Sunday 1 March 2015

Prose 500 2015 Longlist, Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra

A Pyromaniac’s Whimsy

The cold steel bit harshly against his skin; leaving a trail of oozing red crimson behind as he dragged the knife across his hand. This was indeed a painstaking process but nevertheless it was his medium to release the pain or rather divert his heart-ache to a different kind of pain; the more bearable kind.
Cutting doesn’t help now.
He was scarred from within; his self inflicted wounds did heal with time, but his heart-ache did not. His hand was covered with cuts and scars intertwined. Overwhelmed, one day he vehemently decided to end everything and follow her pursuit. He was obsessed and intoxicated with her.

He met her only a month ago and things have been different for him ever since; he could find inspiration and motivation in everything. Love truly changes a person-he felt it first hand; a recluse and a loner since the beginning he had begun going out. She changed him; first for the better then for the worse. She came into his life as unexpectedly as she left.
“I don’t have much time to meet, please be on time. I don’t want to waste any time waiting for you.”
These were the exact words she said on the day they were going to meet for the first time; sadly he reached late and he felt miserable at the fact that she had to wait. He even doubted the fact any girl would wait for their date to arrive and came to the conclusion; she was the one for him. They talked for hours before bidding adieu. It was the best day of his life and he hoped it was the same for her as well. 

“Have you heard the song All of me by John Legend?”
“No, why?”
“Listen now and tell me…I’m waiting”
He despised keeping her waiting and frenetically opened a tab in his browser…
“Heard yet?” she was getting visibly impatient.
“‘Cause all of me; loves all of you…”
“You’re my downfall, you’re my muse; my worst distraction, my rhythm and blues…” she said ever so mellifluously.

Teary eyed he watched ‘her card’ burn into ashes. Yes he was a pyromaniac, another reason to burn the stupid thing down. The gloomy and stygian room revealed its murky contour for some time as the card got engulfed into flames. He did not bat an eyelid until the card was nothing but ashes. He noticed the words on the card ‘my worst distraction, my rhythm and blues’ and could not help but smile at the irony.
But what he did not notice was the curtain hanging perilously close to the fire.

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