece was ‘Amy’s Theme’ from the album Shaitan. He had played it for the first time on his Grand Piano on the night she told him that she had conceived. She was dressed in a simple cotton yellow dress that seemed to have been tailored for her lithesome form. She swayed to the notes and danced across the hall, occasionally pausing, only to wink at him while she bundled her thick curls back into the silver ribbon. She whispered her secret to him only much later, after he had finished playing and they were nestled under the sheets. His joy was boundless and the memory of the events that followed still managed to turn his ears red.”
A sniffle escapes him but he shows no resistance when a single tear drop slides down his unshaven jaw. The moon hides herself behind clouds, ashamed at trying to entice a man who had already lost his heart. The room dimmed considerably and he went back to consoling his dil to rest for the couple of hours that remained till a new dawn was born.
***
Some things are always better left unsaid. But sometimes, they just tumble out of your lips and harshly attack the ears of your loved ones. And nothing you ever do or ever say can vandalize the memory of pain you brought.
One such day was the day Inayat’s child was born.
***
Day 202
The tiny eyelids refused to open.
Like a giant pine tree being felled, his world came crashing down. They had spent more than 200 days designing and redesigning their lives to welcome the infant to their world. And here, she laid stone cold on the hospital towel. Devastated would have been an understatement for Inayat’s heart. The acerbic stench of Dettol stung their noses as the cleaner came in to ready the room for the next patient.
***
Day 203
The Ambassador trundled its way home, navigating with ease the dry roads of the sleepy town. Silence seemed to suffocate the physical distance between them. They were seated apart and engrossed in staring outside the closer window.
Inayat took the effort to speak up first that day. Perhaps, she shouldn't have. Perhaps, the silence would’ve saved their union. But there are too many perhaps that have crept in between then and now. But unfortunately, he replied to her.
The words needn’t be recounted for a thing of pain must always be tucked away under quilts of warm wool and doused with mugs of hot milk said my grandmother. And I will follow her tenet and not cast light on the actual exchange. It suffices to know that it corroded their love deeply.
***
Day 280
Bound by the chains of time, Inayat immersed herself in long walks and as the walks grew longer, their conversations turned shorter. Words were withheld and sealed between the heart and lips. He never tried traversing the invisible chasm, fearing that he would destroy what little was left. She, on the other hand, anticipated an apology that would, unknown to her, never be pronounced.
***
Day 300
Dusk had fallen gracefully that day, displacing the glorious sun towards its slumber. Inayat had trembled ever so slightly as she dully registered the unlocked door and she had paused momentarily only to pick up the yellow paper near the footstool. On it, it was neatly scrawled;
“Gone for business. Will take long. Soup is in the flask.”
He never came back.
***
Day 400
Inayat’s eyes reddened as she watched the seagulls swoop gaily upon put on their unsuspecting prey. “As cruel as life” she thought grimly. She gazed at the naked ring finger on her left hand.
“Once bitten, twice shy.” they had said. But death had hardly shown any inhibition as it whisked away the father of her dead child to his abode. Inayat let her eyes brim with tears of longing and not too soon after, they spilled over onto her high cheekbones. For the first time in her life, Inayat; the epitome of kindness, an unyielding form of kindness that would bore into the darkest of sins, excruciating of pains and alleviate them with just a glance, could not forgive.