Happily- Ever After

The doorbell rang; it was 8 in the evening.  The day was nothing beyond the usual with household chores and the intermittent writing. Reaching the climax of a novel is always taxing, when you know that the princess has to get married to the prince, at any cost. Weaving fantasy stories for children is probably the hardest job on earth. To feed their innocent minds with sweet candies, when there is actually no such thing in the real world, calls for immense courage. Then again, we all love to stay within this cocoon of self-induced peace, whether a child or an adult. Such, is the irony of life! 

Coming back to the doorbell, which has now been ringing for some time, I finally get up from the desk to answer.  The archaic door décor was my choice. I always loved vintage, somehow it felt less fake. I open the door, only to usher in that fateful day, 14 years back!

Standing in front of me was the mellowed down and greyed version of the college heartthrob, who was a rebel in his prime. He was the gleaming golden sun that illuminated everything around him. The backpack, guitar and that tattered diary where he jotted down those meaningless lyrics; he was like a drug that was extremely strong yet absolutely harmless.  Loving him was possibly the best thing that happened in my life, yet something that I would always regret.

I step aside, giving him space to enter. He hesitates, but finally moves in.

“Coffee? Or, is it still tea for you?” I ask.

Sitting on the couch, he looks up, “14 years…don’t you want to ask me any question?”

Smiling, I sit down.

The relief that comes with the acknowledgement of being free is unique. What I was experiencing was not nostalgia or anger, but freedom from guilt. Guilt that poisoned me for these many years crippled my mind. I took refuge to writing, to stop me from going insane.

“Today, I will own up.” I tell myself.

For years together I replayed the incidents of that evening, just to find a gleam of self-redemption, only to fail every time.  I can still feel my hands shake when I recollect putting the letter under his pillow, then slowly locking the door and slipping the keys under the doormat. What beastly courage overtook me that day! Well then, I had reached a point wherein I could take it no more.

He was too perfect for me and I was equally imperfect. My world revolved around everything at the same time. I mean, why can’t I club evening tea with rehearsals? For him, life was compartmentalized. Every aspect had its own boundary and two could be never clubbed together.  

The drama group of our college was in the final days of rehearsal before performing on the Annual Day. His band was tuning the final notes. “I cannot focus on my song, if you don’t stop yelling out your dialogues. You need to change your schedule.” He interrupted me, while I was trying hard to perfect one line. Being the scriptwriter, director and producer of the group was not easy for me, when funds were limited, let alone talent! The once exciting offer of practicing in his living room looked like a mistake, then.

 I put down two coffee mugs, with some tidbits to accompany. He looked tired.

“How did you find me?” I was eager to know the answer.

“Your new account on Facebook.” He smiled. Facebook was never my idea. It was Riti, my niece who opened the account with great enthusiasm. “You have to allow your fans to interact with you. They might have some good feedback on your books!”

  

The last ten years of my life have been eventful. From an amateur scriptwriter to a full-fledged author; life took a turn which was too perfect to be true. While he went from pillar to post; now a celebrated song writer, singer, performer and still a heartthrob!

 “You know, I did not open your letter for a month.” Surprised, I stand up. “You want a smoke?” He refused. “You stopped smoking?”  He still is an enigma to me and probably will always be.

He comes and stands beside me. “If you ever leave me, I will adhere to everything you want me to. Remember?” It was a promise he made.

“Why are you here?” I was scared of the numbing effect he had on me. I don’t want to break down, not in front of him.

“To ask you a question, Anahita.” Stunned, I look at him. Just a question! He has travelled from Germany to Mumbai, only to ask me a question! So, he doesn’t want me back.

All these years, I lived with a sense of guilt; for I left without an explanation. Days when I toiled to get my dialogues correct, he would always remind me that I was not good enough. The humiliation was too much to live with. But, it was the only reason for my success. I never had the courage to own up to him, that it was his constant quest for perfection that has turned me into a better writer.

“What do you want to know, Roshan?” I wanted to get over with this episode, for my book was still left unfinished.

“Why did you spoil my life, Ana?” I did not have the courage to look up to him, for I had no answer.

But that unfamiliar click startled me.

With eyes gleaming of hatred and a smile promising of revenge, Roshan was pointing a revolver at me. With one big stride, he closes the gap between us. I can feel his breath, upon my cheeks. He was dangerously close. The moment was marked both with attraction and repulsion.

Time passed, but we stood still. Old memories danced in front of my eyes. What power this moment wielded, I was unable to understand.

“Roshan…” I was not allowed to finish. Holding me close, he whispers in my ears, “Listen to the silence Ana. This is exactly how dead my life felt for the last 14 years. Every night, I would cry myself to sleep. You know, there was a time when drugs also failed.” 

The brooding sense of death was outplayed by my sense of guilt. Surprisingly, I was not afraid.

For the first time in these many years, I am facing the truth.

“Awards and accolades have given a position in the society, but did not give me peace. It was your persistence to perfection that actually made be a better professional, but bereft of love. Roshan, like you even I craved for peace. You took up drugs, I took to writing. At least, with words I could create my fake world of happiness. ”

“Then, let’s have our Happily Ever After, Ana.”

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I felt the pain a little late, just after he fell, lifeless on the floor.  

My heart clenched, the agony blurred my vision. Roshan has drawn a befitting end to our story. Life could never gift us a happily ever after, but death did.”