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Disclaimer :
This is a personal blog. Views and opinions expressed here are of author's and not intended to disgrace any religion, institution or individual. The writer(author) also admits that his views may not be necessarily same as those of others.

Saturday, 14 May 2011

Overlapping Lives

The alarm sounds: "Time to wake up! 5 O'clock!." Like a snake unwinding, I raise my hand to reach the alarm, eyes still closed. It's pouring outside; the rhythm lulls me in bed. The rain begins to relent but dogs start barking. I pull the warm blanket over my head. I was late to sleep after a long Saturday night.
The moment I start to nod off, I am once again disturbed. My cell phone rings: "Hiding from the rain and snow...trying to forget but won't let go..." and I pick the phone to answer Yeewong.

The bus has come; everybody seems happy and cheerful this Sunday morning; the rain has stopped. When the engine starts, the bus is filled with joy. Some break into song, others dance and many hands wave to friends and lovers down in the ground we are leaving. There's one soul, the only one that does not take part in clapping, dancing or singing. I sit on the seat with heavy heart observing the ways of life and thinking deeply about something when one of my friends shouts, " Why are you so sad? Any problem? Time to enjoy. Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy!!!," but I quizzically smile to suggest I'm sleepy.

We reach a temple; pray for sentient beings, get blessings and we start to return with new experience. As we move by, we hear the song of a solitary reaper, the moment it ceases, we see and perhaps hear a farmer whistling while his oxen pull the plough. We pass by murmuring brooks; and the sweet resonance of a flute of a herder is clearly audible.  Shut my eyes, lean back and I drown in a pool of nostalgia.

Now she comes to mind. She is my childhood friend. We'd spend our days together, from sunrise till school down. During weekends, she'd teach me the lesson taught in previous classes while we grazed our animals in the woods-She was very intelligent. I remember her taking my hands to teach me dance steps to perform during those important occasions in the school. I liked being with her; god knows I was helplessly in love with her.

She did not continue her studies. Instead she left her parents, left her place and left a person who loved her dearly. From the day she moved out with a young, elegant, and prosperous husband, I spent my days silently longing for her for the birds stopped singing, trees began to shed their leaves; Winter had come and was gone. Then, I knew I was not destined for her, nor she to me.

Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy! I am awakened. Now I hear a shrill sound. I open my eyes and we see an ambulance rush by. We follow it out of sight.

And when we finally get back to college and are ready to disperse, I hear of a suicide victim among many 'byes, cya tomorrow.' In my room, I recline against the bed and recollect what Yeewong had said this morning: "Never betray your wife or girlfriend when you have one. It really hurts to be a betrayed. Life is miserable for me. I regret---"

note: This is fictitious. Written some years back.










4 comments:

  1. Wow...Great post!!! the story is beautifully narrated . Wise words to always remember. :)

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  2. I was relieved when i saw "This is fictitious. Written some years back" its a real love story, touching and sensual.....

    cheers for you....

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  3. Thank You Kuenzang bro. Yes! this is just a story, nothing real. It is fictitious indeed.

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