This blog is more about making photographs than taking photographs and about writing short fictional and microfiction stories. I hope you will enjoy the posts.
He Stopped Loving Her Today.
I came across this song by George Jones from an album I am what I am and I just loved it. It's nothing less than a story in itself and hence I am posting it here. Enjoy the lyrics and listen to this song.
The rear side of house and backyard was lit by a small dusty
lamp. The drainage pipe was connected to the wall at a point in line with the
window sill. Pipe shook as he climbed, swaying a little more with each pull,
but he knew that it will hold his weight. He had been using this pipe since
last three months. Victor had newly joined high school after moving to this town.
His father’s transfer had brought him here and Aditi being a gabby girl in the class,
became his first friend in the first week itself. Soon after few weeks of their
friendship, they were occasionally seen lurking in the backside of football
ground and often teased as a secret couple in school. Pipe was slippery today,
perhaps because of drizzle. Victor climbed to a certain height and then swung
his legs until he got his feet onto the window sill. Aditi, immediately closed
the curtains after pulling him inside her room. Victor held her pressing her
back against the wall, holding her wrists trapped above her head. As usual he
had a rose in his lips. He always brought a rose for Aditi, despite of the fact
that Aditi never liked roses, she infact liked a flower but didn’t know its
name. This April of 1995 was special; it was Aditi’s birthday tomorrow. A blade
of moonlight slipped from the curtains, casting a beam upon her face. He kissed
her, while she kept her eyes closed. He gave a set of silver anklets. It was
their last meeting, atleast for now. Despite of Aditi’s arguments and pleas,
her family did not agree on leaving her alone in this city, they were all
shifting to a famous metro city in Karnataka.
After completing her graduation in computer science, now Aditi
was working for a famous IT consultancy. They both had lost contact in these
years. He never called her or perhaps he never had her phone number and Aditi
too never visited back the same city. Today while she was drinking coffee in the cafeteria,
she felt his presence or perhaps she was missing him, she had always missed
him. She finished her coffee and returned to her cubicle. As she sat in front
of her computer, she was startled to see a rose on her table waiting for her
with an unopened letter. There was no name on it.
A lady in a faded grey dress and her husband, dressed in a
homespun suit walked in timidly without an appointment into the Harvard University
President's outer office. The secretary could tell in a moment that such
backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even
deserve to be in Harvard. "We want to see the President "the man said
softly. "He'll be busy all day "the secretary snapped. "We'll
wait" the lady replied. For hours the secretary ignored them, hoping that
the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They didn't and the
secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president. "Maybe
if you see them for a few minutes, they'll leave" she said to him.
The President, stern faced and with dignity, strutted toward
the couple. The lady told him "We had a son who attended Harvard for one
year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally
killed. My husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on
campus." The president wasn't touched.... He was shocked. "Madam
"he said, gruffly, "we can't put up a statue for every person who
attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a
cemetery." "Oh, no," the lady explained quickly "We don't
want to erect a statue. We thought we would like to give a building to
Harvard." The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress
and homespun suit, and then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly
idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars
in the physical buildings here at Harvard." For a moment the lady was
silent. The president was pleased. Maybe he could get rid of them now. The lady
turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a
university? Why don't we just start our own?"
Her husband nodded. The president's face wilted in confusion
and bewilderment. Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford got up and walked away, traveling
to Palo Alto , California where they established the University that bears
their name. Stanford University , a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer
cared about.
P.S: This is not a true story, I have checked on the Stanford University page. It was sent to me one of my very close friend "Aditya Prakash", a long back in 2009. I loved this piece of fiction and I hope you all have enjoyed it too. Try not to presume things. Good Luck.
I was late today. Usually I left my office at around 6’O
clock but today we had a client visit. I was waiting for 330-E bus and was
enjoying Bangalore’s weather. It was at it’s best romantic note, thundering clouds
and gusts of wintery wind made me furl my arms around my body. It was drizzling
and the trafficless roads were reflecting the lights of vehicles coming time to
time. Out of the falling drops a figure appeared, I had seen this girl before. The
girl from next bay, in my office. I used to sneak her while she was busy solving
bugs in the numerous lines of code or perhaps while she was busy checking facebook.
She was running towards the same stand where I was standing,
holding closed umbrella in her one hand and mobile in other. I still remember
the red color of her mobile cover; it looked cute, but not as she was looking
today, in her partially drenched white dress. As she approached the stand’s
shed, I intentionally made a space for her by stepping aside and she too accepted
it without any second thought. She was too close to me, I even saw the water
drops on her face, and indeed she looked pretty.
Only then she turned towards me and asked “What time is it?”
“Sorry?” , I replied, with a question, as if I had not heard at the first
place.”Kitna time hua hai?”( Translation: What time is it?) she asked me again and instead of replying to what
she had asked, I asked her in return, “Aapka mobile time nhi btata?” (Translation: "Can't you check it on your phone?") she scowled
at me and turned her face on other side.
Before I had made up for my mistake, she bellowed at me while
pointing her finger at my wrist watch, “Ek baar time btane se aapki yeh watch nhi
ghis jaati..huh!” (Translation: "Telling me time, wouldn't have harmed your watch.")and again she turned her face away from me. Her reaction had made
me smile.
”I am sorry, its 8:30”, I told her the right time. She turned
back and looked into my eyes, “I am sorry, I had bad day. My cell phone fell
down and now its not working anymore”, she told me with a sad face.
This was the beginning of a long and beautiful relationship. I
don’t remember how long that bus took to arrive, how two strangers sat together
and talked like best friends. A fierce lightening and a loud thunder clap
brought me back to the sound of rain. I was staring at the sparkling rain drops,
in the yellow street light, from the balcony of my flat. I had tears in my eyes.
From that closeness to these thousand miles of distance, I was far away from Bangalore.
I had missed her a lot in these last ten months.
.JPG "That rose")
