Choice. Such a harmless little word slipped in casually, lightly, but hardly meaning so, thought Meira through the listless high summer day. It built a disquieting burden. It killed her, each little time. It felt as though one option would grow claws and claim her nerve if she did not take its side. Like the other would drown in an agony of loneliness without her consent, her concern. Choice, where dangers lurked. It was evening, and the day had unfolded to be as heavy as boredom. The spaces of extensive everyday chores were attended to in march-past like diligence. Meira sat with her laptop, and tea and an uncharacteristic Tere Khat playing on her playlist, she had been struggling with the difficulty of words since the last three days. There were not in exact harmony with her fancy, her frenzy. They were trapezing above her head like wildflowers do, around cartoon characters' when they are hurt. They hurt her too.
Amidst such recognition assigned to the grandness of blankness she received a phone call. Always the most surprising of them all, Roop. He signified that point of no return which existed forever, he was the dash in her life which she never had the courage to fill up. Punctuations were the most pronounced when they became the transferred epithet to people.
He called to complain of why she was so distant, so cold. He called to converse about daily incidents with a stance of no gaps ever having existed till the earlier moment. He confirmed of a love that was beautiful in its invisibilty, but togetherness that would still be dirty. He was all over with sweetness, and flattered Meira to change the day to a lively collection of memories and moments. He was afternoons and kisses and he was late night promises. She completed the call deliberately after about an hour faking some appointment at a parlour. In many months this was the first time that Roop said, "No, please don't." She swelled with emotions. She swelled with incomprehensible tears. She kept the phone.
Theirs was a strange friendship, a stranger relation. It was pathetic in patches, but mostly poignant. They were both good people who could not help but be loved and identified by each other. They could not forget, yet they could not be. This was a choice she had allowed him to take, for she was bad at choices, Meira. And each time he called, she felt she should not have.
The only takeaway from being with him in this space of unreal being, was that it made her, as he confirmed, cold. She read the mask as strong. As for love, well, Meira never quite got used to it. She was horribly bad at choices. Choices, they choked.
He called to complain of why she was so distant, so cold. He called to converse about daily incidents with a stance of no gaps ever having existed till the earlier moment. He confirmed of a love that was beautiful in its invisibilty, but togetherness that would still be dirty. He was all over with sweetness, and flattered Meira to change the day to a lively collection of memories and moments. He was afternoons and kisses and he was late night promises. She completed the call deliberately after about an hour faking some appointment at a parlour. In many months this was the first time that Roop said, "No, please don't." She swelled with emotions. She swelled with incomprehensible tears. She kept the phone.
Theirs was a strange friendship, a stranger relation. It was pathetic in patches, but mostly poignant. They were both good people who could not help but be loved and identified by each other. They could not forget, yet they could not be. This was a choice she had allowed him to take, for she was bad at choices, Meira. And each time he called, she felt she should not have.
The only takeaway from being with him in this space of unreal being, was that it made her, as he confirmed, cold. She read the mask as strong. As for love, well, Meira never quite got used to it. She was horribly bad at choices. Choices, they choked.
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