To Unlearn Your Love


The call got disconnected before I could say "Stop!", before I could plead one last time to that person, individual, to still hope, to still consider the morning after the night. The call got disconnected as the night enshrouded me into a raging storm of Whys and What Ifs. I could call back but the number will be switched off, I could leave a message but it won't work the same way. Social networking sites, the thought-dump of so many of us, weren't quite working for me. When you are angry, you can still mutter a few words. But this was rage, an anger so pure that the mouth couldn't fathom a few words. Suddenly, the cold night didn't seem cold enough.

Disgruntled, I took a walk outside. Forgot to put on the jacket as the heat inside my room is stifling. There is a way out of this and at that moment I found it to be the door to the road outside. Putting the locks in place, I ran down the stairs and came out to the deserted streets of my city.



The night couldn't answer the questions either. The honking vehicles of pathetic people didn't quite help either. I had been disappointed before, yes. I had hoped, and I get it, that was my fault. But then nothing had prepared me for a day like this. This was pure, beautiful and this was something I had really imagined to work out. I was happy, for those few weeks. Happy, that my life had worked around so fast, delirious that someone up there was smiling down on me. I was hoping again, I knew it, but I didn't mind, for sometime, hope is all that we need, our little bit of sunshine in the long dark winter.

The uneven curb of the pathetic city kept me away from the thoughts of rejection. Where did I go wrong? What did I do to deserve all this? How long till the godforsaken night ends? Is it going to be longer than 4 years, again? I didn't know and frankly, the moist winter wind was never so unwelcomed by me.

I took the next day off. The city was about to come out of the new years eve and everyone was surprisingly cheerful. The office I had resigned a few weeks ago didn't care whether I showed up or didn't. I didn't care either.

I visited the cemetary that day. It was weird, for I hadn't lost anybody dear. Or did I? The location seemed quite ironic. In a city of millions, in an area which is arguably one of the crowdest places, lied a cemetary that had nothing but silence to offer you.

The tombstones, I looked at them. They looked happy. Happy, that they had company in the warm Winter afternoon. Amongst hundreds and thousands of those gone by there walked a dead soul. Life had suddenly gone out of me and I felt like a man who had no hope, finally.

But the best part about you hitting the lowest possible point is every way out is a way up. I needed to rejig my life. It was going nowhere and I had been sucked into a vortex. But I did acknowledge myself being down and out and listed out all the things I needed to do to move out. The twilight sun lit up the brilliant sky and I had the death around me giving hope for a better life. Irony, it was.

While returning home that night, I imagined the life she would be having right now. She'd be less worried, more involved, less commited. But somehow, I still believed that she loved me, in her own damaging way. Like a fire burning a slow and painful death, I pictured her, the makeup running down her face. I imagined a life without her, a life nonetheless.

Spring was just around the corner.

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