Well this my second attempt at fiction.And like the first one,this one too is inspired by music.Im an eternal insomniac,and to beat that I listen to music all the time really, but esp. at night.And more than often,it inspire me.The inspiration behind ’the going away’ was a James Blunt song: I really want you(lines: I killed a man,from the far away land,my enemy im told). I was listening to the legendary John Lennon the other day and his song ‘Love’ transported me to a place I had been 3 years ago. I could just see that beach.And the cafe….and the rest of this just flowed:
He liked the night-time breeze on his face when he found rhythm in his jog. It was awfully humid on the beach, streaks of sweat had already started rolling down his left ear. But it did not bother him. He liked this sea-side stretch that was developed so beautifully. Besides his mind was busy trying to match the rhythm of the song in his ears to the rhythm of his trot. He feared the roaring sound of the sea at night, esp. at this beach which was rocky and wasn’t considered safe. So, everyday, his iPod accompanied him to his odd hour jogging sprees. He had just picked up rhythm when suddenly ‘Love is real, real is love’….John Lennon started playing in his ears. He froze in his path. This was one of her favourites; he thought…how the hell did this end up in my running playlist! But one thing he knew, his run was definitely over. ‘Love is wanting…wanting to be loved’. He walked to the nearest bench and sat down. He put the song to play in loop and shut his eyes. They had heard the song so many times together. ‘Love is free, free is love’. Every thought of her still made him smile. He wasn’t angry on her. He knew she didn’t like him anymore. He understood, that could happen to anyone. It had happened to him before. He had stopped loving his ex-girl friend, because she was too much whiny and abusive. He couldn’t be with her. But this time it’s different, he had thought to himself…he had met the sweetest person. Her smile was like sunshine, and her laughter like music. That’s why it was so hard for him to understand why it had happened, what had happened. She had abandoned him. Yet again love had eluded him. ‘Love is reaching…reaching love’. It has been months, he thought…and I haven’t even seen her beautiful face. I’d call you, she’d said. He never believed it…and she didn’t mean it. Now, listening to the song, it was all coming back to him. The pain was blinding, but really it opened his eyes to the real world. ‘Love is knowing….we can be’. He smirked at this line. Well, he thought, one thing for sure, I would never really have the ‘knowing’ Lennon was singing about. He knew and believed love was just an illusion, at least for him. He looked at the sea-side La Café on his right and then the Gandhi statue on his left. He took a deep breath and checked his watch. It was 11.03. He quickly looked at the café again…it was still bustling. I could use a coffee, he thought. Coffee did to him what alcohol did to other people. ‘Love is asking,… to be loved’. He had lost the count of how many times the song had played. He switched it off…he could now hear the sound of the waves.
He walked towards the café, but before entering, he faced the sea and just stood there silently….soaking in. Suddenly he didn’t know why he had feared the sound of the waves so much all these years. He stepped inside. ‘Love is real, real is love’. No, the song wasn’t playing in the café (!!!!), just inside his head. It seemed to have stuck on the first line. ‘Love is real, real is love’. Lennon’s enchanting voice was filling his head…but wait, what was that crackling sound. He was alarmed, and the Lennon in his mind stopped singing. He looked towards the origin of the noise. Some girl, who was obviously engrossed in reading, had dropped her cup. And now, with everyone staring, she was embarrassed to bits. She was almost to tears. She looked at everyone looking at her…and then she saw this stranger, with a chuckle on his face, not anger and irritation like everyone else. She heaved a sigh and gave him half of a confused smile. ‘Love is real, real is love’.
He went over to pick up the pieces of her shattered cup and…his probably shattered heart!
‘Love is real, real is love’.
(to be continued…)
Calling for feedback!!