Life a page in a person’s life
( just a try at writing fiction ,this has no relevance to anybody or any incident, any similarities if found kindly do not mistake me.)
Anand was sitting in his chair again, the time was 5:30 am, sipping coffee as was his routine.
His wife of 30 years was fast asleep. He shared the bed with her, however, anand knew it was more of a routine than love.
Sipping coffee, he reminisced, his life his childhood his youth all flashed before his eyes. His thoughts varied from being a child holding his moms fingers and walking to school to that of him sipping coffee now. Silence, his only love, surrounded him leaving him with his thoughts.
He looked at his wife once again, her eyes closed in sleep what was she dreaming he thought? Was it something about him ? No it can’t be he told himself. He sipped his coffee in silence and having not had enough , he walked back to the kitchen to pour out more coffee , and walked back again to his chair.
He looked around his spacious house, decorated to his wife’s wishes and he thought of his struggles to get this house… a mere building of bricks, cement and mortar.
Anand knew his end was fast approaching; it was time he did what he wanted to do in what little time that was left.
He looked at the picture of his daughter on the wall; a smile crept up on his lips, and without realizing his looks went to his palms, as he remembered how tiny she was when he held her for the first time. A frail little child, hands clasped and toes curled.
Then his eyes filled with tears, yes he missed her alright, he remembered his little experiments with her, his long conversations he had had with her when he was , as a young man staying away from her. She had flown, he thought, her nest built and a life of joy. God , he thought, thank you for helping me help her find her footing and having given me the power to inculcate all he could into her.
He once again glanced at his sleeping wife; thoughts of their lives together filled him. They were never compatible he thought. It was always a bitter sweet relationship. I am lucky he said to himself. I have not been kicked out so far. He remembered their marriage, the first few months after it. Her love lasted 3 months is all he could think. The image of her, dressed in his religious traditional clothes to welcome him home after work was all he remembered. That was so good he told himself and then it was a plummet into a deep gorge. His love never left but she stopped giving him clues she still loved him, especially after the child was born. I did ask her for divorcee many a times , but I never did it.. he knew it was because he did not want his child growing up with a single parent.
All he remembered was her regulation attendance calls she would give him when travelling to work. Being married and separate was how they lived. He remembered how her calls were always only about her office, her loans, her work or what he had to do to make her daughter study. There was not, he remembered a single call were they talked about his passion, or his skill set or simply a good conversation. He dreaded, how he would attend his calls for if he attended them it was for money or a house and in her words “ his responsibility” and if he did not attend it would lead to another altercation later. He remembered them now, a chill going down his spine, though it had happened years ago. He remembered with dread words she had said to his mother “take your son and get out” it hurt him even now but he had tolerated it all his life. She was arrogant, she never asked his help or advice, lost many a valuable savings but all was forgiven but never forgotten.
Well, he could go on with his thoughts, but he did not want to but his mind strayed back to his relationship, how he tried hard to get a house for them. He smiled as he recalled that he never wanted to stay with them. I want my house was what she had said a house is what he wanted to give not him. He feared, if he did sell all his belongings and give her her house, get it in her name would she kick him out? And till date he lives with that fear. So he did what he could register it in his name.
He realized now, that he no longer was loved nor needed, that there is nothing called love it was all just an act put up by two different individuals living in a relationship called marriage.
He realized, how , he had gone from speaking a paragraph with her to now having a mono syllabic conversation. Anand felt bad that he had reduced not only his life but that of another person. Do I love her? Or am I tolerating her? He asked himself and a smile crossed his lips neither he knew. What was meant to be will be he thought.
Love was always over rated he knew. He remembered a poem by Yeats :
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
It was true he knew it, he realized it now.
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death. Yeats poetry filled his philosophical view.
Would I have had better respect and dignity, had I been in a job long back he thought and realised it would have made no impact.
Years have passed, decades gone why harp on it he told himself and with a bout of energy got up and went back to the kitchen…a place he had spent almost all his life , cooking , creating and feeling happy, this he realised as he looked around was what had kept him going and this is where he was his best. I’ve done wonders in here that my master’s degree couldn’t give he thought of himself proudly. He could vividly see his daughter standing there , papa am your sous chef she would say as they knead pizza dough or concocted science experiments. He laid his hands all over the kitchen , kissing the cold marble , the clean gas stove and his knife. I shall miss all of you he told them and waited as if they would reply.
He went back to his table with a look of determination and a mind set in what it wanted to do. Anand took a sheet of paper and wrote his will. He pledged all in his name to that of his wife
This he wrote, “ my dear one is for all the years of saying with me” for having tolerated being with me and for just being called mrs Anand and having to live a life you never liked with me”. His words flew like snowflakes on a winter’s eve. He even wrote down the account number and name of an account where he had stashed cash without her knowledge, in case he was kicked out and that amount was now quite fat and handsome. I may be harsh he wrote but hope happiness stays with you for I am no more . no more bickering and no more tears. He never called her with the pet name he used too. It was all lost in their journey of life in which she had fought valiantly but the wounds and scars were on him.
Dear daughter I have but one last thing to tell you “ never ever give up” and with that he laid down his pen. The pain in his chest was unbearable. he gripped the arm rest of his chair his fingers twirling his moustache , a final touch of his beard as the words of shabad went in his ears . he closed his eyes and with a a smile he was one with god. Life had dealt its final blow. An ordinary boy, worthless, unloved husband, bad dad none of these made sense he was just one word to the world now a corpse.
Niki, woke up seeing Anand still on his chair, she ran up just to realize he was long gone.
She picked up the letter and read, then cried ana ana ana I love you I never wanted you to think of me this way. I should have told you I love you. It was too late. She had to leave with this eternal love.
(We often see couples fighting, our parents fighting but love never seen. My humble try at making couples understand love is deep)
( just a try at writing fiction ,this has no relevance to anybody or any incident, any similarities if found kindly do not mistake me.)
Anand was sitting in his chair again, the time was 5:30 am, sipping coffee as was his routine.
His wife of 30 years was fast asleep. He shared the bed with her, however, anand knew it was more of a routine than love.
Sipping coffee, he reminisced, his life his childhood his youth all flashed before his eyes. His thoughts varied from being a child holding his moms fingers and walking to school to that of him sipping coffee now. Silence, his only love, surrounded him leaving him with his thoughts.
He looked at his wife once again, her eyes closed in sleep what was she dreaming he thought? Was it something about him ? No it can’t be he told himself. He sipped his coffee in silence and having not had enough , he walked back to the kitchen to pour out more coffee , and walked back again to his chair.
He looked around his spacious house, decorated to his wife’s wishes and he thought of his struggles to get this house… a mere building of bricks, cement and mortar.
Anand knew his end was fast approaching; it was time he did what he wanted to do in what little time that was left.
He looked at the picture of his daughter on the wall; a smile crept up on his lips, and without realizing his looks went to his palms, as he remembered how tiny she was when he held her for the first time. A frail little child, hands clasped and toes curled.
Then his eyes filled with tears, yes he missed her alright, he remembered his little experiments with her, his long conversations he had had with her when he was , as a young man staying away from her. She had flown, he thought, her nest built and a life of joy. God , he thought, thank you for helping me help her find her footing and having given me the power to inculcate all he could into her.
He once again glanced at his sleeping wife; thoughts of their lives together filled him. They were never compatible he thought. It was always a bitter sweet relationship. I am lucky he said to himself. I have not been kicked out so far. He remembered their marriage, the first few months after it. Her love lasted 3 months is all he could think. The image of her, dressed in his religious traditional clothes to welcome him home after work was all he remembered. That was so good he told himself and then it was a plummet into a deep gorge. His love never left but she stopped giving him clues she still loved him, especially after the child was born. I did ask her for divorcee many a times , but I never did it.. he knew it was because he did not want his child growing up with a single parent.
All he remembered was her regulation attendance calls she would give him when travelling to work. Being married and separate was how they lived. He remembered how her calls were always only about her office, her loans, her work or what he had to do to make her daughter study. There was not, he remembered a single call were they talked about his passion, or his skill set or simply a good conversation. He dreaded, how he would attend his calls for if he attended them it was for money or a house and in her words “ his responsibility” and if he did not attend it would lead to another altercation later. He remembered them now, a chill going down his spine, though it had happened years ago. He remembered with dread words she had said to his mother “take your son and get out” it hurt him even now but he had tolerated it all his life. She was arrogant, she never asked his help or advice, lost many a valuable savings but all was forgiven but never forgotten.
Well, he could go on with his thoughts, but he did not want to but his mind strayed back to his relationship, how he tried hard to get a house for them. He smiled as he recalled that he never wanted to stay with them. I want my house was what she had said a house is what he wanted to give not him. He feared, if he did sell all his belongings and give her her house, get it in her name would she kick him out? And till date he lives with that fear. So he did what he could register it in his name.
He realized now, that he no longer was loved nor needed, that there is nothing called love it was all just an act put up by two different individuals living in a relationship called marriage.
He realized, how , he had gone from speaking a paragraph with her to now having a mono syllabic conversation. Anand felt bad that he had reduced not only his life but that of another person. Do I love her? Or am I tolerating her? He asked himself and a smile crossed his lips neither he knew. What was meant to be will be he thought.
Love was always over rated he knew. He remembered a poem by Yeats :
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
It was true he knew it, he realized it now.
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death. Yeats poetry filled his philosophical view.
Would I have had better respect and dignity, had I been in a job long back he thought and realised it would have made no impact.
Years have passed, decades gone why harp on it he told himself and with a bout of energy got up and went back to the kitchen…a place he had spent almost all his life , cooking , creating and feeling happy, this he realised as he looked around was what had kept him going and this is where he was his best. I’ve done wonders in here that my master’s degree couldn’t give he thought of himself proudly. He could vividly see his daughter standing there , papa am your sous chef she would say as they knead pizza dough or concocted science experiments. He laid his hands all over the kitchen , kissing the cold marble , the clean gas stove and his knife. I shall miss all of you he told them and waited as if they would reply.
He went back to his table with a look of determination and a mind set in what it wanted to do. Anand took a sheet of paper and wrote his will. He pledged all in his name to that of his wife
This he wrote, “ my dear one is for all the years of saying with me” for having tolerated being with me and for just being called mrs Anand and having to live a life you never liked with me”. His words flew like snowflakes on a winter’s eve. He even wrote down the account number and name of an account where he had stashed cash without her knowledge, in case he was kicked out and that amount was now quite fat and handsome. I may be harsh he wrote but hope happiness stays with you for I am no more . no more bickering and no more tears. He never called her with the pet name he used too. It was all lost in their journey of life in which she had fought valiantly but the wounds and scars were on him.
Dear daughter I have but one last thing to tell you “ never ever give up” and with that he laid down his pen. The pain in his chest was unbearable. he gripped the arm rest of his chair his fingers twirling his moustache , a final touch of his beard as the words of shabad went in his ears . he closed his eyes and with a a smile he was one with god. Life had dealt its final blow. An ordinary boy, worthless, unloved husband, bad dad none of these made sense he was just one word to the world now a corpse.
Niki, woke up seeing Anand still on his chair, she ran up just to realize he was long gone.
She picked up the letter and read, then cried ana ana ana I love you I never wanted you to think of me this way. I should have told you I love you. It was too late. She had to leave with this eternal love.
(We often see couples fighting, our parents fighting but love never seen. My humble try at making couples understand love is deep)
