They say “first love can never be forgotten”. You age with it, while it consumes you until you become love again. Arjun who just turned 40, has lost all the playfulness of his youth. One fine evening after returning from the office while looking for his scotch in the almirah, he glimpsed upon a half-burnt letter which dated 20 years back. He was shattered to a flashback of events as at that time he was so scared to even post this, that in disappointment he tried to burn it off to ashes…

He opens the letter with trembling hands and reads as follows

To

Anjali Mathur

3/709 Chinsurah

Hooghly 712104

Dear Anjali,

They say “too much love suffocates attraction”. But how do I not show you the deep affection I knit all day long? How do I not confess that my days are bland if my minutes couldn’t taste your presence, maybe my heart aches too much these days? At unusual places I ask myself, will it be fair if I don’t disclose that all my conscience always murmurs your name? They say “desperation kills beautiful things”, but every time I feel drunk, it’s just you, I wanna dial. They say “ don’t expect much”, but how do I not tell you that I started seeing you as my better half.

Yours Forever

Arjun.

It’s 1:30 am now suddenly the clock’s ticking can be heard. Arjun sips the remaining whiskey all at once, as usual stalks Anjali’s Insta profile and sees that the last post was 2 years ago. Suddenly he sees the calendar and starts shivering and vomits, he remembers its the exact date on which Anjali died 2 years ago. He starts screaming and howling and throws the glass out of the window. The incompleteness has now fully consumed Arjun, he takes out the razor blade and tries to stop his gushing veins, he feels numb and a living corpse. He goes to sleep and wakes up to someone breaking his door the next morning, he wakes up and sees his dead body is being carried by his neighbours.

By Anagh Datta

From: India

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