(Series) Chapter 10: Ego and pride

It is a scientific fact that when your room is cold, you tend to have nightmares. Which was quite poetic as in the month of December, where the whole country was experiencing cold chills, I experienced my life turning into a nightmare. Her flight was on first of January, and all I could think was; how could she do this to me? I had arranged my apartment with balloons and flowers and ribbons. I had placed scented candles with two cushions on the floor. In my mind, I just wanted to move past the drama of her parents and all the crying of yesterday. However, she had to ruin it all by moving to U.S.A.

‘How could you be so inconsiderate?’ I shouted at her, throwing my spoon on the floor. I saw, my outburst visibly shook her, but I was too convulsed with rage to be in my senses. In one quick movement I got up and walked into my room and locked it. I stood leaning on the closed door clinching my fist, trying to control my exasperation. Few minutes later there was a knock on the door. A brittle sweet voice was trying to get me to open the door. I sat on the cold floor leaning on the knocking door as I tried to reason with myself. I wanted to open the door and get a warm hug from the person standing on the other side. Yet my inflated ego somehow managed to keep getting in my way. My mind was beating down with two things. (1) She is moving to U.S.A. in less than a week and (2) she didn’t even discuss this with me. These words kept getting me angrier each time I thought about it.
‘Please open the door Arush,’ she said. I think she was crying as her voice kept breaking. I didn’t want her to cry, yet I was tired with all the emotional pile-drivers I was getting all this week. (1) My ex getting married, and then (2) Pooja’s parents suddenly decided their daughter is old enough to get married. I sat on the floor wondering, why is every girl who I was or currently in a relationship is being hunted by the institution of marriage.

Every few moments she would knock on the door and whisper, ‘I love you, please open the door. I finally succumbed to her relentlessness as I opened the door to see her standing there looking at me searching for acceptance. I wiped away her warm tears with my finger and kissed her on her cheeks. We hugged each other, and neither of us said anything.

It looked like we were over this fight, however I felt we weren’t. We went to bed, and my intuition was correct. As simple as not facing each other, while sleeping gave me the answers to my queries. This relationship was on the rocks.

Next day, when I woke up, she had already left. I guess she also felt that hug was an empty gesture, and I was not ready to get over the fact she was going away. I picked up my phone and there were no messages. I wanted to wish her good morning, but her leaving the apartment without telling me made me angry. I went in the bathroom to shave, and in the mirror I saw a guy who was riddled with many thoughts and was also ugly. Monotony carried me through the day, during the drive to the office, during lunch and when coming back from the office. I kept checking my phone for a message or a call. It felt like there was no Arush in Pooja’s life. This was the same girl who would wake me up by kissing me in the morning. This was the girl who would call me ten thousand times a day to know what I was doing or have I eaten my lunch. However, today I felt alone like there was never a person name Pooja in my life.

I waited till eleven for her call. As I sat in my bed, looking at my cell phone, I wanted to call her and ask if she was alright. I could have called, but she could also have called. I hate her stubbornness. I have never seen her accepting her fault, and it’s always the same, I have to apologize for everything. In our silly miff, neither of us called each other that night.

I woke up the next morning, and this morning, this morning was no different. Although, I didn’t expect any messages or miss calls, I still looked at my phone and I guess silently wished she had called. There was nothing, and truth is her stubbornness disheartened me. This is what I mean to her, I thought to myself.

The day was hectic as my boss suddenly felt I should do all the office work, asshole. I guess it was a good thing as it kept me away from thinking about her all the day. My boss kept barging in my cubical to see the progress. It is one thing to be careful, but he was acting like I was bound to make a mistake. All my anger for Pooja, shifted toward my boss.

When I came back home, I was late and famished. I was extremely tired and didn’t have the will to make something for myself. I don’t understand what it is, but even the smallest thing like being hungry made me think of her. I remembered how I would go to her apartment instead of mine, when I worked late in office. She would cook something hot and delicious for me late at night and just sit there while I ate. I missed these things.

I still had much work to do as I was not able to finish it in office. I kept crushing my keyboard and don’t quite remember when I fell asleep.

Next morning, I found it hard to get myself out of the bed, and I felt like puking. I slowly got myself out to the kitchen to make some coffee. As I took the first sip, I had to dash to the bathroom to vomit, half of the reason was the awful coffee I made. I stayed in the bathroom for another half an hour and vomited three more times. I somehow made to my bed and dropped unconscious.

It was about twelve-ish when I regained my consciousness and I had more than fifteen missed calls. I had a smile for few seconds as I felt I had suddenly become popular. With drowsy eyes and no strength in my body, I clicked on the missed calls. In milliseconds between the click and the showing of logs, my heart wished for Pooja’s name to be in the list of miss calls. It was just wishful thinking, as all the calls were from my boss and few from my colleagues. I called back my boss and told him, I am severely ill. He was kind enough to give me a day off, but asked me to send the reports that I had to finish yesterday. A good thing was I had completed them before I went to sleep last night.

As I mailed my work, my weary legs had to gather up some more strength to take me to the bathroom yet again. This time I was going to vomit from the other side. It felt like my body just wanted to remove everything inside, along with my stomach and intestines.

I called up Sagar and explained my situation. After few jokes and mocking, he hung up the phone and soon enough he was standing outside to take me to the hospital. The doctor explained I had food poisoning. The empty stomach, vomiting and diarrhoea had all aggravated the situation. I remembered I had only eaten samosa chutney yesterday, but I didn’t think it would be the reason for my untimely demise. For the next two days, I came in and out of consciousness, and most of my waking moments were trips to the toilet, best New Year’s Eve ever. My cell phone battery had died and even on asking Sagar to bring my charger, he forgot.


To be continued . . . 


  1. Ahhh Arjuun!
    His story really is driving me in expectation!
    Here in Brazil had some newspapers that had stories and people were anxious hoping to buy the next edition of the newspaper.
    I like how do you put funny phrases in the middle of the drama of history.
    Very Good!!

    1. Heheh, thanks Cristina. I was writing this in the wee hours of the night. Well I was imagining it and it became kind of sad. Therefore I started adding funny phases. :D

  2. It's imprеssive that you aгe getting thoughts from this post as ѡell
    as from oսr discussion made at this time.

    My web-sitе; no credit - ,


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Short story : The passionate first kiss

Short story : Death of a relationship

Was it a date or not?