A Lie & a Promise

At the edge of the lake which was a poor mirror for the heavens above, her voice came floating down the cool breeze. It said, “You are a coward and pathetic man.” It has been coming and going since the morning. Spring was due for today and with a bright glow of melting butter, it had come sweeping over the plains and mountains, eloping and seducing everything in its wake. It cannot seduce all the things now, can it? For there are stories of how everything is merry and gay when the spring unveils and you will never know when you drown in the shade of happiness. However, some quests, some promises demand sheer sorrow and pain to venture out in the unknown. There was a promise abreast with the words of a man and it needed to be done without tarrying any further for the watchful eyes of spring would stay the cause and all will be lost for good. That happiness was folly for it would not yield anything should the clock’s hands speed towards and overran midnight.

It all boiled down to this moment. It must be done.

Fishing out a handkerchief and a name tag that read Akshaya J. Dhole, Rohan held each article in both palms and scrutinized them as if he was eyeing them for the first time. The pale moonlight unveiled grey spots on the handkerchief. He had known spots and precise size ever since he stole it. The handkerchief still held her aroma, mingled with her blood. The spots had waned over time but had held steadfast to remind Rohan of its owner. With a touch as soft as a feather, he caressed it as if it was her cheek. A peculiar nostalgia overcame him and he sobbed in his heart but his eyes remained hollow and dry. Today, Rohan intended to fulfill his promise to himself and lay bare his feelings in front of Akshaya. It was a promise which had been lingering from seven years, for he could not muster enough guts and tell her.

Would she come today? After all, Rohan never disclosed any hint. Hence, Akshaya had carried on with her life. If only he had...

Rohan recalled Mahi’s harsh, crude words, “You had your chance, if not chances. You didn’t take any. Needless to say, she will move on with her life. She isn’t going to wait for you forever. You’re just a coward and pathetic man.” Nothing could be farther from the truth, he knew but when someone else rubs the salt on your wounds, you only likely to explode and rebel.

Rohan sighed, “If only you could be brave enough when the time comes...”

He had known Akshaya since they were toddlers. They learned to walk together, riding bicycles, attended school together. He did not recollect any moment when Akshaya was not by his side. She was his spring - calm, pleasant, warm, and all merry. In her company, Rohan was home.

He did not know when something as foolish as love bloomed in his heart. Why had it bloomed? If it had not, things would be different for he had dreaded what might come next. The home he loved with every ounce of his being would be reduced to ashes and then, where he would go?

Thence, Rohan enforced a distance between Akshaya and him. Under those circumstances, he feared he might lose her completely for he found himself in the swallows whenever he was away from Akshaya. It was she who brought meaning to moments and his being. Torn between choosing and not choosing, the days slipped by and the inevitable happened. The life happened with its own devices. She chose her life and left behind Rohan wallowing in utter misery.

At a snail’s pace, the bridge between the two withered away.

Mahi had come to the rescue again since it was her job to keep the ship floating. She was the unseen member of the group shadowed by love. “Well,” she had counseled him, “now that it is apparent, I believe you should tell her. She’s going away at any rate. Better to have confessed and lost than to just lose.”

“What do you anticipate she will say?” Rohan said, meekly.

“How come I should know, dumbass? Go out there and discover it,” She lied through her teeth. Mahi knew about the recent developments in Akshaya’s life but thought it wise to let Rohan unearth the facts.

“But... You know, Mahi -”

“Argh,” she hissed. “I don’t know. So, what are you going to do about it?”

Rohan was at sea. He looked here and there but to no avail. He ought to endure the ordeal whether it shatters his heart or lay waste to his so-called home. He looked at Mahi - who was expectantly waiting for an answer. “O-okay. I’ll do it on the first of the spring. She should be back before a day or two before it is spring.”

Mahi took a step or two before coming to a halt. She spun around and walked up to Rohan and said, “Which spring are we talking about here?’

Who knew, it would take seven springs for him to out of the shell for life happened again and forced its plan on Rohan.

What he had surmised came to pass. Akshaya had indeed come prior to three days before the onset of spring but she had come riding on four shoulders, wrapped in Tricolor, laden with wreaths, and a massive crowd trailing in her wake.

The howling cries of her mother. The inconsolable torrent of tears flooding her father’s cheeks. And there he was, frozen in time as he watched her bullet-riddled body lowering down in the living-room, ashen cold and lifeless. A long and ceaseless winter was upon him and he was rendered helpless to cry for her. The martyr would be mourned by the whole country and so, he would not cry for he was too stunned by the sudden developments and the thought of parting ways did not bid well in his heart. Akshaya’s memories were pristine in his mind but it would not suffice him. He desired for something to latch onto, something that belonged to her and this realm. It then dawned on him - a little handkerchief would not be missed and while he was at it, he ought to have Akshaya’s name tag, to sport it against his heart.

It is forbidden to steal from the dead but why would the dead require something from this world? It would not serve any purpose, he had reasoned however, he knew a theft is a theft and amends must be done. So, he had crossed his heart and promised himself that he would cast off the articles on the first day of the spring along with his bottled feelings.

A year went by and then, another and another until it was two months ago when Mahi beat some sense in his forlorn soul, imploring him to do the right thing.

Here, at the edge of the lake with his will swaying and limbs resonating with vehement shocks, Rohan let the articles slid by his palms. The tag fell and disappeared almost at the moment it kissed the water while the handkerchief absorbed the grey water into itself and then began its slow descend.

The words he had been practicing for the moment could not conjure themselves from his lips. They suffered a lingering death for the home he had yearned for, lay in ruins. It would be a folly to utter something as the dead cannot apprehend him. The words he had etched in his soul belonged to the dead and he must tend to the living.

Life had happened to him. Someone had knocked the plaster walls down and hauled Rohan out in the open. He was tending to the living but as he retraced his steps, those unsaid words came alive in him, decreeing him to fulfill his promise and relieve himself of those feelings for good. 

Rohan rebled against his soul and only kept half of the promise.