|Streetlights in Winter (standard:Psychological fiction, 2339 words)|
|Author: sayan||Added: Aug 01 2004||Views/Reads: 2431/1476||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Based on a true story. The rest is poetry and imagination.|
“...Yes now, Ok, Bye, see you sir”......, then she gently kept the phone, and went out of the room singing to herself. “Mom, I'm going out, back at night”. “.... You, are.....” said the alleged mother after a pause, and a big smile slowly stretching out on her face, “then do take your....”. The door slammed shut with a thud. In the brief period it was open, the continuous humming of rain could be heard from inside the house. Dearest Akash, my love Last night I couldn't stop thinking, so I couldn't sleep a wink. Some sad old things made me cry again, you know those. I took three of those pills Arpita gave me and finally slept at 5a.m. A sweet dream of our love filled me so deeply that I had to get up and write to you, though its just 8 in the morning. Anywho its been raining since the last three days, and I couldn't go out of the house. First day I was ‘down' so didn't really care, but you know, now I just can't stop (I'm smiling!!) . Yesterday I read “The Inscrutable Americans” by Anurag Mathur and u know I just loved it. Its about this Indian boy from a village, who never touched meat or dreamt about kissing a girl, going to America for a year and being transformed into a drunk sex maniac of some sort. It's so sweetly written! Read it when u come back, it's beautiful. Anyway sir called today to ask when I could join again, and I said, “today itself, I feel perfect”. You know sir said, “ok-oh but its raining now... are you sure you're alright” after a really really long pause and kept the phone. Anyway did you hear Arpita's going back to her ‘x'. More on that later. I'm in the lab right now. I just miss u sooooo much honey, I just pray this month is over soon and u can get a break and come here for a few weeks. Till then in dreams. Write back soon, Miss u, bye, with love Your Sonia, P.S. – I'm not angry anymore, and I'm taking the meds at the right times, so don worry at all. After an indent of 2 lines the screen read On 12th July 2003 Akash wrote.. She turned back, as if to see if any one else was reading her e-mail, finding just the neon lights reflected from newly painted walls and yellow gray diffused sunlight of a rainy day entering the room, she turned back and quickly clicked ‘Send', and closed her mail box. Apparently she was in a hurry. While entering the building, painted in a shade of light yellow, which she occasionally found to be the dullest shade of the spectrum, chosen specifically by a committee after two month long research aimed at making her work place a little more dull and boring, she had to run across a corridor connecting the two halves of an elliptical building, mumbling “Damn it, I should have brought my umbrella” and “gotto mail him before sir comes in”, her files in her left hand diagonally held, some distance from her physiognomy ,in an effort to deflect the rain as she ran. When she flew her way up two floors of stairs, too impatient for the elevator, she realized that her heroic, yet stylistically correct efforts were in vain anyway, and she was as wet as she could be. “Anywho”, she said to herself. No one else was there in the laboratory. The gaze of a 27-year-old woman with sleep-craving soft eyes followed her mind in the direction of the two windows. Dewdrop rain had gathered on the glass, the shade protecting the window, the drops mainly came from leaves of a neem tree, shaken off by winds, much like as if it were a big dog shaking itself dry, she mused. She went and sat closer to the window in another chair and took a deep breath. Thin gusts of cool breeze along with misty rain entered through the crevices of the window panes, and somehow that smell attracted her olfactory senses and she closed her eyes. A beautiful lake, a rainbow, a grassy green field. Outside it was raining hard in the semi-tropical city of New Delhi, the rain falling at various acute angles, as the winds fleeted direction like the choice of ice cream by a child. The colors truly visible today were grey, steel and dull yellow. Buildings stretched themselves across the street, till at the junction of two roads, where the rain formed a white halo around the traffic lights. The traffic was moving slowly, cars, autos, taxis, busses, their red back-lights on, red looking bright and fuzzy through sheets of rain, contrasting as blood on a white sheet. As her eyes drowsed, she thought on, a mellow glow reminiscent of the cloud covered sun filled all around. Suddenly she began feeling sick, she felt trapped, as if in a closed space, or in a bad dream from which you can't awaken, and her breathing became labored and tears wet her face, much like the way the splattered rain drops caressed the glass... “Hie Sonia”. The moment the door opened, the dull library silence of the Click here to read the rest of this story (131 more lines)
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