A Summon From Beyond The Grave

Ashok reached her apartment in one hour after he left the airport. He opened the door with his spare key.

For a moment he stood in the middle of the room holding the unopened package feeling dislocated. The room was empty. Their memories scrubbed and washed away hidden under the newly installed carpet. The walls that stood witness to their passion regained its innocence in the purity of fresh white paint.

He sat in the middle of the floor crying silently. Only there could he unleash his sorrow. His remorse. He bottled it inside of him and kept the pain at bay until now. He let his tears fall calling out her name.

He undid the bow that tied the package. He caressed the worn out leather covering the diary, wiped it every time his tears fall on it. A slim silky ribbon attached to it parted the notebook in the middle. He opened it to where it was marked. A letter fell from between the pages. He picked it up. His hands trembled while he read it.

Suicide is an act of revenge. We discussed this a few times. And agreed on this. It is meant to punish the one you felt had wronged you by burdening their conscience forever.

We laughed at tragic lovers. We promised never to fall into melodrama. Who knew. I never thought I’ll get waylaid by an emotion like this.

You broke a promise. This is my way of getting even. I will do this out of spite not love. I will not be generous. I will not wish you well. I wish you emptiness, I wish your life will be haunted by my grief.

You shook your head at those who take the easy way out. To those who put a period on their life story by a noose on the ceiling fan. You thought they were weak. But you are weak. I will do this to mock you.

If there is hell will you rescue my soul and follow me? Will you be brave this time? In our next life will you search for me? Will you choose me then?

I will wait for you Ashok.


A Parallel Life

©JMKhapra

A Package A Suicide

Ashok received the package with a thundering heart. He signed the form, thank the courier man and hurriedly went inside his home office.

He recognized the stamp coming from her country but the return address was not familiar to him. He placed the brown package on his desk and opened his laptop.

Until now he haven’t had the courage to open the e-mail she sent him. He had been postponing it for weeks afraid to find a summon from her. Afraid that if she ask him to come he would not be able to stop himself from running to her and throwing his mediocre life away to be with her forever. Not a day went by that he did not long for her. Long to be with her.

With trembling hands he clicked the e-mail she sent him. He read it slowly not comprehending for a brief moment. Then when the meaning of the message finally dawned on him the shock that went through his being almost stopped his heart from beating.

She’s dead. We found her lifeless in her apartment. She killed herself. In the letter she left for me she asked that I send her diary to you. I am her sister and I so loathe you. I hope you suffer as much as she did.

Ashok stared at the package lying on the desk, unable to move.

” What did you get? I saw the courier guy leaving. ” His wife Ayesha came into the room wiping her hands with a towel. Her gaze fell upon the package.

” Oh, who is it from? ” Ayesha reached out to touch the package but Ashok snatched it away before she could. Without answering her he opened his small metallic safe and locked away the package there.

Ashok took his car keys from the desk. ” I’m going out. Don’t wait for me.” He tried to control his voice from breaking walking fast almost half ran towards the garage.

Ayesha followed him until the gate, frowning.

A Parallel Life

© JMKhapra