A simple love story.

“Imran… I’m sorry…but we have to end this here…” said Farzana with an false vigour in her tone.

“End this?? Farzana? Are you kidding me??”

“Yes…I have to do this…rather, I am doing this. I don’t want to hate you…and if we continue this relationship, I have to hate you Imran…I have to!! You hurt me!!”

“Farzana I’m ready to do everything you say. Everything. Ill change my ways Farzana!! I’ll never hurt you Fara…never!!”

Imran had broken down. He was howling over the phone, and his bed sheet was wet with his tears. He wasn’t able to comprehend what was happening to him; his life seemed to be pointless…and so,he tried his best to save himself from the immortal darkness his love, Farzana was pushing him into.

“How many times will you tell me all this?? I have been listening to all this since I don’t know when!!! Just leave!! And let me live my life in peace!!!!”

“Far--”

Beep…

She cut the call, and switched off her phone. She fell down, crying. She glared at herself in the mirror, and said, “I HATE YOU!!! Did you get that!! I hate you!!! Go away and let me live with my Imran!! Go away you b****!!! Imran!!! Come back….come back to me!!!!! Come back to me!! I’ll die without you… I’ll die!!!!” She slapped herself hard, she injured her arms with her nails, and hurt herself every probable way she could…She cried inconsolably, scorning the grave mistake she had done, just because her parents did not approve of her relationship with Imran, and had decided to get her married to a wealthy merchant.

After three full hours, she stopped crying…and shifted her glance from the mirror to a dupatta kept carefully on a shelf…the dupatta was a scarlet one, with silver lace borders. She went upto it, and felt it, closing her mesmerising eyes. She could literally envisage the scene, where Imran had come upto her with the dupatta in his hand, asking, “Is this yours?”
Ironically, these first three words of Imran were more than adequate to strike fire in the heart of Farzana, who at once knew that she had finally found her Mr. Perfect.

It was on the sanctified day of Idgah, that seventeen year old Imran and sixteen year old Farzana had met each other for the first time. Farzana’s safety pins had betrayed her, and her dupatta flew away, under the influence of the brawny wind at the Idgah fair. She at once started searching crazily for it, when according to her; ‘the most good-looking guy on the planet’ came to return it.  “Is this yours?” he asked, with a smiling face. Farzana couldn’t reply. She just kept on gazing at the striking eyes of Imran, as if she would love to gaze at them for a lifetime. As for Imran, all the noises in the fair had been drowned by the tinkling of the anklets of Farzana. They were ‘truly, madly, and deeply’ in love, and did not make a fuss about it. Farzana took the dupatta, saying, ‘Lillah’ and ran away, blushing. Their love story had begun, in the most magnificent way it could have.

Today, after seven long, and happy years of their relationship, Farzana, had broken up. She realised that had torn apart her existence, but at the same time, she knew that there was no other option for her. Continuing her relationship with Imran, would just risk the life of the one she loved the most.

“Why did I have to do all this…? Allah…forgive me Allah… punish me for the crime I have done to myself and Imran…punish me eternally in such a way that I suffer…and Imran? Give him everything he deserves……he deserves jannat, Allah…”

Farzana wanted to hug Imran right then…she wanted to cry out her pain to him…she wanted to be safe in his presence…she wanted to feel the warmth and the comfort she felt when she was with him…but she couldn’t, and she knew that well…she had intended to spend her entire life with him, and now that she had been denied her happiness, she chose to die without it.

 “Its better that I don’t get to see what I don’t want to see…I love him, and there isn’t any way I can stop loving him…so its better that I … Imran, I love you… I’ll die but I would not let go of you…even death cant separate us…”


The next dawn Farzana was found lifeless in her room. The bottle containing sleeping pills was vacant, and was kept on top of a note. It was addressed to
Imran Qureshi. It said, “Till death do us part…I love you……..”

Small town girl in the CITY - Part I

 
“Anushka…baby…papa has to go there…I know this hurts you…but we don’t have a choice baby…and moreover, I know that you surely will love London!!”

My mother had been telling me such things since the day I had received the most devastating news I could have, in my lifetime…My father had been transferred to London, owing to his promotion, and we had to leave our home - town, Nashville.

This isn’t as simple as it seems, from the last paragraph. For me, leaving Nashville was like leaving my life behind. School… friends…neighbours…everything would change for me…I was not petrified of losing something…I was apprehensive about the change I would have to undergo, to be accepted in an alien environment. I had grown up in this town…and both of us- me and Nashville - had accepted the way we both were…and the best part -- neither of us wanted any change in either of us. We were like two childhood lovers who would never like to change the way they are with each other. Truly, neither did I change, nor did Nashville. The only thing that came between us was distance…and each kilometre till London from Nashville was like a stab inflicted upon my existence.

I did not meet my friends before leaving, knowing full well that they had planned a farewell party for me. I wanted to see them badly, but I knew that meeting them would make things more complicated; leaving Nashville would be tougher, than what it already was. I sent them apology texts and switched off my phone. “I would contact them there…not now…”

Our bags were packed, and the next morning we had our flight to London. My parents were fast asleep...but for some reason, I couldn’t do so… I just stood in our balcony and gazed at the stunning, open sky with teary eyes… “Nashville…I don’t wanna go!! Pull me back…pull me back to yourself…please!!” these words echoed in my mind…I strongly wished for us to stay back, but I knew, that this was not going to happen. I was disappointed by the silence that surrounded me…it seemed to push me away…push me to a better life?? Or throw me into depression,everlastingly ??

Time, would decide.

to be continued...

The Struggle

“But sir, I need this chance. I need it, and I will fulfil your expectations… please sir, this one last chance??” Ashmita begged as the bossy, arrogant, so called audition man, Mr. Shekhar Mukherjee drunk his tea making noisy slurps. Looking towards Ashmita in a nasty way, he said, “You see, you have a lot of talent… in this country we have good talent like you, but rarely, groomed talent like…like…me or Pritam da… or Rahman sahab!! So… I guess you try again next year?? Riwaz karo sab ho jaega!!”

Ashmita was stunned. She had been working hard over the past two years for that

mega audition for ‘the singing star of India’. She had given her best shot, and expected appreciation… but sadly, she was unaware of the nasty politics that was supposed to be superior to young talent that demanded recognition… she smiled slightly and said, “Riwaz toh kar rahe hain sahab… but it is really a shame, that people like us remain unrecognized for the entire life, just because of people like you who can game out so well…”

“How dare --!!” shouted Mr. Mukherjee. Ashmita lifted up her hand and said, “I dare, because I have spoilt two damn years of my life. I have dedicated 15 damn years to my music!! And now you say that I am not groomed???? HOW DARE YOU!!!”

Mr. Mukherjee was stunned. Never had he faced a candidate in his life, who would revolt like that.

Ashmita continued, “Sir, I do not have as much grooming as you have. You are groomed because someday, some person had given you a chance to be groomed…so isn’t it your responsibility to give a chance to those who deserve rather than to those who are lucky enough to be born to rich families???? Anyway, I will reach my goal someday… but please, sometimes, do tend to think for music rather than for your stinking rich pocket. I’ll take my leave. Thank you.”

Ashmita walked out of the audition room. She did not have a single tear drop on her eyes. She was determined, strong and confident, and nothing in the world could stop her from aiming high.

Her speech was not aired on television, but her performance was. Two days later, she received a call, and she was invited for the next round of auditions.


Annesha Ganguly