MaNan SS||*New Life with Shrink*||Chap 14:pg 85(22-04) - Page 21

Originally posted by: Drashtiii

Your pout has surely melted me. .
Dnt wry, i will wait for u to come back. .
And ya do let me know so that i will start to pm you. .
Till then my pms wonts be there to disturb you. .lol. .
Thoda zyada tha na but i am no where to be blamed its coz writing such story. .lol

Originally posted by: Vidhiarora1

Wowww

Very interesting concept yr

Something really different yr

Do pm me next part pretty pretty please

Eagerly waiting for next part dear

Vidhi

Him, her, his, he... karke bohot confuse kiya na maine.??!!😡😭

Last update of manik's pov was enough for intro of manik? Comment me batana okay.?😕

Chapter 5

Something Died

It has been 4 weeks since I had slept properly. At times when I fell asleep tired of thinking all the things happening in my life, it was not more than couple of hours. The thoughts were like wild horses on a racing spree. The more I tried, the faster they seem to gallop. I was so exhausted with the thoughts I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to shout at my thoughts to stop harassing me and let me be at peace. But they would go no where. I tried counting sheep, goat, cow almost every possible animal just to get some peaceful sleep. Sometimes I felt those sheep turning into dragons and started free roaming on their own as if my mind was their universe. With a continuous, carnivsaleque atmosphere inside my head, falling asleep seemed like a remote dream. I was aware of course that it was not real' and it existed only in my thoughts but oh, it was so beautiful all the same!

I had always been meticulous about keeping my room tidy. But with so many activities like running, writing poems and studying, I was becoming less sensitive to my surroundings, especially my room. I simply could not be bothered to tidy up and put away stuff. I found there were a million more interesting things to do.There were piles of books strewn across. There were train tickets and bus tickets lying on the table. There were at least five uncleared, empty coffee mugs. I had no idea how many cups of coffee I had consumed, on the nights that I stayed up writing poetry. There were a few uncleared plates too with residues of food on it, which I had shoved under the bed. My room was increasingly beginning to resemble the chaos that was going on inside my mind.

I was becoming increasingly disregardful of my appearance too. I had lost a lot of weight. My already thin frame now looked positively haggard. My eyes took a haunted appearance. Ye t they glowed with a kind of energy. But these days I simply could not meet my own eyes in the mirror. As soon as I saw my reflection while brushing my teeth, I would look away hastily, averting my own glance. I hated looking at myself and so I managed with the bare minimum of personal grooming. I simply did not care anymore.

When I came back one evening, my room was spotless. But there was an uneasy death like silence in the house. One look at my parents' face and I knew something was wrong. My dad's face was as black as storm clouds. My mother was glaring at me angrily, her eyes glowering with rage. I was quite sure that they were angry because I had procrastinated cleaning my room endlessly that they had been forced to do it. I was getting ready to apologize.

That was when I saw it. The letter that HE had written to me in blood was laid out on the centre table in the drawing room. Just a glance at it and I felt I had been jabbed hard in the stomach. I sucked in my breath, my heart beating at a furious pace. I swallowed and I opened my mouth and closed it. I did not know what to say. I was speechless. I was shocked that my parents had discovered it. I had never anticipated that. Earlier I had been careful about locking up my cupboard and carrying the key with me when I left home. But lately, I had become careless about that too. Getting a letter like this from a guy and then shamelessly holding on to it, was the ultimate sin a well brought up Indian girl could commit, in their books. To them, it was unforgivable that their daughter whom they trusted so much had done this. One part of me was terrified of their wrath. But another was also numb with the pain of seeing that letter again. It brought back all the memories of the time when I had seen the letter and first gone to HIS house. It reminded me of the afternoon that I had spent with HIM, in HIS house.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" My dad thundered.

"Is this what we sent you to college for?" My mother added.

"Who is this fellow? And what is this writing in blood? Bloody mad bast**d. How dare he?" My dad was so angry that he was choking on his own words. He was shaking with rage.

"And have you written back to him, you shameless girl?" my mom berated me.

I did not know what to say. There was a huge wave of sadness brewing. How could my father address HIM that way? How dare they go though my personal stuff? How could they rob me of my privacy like this and then question me? I was not a child anymore. I was 21 and I could even marry now and they would not be able to stop me.

HE is not a mad bas***d, dad. HE IS DEAD. I wanted to say it but the words stuck somewhere in my throat and did not come out.

My mother looked at me and addressed my dad, "Look at her standing like that. Look at her insolence. She should hang her head in shame. Look at her attitude and her silence. Who the hell does she think she is?"

My silence aggravated her anger even more.

"Answer, you shameless wh**e," she yelled as she shoved me hard. I stepped sideways by the impact of her push. "We did not bring you up for this. Where is this fellow? What is your relationship with him? Are you planning to get married?" she thundered.

My parents were both looking at me now, waiting for me to speak. How could I explain a thing like love to them? Their middle class values, their proper Indian upbringing and everything they stood for, had no place for trivialities like love and romance. If it happened, you pretended it didn't. You brushed it aside and moved on, as life was hard. You studied, you got a job and you got married to the person your parents chose for you. That is what they expected and that is what their way of life was. There was no way they would understand passion, love and emotions.

"He is dead," I finally managed to say

I did not have the courage to explain HIS death to them. My mother had presumed I was being discourteous and clammed up when I said that he was dead. I let her think so. It was easier than talking about it.

"Have you ever considered the consequences of keeping this letter?" asked my dad.

"Is there anything more you have to tell us?" my mother asked.

"No," I said.

"What about these letters then?" she said and that was when I noticed that they had all Vaibhav's letters as well. I had neatly filed them away date wise and the file was now on the sofa in my living room.

"How many guys will you trap with your wily charms, you stupid little tramp?" My mother almost spat out.

Till now I was having this vague feeling in my mind but now when my mother actually spoke that. I was certain about me being it. I knew she was not entirely correct. It was not as if I had actively pursued or wooed any of these guys. It was they who had pursued me. I had not trapped them in any way. In HIS'S case I had not even told HIM I loved HIM. The logical part of me said that I was not responsible in any way. But there was no escape from the feelings that I was to blame in some way. Feelings are powerful and logic was crushed under its weight. I was governed by them, not by logic.

"There is only one thing to do now," said my dad. "I want you to promise me that you will stop all this letter writing nonsense. Fortunately, we are far away from Kerala. Nobody should come to know of this. If they do, our family name is gone. We are your parents. We have to think of your future. "

How could I promise them when I don't even trust myself.

"Come here." they said and lead me to kitchen's balcony.

There was a bottle of kerosene in the corner, along with the household cleaning liquids. In almost a flash he had poured some of it on the letters which he had taken out from the file. He threw them on the floor of the balcony. He then struck a match and the flames gobbled up the paper like a hungry monster devouring its prey. It was then that it struck me what he had done. But it was too late now. On top of the pile was HIS'S letter .I watched HIS'S bloodsoaked words going up in flames. The lump in my throat felt like it would explode. But I did not cry.

I went to my room and lay down. I felt empty. A huge, dark void was inside me now. It was like a phantom pain which amputees experience when a limb is cut off. The limb does not exist anymore but the pain they feel in that limb which no longer exists is very real. I wanted it to stop. I wanted no more of this agony. I curled up my fist as tightly as I could and the finger nails dug deep into the flesh of my palm. I did it again and again. I could bear this. It was not like the phantom pain which was terrifyingly unbearable. I made my way to the bathroom and opened the cabinet which had cotton and Dettol. I applied undiluted Dettol directly on the cut. It stung sharply and almost burnt. Oddly, I felt comforted.

My parents had no idea what I had just done. I felt happy that this was one thing they could do nothing about. Their reading of HIS and Vaibhav's letters had made me feel so violated. This was my body and I could do what I wanted with it. At that moment I really wanted to get back at them.

"Ha ha Ma, look at me now" I wanted to say. "What are you going to do about this, eh Ma?" I wanted to taunt.

With this I went off to sleep. Like before it did not come at all. Earlier I used to be comforted by the phantasmagorical creatures. But they had gone now. They had been replaced by blackness and a void. All I could hear now inside my head were agonising screams of the letters as they burnt. Each letter was screaming as it burnt, "save me, save me, please let me live". But I was silent as I watched each one dying a slow painful death.

Something inside me had died that day along with those letters. What it was, I couldn't tell.

Manik's Pov

"Manik atleast meet her once. What if she is waiting for you" Cabir said

"Cabir I said she has forgotten me.she didn't even looked at me while passing by. I don't even know whether she has received my letter or not! Probably it felt she thinks I am dead" I said what I felt though I was confused as he struck the correct chord of my mind. "what if she is actually waiting for me" I thought

To be continued...

Okay guys. I couldn't wait to upload this part so I started writing it last night and completed it in the noon. I guess instead of you I am more excited to upload fast.lol😆

Anyways how was the update. See I actually showed the true feelings of a parents when they find child writing letters that too to a guy. Tell me if I went a little overboard in Nandu's parents reaction.😲

Okay now the turn begins of her life as you can see that dettol and pain scene. Nandu has started to act weird. From next update she will get worse.😲