I tucked the ticket away carefully in my wallet and placed
the wallet in my handbag. My handbag was really a universe on its own ...
filled with a hundred ‘important’ objects that I was quite sure I will find
useful someday.
Everything was packed. I was leaving without informing friends
and relatives. I never really liked farewells. All the sentimentalism, tears,
pleas of “please don’t go” ... heartwarming for sure but also felt like shackles
around the feet of my aspirations. “The thread of attachment ... Neither does
it snap nor can be discarded.” I had told him though. And now it seemed like a
mistake on my part.
Almost as if he sensed himself in my thoughts, he came.
“Still being stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Look! Please try to understand. I cannot live in this city
anymore. It has started suffocating me, my thoughts, my imagination ... “
“For five years you didn’t seem to have any problem with
this city.”
“True. I had no problem with this city till now. But now
this place doesn’t give me what I desire as a writer. I want to improve myself,
to better myself. I want to be a better writer.”
“Raina, I can’t understand ... “
“... What I am trying to say, right? I now find the lanes
and the people of this city dull and used. They don’t inspire me for stories
anymore as I think I have written a story on almost all the aspects of this
city. I have squeezed it dry and extracted as much as I could from the houses,
shops, gardens, streets, parks, people ... Nothing inspires me anymore here. I
want to move on. To be better. The people ... “
“The people? I am also one of those ‘people’. And so are
your friends and relatives.”
“Yes. And now they all have a certain slack about them.
Call me cold or ruthless but I use people as drafts or moulds on which I base
my stories. I have exhausted them all. I now wish to move on to new places and
meet new people. I will be able to write differently and better.”
He came closer ... his eyes moist with pleas. “Don’t go
Raina, don’t.”
“Please don’t stop me. I want to flow like a river. I don’t
want to become stagnant like a pond. Stagnancy stinks. Just like the river that
flows through different banks and remains fresh, I too want to flow through
different cities to keep my thoughts fresh as a writer. The day I stop flowing
I will become ...”
He snatched my next words with his lips, hugging me tightly
in his loving arms. The bond of his arms barred any other sense from entering
and I lost myself in him. I could neither see, hear nor speak anything, except for his
love. Like fragrance in the air, I too dissolved myself in his passion. The
evening was beautiful ... we made it enchanting with our lovemaking.
Next morning at 5:00, just when the alarm was about to ring
I quickly shut it. He was sleeping soundly beside me. If he woke up then he
would try to stop me again. Gently sliding his arm aside from my waist, I went
for a shower and dressed up, being as quiet as possible. I took my bags and
looked at him once again ... that curly hair, his lips that touched me with
love, his firm hands that touched me beyond my body ...
I picked my handbag and bags and tiptoed out of the house.
Hailing a cab, I went to the railway station. With a few more minutes for the
train to arrive, I went to the tea shop to have my morning cup of tea. I
removed my wallet from the handbag and in the wallet, beside the ticket and
money, was a letter.
“Raina, I know you will leave while I must be in deep
sleep. My efforts to persuade you to change your mind are all in vain. You kept
saying you wanted to better yourself. I wish you could see yourself the way I
do ... Because for me you aren’t good or better, you are already the best ever!”
In my one hand was the ticket. Price - Rupees 560. In the
other hand was his letter. Price – love.
