Memoirs of a Different Life.

Hey... I am back and how... broken, distraught, tired and very vulnerable. Not the traits of a strong man I claim to be. As I sit and write this in a nice comfortable room I know I am anything but comfortable. The memories that I thought I had pushed away, the ones I thought were from a different lifetime are back. Back like the ghosts of past to haunt me, to take my sleep away just the way they did all those years ago. Those were the dark days, days of horror, days of terror. Terror unleashed by me. Horror brought upon by me on someone who was perhaps the most delicate, the most vulnerable, the most gentle woman I had ever come across. And to such a woman I was the devil reincarnated. Why? Coz I was insecure. Insecure about a woman who I believe loved me like no one else did. I tried to take away one thing that she had, her freedom. And what did I get? This pain, this loneliness, this never ending dark night. Trust me, I got what I deserved. I have never been able to talk about it. Guess I am too weak to talk about my mistakes or the biggest crime that I could ever commit. Trying to take somebody’s freedom is worse than killing that person. Especially if the person loves you. Today by writing about it I try to repent. I know it’s too late. She is gone. Gone from my life. I don’t think I exist for her. But she does for me. How can I forget my biggest teacher? The woman who thought me the importance of being a nice human being. Why am I thinking about this woman? Coz of “The Notebook” by Nicholas Sparks. Had heard a lot about it so picked it up day before. Read about half of the book and it bought back memories of a love that ended a bit too soon. I hope this book has a happy ending. Love stories should always have happy endings. Unlike mine. Or maybe who knows, mine might also be a happy ending. As it was said in a film recently “picture ke end mein sab kuch theek ho jata hai. Aur agar theek na ho toh samjho ke yeh the end nahi hai. Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost”. Shayad meri picture ka bhi “the end” abhi baaki hai. Hope lives on.
We stayed in the same complex so we knew of each others existence but we never shared anything more than a formal hi and bye before that evening. That evening... I was sitting at home bored to death. Doing zilch. Surfing the internet randomly. Smoking, killing time. Then I remembered I had to go and clear out the mailbox. Also I had finally run out of cigarettes. Thought of going down stairs to get smokes as well the mail. Coming back home I saw that amongst my mails was a letter that did not belong to me. It was addressed to her and had her telephone no. too. As bored as I was I thought of a stupid prank. I dialed the no. printed on the envelope and asked for her. Gave a false name too (she knew my real name, you see) thought I would just talk to her for sometime, kill time and that would be it. I did speak to her for over half n hour that evening. Thoroughly enjoyed and entertained myself. Gee… that conversation was good. I knew I would be doing that again. Next day I called her from office. And so on and so forth the chain of calls began. She still did not know my real identity. I was some random guy called rohan for her. That was the beginning of a nice friendship. A friendship that began with a lie. Being old fashioned that I am one fine day I finally mustered up the courage and told her about myself. Or maybe she just recognized me. Dunno. Don’t remember. Anyways my real identity was in front of her.
I was expecting her to stop talking to me but to my surprise it did not make a difference to her. Boy, was I glad… and then we started meeting. We stayed in the same neighborhood and I used to be home alone in the evenings so it was easy for her to come over. I don’t think we knew what we were getting into.
I remember very clearly that evening she was very sleepy but I insisted on her coming over so she came. But she was tired. As she sat on the bed in my room I could see that she was falling asleep so I just told her to put her head on my shoulder and sleep. She did just that. That was the first time I had been so close to her. I put my arm around her waist. The first time I ever held her, touched her. Felt as if some kind of electric current had just passed through me. We stayed in that position for god knows how long. Didn’t want to let her go. Wanted to hold her forever. I so badly wanted to kiss her. Wanted to feel her. But was afraid too. Finally it was time for her to leave. And I guess something must have stirred in her as well coz after that she hugged me. That was the first time she had ever hugged me and it was magical to say the least. Thinking about that hug still gives me Goosebumps. We hugged quite a few times after that day but it was never quite the same. Or atleast till the last hug. Guess she reserved the best for the first and the last time ;)
Anyways after that day we started meeting almost everyday. She used to come home every evening. I knew she was in love with me but I wasn’t. honestly speaking I think I fell in love almost 5-6 months after that evening. Ok, I might have bad things in me by the truckload but there are a few positive things too. Like the fact that I cannot make love if I am not in love. Just cant do it. Either I have to be in love or I have to be piss drunk to make love to a woman. That’s the way I am. Anyways, we were really close to each other. Both physically and emotionally. I could never talk to anyone the way I spoke to her. I could be stupid, mad, intelligent, corny and even plain dumb with her without being judged. There was this comfort that I found in her arms whenever I wanted it. There was this acceptance that I so badly craved for. And there was this solitude that I needed. I was falling in love and loving every moment of it. She called every half hour and no matter what I would be doing I had to answer it. I loved it in the beginning but slowly I started getting annoyed by it. To be fair to me anybody would. And I told her that. One thing about her that I found out much later was the fact that she always remembered. Whatever it was, good, bad, ugly, gorgeous, it was stored in that little brain of hers. Today I really crave for a call from her. But its not there. Previously when I called she would make time for me, today she is too busy. I deserve it. When we were together we were at our silliest best. I remember one night after being sufficiently drunk I argued with her about making orange milkshake. The poor thing kept insisting that orange milkshake cannot be made and I insisted that I had a recipe for it which I was going to patent soon, no less. Has to be one of the silliest conversations of a lifetime. Infact it was so silly that it cant be reproduced here. She was no less too. Once madam had to complete a work assignment which went into late night and finally early morning. Madame insisted that I accompany her on the phone. I ended up singing songs on the phone till 4.30 in the morning. And then there were innumerable conversations regarding the moon (her best buddy and my sworn enemy. I told you I was the jealous types ;) ) conversations, conversations and more conversations. That had to be the best part of our relationship. We could talk about anything under the sun. In more ways than one I guess she helped me become the extrovert I am from the introvert I was. I was in love.
And then suddenly it all changed. I knew from the outset that I wasn’t the first guy in her life and neither was she the first girl in my life. Both of us had quite a reputation amongst the opposite sex. Inspite of all this I knew that she was the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I knew I was faithful to her. Pity I couldn’t trust her. Tongues started wagging regarding her meeting other guys. Her ex’s. Some new male friends. I grew uncomfortable. But I did not tell her about it. I still don’t know whether I did the right thing about not telling her or no. too late to think about it I guess. But because of that I grew insecure. Insecure to the point where I started questioning her about her whereabouts. Where she was? With whom was she? And to make matters worse she wasn’t completely honest with me either. Know of atleast a few occasions when she did lie to me. The whole trust and faith on which our relation was based was shaking. And I did not like it one bit. I wanted her. Wanted to be with her. Unfortunately she misunderstood it as that I wanted to possess her. I never got around to clearing that misunderstanding. Those last two months were pure torture. Pain like I had never experienced before. Every waking moment was spent thinking about her. And that hurt. I was convinced that she was cheating on me. And I couldn’t bear that. No man or woman can bear that. The respect, the love, the adoration that I had for her was going in a wisp of smoke. i couldn’t bear the pain of being away from her. And the fact that even she had reached her boiling point wasn’t helping. She hung in there with me till it got very difficult. But after a point even she couldn’t take it. The woman who I thought was my strength was deserting me at the very time when I needed her. my strength was going. I was falling weak. I turned to drugs, alcohol, cigarettes. And when even they didn’t help I tried to kill myself. Guess even god hated me for torturing his favourite child so even he refused to take me in. I was to face this right here, all alone. No amount of friends could help. But I pulled through. How? I don’t know. Seems like that time just passed in a daze. There is absolutely no memory of that time. There was only the truth, my romance with an angel was over. The insecure devil in me pushed her away. Maybe there was no devil. It was just me. But its always easier to blame it on someone else. Isn’t it ?

Before I go, I have to reproduce the lines from “The Notebook” that bought her memories to the fore front. here goes.
The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and always will be. Maybe we’ve lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we have found each other. And maybe each time we have been forced apart for the same reason. That means that this goodbye is both, a goodbye for those thousands of years as well as a prelude of things to come.
When I look at you, I see your beauty and grace and know they have grown stronger with every life you have lived. And I know, I have spent every life before this one searching for you. Not someone like you, but you. For your soul and mine must always come together. And then, for a reason neither of us understands, we have been forced to say goodbye.
I would love to tell you that everything will workout for us, and I promise to do all I can to make sure it does. But if we never meet again and this is truly goodbye, I know we will see each other again in another life. We will find each other again, and maybe the stars will have changed, and we will not only love each other in that time, but for all the times we have had before.