Things changed the day you walked into my life. A writer who could have thought and imagined of anyone while reading or writing, went through a change, an unexpected change to be precise.
The cheesy ones stopped seeming to be cheesy. They reminded me of the silliest moment we spent together.
The stories ending up with death scared me, the fear of going away from you was so deeply instilled in my heart.
The love stories, they made me think of you and me and a future, however distant it seemed.
The erotica, they did their best too, made me think and crave for you like never before. They made me go weak on my knees by thinking of your touch and breath on my skin.
You changed me, girl, and you made me yours the moment you walked in.
Hello Everyone, I’ve started a new section in my BLOGOSPHERE, that of Short Stories and Nano-Tales…
Every week I’ll be uploading one of these stories or tales here… Hope you’ll enjoy it… All types comments, reviews, suggestions and criticism is welcome 😊😊…
Love and Regards – K@ 😊❤
“Okay, I’ve got to go. Mom’s calling. She has cooked roast chicken for dinner. Smelling good! What did you have?”
“What do you mean by nothing? It’s almost twelve. Will you ever learn to eat on time?!”
“Look who’s talking! I’m broke, love.”
“But.. what about the money Sid had lent you yesterday? How did you finish two thousand rupees so quickly?”
“Um, I forgot to tell you about this. Yesterday night, while returning from work, I saw some beggars sleeping on the footpath, shivering with cold. Their clothes were in tatters. It was so sad. So I bought some blankets with the same money & gave it to them. Poor people. They don’t even have proper clothes to combat the cold…”
What will I do with this boy? I let out an exasperated sigh as he went on rambling about the plight of the beggars. I wasn’t even listening to him.
The pain of the beggars mattered a lot to him, but for me, the thought of him sleeping hungry stung more. Ever since he had shifted to another city for his work, he had become careless about his health & slept on an empty stomach frequently. Yes, maybe I was blinded by my love for him. He was the most beautiful person I had ever known, after all. His kindness, generosity & his beautiful soul was what had attracted my soul to his. No, I could never be as selfless as him and that made him a much better person than me. The reason I loved him silly. But his generosity was exceeding to a quixotic level now, driving me nuts.
“…please say something. I won’t do such things henceforth,” he pleaded in a timid voice.
“Don’t you dare skip your dinner because of me. Swear on me that you’ll eat.”
I’d truly received more than what I had wished for. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Why don’t you say something? Are you angry, love?”
“Don’t you think you are a little too talkative?”
I could sense his charming crooked smile at the other end of the receiver.
“You know I can’t remain angry with you for long. But, I’m just wondering whether we would have any blankets left in our home, if I marry you,” I chuckled.
“Hello? How are you?” I ask.
“Fine, Dad,” he replies.
“We are fine, too. How are things at home? The network here is really poor. The roof was leaking last night. But I have managed to find a solution for it. Your mother misses you. When will you come?” I ask him.
“One question at a time, Dad. I even forgot what you’d asked earlier. We will come the next time I avail a holiday. This time we are going to Singapore,” he says.
“Okay. Have fun. Let me know in case I can help with anything,” I say to him like I have been saying all along.
“Yeah, yeah. Like you could,” he says and scoffs.
“Did you say anything, son?” I ask. I pretend not to be able to hear his words.
“Nothing, Dad. Goodnight,” he says and disconnects the call.
I hobble back to the room where my wife is adjusting her hearing-aid. She asks if I had a chat with my son. I nod. She asks about his well-being. I tell her that he is fine.
I read her eyes which wait for me to tell her when he’d be coming. I know that she reads in my eyes that it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
And somehow like this, we have shared twenty years together.
The next afternoon, a postman with an envelope appears on my doorstep. I adjust my spectacles as I read the address it is from. It’s from my son.
I tear it open and find money. I don’t even bother to count it.
‘For the leaking roof,’ a note reads.
The roof in my house is just fine. Little did my son realise that I needed no envelope. All I needed was his presence.