Saturday, 22 November 2014

Better, Bitter, Dreams…


“Suzanne”
 
The heavy voice of an twenty five year and three sixty four day old boy, in a cold environment, trembled as he tried to pace as much faster, so as to catch a pretty girl, in black clothes and a sky blue muffler, whom he had wished to be his beloved and for whom he had run, all the way, five kilometers during the time when the beautiful moon is at the peak of its virginity. His voice had a touch of antagonism, a glimpse of innocence, a stroke of intense remorse, a sigh of love and a sensation of accomplishment, all composed alluringly in a single word which he had spoken out from his red lips with an expectation that the name of her, if she had heard might make her hear his heavy footsteps and she might become so impressed that she might open her arms after turning back to welcome him and his ‘foolishness’.
 
But to his fate, the girl, who had been walking with slow steps, increased her push on the ground.
 
“Suzzzaannne…” the lovely name of a ravishing girl was pronounced so well that it almost meant, ‘wouldn’t you stop my sweetheart.’
 
The girl stopped. She kept her slim hands on her face.
 
“Rehman”, she screamed, enabling her concealed displeasure to vacate.
“DO NOT COME NEAR ME”
 
Rehman, the boy who stood twenty meters, facing the girl longed for her to face him. He had followed her instruction. He had strived to do that all his life. All he demanded was that she must face him, she must talk to him about all the contretemps which were generated in their lives, in a way she could tan his hide, and in a way their liaison may have a new beginning, but all this could ensue once she faced him, and that was what he desired.
 
But the girl, instead of looking at him kneeled down on the dusty path on which she was walking. She opened her leafy green satchel, took out a book, which she swung in air.
Rehman jumped on his feet to catch the black colored book. On the metallic cover page of the book, deeply engraved was her name, and her book’s name. “VQYHA: A journey from B to D”
 
“What is this, dear?”
His tone was unchanged, his expressions tainted.
“A return of love, which you had been aspiring for”
 
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he opened the pages of the book.
 
“Sometimes last phases of one’s life are much more significant than their previous phases of lives. They might not explain you the cause, but they may morally emphasize on prevention and cure.” 
 
“What does that mean?” He yelled.
 
“Nothing, but something which may be nothing but not anything.” 
 
The boy closed the book
“Open it, open it, open the last pages”, said the girl.
As usual, he followed the ‘order’.
What he saw, was single lined page on which was written something with a pencil and a stencil, which was almost illegible for him, but still he brought the so called book close to his eyes. He tried to read.
“G…..F….no, not F, E…..Q……..W…..Q…..V…U”
“What is this?”
“Isn’t it our college name, G.E.Q.W.Q.V.U or George E Quereshi Wahida Quereshi University of Venupur.
“Well yes…”
 
The girl got up.
 
“Are you all right”, asked Rehman
 
“Yes I am, I want to go to JEQUWAKVYU”
 
“You mean our college……”
 
“My ‘JEQUWAKVYU’, My ‘JEQUWAKVYU’”, her voice began to fade. The girl threw up.
 
“You aren’t all right”
 
She raised her hand
“Please stay away from me, as far as you can…”
 
“Look, you need a doctor…”
 
“Happy Birthday Mr. 26”
 
She fell down on the ground.
 
------0 (~) 0------
 
Loads and loads of fire, in the middle of which lied myself, in a state of shock. As I was falling in the profundity of fire, I began observing something contouring. I began seeing a black impression of a number. Two and six, the number was twenty six. The time it took for appearing, the same it retook for vanishing. At the instance when the number faded, I opened my eyes.
 
“So it was a dream”
“Oh god”, I sighed. I got up from my bed. I drank water. Two glasses, three and then four. I washed my face. I started brushing my teeth. As I switched the television on, the doorbell clinked.
 
“Good Morning Sir,” said Mr. Jonathan Ray as I opened the door.  
“Good Morning, Mr. Ray. Come. Sit. Did you have coffee?”
“Yes Sir. I ordered for you too”
“Oh! Thank You Mr. Ray!”
 
I, Manish Chhabra, Executive Manager, Maryloc Inc., with my colleague, Mr. Jonathan Ray was representing our company at the ‘BizFest Convo’ which was going to take place at New Delhi, India. It was an extremely huge event in which nearly four hundred companies, all over the world were participating. I was selected by our CEO, Mrs. Aradhya Vyasa to represent our company among the top companies of the world, and not to say, I did not want this opportunity to escape my destiny.
We were in Hotel Oberoi, in Delhi, when my phone rang.
 
“Hello”
“Manish”
“Yes”
“This is Bhargavi”
“Hey… Bhargavi Mishra, right?”
“Well, well, well, finally I’ve reached you.”
“Oh buddy! How are you?”
“Well I am fine, but someone is not fine”
“Who”, I felt myself in tension.
“Do you remember ‘Ayushi’?”
I felt my mouth open. Ayushi, a name which had crossed my ears after three years. A name which had become my companion in my bad times, a name which was with me even when I was not in a condition to support myself. A name which had supported me. A name for which I had lived for years. A name for which I left her.
 
“Hello”
“Yes, Yes, Yes, I remember.
“How can you say that? You know, you cannot forget her”, she said.
“What happened”, I ignored her.
“Listen, when I was talking to her, on phone yesterday, she was extremely tense. She was thrown out of her company. When I asked her the reason she denied to tell me and at the same time here phone cut. I tried many times, but I could not reach her.”
My heart started throbbing fast.
 
‘Was she the same, Suzanne’
 
“Where is she now”, I asked
“I don’t know but yesterday she was in Delhi.”
“Where are you now?”
“I am at IGI Airport, waiting for my flight”.
“Can you give me her number?”
“Well, Ok!”
 
 
I dialed her number. No one picked up.
I redialed her number. The ring was almost completed when someone picked up the call.
“Yes”, a hoarse voice of a man welcomed me.
“Can I talk to Ayushi Mehta?”
“Who are you?”
“This is Manish, Manish Chhabra.”
“Ayushi is dead”
“No, Ayushi cannot die”
“Ayushi, is dead beta, I am his father speaking. Her dead body is lying in front of me”, the man’s voice softened.
The phone dropped from my hands.
 
------0 (~) 0------
 
Rehman picked up the book, with intense labour. On it was engraved ‘VQYHA: A journey from B to D’. He opened the book. Nothing was either printed or written on it. He turned the page, nothing again. He started turning the page faster nothing was written in it. All of a sudden he recalled something. He turned to the last page. The seven letters were missing. He closed the book.
‘VQYHA: A journey from B to D’. Some thing is there in ‘VQYHA’. He tried to analyze the word. What is there in this word? Something hidden, something unexpected.
What…is…the…hidden…secret…?
“Lets say, V for 22, Q for 17, Y for 25, H for 8, A for 1. If we subtract each of them from … from … from … 26 yes, total number of alphabets, we get 4, 9, 1, 18, 25, that is, D, I, A, R, Y. Diary. So this is a diary! And if we apply this to G.E.Q.W.Q.V.U…!”
 

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