He Left Me

"We had been married for ten years and lived in a sprawling property in the hills of Kodaikanal. Aryaman had been running this boutique hotel since his last few generations. It had now been given the tag of a heritage property as well. Business was good and we were well settled. We would travel abroad every six months, the children were in the best of schools in the country and life was extremely comfortable.

It is rightly said that when the fight is not about the money, it becomes about trivial things. And that is what happened. Other people came in between this beautiful relationship."

Some things break with a loud noise and some, just with a whimper. And some, just fade into oblivion. That is what happened between Shyla and Aryaman. Things just died like wet wood and refused to rekindle. In due course, after dragging the dead weight for two more years, Aryaman took up the project in Norway. The initial period was for six months, but when it got extended without any raised eyebrows from either one of them, nobody had a clue. It just happened on its own and they just adjusted to this lifestyle. Or rather, life without each other.

Yet, the love remained. The love which would raise its voice inside the thick blankets in the winter or a cup of coffee on a sunny morning. It would creep in from nooks and corners, wanting to be heard. It was all over the place, yet hidden. Sometimes it would come out in full bloom like the bunches of the mesembryanthemums. It would spring into action and the battery of thoughts would help it blossom till it would fill the very being of Shyla. In moments like these, she would be lost in her own world, waiting for the emotional upheaval to die on its own. Some days, it would take longer than usual and today was one of them. It was this desire which manifested today that she found him standing right opposite her. He had come back and for good. The mixed bag had a lot to hold after these years and it burst open, spilling its contents on the floor. Some were carried away with the wind, much like the dandelion. Some stuck to her flowing skirt and others, to his rugged chin."

"Was this a culmination of sorts? Would she be ready to give this love another chance?"

These were questions that would find answers later. Right now, she found herself reeling under the familiar musky fragrance, which rested on his lapel. Time had had its way. In time.

By - Manisha Mahajan

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