Black or White

It is all about making choices about the many paths that life has to offer. For some, they chose the way and for some path chooses them. I belong to the latter ones. The destiny always sets my paths. I have no option but to walk. Not walking or standing still, is never an option. Life doesn’t give that chance to anyone. Either you live, or you die. There is no in-between.

I don’t have many complaints from life. I just walked on the paths thinking that it will lead me to the garden of roses, red roses. But the path to the garden was swamped with thorns of guilt and regret. I don’t know if it was right to go with the flow or should I had interjected. But how can I, a mortal fight with life, destiny or my karma? I was searching for a glimpse of happiness, and in Sanjay, I saw a little window of sunshine.

The rising sun brings some amount of guilt everyday morning. And I hide behind façade of yoga, a million cups of coffee and piles and piles of books as if someday it will stop rising in my chest.

The alarm clock buzzed. It was a Friday morning. My colleagues usually wear casuals to work on Fridays. But Friday is my day. I overdress up as my colleagues say. I open my cupboard and see white tussar with black Kantha work smiling at me if saying wear me today while the black tussar with white temple border peeping from the other pile of sarees.

So, it was white tussar today, the one that Sanjay got from Kolkatta. Life is tough, and the choices it gives are even rigid. They are not about choosing black Kundan jhumkas or white silver earrings, isn’t it?

Sanjay is supposed to pick me up today from work. Every Friday, he picks me up from office at 5. He comes straight from the airport, and then we go for coffee and then go for play at Mandi House or some art exhibition at one of the art galleries. Saturday is usually spent at home in his arms, cuddled up together till late evening. He makes dinner for me at night. Sunday mornings are reserved for morning walks at Lodhi Garden, a little bit of shopping at Delhi Haat and the day again ends in his arms. He usually takes Monday morning flight, back to his place. This is our Friday to Sunday ritual for almost eleven years.

Sanjay was my classmate at the university. He was my best friend and my soul-mate. Due to many reasons, the social and religious norms could not tie the two soul mates in the threads of matrimony. We both married as per the wishes of the family. We were both made to believe that their desire is our wish. We bowed down, and as destiny had it, we both got married on the same day to our respective partners. Fate played its role, once more when our marriages failed, or we failed our respective partners. All this while, we were not in touch with each other, so it is not wise to blame our failed marriages on each other.

We met at a reunion party after a month of his second marriage to his junior colleague. Every memory, every moment and every tear shed was fresh still. In the wee hours of the morning, long after the party ended, he dropped me home. It was Friday evening, and he went back to his home on Monday morning. Since then he is coming to Delhi on Friday evening when the Sun sets and leaves before the Sun rises on Monday.

Will he come on today, I don’t know. Only the setting sun will tell. But for the time being, it’s almost 5 pm. I have to rush to Gate number 4 at Lodhi Gardens, where Sanjay must be waiting for me. Or I’ll be waiting for him.

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