Love, Loss, Loneliness and Longing, part 10, the final part
* Moving On and Goodbye
Did Monami and Una talk about our failed romance? Perhaps they did; perhaps Monami never bothered for Una to come out or vice versa. Still, to me, Monami never came across as a person who wouldn’t bother or care less if she saw some wrong was being committed or something was not right or not natural. But where was she and what was she doing when Savitha was rapidly filling up Una’s head (and twisting her arm even) with all kinds of scheming, conniving rubbish that only she could do? Was she willingly taking part in Savitha’s chugalkhori? Ha ha ha! (Don't laugh!). So let me pose this inquiry: What kind of credible importance does it confer on to their remarkable heritage of chaar-sahelian-chaar-pahelian friendship? Or there never was such a friendship? Let me guess, it sure takes the wind out of their boat’s sails.
Monami Roy withdrew completely and snatched herself away to the US and never looked back since. Call Savitha Tandavi a US fanatic, Monami too succumbed to the infectious I-am-going-to-America-baby! phantasma that Savitha had lived and breathed all her adult life! For these peculiar girls do relationships matter a lot less than the quality of life to partake of in an alien land, never mind whether it is the US, Australia, or the Lu Lu land? "Relationships" and seeking "quality of life" abroad are entirely two different aspects?
OK, Tata, Bye Bye!
In the meantime, Savitha Tandavi drooled on nonstop. There was no stopping it. This crude hourglass silhouette kept nipping away and tucking away and tweaking away at her well-preserved, properly dried, salted, and pickled feathery mane of American dreams so that she’d be able to discard her desi life in a jiffy like old rags and fly away to…er…oblivion! She was never missed again.
Manpreet Singh continues to foster his life good-humouredly and prudently. He keeps Life’s all trump-cards well within his reach; that is in most parts interesting and in other parts intriguing. His sense of humour as always is well-endowed and proper. As for me, I moved on to someplace else; I had to. Manpreet and I kept in touch perfectly fine. We call each other off and on to share our individual life’s feats and triumphs. Later when I returned back, we invited ourselves to some “jimmings” (his pun cum pet language for buffet/smorgasbord meals) and went to see big-ticket movies at an expensive multiplex.
Thankfully enough, Padmashree’s kindly assertions and well-endowed reasoning had worked well like a balm. She said, “we don’t love to be loved; we love to love.” Being extremely grateful to Padmashree’s agile sense of things was something of a saving grace for this brooding, agonizing Devdas to recover from the accident of love. And to be innately thankful to her was my duty. Shortly afterward when I was salvaged from going completely wrecked: I was brought back to life, and slowly as I began to regain some sense of proportion the grave dark smudges that had settled around my eyes began to fade away, Padmashree’s was not there anymore. She couldn’t announce her goodbye as she preferred without anything formally uttered.
The world has become a little more precarious place to live in. Everything has changed here. Even this city where I live has changed (almost) beyond recognition; so many people (we are approaching a world of 7 billion people!), so many cars, bikes, rickshaws and so much air, land, water pollution, and rampant heritage destruction. Old giving way to new and how! The city is dotted with precarious flyovers that obstruct your way than ease your daily commuting problems. Traffic is permanently haywire. Flyovers have already become redundant. They don’t ease traffic anymore. We all are leading a life in the fast lane now with access to all kinds of moral-degrading, conscience-killer electronic junk. I am aghast at the way the world has moved on or moving on unmindfully of so many problems it faces. Aghast because no one stops to find a remedy to the problems, but carry on regardless. I am not complaining because I too am part of the same mad mad world; an eager-beaver descendant of Adam & Eve's family heirloom, who was, let's face it, famously kicked out from the Garden of Eden!!! The point is why do we have to live the way we live? No, not like Adam and Eve back again perhaps! But can we change for the real better? Is it a valid query to be asked? Or have I gone bonkers and hopelessly sentimental? Maybe; but I better give this argument a quick burial. Nonetheless, I had becalmed myself with knowing that it doesn’t matter whether my heart is still beating its beats for Una or not. She too had moved on and why wouldn’t she. No point wallowing in self-pity.
Goodbye, My Dear
The Hallmark cards and email printouts were strewn around my cupboard, even Monami’s masterpiece: The Fish Sketch (of Fishy Poetic Business!), were shoved away. I had carefully preserved them for many years but did not dare to look at them again until many years later in 2006/07 when I had somehow persuaded my defeatist mind to see all the physical memories gone. I read and re-read all the cards and email printouts before clutching them in my trembling hands and surrendering them to the flames. I was greatly unwilling to do such a thing, but one day I really had to come to such a pass. That night in the backyard, in the veranda, I stood and cried staring at the querulous flames engulfing the stacks of my much-loved letters and souvenirs. I hid them, stored them for many years and now they are gone except three things: the old silver Parker, the maroon woollen sweater, and the tiny brown teddy bear, which she gave me after we’ve exchanged the ‘three magic words’, nothing remains. For the life of me, I couldn't toss them into the flames. With the fires finally burning out I sat and wept inconsolably hoping for an absolution that I know will never come. Months passed away to become years and memories became immortal. Memories never go away; I have them safe in my heart. Goodbye, my dear...
Moving on to seek a fresh lease of life seemed a calming possibility, an escape route for the battered soul. A safer suggestion to pay heed to. But, yeah, that was something my heart never could approve of, initially. I never ‘moved on’ until the passing of many agonizingly sodden years when I finally did ‘move on’ to start afresh. Only after a lot of time and space and wallowing in self-pity did my heart relent to a new usher of life. Everybody moved on; one had to, and perhaps one way or the other Life finds a way...
I, Arinvan Maliek, would like to hereby affirm that I have survived the failed drool of love, and thanks to my family and friends I have been able to move on, finally.
Epilogue: I have some things to say, Una, if you have time and space in your heart then give me a look I will understand.
END OF PART 10 OF ‘LOVE, LOSS, LONELINESS AND LONGING, part 10, the final part’
(To be continued...)
(To be continued...)
By Arindam Moulick
*Note: The above story Chapter 26 – Moving On and Goodbye is reproduced here verbatim from the original story titled "The Memory of Love, a short story" (web link: http://arindammoulick.blogspot.in/2011/07/memory-of-love-short-story.html) published here in my blog Pebbles On The Beach. "The Memory of Love, a short story" was written in the year 2011 with different character names (but same storyline) is finding its way here as part of the chapter-wise presentation of my memoir "Lost Days of Glory, a Memoir". I have merely changed the character names of the original story with new names and additionally made some small changes (basically some words/sentences are put in a different way) in the overall narrative to suit the present storyline titled under “Chapter 26 – Moving On and Goodbye”. This is for the reader’s information only.
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.