Coming to terms with heartbreak and disappointments

While the Law course kept Abhilasha occupied, Shouvik remained busy preparing for West Bengal Civil Services exam. Once in a while, he came to her college to meet her. But he was as confused as ever. Shouvik continued meeting Abhilasha but was not willing to leave the other girl. By now, Abhilasha had started realising that their relationship did not have any future.
“Don’t you think it’s high time that you decide once and for all?” one morning Abhilasha confronted Shouvik. “How long do you expect me to carry on like this?
“I know…but I need some more time,” replied Shouvik.
Not that she was expecting any different answer from him but still she felt let down.
“How much more time do you want Shouvik?” she asked.
“Well…I really don’t know,” he said.
“Then who knows?’ the tension had started building inside her. So finally the moment of reality-check had come which she had been dreading for so long. A part of her mind told her to hold on, but the other part forced her to go ahead. Why was she allowing herself to be fooled by Shouvik even now? The compelling reason of ‘waiting till the exam gets over’ did not hold good any more. It had been more than two months since her last paper. ‘Be strong Abhilasha don’t let him play with your life any more,’ she said to herself.
“Do I take it that it’s all over now between us?” she heard herself asking him. But why was she asking when she already knew the answer? Was she expecting a miracle to happen to change his mind?
“I really don’t know what to say. Sorry for messing up your life. I leave it to you now. You got to decide for yourself,” said Shouvik, avoiding eye contact with her.
She looked at him, trying to read his mind through his body language. Was he sad or indifferent? She could not make out. No doubt he looked grim but was she the reason for it? Did she ever figure in his list of priorities? Had he ever thought of her? Was he really feeling helpless or it was just a pretension? One doubt after another filled her mind in succession. How conveniently he had washed off his hand by saying it was up to her to decide! So….there was no escape from the fact that the time to formally break up had arrived. Both of them sat silently. A few college students were having an animated discussion. A young couple sat two tables away. A provocative smile showed up on the boy’s face while the girl giggled. The waiter came with a tea pot and two sets of cups and saucers.
“Do you want me to pour it for you ma’am?” he asked. Abhilasha shook her head. He kept the pot on the table and went away. The tea pot remained untouched, as none of them felt like drinking.
“Well”... Shouvik tried to break the impasse but could not find any word.
“So…..we are breaking up today if that is what you want,” her voice quivered. How much effort it took, to utter the most difficult sentence of her life!
“Don’t say that Abhilasha. You know I have never wanted you to go away but……..” he could not complete the sentence.
“But what?” she asked.
“Please try to understand my situation,” he said.
“Wish you could understand my situation as well. Any way, good bye Shouvik,” she collected her belongings and stood up. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Damn it! Please.... please God help me to control my emotion. This guy doesn’t deserve this and I mustn’t make a scene here,” she prayed to God and hurriedly came out of the restaurant. But no amount of effort could hold back her tears, which trickled down her cheeks. Her vision got blurry. She fished out a handkerchief from her bag. As luck would have it, it was the same one which Shouvik had bought for her in an exhibition. He did not let her pay the bill, when the lady in the shop packed a set of six nicely embroidered handkerchiefs.
“Let me pay for it,” she had protested.
“Hey come-on. It’s just a trivial amount,” Shouvik had dismissed her request.
“But it’s not the amount but the stuff,” she had said.
“What about the stuff?” Shouvik had squinted his eyes.
“Well it’s a common saying, never gift a hanky to anyone unless you want to lose that person,” she had replied.
“What nonsense! A student of Philosophy and talking such trash!” he had phooh poohed her concern.
“I know….but at times superstition goes deep and I don’t want to lose you,” she had said.
“Do you think I am ever going to leave you? Never ever think so. Don’t make an issue out of it. Allow me to pay,” he had insisted and cleared the bill. Now as she remembered that incident, Abhilasha wondered could their break up been avoided if she did not let him pay? She hesitated for a moment whether she should wipe off her tear with the same hanky which came with the promise of an ever lasting relationship.......

Subba disappeared

I came back to Delhi and waited for his call which never came. Every tinkle of the phone, made me rush towards it. God knows how many times I would be checking my e-mail account, expecting to have a mail from him. How often would I sign into my Yahoo Messenger, for his off-liners. But alas! There was no communication from him at all. I waited in vain, to hear from my lost buddy, whom I never met in flesh and blood. Forget about meeting, I did not even know what did he look like, as I had never seen his photograph. But still in his imageless existence, he was no less real to me, as any of my known acquaintances. Slowly my disappointment gave way to a feeling of deep hurt. It was hard for me to reconcile to the fact that Subba had gone forever. At times, I could not hold back my tears, refusing to accept, that this was a common feature with the virtual world, where people come and disappear at their own sweet will and only a fool expects otherwise.

Highlights of Delayed monsoon

In today’s world of show off ‘Delayed Monsoon’ comes as a breeze of fresh air. The honesty and sincerity with which I have narrated the story gives it a distinct edge over others. In this modern world of rat race, the instinct of survival has taken us away from us, creating a vast gap between we and our true self, so much so that the concept of simplicity and truthfulness has become a symbol of mediocrity, a must avoidable for all those who want to climb the ladder of success. It’s no more about who we are and what we feel about us. Rather it’s all about what we want to be projected as. In today’s scenario, marketability is the only thing which decides worthiness. It’s a strange world where matching of thoughts, words and deeds, is unheard of. Though we have succeeded in conditioning our mind to suit the requirements of modern day living but do we really feel happy about it? I am sure sometimes or the other, we all must have felt suffocated by this pretension and longed to be ourselves. Delayed Monsoon will give you an opportunity to shed your false identity. It will take you back on time to stop and ponder, where your fire was…lost in urban life, where are those cherished ideologies which were once so dear to you? Anyone who is willing to take some time off from his busy schedule and undertake this journey with Abhilasha, will love this experience as he is bound to feel refreshed and rejuvenated.
Delayed Monsoon is the story of Abhilasha and any lady can find an Abhilasha in herself, atleast in her deep self, feel the suppression and the pain of loosing the dreams and traits… the pain of a woman on relations, the infidelity in current social scenario, finding the soul satisfying life at the fag end of her life…..it makes an enjoyable reading. Drawn in the contemporary context, the fiction makes a touching story. Written in simple flowing language, it keeps the readers intrigued, who will feel compelled to take some time off and reflect.
The story is woven around the life of an Air Force Officer’s wife, with a glimpse into what goes on behind the closed gates, guarded by vigilant men in uniform, a virgin territory yet to be explored. Thus the social life of the armed forces still evokes curiosity among the mass. So this is another important factor which makes this fiction stand out among others with the potential to have a wide readership.

Rabbit & wise tortoise

“What?? Are you crazy?” I exclaimed.

“Why ? What is so crazy about it?” he said.

“Listen, cyber café is a place meant for youngsters. You really can’t expect me to go there,” I said.

“Why not? Why can’t you go there? It’s just your mind block. What’s so  unusual about it? And for  that  matter who has got time to even bother about you ?  Don’t you miss our chats?” he asked.

“Yes I do,” I admitted.

“Then please  log in to your Messenger  at six in the evening,” he gave the final ultimatum  and kept the phone down.

Oh God! This boy is going to make me do things which I don’t want to do, I thought. But in the evening, I found myself, walking towards a cyber café. The desire to be with Subba, outweighed all my apprehensions and hesitations. The  place was full of youngsters. I felt odd but nonetheless it was exciting  too, like a thrill felt by a child  by doing something forbidden. As I signed in to my Messenger, I saw him online.

“Heyyyyyyy………I’m sooooo  happy that you could make it!!!” an instant message popped up on my screen.

“I am happy too …but….” I replied.

“No ‘but’ please. You must do, what makes you happy. Don’t you  know that my wise tortoise?” he typed.

“Yeah I know rabbit. But don’t forget that I belong to a different generation and our ideas are bound to differ,” I wrote.

“ No need to act an oldie. Because in the  heart of your heart you know that  inspite  of your age, you  belong to our generation. It’s our generation that you identify with. It’s said we are as old as we feel. So what’s wrong in accepting that you are still a teenager? Why do you keep reminding yourself your age? Be happy that you don’t feel and behave like an ‘aunty-ji. ”

“Hahahaha…no doubt that I don’t behave like an ‘aunty- ji’ but you definitely behave  like an ‘uncle-ji’, always preaching me something or the other,” I laughed.

Making of an author out of a bored housewife

“What is it?” I was curious.
“You are so good at expressing your feelings. Why don’t you start writing?”
“What? Do you think writing is a child’s play? Writing is not just expressing your feelings. There is more to it. Writing is not everyone’s cup of tea,” I found his idea so absurd.
“Yes it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but surely you can do it,” Riaz seemed to be certain about it.
“Forget it Riaz, I am not at all convinced.”
“Neither am I trying to convince you. Trust me, you are a potential author. All you have to do is pen down your thoughts and emotions,” he was encouraging.
And thereafter Riaz never allowed the topic to die down. Our meetings started with the same question, “So….? Have you written anything?”
Fed up, with his relentless persuasion, one morning I opened a new file in Microsoft Word. ‘Let me type whatever comes to my mind and show it to him. Once he goes through my amateurish writing, he would stop pestering me.’ I thought. Just then Golu and Chulbuli came and sat on the window parapet. As I looked at the lovey-dovey couple, I wished, Nikhil had given me the same attention that Golu bestowed on Chulbuli. My yearning for love, triggered so many emotions in me that thoughts just flowed through my mind, in a steady cascade. And as my fingers played on the key board to give shape to my feelings, something unexpected happened. Appropriate phrases, describing the exact feelings came to my mind on their own. The effortless ease, with which I captured my feelings in a smooth flowing language was simply amazing! How could it happen to a novice like me who had just begun? I couldn’t believe that it was actually happening.

Author's note

I have remained a loner since my childhood. Being an introvert to the core, leading an active social life is not my cup of tea. So it was but natural that I had a limited friend circle. But strangely enough, even an introvert like me longed for companionship. Thus being trapped in conflicting expectations, I looked for an escape route. And what could have been better than the internet, where my desire for camaraderie was fulfilled without allowing anyone to encroach into my private space. I was introduced to the internet by my daughter and my life changed forever.
It was an absolute new experience for me, when I started interacting with strangers in the cyber world. I was cautioned by my husband for venturing into a territory, where sinful desires stem from the dark side of our mind. That being the general perception about internet chatting, his concern was understandable. But what he did not want to believe was, that every coin had two sides and I wanted to cash in, on the positive side. That is why, in contrast to the widespread belief, my exposure in the virtual world had a different story to tell. I have found many friends here, who have enriched my life in some way or the other. 'Delayed Monsoon'; is a tribute to all my friends, whom I met in this so-called shadowy world and because of whom, I am what I am today.
In this cyber world, looked down upon by the virtuous variety, I met Anamika (name changed), the wife of an Army officer. Her husband was posted to a remote Army base, while she stayed in a separated family accommodation. Her thought patterns had an uncanny resemblance with me and I was intrigued by her life story. But it never occurred to me that an interesting story could be made out of her life, till my friend Gaffar suggested that with my natural flair for writing it would be a good idea to dig into my potential and give a chance to the author in me. I was sold by the idea and the outcome was Abhilasha, a fusion of two lives, Anamika and me. As I started writing, both the lives became one and I found myself switching over from one life to the other. So this Abhilasha is neither me nor Anamika. She is the synergy of both and even more. It is mostly a work of fiction, though inspired by reality at some instances.

Delayed Monsoon

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