FORBIDDEN LOVE STORY - Part - 7

Forbidden love story

A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”

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Part-7

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continued from part 6.....................

(click here for reading part - 6)
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But what the hell…… It had broken down into pieces. The large “resistive touch screen” was cracked. My smart phone is not that smart, I thought. It had become futile. I took out the SIM card and trashed the phone into bin.

Next day, I called up Ajay, with my newly owned phone, not a smart phone this time though, for congratulating him. But the real motive behind the call was something else, something obvious. He was in Patna itself, probably busy in marriage preparation. The call was formal and quick, provided he was busy, he was in roaming and he was my senior too. The marriage was scheduled on 3rd August, about 20 days from today. I was cordially invited in the wedding ceremony. The wedding of my own girlfriend and my best friend. Damn!!!

I called up Abhishek, one of my fast friends, whom I once owed 7000 bucks which he never cared to return back. We are buddies since our early childhood since our school days when we used to wear half pants in school. Back in school we shared a same crush, Ms. SANJANA, for few months. Later, I switched over to other girls while he had made her his permanent crush, and if I am no wrong, she must have his crush till date. Though he never gathers enough courage to let her know. Asshole.

After High school, he went to Delhi for claimingly higher studies while I opt for Diploma from our very own city. Although, his higher studies never happened to be higher and he end up with meager  58% marks in 10+2 examination, that’s too from CBSE. Bloody loser. He then waited for a year (usually they call it drop year, but he never meant that) and finally got into some not-that-great govt. engineering college down there in Delhi itself. His college is affiliated to some random University which he always used to curse it. Although, he  is an unwilling backlog collector but ironically never fails to blame his university, his college, and the Indian education system for his poor performance  in academics.

He picked answered my call in very first attempt which was as surprising as the news of betrayal of my girlfriend. Usually it takes him months to talk to me, every time at my expenses. He never phoned me. And even if he does, it was either for financial help or seeking any other kind of favor. Though, I never mind it anyway. He was one of the very rare friends who knew “bit” about my secret relationship with Kritika. He pretended to sound shocked on listening it, although I knew him better than anyone else. He must have been faking. Guys like him never give a shit about this kind of problem. But still, I had got to share my grief with someone. And this someone list limits up to only two friends: Abhishek and Pankaj. As Pankaj was busy enough to take my call, I had to call Abhishek, which I knew would never help anyway.

He surprisingly consoled me. He said that Ajay, the groom-to be is going to take your “leftover”, so I must not give a fuck about that. I wondered how he comes up with these compensatory philosophies in life. He was too cool to sound sophisticated. But it is human nature to instantly become an expert in others’ problem, there is nothing surprising in this. Nevertheless, talking to him had reduced my yearning up to a considerable extent.

Although I had felt like cheated, but had to bit my tongue over our relationship. I couldn’t tell this to anybody else. I just decided to close my heart doors for another girl except one which my parents would choose for me. This misogynist version of mine though, wouldn’t going to help mending my past but hopefully it will evit any future grief of this kind.

Ajay and Kritika are married now, living happily in the same colony. Their flat is few meters away from mine which only add up daily enviety in me. Her father has been transferred to somewhere in Madhya Pradesh. I deliberately trying harder to get myself transferred, anywhere away from this place to avoid seeing her face, her feeling ever again. May god bless me and make my life as awesome as it was used to be before meeting this girl, as soon as possible.

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Well, this story should not end up like this. At our chromosomal level, we all are devised to love the stories with happy endings only. What’s the point of reading a story when there is no happy ending? Stories are never intended to make the readers curse the author for leaving them at a point when they are least expected to be.

But this is not a story exactly; it’s a tragedy in a real life of one of my fast friend. Although, this story is forged considerably to make it readable but happy ending is way too manipulating.

Thank you all for reading this story… err…. tragedy despite of these pesky grammatical errors and typos.

Wishing best for his future….

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FORBIDDEN LOVE STORY - Part - 6

Forbidden love story

A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”

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Part-6

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continued from part 5.........................

(click here for reading previous part)

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It was end of June when she finally called me up. Like after two miserable months. That’s too from her Haryana number. The call ends up in 3 minutes, hardly. Too little and late, I thought. I asked for her local number again but she pushed it away making some skewed unbelievable excuse.

It was my turn to panic now.

It’s not that I hadn't tried to contact her before this.  Within this miserable 2 months I had send her some 100 e-mails despite of her no response. I had tried her number almost every hour but to no avail. It is between these two months I realized that it wasn't only sheer amatory. It’s more than that, people usually call it LOVE. Although I wasn't sure about this either.

Damn! I am in love.

 I never knew, in my wildest nightmare, that love could be this painful. The feeling was something odious. Every moment all I could think about was this girl only. And ironically, she couldn't be generous enough to reply my mails, my SMSes. All she did was a phone call worth 3 minutes.  3 fucking minutes in two not-bearable-by-any-standard months.  Too little, too late.

Is she oblivious about my feelings? Is she had in any trouble? Is she alright? Is she found someone else? Is she don’t love me anymore? …. Loads of deliberate questions begin to spam my mind, reducing my thinking ability. But my heart obstinately ruled out this feeling. My hear and mind are unofficially becomes rivals. Practically speaking, I was devastated, lost my radiance, feeling myself as futile as if belongs to any nowhere land, some unknown planet. I loved this girl, figuratively 4 years elder to me, like anything and she didn't even cared enough to ask my existence as if nothing had ever happened between us.

One odd day, somewhere in mid of July, postman delivered me a mail. Being its unusual size and hue, it didn’t seem like any official envelope, which I usually receive, all belongs either to my office purpose or some admit cards for government jobs. I was perplexed as it was probably the first “by post” communication entity I had received so far, other than official notifications or letters. I was too curious to check even sender’s address. I tore open the outer envelope in sheer curiosity. It seems like a beautifully designed wedding card. My heart began to pump faster fearing the possible content beneath the card, even before opening it. My hands were shivering, little in beginning followed by higher frequency as I began to flip the first page of hard-covered, golden hue card. I opened the card and read the accentuating words highlighted in dark red thick letters.

AJAY weds KRITIKA

The quivering of my hand spread over my entire 5’8 frame. My legs began to shook, making it harder to carry my 55 kg weight on my two staggering legs. I sat on the floor in my verandah. My heart refuses to believe & my mind needs more evidence before accepting this either. I deliberately read down the entire content in which her father’s name was clearly mentioned. It was clear that it was her marriage card. Fuck.

The tremor was obvious. I felt it all over my body. Every single part of my body was shaking like someone had put my entire body system into vibration mode. Although, my heart was the epicentre  It started beating at faster rate. My emotional CPU would have been burst due to peer pressure of this grief. My heart began to bloat with grief. I took out my phone and dialled her number but it was switched off as usual. In compulsive anger, I threw my cell phone on 8 inch thick side wall  It dismantled into pieces, scattered around, found its way into messy heap in my room as it wasn't cleaned from months. I wanted to cry. Cry out louder, loudest in fact, through maximum possible shrill my throat could produce as if it might reduce the fiasco. But I controlled myself considering my where-about.

I grabbed the wedding card again for deliberate peruse. I looked for groom’s detail. It tells Ajay Sharma, Engineer NTPC. Fuck!

This was the same Ajay, my friend, whose car was the most usual place for making out. Making out with his bride-to-be, more than dozens of times in his Hyundai i20. I couldn't understand how to react this scenario. A demon smile spread over my face, strangely. I couldn’t understand where does this envied demoniacs version of me has been cloaking till now.

Does she know Ajay before since she knew me? Does she make out with me knowing its Ajay’s car? Does she do it deliberately? Or she has agreed for this marriage under parent’s emotional pressure? Several odd questions again spammed my mind, blocking my thought process once again. But an unwilling strange demon-smile flattered over my face again thinking of this couple-to-be.

My mind began to arrange all the memories chronologically. The memory was intact, fresh enough to remember almost every touch, every kiss, every make outs, every conversation we shared. It played a fast forward video of the chronicle arrangement of memories and stacked them at 2 or 3 moments where she had asked me Ajay’s number. Though I never cared for it and gave her anyway.

It was clear.

“She had betrayed me” my mind said decisively. I felt a sudden urge to call Ajay. I stood up to get my phone back.

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To be continued in final part of the series..........

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FORBIDDEN LOVE STORY - Part-1

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Part-1

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Before beginning the story, it is hereby brought into consideration that this story is a real life experience of a friend of mine. But for the sake of concealing the identity, story is manipulated a bit; names and places of course are changed. To make it worth readable (as I think so, it may be my illusion) few modifications in conversations and situations are made deliberately.

Now, let me expedite the story to avoid losing some potential readers and future-blog-followers. For the sake of simplicity as well as fluent narration I deliberately represent the male protagonist as the narrator of this story. Story seems bit accentuating if narrated by the 1^st person itself. Isn’t it?

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I, Sachin, 21, single, male, sexually-straight, is an average looking person with a 5’8” frame. I had did my diploma in Electrical Engineering from TCT Polytechnic, a prestigious polytechnic college in Uttar Pradesh established some 25 years ago by govt. of UP to meet the excessive demand of Junior Engineers in developing India. As being an avid student, I did complete my diploma not only with a brag-able mark-sheet, but also with some theoretical knowledge (which most of the engineers devoid today). Though I hate boasting about my academic achievements but at the same time it is equally inevitable to cloak the associated proud feeling embedded within it. It’s always inevitable to mention my academic record without that “concerned” pride.

I was eventually selected in NTPC, reputed PSU branch in Haryana. I was trainee and soon to be promoted as junior engineer. In two month to be precise. This PSU plant, being situated in rural area far away from population they provided us flats in a self settled colony. It was a colony consist of around 70 flats which was shared commonly by trainees as well as by senior engineers. The number of rooms and interior arrangements though defines their ranks and make us feel “I m still a trainee”. But just for two more months, I thought.

There also lives senior engineer Mr. Akhilesh Singh. Although, he was not any special species but the only thing which accentuated him is being the father of this beautiful girl, his daughter Kritika. Kritika, 23, was a beautiful and efficient creation of god production industry. I guess even god too had took it few extra hours on her finishing operation. She was in M.Sc. 2^nd year. Eventually our eyes met and not to mention, I had developed a crush on her. Though I adored her beauty and wanted her to make mine like anything but never attempted to approach her for the obvious reasons. She too was not oblivious of my feeling for her which oozed out every nano-second I saw her. She too had a thing for me, I thought or maybe I was just misjudging her looks.

One fine day I received the call from an unknown number. 

“Hello” I said in interrogatively as if trying to ask who on other side is being generous enough to call on my number.

 “Is that Sachin?” a melodious female voice echoed in my ear.

“Yes! Who’s it?” I asked.

“This is Kritika” she said Cooley.

 “Fine thank you” I replied formally. “I m sorry but do I know u?”

“Awwweee!!! We live in same colony and u don’t even know me yet.” She said in her female friendly dramatic voice as if we knew each other since ages.

My mind immediately sprang into action.

“It must be Kritika, my neighborhood crush” I thought. Who else in my female-deficient colony has this euphonious voice? 

It must be Kritika, I declared mentally to myself.

“Kritika?” I asked deliberately to confirm.

“Who else could call you from this colony? Also I m the only ‘The Kritika’ of this area” She chuckled.

And she was right. Who else could call me from this colony, except Mr. Ranjan, our asshole supervisor, and some other not-so-important colleagues. 

And this was just the beginning. What followed next is loads of phone calls, SMSes, texting, sexting and every possible thing one could imagine to be done over phone. Our relationship was ripening and I of course wanted to extract the fruit from it. But she always knocked down the idea of real date giving some strange hard-to-believe reasons. She also insisted not to add her on facebook for the reasons of same “genre”. Though she never failed to reply my e-mails and this had become the 2^nd most preferred mode of communication we share to communicate. She told me, she had no boyfriend, even though she was in M. Sc. 2nd year. I had to believe. Do I have any other options otherwise? Certainly not, unless I’d risk my just-can’t-get-enough-till-now kind of relationship.

Three months of relationship and no real date. This was something I had never imagined to be ever happening with me. Even when she saw around her house, she couldn’t even bothers to look into my eyes, let alone waving hand or wishing good day. “What kind of love is this?” I thought.  Now since I was promoted as junior engineer at same plant, I could pay worry-lessly for my ever increasing phone bills. I pleaded her to meet me once. What’s the point being in love mutually when there is no space of meeting (read it dating) each other. But It was my love story. Isn’t it enough reason to be weird? Anyway…….

Although, on my chivious demand, she had no way but to accept it. She reluctantly agreed for a date. We anyhow, decided to meet at most beautiful location our small town had.  Despite of being oblivious about latest fashion trend, I chose myself a better pair of dress for this tough-to-earned date. Three f**king months. And my irrevocable waiting paid me off. She came some 40 minutes late from the pre-decided  time, which she had fixed by herself. I should have remark her being late but I was in no position to muff. Do I? Certainly not unless I’d risk my still-not-anything relationship.

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To be continued in subsequent series..........

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Click here to read further (Part-2)