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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