The piled stack of files, resting on his desk, was the last thing in the world he was interested in. He couldn't wait to eradicate from those dull covers and gloomy cubical. They reminded him of those tussling days when the radical swankie in him was brutally killed by his current-form. The need of coins volunteered to be the weapon.
The monotonous eyes constantly stared at the vintage clock. He was giving up on his patience-level. After all, it was Saturday’s sunny afternoon. Any normal human being won’t stand for it, would he? Of course, he was normal.
The clock’s needle struck at 2 and his heartbeat rose to the peeks of mountains. He threw a careless look at the stack, hurriedly picked up the car keys and rushed out; his leather shoes hitting hard on the white tiled floor.
He intended to reach on time; else she’d frown at him. He despised her frown more than he despised a working-Saturday. One wish that he asked from Mother Nature to bestow over him was desolated roads. Well, he was blessed. Atleast somewhere. Eyes were cheerful now; foot on accelerator was in high spirits; ears were ignoring the blatant horns; lungs were happy inhaling fresh air; lips separated involuntarily and exposed the weak yet smiling teeth.
Finally, he was going to meet her. The love of his life. His lifeline. The former name of world. The yellow leaf of autumn. The blue horizons. The winter’s fog. The blooming buds. The baby’s giggle. The void roads. The Sunday.
It’s been 1 month and 12 days since he last met her. Back at his home, his parents didn't enable him to see her or visit her. The emotional blackmail worked in their favor. As a genuine reason, they couldn't bear their son to undergo those despairing cells once again.
But now, everything was finalized. Maybe, the odds were his crutches. He was all set to splurge in his remaining Saturday with her. What better could she do to him!
He couldn't stop thinking of her. The galore of strange feelings kept bouncing back from the skeptical walls of his brain. That moment was a scintillating moment. He was a slave to the hedonist in him. The truth was to be spoken today. The great news was to be delivered today. Yes, it’s high time. Not that, she never imagined or expected it, but anyhow, she had to hear those words from those pale but for-the-time-being pink lips.
Outside the The-Flower-Frolic shop, his car stopped with a screeching jerk. It’s a special day and indeed, he intended to make it even more worthy with prowess. As usual, he got artificial white lilies for her. She had been a huge hater of those, proffering real flowers as bouquet. She believed in the beauty of a flower only when it’s planted, not plucked.
On the next red light, Bindu knocked at his window, asking him which Diya he would buy this time. He was her regular customer. He bought a tiny little Diya for Dia. She was as glorified as her name. Isn't Dia beautiful like her name? He thought to himself and a lovely dimple tinkled on the left corner of his lips.
There he was. He had reached the destination. He could sit there and talk to her from the moon and back. Like really 24*7. It was twilight. The sun was waving him Bon Voyage. Today, it was really going to be a journey. He took a deep breath and went in. He was going to tell her. It was time.
She was sleeping peacefully. She was still beautiful. He wiped off the dust particles from her grave and drove back in the flashback. Because that is where, he can see her, adore her and decorate her. Once during her chemotherapy, she told her father her last wish.
“Papa, on my grave, under my name, will you please write my everlasting message for you?”
“No.” He replied bluntly. For heaven’s sake, she was just 7 years old. She was supposed to ask for chocolates, teddy bears, frocks, kitchen sets, dollhouses, art books and all that pink stuff.
But that was simply beyond imagination. When the skies had to snatch her back, then why did they bestow her over him! The flood of tears found their way.
The eyes were then watering, now watering. He took a step forward and kissed her debossed name on her grave. She kissed him back.
Wasn't this the purest form of unconditional love? Was it defined? Was it weeping?
The soul may rest in peace but the hearts left behind never. Love does cease, but it continues in the parallel world. Diyas don’t keep the love alive, neither do the white lilies. But the emotions, sentiments and feelings do.
Whilst he read her everlasting message- ‘Kiss me, I’m conditioned to respond’, he gave her the big news, “Tomorrow, I’m going to adopt one more child, one more daughter.”