Unmoving

“Where are you? Don’t be late, we’ll be there by 3:30 pm”; She said, and hung up the call, She had made ten calls in a span of forty minutes. She was leaving the city, with me and another friend going to see her off to new her abode. Although, I didn’t feel like going, I knew it would be heartbreaking, but I decided it would perhaps be the last time that I would get to sit beside her, to travel with her; the three of us had so far made plans of travelling together, but given our schedules; nothing materialized.

The days have flown by rather quickly, with She; now more or less settled in her new place, although much hasn’t changed the way we feel, certain things are hard to let go; and I believe we shouldn’t let them go either. The times which made me the person that I am can’t be cast away and thrown into the bin of the past; I certainly; most certainly feel. But, the memories do come back, flooding the gates of my mind and my eyes can’t hold up, the tear drops aren’t salty; coated with sweetness of her presence and now longing for her in her absence.

I had initially planned to do away with things that I did when She were with me, for I felt it would hurt me within, with her absence now pinching me more than ever, what more could I do than revisiting the places where we would go. It has been a hard battle of sorts, to convince the mind and my heart to come to an agreement; but I would now like to feel the pang of her not being here as I set out to rekindle the emotions which I seemed to have parted with. I had been to the café where we would spend our evenings over cups of black coffee and never ending conversations on life, books and literature, often topped with her cribbing; it was hard for me to focus then.

As, I now set out yet again to take to the streets which I last walked through with her, I know the walk will be long and never ending, I might very well feel choked, but then it would be She releasing herself through the emotion that would come out, no better feeling than this.

I don’t plan to visit any of the restaurants or pubs we would go to, rather it would be the streets and the pavements where we would stand and chit chat, the street leading to her office; to her favourite restaurant; the mall where we last watched a movie and the narrow lane leading to the Dargah; I last visited with her. Perhaps, I’ll bow down my head and pray again, pray She be good.

The air feels slightly heavy, as if suffocating me with the fragrance She carried; but, I have to walk on; smear myself with her memories again, feel the pang of her absence and pray that her presence stays on for life, it’s all that I have got; will have for life.

As, I walk on I see this tiny little shop from where we would buy cigarettes, I walk up and buy myself a packet, her absence now feeling stronger than ever, She would usually pay for it. The streets, the shops, the frantic scenes on the street all still the same, I miss my monument of calm amidst all this.

And, hold myself up; and take a bus, a departure from my usual routine of getting a cab; for I wanted to feel the streets. I plug in my earphones and listen to a song which She last played for me. The Dargah isn’t far away.

‘Cause if one day you wake up and find that you’re missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinkin’ maybe you’ll come back here to the place that we’d meet
And you’ll see me waiting for you on our corner of the street..

P.S: Ending lines from the song, ‘The man who can’t be moved’ by The Script