Thoughts!

Somehow my hands didn't shake while I signed those papers but then why was I crying now? It felt like it was over. Final and for sure. I did what was best for him, I thought. I could never. I can't. I just can't take care of him.

So small. So fragile. I cared for him since the first day. How could I let him go? I just had to. Rational decisions are the toughest.

I sat on the chair and stared at the setting sun. And thought of the brief but oh so beautiful days that I spent with him. His first smile. The first time he opened his eyes. Memories and images of him flooded me. How do I get rid of them?

A text message telling me I have an email. That could be a distraction. I log on. This email has an attachment. A picture. Of him. With his adoptive parents. They looked nice. Rich too. He was smiling. Maybe he was happy. He was happy.

Oh wait, didn't I ask them not to send me any updates. Damn! There must have been some goof up. Do I correct them? But then, that would mean never seeing him ever again. I had already decided that I didn't want to be a part of his life anymore but seeing his face melted me. I never wanted to be out of his life.

Yes, keeping him with me was good for him. I have to find a way to be with him without wrecking his life.

No, I wouldn't stalk him!

Title-less!

He called me one day and said, " I am in town. Meet me at the same place. Please. I need to talk. I need to talk to you." I was shocked. We hadn't spoken in ages and in the 7 years that I had known him, I had never heard him like that. I immediately left my office. There was something in his voice that made me leave work immediately.

When I reached the cafe, I was shocked to him there. That handsome face, that tidy hair, that crooked smile. Nothing. Just an empty stare.

It was like he was waiting. Waiting for something to occur, something to happen. I saw him at the cafe. Disheveled hair, clothes ragged. His eyes held an empty look.

I went and sat next to him. He looked up. Still no smile, no spark in the eyes, no him.

"What happened? Are you ok?" I asked.

"She is dead," came his reply.

"What? Who?"

"Her. Yesterday. There," he spoke slowly, breathing heavily like each word weight heavily on his heart.

"What happened?"

He took a deep breath and then looked at me, with tears in his eyes. I couldn't believe it.

"Why did they? How could they? Why her?"

I tried to put things together in my head.

"She called me a month back. She said she wanted to get back together. It was tough. She was there and me here. We spoke about it. A lot. You know how I can be. I never took her seriously but I was happy." He gulped.

He continued, " Yesterday, I called her. She didn't pick up. She almost never picked up when I called. She didn't call back that entire day. I saw the news. Pune blasts. She was in Pune. Something within me shifted. I don't know why. I called and kept calling her."

I was dreading the worst. I knew what was to come but I hoped that wasn't it. I was hoping that there was some other end to this story. I just didn't want rationality to win.

"That blast in Pune killed her. I am just coming back from Pune. I had to see her one last time. "

What do I tell him? How do i console him? What do I say to make it better when nothing can make it better?

(Based very loosely on true events)

What if...

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 7; the seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Age 3 years , 9 months and 2 days: My first memory.

Baba came in drunk. Heard Aai and Baba fight. Baba hit Aai.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 5 years, 1 month and 7 days: My first beating.

Baba came in drunk. Heard Aai and Baba fight. Baba hit Aai and then came after me.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 7 years, 4 months and 3 days: My first abuse.

Uncle came home. He put his hand on my mouth and touched me. I bled.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 9 years, 5 months and 5 days: My first burn.

Baba came home to find me reading. He took his bidi and burnt me. I had to learn cooking.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 13 years, 2 months and 9 days: My first proposal

Aai got me all ready in a saree. I had to serve tea to a family. She told me I was to get married. I didn't know that meant.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 15 years, 5 months and 20 days: My first hope crushed.

I was married to a boy I had seen once before. Maybe this life would end. He came home drunk on our first night and beat me after having sex.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 15 years, 11 months and 28 days: My first abortion.

I was pregnant for 3 months where they tested that my baby was a kill. They had her killed.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 16 years, 10 months and 13 days: My first child.

I was pregnant again. This time with a boy. He lived. All the time I had with him was when I had to feed him. I wanted to be with him more.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 17 years, 11 months and 15 days: My first girl

I was pregnant again. No testing this time. They already had a boy. I gave birth to a girl. Her father never asked to see her.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 20 years, 7 months and 23 days: My girl's first memory.

He came home drunk. He hit me. She watched.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 22 years, 3 months and 1 day: My girl's first beating.

He came home. He hit me and then lashed for her.

What if I had spoken up then?

Age 22 years, 3 months and 2 days: My first realisation.

My girl was living my life all over again.

I had to speak up now.

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