THE LAST PUFF

*The unedited version was published for Your Story Club where this story hit the SPIXer (most popular) slot*

Statutory warning: Cigarette smoking is injurious to health

Scar knew that rain has colours, dreams have aroma, beautiful nights has its own beautiful morning, passion has veins, but in the town where she lived she was alone and unique. She was a confused smoker with a determined soul.  Her over sized dirty white shirt had black ink stains on it. She was neither a writer nor a painter nor an artist of any kind; she got the stains from the pen that leaked like her bleeding heart. She was engrossed in the words she was writing. It was a reply to the letter written years ago but reached the hands of the rightful owner only the previous week. She had tears in her eyes, she knew so many things but she knew nothing. Over the years she had learned to live her life in two extremities- to love like heaven and to hate like crazy, however, such emotions in her could only be stirred by the man whom she had completely loved. Her beautiful locks covered her forehead; her broken hairpin lay on the floor.  She looked at her cat, it was busy tearing her cushion covers with its playful paws; she was pleased to see the little creature enjoying its independence. Turning her attention towards the letter, her hands trembled as she held her pen, but somehow she took control of it and started writing.

                                                            15th August 2010

Dear Winter,

The season so loyal to your name has set in; the cold winds are blowing from my broken window which I am yet to repair. I cannot thank you enough for introducing me to my friend loneliness. In a crowded platform, I feel as if I am walking in the rain all alone. People say that whiskey drinks away all sorrows; they lie. Even after having bottles of cowboy’s solace I think of you. Once you said I won’t remember you that you will be like a thread long torn. Winter, it has been more than a decade yet I remember you. I remember you, like a sad graduation song that hums on an alumnus’s lips.

Do you even remember how we met? Let me bring back the old memories, it still thrills me. It was January, everyone was wrapped in the warmest of clothes, I being the unusual one, wore a green T-shirt and around my neck was a mauve muffler which I found lying on the rusted iron benches of the park. Your mom had considered my best friend Nina to be the ideal match for you; I was there to accompany her; that is what best friends do. You came forward like a reluctant groom, you were indifferent to so many things, but then your silent glance was on me. I could feel the tension heating up, I left the room, little did I know that you could come searching for me. The corridor of your house was long; I found solace taking the puffs. Your maid had warned me, smoking was not allowed inside the house; well your dad had no objection to offering me one. When you found me all alone making splendid delights from the puffs, you looked into my eyes, and these were the first words you said, “Romeo must have hated Shakespeare for making him climb up the balcony but Juliet’s kiss took his agony, together they made a great love story. Anyway, when Shakespeare was writing Romeo and Juliet, did Anne Hathaway, his beloved wife told him to keep his pen down and get on the bed?”  I was marveled to hear that, the only reply I could think of was, “There was no man in Jane Austin’s life; she died single. Yet, she created Mr. Darcy, the beloved of all romantic heroes. All Elizabeths in the world should kiss Jane’s hand and sing a song of the happy ending.” These words made you clap, we heard you name being called, but before turning your back to me, you said, “Save the last puff for me.”

I wonder what made you say that all I thought was my best friend’s future. When the time came for your opinion, all you said were, “I have found my match.” The wedding never took place, you came as a guest at her wedding and that was the second time I met you. Without attracting the attention of anyone who came up to me and said, “For Slyvia Path, Ted was a bastard; he never deserved her in the first place. She died but gave us the Bell Jar.”  I replied, “Virginia Woolf had beautiful nose, beautiful lines from her book always amuse me, pebbles were heavy for her, the river swallowed her. Her light house stands apart on the deserted street.” I never took it as a mindless banter, for me strange lines of yours were always a way of knowing you better, but the next lines that followed really made me think you are a lunatic trying hard to impress someone worthless of your love, how could you say something like, “My heart is restless every since I laid my eyes on you, I am in love with you, I have seen our unborn children in your eyes.” The only thing, I could utter were, “You imagine a lot, Don Quixote in becoming.” However, that evening something happened to me for the very first time, my heart melted and I knew that the feeling was mutual. In my pride, I did not say anything then, however, I want you to know that you took my breath away from the moment you requested me to save the last puff for you, and I will always be thankful to you for holding my hand in the moment when I was confused.

I never told you how I felt about you, the bike rides with you were marvelous like the feeling I felt inside every time you kissed me. The day never ended when you were around, it was always the beginning of something new. Oh! Dear, you were my winning bet, you were my victory line, you were my safest abode, my strongest meditation and the greatest lyrics written with my fingers, loving you never left me broke, richness ever grew. The nights spend in your arms were my shortest of nights, yet, I never slept, you were what I was dreamed of.  Kissing you in the rain was cold and warm at the same time, petty fights were like scissors, your hugs were like glue, and your touches were like honey in autumn. Everything was going picture perfect until you came up with the news, the news of the battle, the explanations to convince me how much your duty meant to you. I have to admit that I have sacrificed so many things in my life, but I was not ready to sacrifice the one I so truly loved, I was not ready to let fate decide our love. I was only in a mood to entertain a dream which came with the guarantee of us going to live forever in each other’s embrace.

Your decision, your choice, was something I had to accept.  You have hurt me in past, you still continues to hurt me, the wound will always be fresh. Night and day, silver and gold, bread and eggs, stilettos and sandals have seen my face…they say I look like a jaded feather flying by the help of a gentle wind; that wind has got a name: pretention, I am pretending to live every day. I am asking you and will ask you every day, was your duty more important than the love I had for you?

My period comes to me every month but the flashes of the last day with you, every day. Human beings with all its imperfection try to be perfect for the person they love the most. What I asked you was not perfection but to keep the promise, the promise to return to my arms. Didn’t I tell you that I will hate you forever it you don’t make it alive, I was in my full senses and so were you? You gave your word to me, I gave myself to you; our tears were the witness.  As a soldier it could have been a dream come true for you when your coffin came wrapped in the tri-coloured flag, but as a lover how did it feel not to die surrounded in the warmness of my heart?  Some die in the way destined for them, others they just pass the test and pave the way to die. For years, I considered that your death was a way to escape from the life we were going to share. I tried to keep my mind away from you, I concentrated on my work, cultivated lot of hobbies, made new friends, visited places, but whatever I did and wherever I went, I always knew that I belonged to you. I hated you and in that hate there was love. As obvious as it could be, my friends tried to hook me up with men whom they thought was worth giving a try. Things never worked out, for each step forward I took three steps backward. I have been in the midst of the loveliest crowd, I have heard songs from the best singers; I have dressed in the costliest of attire and tried the perfume which goddesses must have used to seduce the mightiest of warriors, but in all these I could not find happiness. I have prayed to gods and to heroes for strength and wisdom but could not ease the agony that comes from the realisation of not having you.

For you, I kept wondering what life it could have been if you were around. What life it could have been to sit with you by a fire place and see our children draw colourful balloons. These things and much more runs into my head, then the feeling of hate could kill me and tear me apart just to make me see how much I love you. All these years have taught me one thing, no matter how much I tried to hate you for not being with me, for not keeping your promise, I can’t stop loving you.

Last week your mom gave me your letter, she said it was under your dairy, all these years it was resting in the steel trunk box. I read it and re-read it over and over again. Now, I know what you meant when you said ‘save the last puff for me’. I will, I will save the last puff for you.

Yours forever,

Scar

When she was done with the writing, she took out his letter from the envelope and began to unfold it, ever since it reached her hands; she made it a ritual to read thrice a day- morning, noon, and night.  It still carried his smell which was so distinct like the love she had for him and the love he knew that she had for her. “Oh! Winter…” she whispered and began to read.

                                                                  July 5, 1999

Dear Scar,

                I am in a frontier where dew drops speak the language of bullets; solitude is the song we hear; death is the constant guest, but you are my omnipresent ray of hope and our memories are my guiding shield. When countries declare war, soldiers bruise and kill themselves, dreamers dream of a better future, and lovers like you and me are left with one thing-longing. I long for you every day, I am not the first lover to do so and sadly, I will not be the last. Before me and after me were and will be men who could only wish to turn back the hands of time, and all they could do is look at their hands which once had held the one they truly loved. I have never told you a secret, your one look made me a captive of yours, and the beauty of your soul was the reason that made me a better person.

My colleagues often tease me for giving myself totally to you; little do they know the power of one glance.  How can I explain to them what you possess, how can I explain to them that your name itself is enough to make my heart race, how can I explain that woman like you comes once in a lifetime and only a fool won’t be able to recognize what a gem you are. I miss the days and nights spend with you, your whistles filled the room with an indefinable magic, your laughter and your smiles were my morning toast, how delightful I feel just to remember all those times we had. I can’t sleep at night, I was never a patient of insomnia; out here I feel like one, the only way of making myself off sleeping is by thinking of you. A gentle tear escapes from my eyes when I remember all the things you like, you know what? There are many things you like and few or no things you dislike. I have watched romantic movies based on war themes, out here it is nothing like that; it is heartbreaking.  At the end of the day, there is no standing ovation for soldiers’ love stories, it lives and dies within us.

I wish not to tell you, but this remorse feeling that creeps to me should be shared. I hear a thoughtful messenger every night bringing the news of my death. You might consider I am going insane but I am sure of it like I was sure of you being the only woman for me. Scar, I know you will hate me forever and ever. I know I won’t be able to keep the promise which I gave to you. I might be a martyr for our country, a fool for those who think and a memory for my nearer and dearer ones, but I guess, for you I will forever be the object of hate. Will you please give me a chance to let you know that staying alive is not the only way to show you how much I love you, what matters is keeping the love I have for you alive for eternity.

There were times when in my insecurities I have hurt you and in my selfish pride I had made things worse. There were times when I should have listened to you but didn’t and there were times when I ought to be with you but didn’t. There were times when I should have been the man, you wanted me to be but I didn’t and there were nights when I should have held you but I didn’t. I must have been a coward for not dancing with you, for not kissing you in the way a lover should, for not running after you, but, I did love you, I did love you, remember and erect a shrine of belief in your heart , I love you. Now that you are far from me all my heart says to you is to show me the road you traveled, to throw all the loneliness that burdened you. I am ashamed of myself for being so late; let me hear the weight of the punishment I deserve for being such a fool. Come to me my love, the only soul who loved me unconditionally.

On the lighter side, I am so sure that smoking and loving me are the twins which will be very difficult for you to quit. Anyway, if you ever decide to give up smoking then please save the last puff for me, after all, if I cannot be the beginning of something profound in your life then, at least, I can be its beautiful ending.

Yours forever,

Winter

She kept the letter back in the envelope and with a smile she lighted her last cigarette that was on the table. The only thing on her mind that moment was of the kiss she got from the man she so truly loved. She took the first puff and said, “This is for the day when we first met”, she took the second puff and said, “This is for the day you confessed your love for me”, she took the third puff and said, “This is for the day when I realised I was equally in love”, she took the fourth puff and said, “This is for the day when you kissed me.” She took the fifth puff and said, “This is for the day when we became one”, she took the sixth puff and said, “This is for the day when you proudly came up with your decision”, she took the seventh puff and said, “This is for the day when you breath the last”, she took the last puff and said, “This is for you, my love.”

The morning showed its face, someone knocked her bedroom door. It was her younger brother with whom she shared the apartment. The knock was followed by a consistent silence, he expected the worse as his sister was an early raiser, when all his attempts failed he kicked the door open only to see her sister sleeping like a baby. He knew where she had gone; he knew that someday it could happen, he was happy that she was on a sojourn to the land where spirits of the lovers unite. He moved towards the table and saw her handwritten letter, he believed that it could make no sense of him, so folded it and kept it under the envelope which had her name scribbled on it. Thus, two letters rest together.