We met, and love was so obvious. We loved, laughed, fought, and patched up and lived in our present moments, but soon bitterness incited. Simple fights converted to bigger ones, and I used to win all contests of who will block the other one longer. I made her wait 90 mins in a restaurant, to cry and apologize later. I was a rude and careless alcoholic and not proud of my mistakes.
We were twirled in love and lust. Craziness was our invisible cloak, we drove a lot and traveled together in each other’s arms. She was more than perfect. She wanted me to grow, be independent, and a bit hygienic too. But she failed, I failed her, I made a nuisance of myself. Then comes a great disaster which I was ignoring for long. I begged her not to leave me. I pleaded, cried, and wanted only one more chance, which I never got.
Her disappearance made me more desperate, still longing for her. I called her several times but never got a response back. I got very wild dreams that she is getting married, going far from me. My desperation increased with every thought and every unreturned call. The feeling of killing myself, and the sense of missing her was the same. Love suddenly became a stranger and created a void.
She was stubborn not to come back and wanted me to move on. I fueled my frenzies by giving myself more pain by inking my body with IMBUED. The tattoo was painful, so was her absence.
I wanted her one glance, her college bus passed by our street and I waited. Today, she shifted to some other seat, blocked her ears with earphones, the head was bent on elbows to avoid me. She knew that I would wait for her.
The idea of not responding to someone comes from the intention of not hurting them or not hurting yourself.
I was retrospecting and observed my bad habits. Habits made me weak all through my life, and she struggled with my habits too. So, I left drinking, which was very late. Sanity came late with regret of losing her.
You do things that are not of your league only when you love someone.
Self-realization is the mother of counseling.
I was waiting for her to return, but she was nowhere nearby. The pain of lost love was agonizing and missing her badly. Movies show the perfect love, and so I was waiting for that kind of love. Once, she told me that she skipped her menses and could be pregnant. She never wanted to defame her parents, and I understood it. I sold my gold ring and arranged money for abortion. It was a fearful and fierce decision.
My sacrifices made her guilty. But for me, I was appreciating her compromises and complimenting her. She left with no promise to come back. This realization came late and never helped me but pushed me further in utter shock of the darkness of my life.
Waiting for her is my new way of life; she is my oasis in the dark desert of her memories. I wish to find her soon in the sands of my loneliness.
I. P. Tarun – Our storyteller and writer
Tarun is an Indian Poet and Author of “oh Kinjal!” – Which is about to release. He belongs to Hyderabad with a bachelor’s degree. He has worked as a content writer for a few start-ups during his initial days of career. Right now he has a firm of his own, yes he is an entrepreneur. With his passion for writing, he believes in infotainment and contentment and is looking forward to eternal life by authoring books!
You can drop him a “Hi” on his Instagram page.
Our editor – Deepti Chawla