The Last Sunday

I woke up. Dozens of face surrounded me. My expression was blank. I looked around and realised I was lying in a hospital…

…I could hear the whisper of the wind. Those beautiful memories, those beautiful days…I could hear the song of the waves beside me.
She stood there, staring away into the sea. Her long black hair was plaited and reached below her waist. On her hands, she carried a silver plate on which were a tiny lamp, some flowers and some holy ‘prasad’. She had come from the Ganesh temple nearby. But her parents were not aware that she had come to the sea coast. They only knew that she had gone to the temple. Actually, she had come to see someone.
She was there, staring at me, a mile apart. But I could still feel her; feel her that she was just near me. I kept looking at her, without uttering a word, without singing the song. She was in me, yet I deserted her…A tear rolled down my eyes. I wanted her and that was only my last wish.
It was Sunday; she came to see me, at our usual meeting place. This has been our place since the last four months. No words were spoken, no emotions were expressed. But this wind always conveyed my feelings to her. I controlled my urge to run and hug her. She looked like a tiny spot in the golden sands!
Her parents never accepted me. I was an orphan and an outcaste. That made matters worse. I was from a religion that I never knew; I was from a place I never saw. I guess I cannot love her.
She wore the blue sari that I gave her. She was looking beautiful as always. I wish I wasn’t an orphan, I wish I was from her religion! But does that make sense? Why are these differences? Why can’t I marry the person I love? Caste? What is that? Why does it have to define a person? Perhaps, God was not with me. Perhaps, this is destiny. This is life.
My thoughts swayed me away to all those bitter realities. I again looked at her. In her hand was a lamp that shimmered wildly. She came straight from the temple. She always does. It was the only place where she can meet me from a distance. Though, no words were ever spoken, no feelings ever expressed. She stopped meeting me after that fateful incident, after I was beaten up by her community. But that didn’t stop me from loving her either. She always came on Sundays. Even this mile-apart- difference couldn’t stop us from our conversations. The wind between us whispered and bought forth all those memories of our lifetime. A single second lasted for another life. I just wish, I got another chance; chance to be someone not defined by religion; someone to whom God would have shown mercy. God! What does he know about love? Does he have any idea why this was supposed to happen?
Her sari fluttered in the wind. She pushed her long hair back and her bangles jingled in the wind. I had always loved the song of her bangles. My mind drifted to old days. I became weak. This was the last Sunday. Tomorrow she is going to get married…
The wind grew stronger; she shaded the lamp with her hands. She again looked at me and probably smiled. She turned right and walked away. I wanted to shout at her and tell her that I can never forget her, tell her that she’s what makes me alive. But this wind stopped me right away. She kept walking towards the sea, the lamp on her hand kept flickering wildly. The waves touched her feet, yet she kept moving on and was out of sight.
My eyes widened. I gaped! I shouted! I cried! What was she doing? I ran. Wildly… But this mile-apart-distance failed me .My heart became numb pierced by something excruciatingly painful…tears rolled down but failed to wet my face…I again yelled at the top of my voice. The whole world stopped, as though mocking me of my failure. She disappeared right before my eyes and I…. I kept walking straight into the sea, frantically. I saw the flame still flickering wildly. The waves beckoned me. It touched my body, touched my feet….i could hear the song of the bangles….I could hear her voice… The lamp, the flame, the sea! I laughed at God. He was again a silent spectator. He took away the only jewel I had in my life. I yelled loudly in anguish. Without thinking, I kept walking, towards the lamp.
I saw the silver plate with the tiny lamp, some flowers and some ‘holy’ Prasad floating on the sea waters. The flame flickered wildly in the wind, but there was no hand to shade it…

…My tears rolled down, but failed to wet my face…