A page from Chattu’s (Tarunesh Kr. Chatterjee/Batch 2005-07/SoM) personal diary
9th October, 2007 / Mumbai
It rained. It rained today. I could feel it. My soul bathed in it. Was it God’s way of washing away my tears? Tears that went unnoticed in the rain. Tears that never trickled when I was with you. Tears that swept away all the emotions and expectations I had painstakingly built block by block. Tears that finally found an outlet after being caged for what seemed like an eternity. Did I notice blood in them? Or was it mere illusion? Whatever, I could feel the pain within. I could peep within and see the dent that one single statement of yours had made in my heart. I could see blood oozing out of it. It is still raining. Why has God turned on the shower to let my wounds sting? What wrong had I done to deserve this?
Why did you seek love elsewhere when I left no stone unturned to let you know that you mean the world to me? Why did you not remember all the things I sacrificed for you when you decided to betray me? Was my love so weak that it didn’t mutter a single word when you were strangulating it in a strangers arm? Or had the stranger ceased being one? Why you keep on repeating the mistake over and over again? Why did you lie to me all this while? Why did you stay in touch with him even when you were with me? How could your conscience allow this? You made me realize that I was engulfed in an illusion all this while. I had weaved my future around this illusion. I had weaved my dreams around this illusion. I had weaved my life around this illusion. I had loved you in the purest form. Was this not what you wanted? Was it a physical relation you wanted? Was it the burden of expectations that my love demanded? Or was it something else? I would never know. I would never know what went lacking from my side. I would never know what it was that you wanted from me. I would never know whether you loved me at all or was it just the need to be with someone. Look at what you have done to me. Look at what that sorry has reduced me to. Will a mere sorry heal my broken heart? Will a mere sorry bring back the love you consciously decided to flush down the closet? Will a mere sorry bring back my lost sense of pride? Will a mere sorry help me not being reduced to a laughing stock in my group? Will a mere sorry help me not falling in my own eyes? Will a mere sorry erase all the thoughts of the stranger that have set home in your mind? Will a mere sorry guarantee an anytime stroll in the corridors of your mind I once owned? You said I was your gift and the best you could ever dream of. Was I? Was I ever? If yes, then why did you succumb to the temptation? You treasure your gifts, however small. You don’t throw them away when you see a bigger one.
Why didn’t you think that I will be reduced to a walking zombie for the rest of my life? Why didn’t you think that I will never be normal again? Why didn’t you give it a thought before succumbing? Why didn’t you realize that a no to him would have made my life so much colorful? Why did you do this to me in the first place? Was a two week whirlwind strong enough to lay to rest the tornado of emotions which you had for me? Why did you erase the words “Trust” and “Love” from my system forever? Why do I fear closing my eyes at night? Why do I dread recurring dreams of you haunting me all night? Why can’t I make myself believe that I no longer matter to you? Why can’t I get myself to believe that all of this is a bad dream? Why can’t I stop loving you despite you shooting me point blank? Why did you do it?
Why do I deserve to sleep when I can’t get rid of your memories? Why do I deserve to walk when I can’t take your hands in mine? Why do I deserve to love when the one I loved most threw me away? Why do I deserve to breathe when I can’t stop filtering out your smell from the surroundings? Why doesn’t this blood oozing out kill me despite you stabbing me time and again? Why do I deserve to live? Do I?
Chattu died a natural death one year later. He was only 25. The doctors never found out the cause of his death. They were clueless what caused his untimely death. Maybe the slow poison his body had started generating along with other fluids after that day took its toll. Maybe he never got over her. Maybe he chose not to get over her. Maybe he chose this fate. Maybe he was a fool. Maybe the fact that he was a cut above the rest when it came to out of the box thinking never mattered to him. Maybe the fact that he was seen as a rising star in his firm never mattered to him. Maybe the fact that he had the biggest circle of best friends never made any difference. Maybe his best friends never noticed his weeping heart all this while. Maybe he chose not to reveal that side to them. Maybe he wanted his image of the naughtiest of the batch to remain intact. Maybe he wanted his image of being a prankster and one who has a forever smile on his face to remain intact.
Maybe he is still looking at us from up there and saying, “I loved only once…And I loved her truly”