
And then he just turned around and left. She stood there watching him leave. His words had not hurt her as much as the fact that he left without once turning behind. Like he'd dismissed her from his life in that one moment. Everything was left behind.
Strangely, she didn't cry. She turned around and made a call to the client to say that the artwork will be ready by evening. Matter of factly. Casually. As if this was some idle Tuesday..life was normal and everything hadn't changed.
Life was a rush. Life also lay deep beneath phone calls, client meetings, emails, prints, coffee, sleep, tantrums, fights, men...!! She felt still at times...as if life was revolving around her at a pace she couldn't keep up.
"Where did you keep the file i gave you this morning?". She looked blankly at the voice who seemed to be asking the question. It took a couple of minutes for her to register who he was and what was he talking about. Once she figured that...all that came out of her mouth was "I don't know, I don't know where i put it....it must be here somewhere..give me 5 min, I'll look for it". It took her half hour to locate the file. A few days later, she sat admiring a Saree that her mother bought. She sat with it in her lap and stroked the fabric while talking of mundane things. Nobody could tell, neither could she at that moment as to why suddenly had she burst out in tears. She cried...in loud gasps. This was the first time since that day 18 months ago that she had let herself go.
"It was the texture, Purvi, I'm telling you...it was the texture of the Saree that made me cry. Suddenly i realized that i couldn't feel my emotions like i felt the Saree...I honestly can't feel anything..for anyone...for anything. I just don't care anymore"
This is Shruti's story. Somewhere yours and mine too. The things we do to each other. We ravage and inflict on each other's minds. Imposing, snatching, scratching and hurting...so much!
Shruti's story is not over. Not yet. Look out for more.
