QUILL

He leaned forward to hear the obnoxious noise early in the morning. He wondered what had happened last night that resulted in such a quailing in his body. He could hear the sound of water sloshing in the basin, probably the sound of utensils that were fighting one another came along with the sound of birds chirping, felt as if a bass guitar is competing with a sitar. With smoke winding up on the window pane, and the giant bitterness that crowded his mind; he could not help but devour the ego that dwelled so swiftly in his head, oblivious to what has happened to them. To those two happy individuals who enjoyed staying together, who enjoyed the silence they shared, the merriness of speaking nothing and still opening, the alacrity of their wicked minds, the genuine fire of their dreams, the sound of their devils and the bewilderment of their angels.

It was all gone, all gone as the sun shone. The glasses appeared dirty, with a little rust on the side walls, the spider web outside the window was a labyrinth of loose strings that swelled every week, the dry hyacinth that once grew so vividly; eager to enter the room through pollen carried by the wind or dry leaves that dropped by, but nothing appeared to be the same.

He loathed the fact that he was the reason behind her tears; he abhorred himself for reducing her to someone as weak as her, for she used to be strong, strong enough for both of them. Albeit, he would find her tears rolling every now and then, he would find her running out of the bathroom with red eyes and when he’d ask,” nothing must have been the soap” would come as a response.

There was a time when the penchants were growing voraciously. Both of them were extremely fond of each other, they’d spend days talking, delivering messages, writing emails and ranting over futile telephonic conversation. They’d meet, secretly away from everyone’s attention and without even mentioning it to a soul about their reunion, the love ablazed so fiercely inside their hearts and mind that it was too much to ask for it to suspend.

He’d once been the reason behind her nonchalant activities, she’d mention a million times. He’d once been the sole purpose of her charm, she’d long gone of it and he’d once remained the only source of her dreams, the gateway to her desires, acquired wishes and untamed yearning, aspirations, craving and longingness of freedom. However, everything was gone.

That morning he woke up with a heavy head, he knew that soon it was coming to an end; soon they’ll be happy, gratis, free and agile. Away from the atrocities of what has happened in the past, both of them decided to take the plunge that will vouch for cheerfulness & contentment. The blare of steps that neared the living room made his heart beat faster, as fast as the sound of a racing horse or may be thunder; he dreaded the idea of seeing her that morning, because deep down the guilt was developing, and it was burgeoning rapidly and on to many levels.

She was finally ready, she signed up for her long gone happiness, it was not that she wasn’t ready then, but more for because they weren’t agreeing to it. But now she had all the reasons to take the stride which accounted for the contentment and acclaimed arrangement.

Suman agreed for divorce. The day she found about Nayan’s affair, she broke to pieces. Theirs was a love marriage and she did not, quiet gregariously expect this.

That day she used one quill to set fire. With one quill she made the two most challenging yet devastating decisions of her life, with one quill she detached herself from her past, the memories, and the pompous love-affair and affixed with her dream.

 

That day, Suman used her name to address a divorce paper and the acceptance letter from the Ivy League institute.

 

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