My third attempt in a row and I was the least eager to finish it even this time. Few pages were still blank with only blotted ink stains and crumbled folds soaked in unknown passions.
Twelveth page. The first time when my eloquency got hindered as I tried ceaselessly to describe them both, yet exact words couldn’t describe the song of their arrival.
Fifty second page.Only a few scribbles of my deranged mind.Again the wordsmith died a futile end in me as I tried to elucidate the clamour of my heart beats when both of them promised not to leave me alone.
One thirty-second page.This day I came to know both of their names and they reverberated in my mind each time I repeated them.A dual essence was diffusing in my blood- one drew me near to an unending abyss while the other held my hand and balanced my steps.His glances drained me of words that even this page went blank.
Two fiftieth.Now I was gradually growing close to both, learning to live with them.While one ripped my soul, interrupted my spirit, I drew solace in the other. He elevated my thoughts, gave them the flight of stairs to reach out to his love that finally this page had a poem! I was dying for one but in the grips of the other.Pages refused to stay as blank sheets now, when words dissolved in his love and hostility for the other crystallised on those papers.He advanced and the other retreated.
By the end of my autobiography, the last 369th page was incomplete.Both of them let their promises rot now.Each departed.One was supposed to but not the other.His reason was I didn’t let him know of the other one in my life: Cancer.The antagonist of my novel. Unlikely, yet I haven’t let the flicker of hope die in me. Maybe not now, but sometimes then he will return to harmonise his love with the refrain that is playing softly in my heart. And will fuse a riot of colours in the blotted ink.
And the story will continue from the 369th page…