The Saviour

The thing about your first true love is that you can’t really forget them. There are times that you’ll be engrossed in the distractions that this world will offer you, but all it requires is a mere mention of her name. The heart skips a beat, the air suddenly stands still, and a helpless smile escapes your face. That tiredness in your eyes, that longingness with which you stare into the void after that—That’s beyond love!

Reading through the lines, the words, the letters, and the tiny spaces existing between the many troubled thoughts of great scholars, there was this only one true gem that I could uncover in an ocean of oysters: To become a good writer, one’s got to bleed; to write even better, bleed profusely.

Staring endlessly at the green board, little did our stupefied Mav know that an year later, those pretty eyes would look at him again

Well, that’s what Maverick has been doing until now—seeking pleasure in all of his sufferings. He would plunge deep into his life to uncover one silly reason that would keep him awake the whole night. Yes, there were tragedies that had made him a vagabond. Yes, he was running from familiarity, from the routine life and from the things that he has become accustomed to. Yes, he never wanted to settle and couldn’t really figure out what he wanted in his life; but how silly of him—the ignorant fellow couldn’t fathom how a tender soul crept into his lamenting heart and slowly, with her pure and selfless love, changed his approach towards life.

She is beautiful. Very beautiful. She is the morning you wake up to a nightingale’s chirp and the night you sleep gazing at the stars high above; she is the one sublime spring and the alluring autumn. She is the wisdom you would listen to, and the cries you would kiss and soften. But the best part about her remains untouched: she’s delicate—a sensitive smooth comely fragile being that is selfless in her own disposition. You wonder how our Mav met this divine creature!

Well, it was the summer of 2015. When the world was striking a deal on climate change, there was something else happening at an off-campus college in the University of Delhi.

It was just another morning in the city of dreams. Right after attending his first class, our boy was rushing to the canteen through the several vibrant classrooms—and many a student rambling the corridors—down the stairs, jumping two at a time. Maverick was in a hurry to attend his next class. A gush of wind swept across his face and sent his shampooed hair in disarray as he opened the door leading outside the three-storeyed building. He walked briskly out in the open ground cursing the dry wind under his breath. Six stairs up, and the next moment, he found himself in the canteen.

She’s delicate—a sensitive smooth comely fragile being that is selfless in her own disposition

He stood at the door staring at the new and familiar faces for a second. Suddenly, someone called out his name. Maverick turned to his left to find his school friend, a junior, waving frantically at him. He smiled and walked up to her slowly. It was only after the formal handshake that she introduced him to her friend: Elena.

Just when he heard the name, the boy jumped up beaming in surprise. “Like Elena Gilbert?” he enquired while extending his hand forward. “Oh, yes!” she replied with equal excitement. Just then, when these two blessed souls were staring into each other’s eyes, the stars in the heaven were perfectly aligned next to each other. There was this unsettling gleam in her eyes and a certain appeal that made Maverick stay a bit longer than he had planned for. But then, he had to leave for his class.

Staring endlessly at the green board, little did our stupefied Mav know that an year later, those pretty eyes would look at him again and she would smile like a pure selfless angel, laugh uncontrollably at his stupid jokes, and share a bond so deep that even the oceans would be ashamed to give their measure.

To my Saviour.

Letter to my daughter — Remember Me!

Dear Vanya,

Each one of us here has our own story: some are making merry, while the others are frustrated living theirs’; everyone’s life is at war: some relish being in the battleground whereas others protest the bloodshed, the inadequate food and water, the sleepless nights, and the suffering. The separation from their beloved torments them more than the cold wind biting their chest. Each morning, their forlorn heart beats louder than the shots fired upon them, and every night, they fear their soul would escape—through the hole pierced by the enemy’s bullet—without having said a final goodbye.

Who would cry when they breathe their last? Will the decade of silence speak for itself? Will the lady with the velvet robe come to his funeral and offer prayers for him? Will she sit beside his grave and weep till the dawn? Will she think of him in her dreams? Maybe not. But they keep on keeping on, don’t they? Despite knowing that they hardly matter to the person who matters them the most. Ever imagined, how they do it? Well, it’s the magical four-lettered word: HOPE! It’s the optimism of seeing a new sun on a familiar horizon that motivates them to take one more step—a step towards the liberation of their soul.

Will she think of him in her dreams? Maybe not. But they keep on keeping on, don’t they? Despite knowing that they hardly matter to the person who matters them the most.

Vanya, my dear, they’re a strange lot of men. Mostly, they’re silent and lost in their own world. Their life might be full of struggle, but they won’t breathe a word about it even to their closest aide. I’ve seen them walk into the woods, and never come out it for hours. Hah! You could spot them easily. Saw that guy with his hands in his pocket. No, he wasn’t chilled—he simply didn’t know what to do with them. They like to keep their conversation short and simple and would avoid looking directly into your eyes. Well, their world is different. And, mysterious!

My beautiful girl, it’s remarkable how a single encounter could turn your world upside down. One person, one moment: that’s all it takes to ignite a disturbance in your heart, a whirlwind mighty enough to throw your life into disarray. Everything starts appearing hazy. Confusion, doubt, embarrassment, regret—that’s how you feel every time you think about it. Heightened emotions, loneliness, sudden loss of interest—the remorse just keeps begging for more.

There’s so much to learn, a lot to discover, and this—ah! This is just the beginning.

But hold on, my dear. Be brave! It’s just a phase, and it shall pass. After a few months, all of it will cease to matter. You’ll find that this was one of the many life-learning lessons, equally important as taking your first step and falling halfway or learning to pronounce a word after stammering for days. There’s so much to learn, a lot to discover, and this—ah! This is just the beginning.

Observe the nature around you. Behold the mighty mountains and the stormy seas—lose yourself into its magnificence. Do what your heart has yearned for long! Question the established rules! Question why people desire happiness; instead, why not find pleasure in melancholy? Why is the light attributed with ‘positiveness’, and the dark as ‘negative’? Why are there so many rules and regulations governing our life?  Why the racism and the caste and religious divide? Question the government, question the people… But most of all, my bud, question yourself!

How does it feel to stand your ground in a storm? Or, taking a plunge in that dark river in January? Do you fear it, my love! Does your heart rate accelerate? If it does, and it should, take a deep breath. Close your eyes and remember me. And, I shall be there by your side, holding your hands, and whispering into your ears: You can do it! Just like the old times. 

Your proud papa.