OK. Here goes the second part. This is a slight reference to a player who taught me the meaning of hero-worship. Could not help adding it here😛
Keep your views coming😊
Part 2
He held the newspaper in his hands for longer than usual. "The
master-blaster retires" read the headlines. And like millions in the
country, he could not help but feel nostalgic. His childhood
memories,his college canteen revelries was associated with Sachin.
He could remember the arguments he had had with Rathore,the
excitement they shared at his century,the disappointment at his
dismissal. Roshini had been a part of it as well. She was never fond of
cricket,but for him she had made it a part of her life as well. He had
patiently taught her the game,made her sit through the
matches,celebrated the victories together.
Though his life had ended much before Sachin's career,he could
tangibly feel those moments which had been made memorable by the
little man. But unlike the rest of cricket fans,he could not look behind
with a smile.For even this memory was blemished. It had darkness and
gloom written all over it. So in spite of a 24 years of cricket
memories,Arjun was saddled with the worst of them- of the day when
life suddenly stopped making sense.
No,it was not the day the tragedy unfolded.That was the day when the knife pierced through him. It
was the day after.Thats when the blood flowed out slowly.
Arjun had just returned from the hospital,bandages covering every
external wound. He normally opened the main door of his abode and
walked in. The medicines had made him numb both physically and
mentally,thus he was not able to think much. Which was a blessing for
him. Because the loss had not been soaked in yet. He still could not
figure the overnight change in his life. He had a shower and walked
into the balcony. He was having trouble recalling the incident.
Everything just felt like a bad dream. He was almost sure that he would
just wake up and everything would be normal again. This has to be a
dream-was all his mind repeated. Then why didn't Roshini walk up to
him yet was a question he did not want to answer.
He suddenly heard a lot of noise below his balcony. The children were
celebrating Sachin's century. He felt a familiar tinge of excitement,but it
drowned immediately. He knew the days of such trivial joys were over.
But he did not want to accept it. For this had to be a bad dream.
A regular alarm on his phone rang. It read-4 PM-Pick Roshini from the
Arts Academy. Though he immediately switched it off knowing the
futility of it,a part of him was telling him to take his car keys out as she
must be waiting for him. For this had to be a bad dream.
The door bell rang. DIG Cohelo walked in. They sat together for a long
time with a piercing silence. DIG cleared his throat and began
"Arjun,we need the details...
Arjun looked up distracted- "About?"
"About..what happened...last night..."
Arjun looked away. So,this was not a bad dream.
"I will fill in the details myself"-was all he managed to stutter.
Though, against the protocol DIG left the file with him.
At the door,he turned towards Arjun, placed his hand on his shoulder
and said- "The postmortem is done. You can collect the..ah..the.."
Arjun felt his kees collapsing and held on to the door. He nodded and
closed the door behind him and sat there on the floor,all night long.
This was the beginning of his sleepless nights. But there was a
difference. There was no rage,no pain,no anger,no grief yet. It was just
plain disbelief. Disbelief at the possibility of actually being separated
from her. Disbelief at the prospect of never ever meeting her again.
Disbelief at the proposal of spending his entire life without his life.
This was not the silence before the storm,this was the calm epicenter
of the storm. For from tomorrow the madness of revenge will give
company to the grief of loss. But today he was dealing with the bitter
truth that there was no waking up from this bad dream.
Edited by Sadhana_pr - 12 years ago
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