The Forgotten Wishes

“Pick up the phone, Pick it up!” exclaimed the guy on my right.

I was actually reading a novel, a thriller one back then, when his voice shook me off. I was like why is this guy shouting so much, what’s his problem. I thought there was something serious that had happened, may be someone close to him has met with an accident. Before I could come to my conclusion, I was shaken up again while this time he physically moved me to get my attention.

Me: “What happened?”

Him: “Can I make a call, it’s really urgent.”

Me: Sure, go ahead; (handing my phone over to him)

He quickly dialled the number and started to wait anxiously for the other person to answer. This time, my number turned out lucky for him and he could finally listen to her voice again.

Him: Thank God, you picked up the call. I am sorry!

Her: It’s you; I don’t want to speak to you. ~ Cuts the call

The guy looks a bit embarrassed towards me, and asks can he make another call which I readily obliged, though keeping my weird conclusions with myself.

Him: Don’t cut the call and please listen. All the people at the airport are staring at me, please listen to me.

Her: Okay, but I am not going to believe any of your words, so I am telling you it’s of no use.

Him: Baby I am really sorry, I know I should not have forgotten about it. I was actually all vexed up with work and couldn’t contact you. I am sorry.

Her: You tell the same thing every time Dad; you even told me Mom would be here on my birthday, but she isn’t. Eight birthdays have passed and she still hasn’t shown up, does she really care about me?

Him: I am sorry I forgot to tell you, Mom actually couldn’t get the permission from the other angels to come down and meet you. She did tell me to wish you from her side and she surely loves you, even more than me. But you don’t worry, Dad would be there in another three hours and we could go to that burger place which you love.

Her: Really, hope I can see her soon, I love her…. Come home Dad, I Miss you!

Him: I miss you too! Daddy is planning to get you a lot of gifts, so be a nice girl and complete your homework before I get there.

Her: Sure I will, Love you Dad.

Him: Love you sweetheart! ~ Call ends.

He hands me over the phone with the greatest relief on his face and a pleasant thank you, which I return with a gentle smile.

Where is Ryan?

Work of Fiction

The blissfulness of love, the tyranny of lost hope, I had seemed to savor them both. I was with her, but she wasn’t with me. She was still lost in love, but not with me. It had been over a month since our marriage but every time I tried to speak, she always ended up reminiscing Ryan’s name.  But whenever I tried asking, who is Ryan and where is he? She would silently move away and sit by the window, weeping. I wasn’t able to handle this, this was the very woman I fell in love with, on the very first sight. But even after we were married, she had failed to notice the love in my eyes which I so wanted to show her. The hope had started to wither away, and the whereabouts of Ryan were only getting mysterious.

I made an anxious call to my in-laws about who Ryan was, where I could meet him. But I was usually met by a coherent no; it was like people genuinely didn’t knew who he was. Even her friends failed to recollect someone with that name being close to Sarah, my beautiful Sarah. I had promised her to make her meet Ryan, and it’s been over six days and I am still stuck with only his name. The only thing which Sarah had told me was that Ryan worked in a grocery shop, near her place. When I inquired there, no person by that name existed. Was my wife tricked by someone, who even concealed his name by a fake one? I didn’t know where to find answers to my questions. Until that day, when I actually found where he was. Continue reading Where is Ryan?

The Letter

Work of Fiction

Dear Rose,

It been a while since we had a proper conversation, and I am sad that this is going to be the last one, may be we aren’t that special which we always felt in each other’s company.

I hope you remember the promises we made of being together till death tears us apart, I am grieved that it’s not death but our own egos’ which killed our relationship. The ego of one self is a very dangerous thing, every time I tried to speak in a calmer tone to set things right, every time I failed because of my all-encompassing ego. You were no different in being, you are still similar to who I am, repelling away like the ‘like poles’. We couldn’t adjust ourselves in the world we built and we ended up shattering every brick that we once carefully laid.

I still remember the first time I saw you, I saw you more as a friend than the lover you would once turn up to be. It was no love at first sight for me and neither was it for you, but it was love which blossomed through the long conversations we had, it was while ago when we did have conversations, not anymore, not anymore.

The first time when we exchanged our numbers, the first frantic calls, the teary eyed breakups of our former love lives, the career decisions, the always support attitude, I so miss all of this, but my ego would not let me go so my body is willing to do me the favour. The doctors have favoured a new research module to test upon what is really plaguing me, but they have failed to understand that more than the cancer it’s the broken heart which is bleeding the havoc by making me restless and maligning the left over self.

This time when I am ready to keep my ego apart and fulfil the promise of being together forever, it’s the death which scares me as our promise back then was belittled by the very death. If there was a place where all the dead souls depart to, I would choose to be the wind that could flow by you, which you could feel but you could never see.

I hope you never find this letter, I hope you never come for me, and I hope you moved on. But if you still manage to come and visit, don’t be disheartened because I would always be there around you like the protective wind which flows through you, though you could never see but you could always feel.

Yours lovingly,

Jack


This form of story writing is totally new for me, but I fell in love with the idea of how deep a letter could convey, especially the emotions. Celebrating love doesn’t only involve the external feelings but the specialty lies within, the inner ones. It could be tragic, on the other hand blissful, melancholic or happy, in simple words, it’s these paradoxes which allows the boat of life to sail with a feeling of being alive.

Thank you !

The Departure

“Won’t you wish me luck”, he said to her.

She was groaning with pain to see him go, and had locked herself in her room so that he would stay a couple of minute’s atleast, to convince her or atleast to speak to her one last time.

“I don’t want you to go, I don’t want you to leave me, I want you to stay and be ….” The truck had arrived before she could even complete her sentence, and boots marched away from the house, with a final shout “I will write you a letter every day till I return”.

The doors were thrown open and a fragile looking woman, in her mid 20’s, rushed towards the wagon and kissed her husband a goodbye. She took his hand and placed it over her little protruding tummy, and finally whispering that she will not be waiting alone this time.

With a beaming smile on his face which was beautified by the army uniform he was wearing, “I would be back soon or may be in time. Love you sweetheart, I love you forever.”

There were tears in her eyes but she was still standing unmoved until she could see the truck which finally disappeared behind the woods.


The hardships are not only faced by the soldier at front but also by the families back at home. It needs a lot of courage and valour to sustain this.

It’s a small tribute to all armed forces and their families back home, we thank you for being there for us.