CHAPTER 30 - Saving All My Love...For You

I called on Una’s office no. first thing in the morning the following day to speak with her. Arriving at Ground Zero, my 5th-floor office cubicle, to do my afternoon stretch, I became stiff with nervous tension and head-pounding anxiety thinking about what I should do with the world, namely Savitha, tightening its noose around me. I was in jeopardy; the meaning of which I never knew or thought ever had existed.

Savitha was at the office. Her morning stretch, thankfully, was over and done with and she ran off home with a disco spring in her step. Before she went scot-free, she had to brief me about the tasks she’d completed so that it enables me to carry out whatever needs special attention and stuff like that. Fortunately, she didn’t bother about that. I didn’t give a damn either, for I knew how to manage without her unhelpful, vague, disorienting prognostications that were better to be avoided, if possible; so I didn’t press her to bring me up to date with “issues” if there have been any at the workplace. I watched her go, disco spring and all, for a few seconds before swiveling my chair to pick up the damn phone to dial-up my love Una’s workplace landline no. I was dying to reach her and I knew that the sooner it was the better.

A big cheese (apparently!) from her office had picked up the phone at the other end and growled: “She’s unavailable at the moment and can’t make time to reach for the phone!" Sensing that the damage had already been done, thanks to my handicapped-with-suspicion office co-worker Savitha Tandavi and her potent pleasure-seeking rumour-mongering pastime, I left it at that trusting Una to answer my phone call whenever she could ‘make time’. I continued to wait all morning for her call but her call never came. Just not about to give up, not me, biding my time I called again…nothing.

In the afternoon the prospect of reaching her at her office turned to be another dampener, as I was told that “she went lunch outside. It’ll be an hour before she comes back in.” Still, I didn’t give up. I had to... no, I will call back again.

I called back again late in the evening for the third but not last time. Someone informed me, probably a female or a male voice, my mind wasn’t exactly registering anything at the time, he/she said, “the lady is not here…. I mean she’s not at the office”

“Well, she’s supposed to be in by now. Last time when I called I was told she went to lunch and will be back in an hour or so. Hasn’t she returned yet?” I said politely.

“I can’t find her here. Who knows where she is. She’s not here…. I am sorry”, he/she said. I suspected he/she was probably acting on cue.

“Please don’t be sorry,” I said nodding my head with the receiver in my hand. I didn’t press for more.

Before I hung up I said, “I understand, and thank you. I appreciate it.”

After putting down the receiver, I sat down in my chair because one stands up and looks here and there for help when one is in nervous anxiety if that could bring any help. It didn’t. It never does. I didn’t know what to do next. I felt miserable, and I was left standing!

How cruel Savitha is? My God! What is Una thinking about all this? I can’t believe this is happening! She should call me by now. I longed for her to just give me a call. It was only a matter of a phone call to speak with each other and tell everything…. O Una, where are you?

The conversation I had with the person at her office had got me into some serious conjecturing: What could possibly be so wrong about things?

She normally leaves the office at around 7:30pm daily and I had called at 5:30pm again at 6:30pm to make sure I get through to her. For the first time amid this heartbreak, it struck me that Una, after all, had totally believed her friend Savitha’s bundle of lies and for that reason, she was cross with me. With Una being incommunicado; I was not able to reach her in spite of calling her several times on the office phone, and Savitha’s wicked grin on her face – all this were crisscrossing in my head sounding the death knell for our relationship to come to an end.

I had surmised that much and felt painfully defenseless against Savitha’s formidable treachery. I didn’t fall in love with Una just because she was Savitha’s close friend. One doesn’t choose love, love chooses you. You cannot control whom you fall in love with. Love just happened to us. It was pure. It was all we had between us. We had nurtured it for several days, even months, before we first met at the underground coffee shop on SD road. Our countless emails and phone calls bear testimony to the fact of our experiencing passionate feelings and falling in love eventually. Una was so critically important in my life and she too felt the same way about me. So why did we not speak with each other when we found ourselves trapped in the cold-blooded cruelty meted out by our common friend passing mendacious references about our love? I think it was my fault. No, far from trying to accumulate neither sympathies nor am I trying to be self-righteous about this long-forgotten incident that occurred a long time ago in my life, maybe 17 heartbreaking years ago, all that I am attempting here is to check for truth: with reference to what would have happened if I had countered it in a specific way. If only people like Savitha had some brains in their buffoonish heads, all that has happened needn’t have happened. Otherwise, the story would have been somewhat different.

Be that as it may, Una never made that telephone call I was so anxiously waiting for her to make; nor did she come over to the phone when I’d called her throughout the day, especially that day in the evening, to talk this through. From that point on we never got talking with each other. Our Love got trampled – stepped all over – under the footfalls of hearsay!

Yet I have saved all my love...for you.

(To be continued...)

By Arindam Moulick

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. All incidences, places, and characters portrayed in the story are fictional and entirely imaginary. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. No similarity to any person either living or dead is intended or should be inferred.