2014-07-28

An Orkut Love Story: Chapter 27

Day 27: The post Chapter 27 for the novella, 'An Orkut Love Story' is written as part of the prompt ' Ultimate Blog Challenge for July 2014.


CHAPTER 27

Life has stopped making sense for me. How I wished it was just a mindless joke made by Swagata to gauge my love! Life without Swagata is painful. I feel alone, walking for hours in the scorching sun from Marine Drive till Chowpatty Beach, jumping on the train to Dadar, waiting for long hours to get a darshan of Lord Ganesha at Siddhi Vinayak Temple.

It’s the first time in my life that I am offering prayers to Lord Ganesha, pleading for love. ‘I want Swagata back in my life. Dear Ganesha! I will host Puja in our house if you perform miracle by getting us married.’ I close my eyes and whisper my secret in the ear of Ganesha’s muse, the rat, “Please send Swagata back.
Please tell Ganesha, my dear friend.” I am amazed at my own twists and turns. Love does strange things to people, converting an orthodox atheist into a believer of God. An inner voice was telling me to pick myself up and start living life. Kushal was telling, ‘Dude! Chill! Start dating again. It’s the only way to forget Swagata. Stop sending her frantic sms-es or blank calls.’ This time Tania didn’t preach but only said, “Do what you feel is right for you and start living your life. But, one thing, you cannot blame her. Remember, she told you not to build expectations about the relationship.”

Perhaps, they were right. I should stop going on Orkut. Instead, I’ve been drinking almost every single day, listening to mushy songs and shedding bucket loads of tears. “I need to bury the whole thing and, I need to carry on with my life,” the inner voice reasoned. I face withdrawal symptom and cut myself completely from the whole world. I’ve stopped hanging out in college or café since I don’t want to answer questions about Swagata.
I am drunk and can barely move away from the bed, curling my head on the pillow. “Should I call her for the last time to wish her well on her way to Hong Kong,” I ask myself. The ego turns me down. “If she cannot think about you, why should you call? Let her be.” The phone is buzzing. My fingers fidget on the phone buttons to pick up the phone. Finally, I pick up the call.

I feel goose bumps running in my stomach. “Hi, how are you,”? Swagata hesitantly asks. I am having mixed feeling and try to speak in a normal tone, worried that my blurred tongue may arise suspicion that I am drunk.

“Hi, Swagata, I am fine,” I stammer. “Ok. You are drunk. Listen, I am leaving for Hong Kong in two days and wish that we part on a good note. I don’t want things to be awry between us and, if we ever meet again, we shouldn’t be awkward into each other’s company. Tomorrow, 5 pm, Barista, at Sivaji Dadar. You okay with that?” “Cool.” “Chalo, see you kal. Please take care of yourself.” “Hmm! Thanks for your concern,” I sarcastically remark. She hangs up.
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