TWO ENDS NEVER MEET
It was half-past twelve in the night.
I was in my bed. Swetha, Rahul and Prema Were in their deep sleep.
I thought of turning out my bedlamp and Go to sleep.
Suddenly, the thought of my close friend Suresh.
The style of night life for people in this world belong to two contradictory patterns.
One is the calm, quiet and peaceful pattern of enjoying the earth of your near and dear and sleep at home that ensures a good night and promise a good morning next day to which I belong.
The second one is the pattern of get together, noise, dance, music(k), drinks that ensures neither a good sleep nor a good morning next day.
Suresh belongs to the second category.
I request readers not to conclude that I am an angel and Suresh is a devil. This is not a story about the war between good and evil.
The difference between us is that I enjoy all dimensions of life with in limitations of social good and good health.
Suresh goes to extreme and never thinks of return in back. But still we are close friends. We never heed to the advice of the other.
Friendship finds faults but never minds the faults.
I thought of calling Suresh over phone. As it will be A futile exercise, I free up my blanket and went to Sleep.
The editor Mr.Sathyanarayan looked steadily at my face. He was not happy about a report received from PTI about Suresh. It is a fort nightly communication sent to editors about misbehaving journalists. “Well, Guru moorthy, Again, your friend has misbehaved with a club-dancer Yesterday night. Journalism is not just reporting in what is wrong but to set example by doing the right. One's talent gets eroded by one's misbehavior. Can you suggest anything rose that is better than sacking this owl?” “ No Sathyaji!” I searched for proper words “but he…..He is a good man”
“damn it” he shouted and put his head into his hands. He scenes to be in a dilemma. He stood up.
“ I give him a last chance. Ask him to go on a month's leave. Ask him to go somewhere out of the reach of my eyes and ears. You are a reputed journalist and you always save a bad journalist. If I were the God I'll send you to the Hell!!” He rushed out of the room exhibiting first ration all along.
“What does the bulldog say?” Suresh walked-in smiling. “Suresh! Boss has given you a last chance. Take leave for one month and go somewhere. Take rest and come back as a responsible journalist.” “ Responsible journalist?” he patted my shoulder and launched. “ No Suresh! Enough is enough. Be serious”. “Okay. Please bring me back my Swapna”. I was astonished. He is asking for the impossible.
An Indian name.
A name from the Sanskrit language.
The Nighantu, equivalent of the encyclopedia for Sanskrit language gives its meaning as
“A dream or an illusion in deep sleep.”
She was certainly a dream for so many youngsters in our college.
In our Institute of journalism where we both were studying The degree course, there were many beauties. They were real beauties. But Swapna scenes to be a beauty from the dreamland. We could not analyse what is special about her but anybody looking at her was compelled to be mesmerized. Suresh was no exception. Suresh was always very active, talkative and adventurous. He tried his best to participate in all activities. Swapna was good at reasoning and presentation of facts. Her reports in practical classes dealt with unknown facts. Neither me nor Suresh still do not know how Swapna loved him. One day evening when we finished our dinner and walking to our hostel room, Suresh said “ Well Guru! I think that is that!”
I got perplexed. “ What is what?”
He said “ Today she suddenly said it”
“ Who said it and what is the matter?”
“ You are studying journalism. Your eyes are always open. No event misses your observation. So tell me what I mean?”
I could not guess. May be some love affair. But I took no chances.
“ No buddy! No guesses! Leave the pussy out!”.
He took a long breath.
“ Swapna the dream girl has proposed her love to me”. I was both happy and shocked.
It was a casual talk about the marriage of our mutual friend Raghu ram. Then it turned into our views and choices of marriage. I suddenly told that if I am given the freedom to choose the girl for me my choice will be Swapna. She stared at me and told her choice will not be different either.
I was in a state of shock. Then I took her hand and said
“ Believe me! My love is true. It will last till my death”.
Swapna stared at me for quite a long time and said “ My love is eternal and It will last even after my death I’ll come to you again and again”. I gave a warm hug to Suresh and wished him success in turning this love affair into a happy marriage. Everything went fine. Families of both sides agreed for their marriage. They have also decided to celebrate the marriage after the marriage of Prerana, elder sister of Swapna. Swapna joined the Express group of News papers. I and Suresh joined the India today to work as field level journalists.
Life seemed very fine.
On that day, the morning was not bright.
I felt very uncomfortable to get out of my bed. Suddenly, my cell phone rang.
It was Suresh. I answered.
“ Guru! Guru! She is gone”.
I could not understand.
“ gone? Who?”
He was sobbing awkwardly.
Journalism never teaches you how to express or narrate your feelings or emotions. I leave it to the emotional intellect of readers to understand the emotional cyclones we both faced on that fateful day. She was reporting from a bomb blast site when suddenly an unseen and unexploded bomb went off.
Swapna, the dream girl, ultimately became a dream. Suresh, a traveller of extremes, refused to control himself And started leading a life as narrated earlier. All colleagues, office personnel and even the editor Sathyanarayan were tolerating his unruly behaviours out of empathy.
Suresh was silent. He was sitting on a bench in our college at the place he first Proposed his love to Swapna. The breeze was cool and even the surroundings endorsed the Prevalent silence.
I hesitantly started the conversation.
“Suresh! It is over. You should move on.
We are all concerned and worried about you.
It is you who should say “enough”. I am your close friend. Tell me what next.”
Suresh turned left and looked into my eyes.
“See Suresh! You think and tell me about marrying another girl. Life needs change and companionship.”.
Suresh looked at a red rose nearby and said
I said to him “This is not an answer”.
He told in a strong voice “This is the answer”.
“you are blunt and uncourteous. As a friend I believe that I deserve more Courtesy”.
Suresh took my hands into his.
“ Guru! I may not sound logical or reasonable. But listen to me. At this place and exactly at this hour I told Swapna that My love is true till my death. That is not a dialogue. It was a truth. Truth can not be Compromised. Hence my love for Swapna will continue till my death.”
“But Suresh! Swapna is gone and will never return”.
I wanted to tell him that in reality the two poles can never meet. But that is logic meant for people using their brains but not hearts.
“No Guru! When I proposed my true love Swapna replied with another statement of true love. She said that her love will last beyond her death and she will come to me again and again. So she will come back.”
“It is sheer madness. You cannot live like that”.
He pressed my hand strongly. “Guru! Human brain knows reasoning and logic. The human heart never knows them. You know I was never a strong sentimentalist. But this is some bondage from which both me and Swapna Cannot try to get out. It is not a pain. It is a pleasure”.
For the first time in my life, I felt that there are so many things in the world beyond practical realities. I ran my fingers into the locks of my hair.
I shook my head and asked
“Suresh! What next?”
“I shall wait, wait.”