Number game…

How eventually we get so connected to a number. Sometimes we hate it or sometimes we love it. We all have our number story. How we find a no. Luckiest n how as lucky as hell…..

‘The Letter’

‘Hey stop’ He heard a familiar voice from behind.

He turned back.

There was a lady calling some man at her door.

He stood there to hear their conversation.

‘Give me the ‘letter‘ he gave you to give me’ She shouted at that man.

He didn’t utter a single word.

She again yelled ‘Give me the letter my son has sent for me’.

The post man stood there tight-lipped and waited for her to go back inside.

*******************

On hearing their Conversation he believed her son must have left her.

He thought how his own story contradicts this lady’s story.
He could totally relate to her affliction. He knew how it feels when someone leaves you when you need them the most.

How it feels when someone you love the most betrays you for others.

He felt strange connection with her.

He turned back and stood infront of her door. He could hear the howling voice from inside.

He could feel her pain – he went through the same pain when he was just a little kid.
He don’t remember anythng of his childhood but whatever he has  as memory of his childhood is the Loneliness.
He rushed to his home. He went straight back to that closed room.

The room he hated the most. The room he never entered since that day.
He cried loudly as he entered. He started threwing everything around the room.

He felt pity for that boy who craved for his mother’s love. He felt disgusted whenever he cried missing her.

He thought about the days when he wanted to tell school stories but noone was there to listen to him.

He still remember when he won the first prize for drawing competition, he came hurridely to home but noone was there for his happiness.
He was still in the room crying when a picture sneaking out of the closet caught his attention.

He saw himself and his father in the picture. There was his mother beside him in the picture. He looked at her. He was horrified when he saw her. She was the same women whom he saw in the morning. He ran with the picture in his hand…He reached at her place and knocked the door. She opened the door. He looked at her. She was the only woman he hated the most. He wanted to ask her the reasons for what she did but he kept quiet and ran back .
He laughed. He thought she’s finally punished for what she did to him.

The way she left him… his other son must have left her.

Her son with her second husband.

His father told him about her second marriage. He used to tell him how she left them when he was just four year old for other man.

He never had any connection with his father but he still feel bad for him. He believed he was also the victim of her deeds.
He again went to that room to destroy everything. He found few letters in the closet. He opened them. The letter said ‘Dear Son from your mother’.

She has written about how his father used to beat her and didn’t let her take him. This reminded him of those crying noises which used to come from their room.

He continued reading… ‘Beta, I know you hate me. But its not your fault. Your father is telling all fake stories about me. I never wanted to leave you. He forced me. He threatened me he’ll kill you. Beta i’m still waiting for you to reply to my letters. He’ll not allow me to meet you’.
Tears fell down from his eyes. He hated himself for calling her with bad words whenever she used to call him on phone.

He ran hurriedly to meet her….

*******************************


Next
day

Some new postman came at her door. He gave her a letter.

She opened the letter…

I love you MaI am sorry for everything. Take care.’

Your Son

Sanchit Arora.

There was a family picture with the letter.

She ran behind  the postman to ask about her son. But noone was there. He just vanished.

She turned back and picked up the newspaper from the floor.

She became mum when she read the headline…

FAMOUS INDUSTRIALIST’S SON SANCHIT ARORA DIED IN AN ACCIDENT YESTERDAY.

Tears fell from her eyes when saw the picture in the centre….

It was the picture of the postman who just came …..’

#WanderingSoul…. #story #shortstory #english

‘Companion’

She stood there silently behind the closed doors.

Her hairs hiding her face.

Her legs quivering…

As she turned back She could see the darkness all over.

She sighed with relief. 

Darkness‘ was the only thing which could calm her. The only thing she relates herself with….as it hides all her flaws. It puts her pieces together…pieces broken by light..

Light which mostly helps in overcoming fear was most fearful for her.

For her darkness was her only Saviour ~ her ‘Companion.’

During her childhood she was scared from darkness but now it is all she wanted to be with.
Recalling an incident she still smiles how she used to meet a guy in complete darkness. How they loved having long conversations with each other….But everything vanished when light prevaled. It destroyed whatever she had. 

It showed all her scars and bruises. It exposed all her hidden dark flaws.

The guy whom she thought to be her forever left her calling her a sin. On seeing marks all over her body he retorted naming her a ugly witch.

That day she cursed light for ruining all she had. Whenever people teased her..gave her nasty names she blamed light for everything.

It didn’t pain her as he left her…but what killed her most was.. he didnt ask her how she got all those marks… He didnt bother to ask her unending story she’s been living through.

Her story where her Father mistakenly threw hot boiling oil on her which he wanted to threw at her mother….but she came in between.                                       Those burn marks were the most precious gift he gifted her on her birthday…which stayed with her life long……

‘BET’

He never thought he will ever fall for her. For him she was just a game. A reward he wanted to possess. He still remember when he proposed her… She could smile through her eyes….her words were stuck. They had different story but her nod was all he cared about. It was enough to prove he has won the ‘Bet‘. 

Remembering her late night calls shrinks his heart…how she used to cry on phone asking him her fault. But he never paid any heed to her words.

Whenever he used to pass through the canteen he could see her sobbing in the corner. But he chose to look away.
Her last text message is still with him. When she texted ‘I know you are ignoring me. I know you are not happy with me. So I’m leaving you for your happiness. Good Bye. Love you.’

His heart wrenched as he read the message. It was all he ever wanted but instead of being happy about that it pained him.

Later, when he craved to hear her voice, to see her smile, to catch her looking at him shyly…He realised what he was running from. He knew his peace has gone with her.
He picked up his phone to call her but a lump in his throat disturbed him.

 He puked blood.

Now he is on hospital bed waiting for his death. He misses her laughter. These silent walls teases him.

He never had the courage to tell her… He was diagnosed with last stage leukemia.


By Usha Singh (Wandering thoughts)