Sample Copy Not For Distribution m hu jiwan kis or ja raha h, Na soch h yaha, na kuch samajh aa raha...

Sample Copy Not For Distribution

i

The Silent Love


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Publishing-in-support-of,

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING

RZ 94, Sector - 6, Dwarka, New Delhi - 110075 Shubham Vihar, Mangla, Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh - 495001

Website: www.educreation.in __________________________________________________

© Copyright, Author

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, optical, chemical, manual, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of its writer.

ISBN: 978-1-61813-367-0

Price: ` 225.00

The opinions/ contents expressed in this book are solely of the author and do not represent the opinions/ standings/ thoughts of Educreation.

Printed in India


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The silent love A tale of two heart

Subhansh Sahai,

Rakesh Singh

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING (Since 2011)

www.educreation.in


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v

Special thanks

The first few people who come in my mind when I think

of thanking for the completion of this novel are:-

Kuldeep, Zoya and Priyanka.

No, they were not my best friends till a few months

back, but now I can’t even imagine what the status of

this novel would have been if it was not for them. They

are the staff of Chicago pizza, crown interiorz mall

Mathura road Faridabad.

I want to thank Kuldeep for not throwing me out of

the shop, as all that I ordered in the 8 hours that I spent

there was an espresso. Many days I won’t even order

that.

I would like to thank Priyanka for keeping my

favorite table vacant on the days when I used to get late,

as she knew that I will write only when I am sitting

there.

And a special thanks to Zoya, as she gave me two

things that were most important for me during those

days. The first one is the out of the world espresso that

she used to make personally and the second one is her

smile. While typing non-stop for 8 hours and that to

many days in a stretch, I used to get frustrated and one

look at her ever smiling face was all it took to through

away that negativity.

At last I want to thank the franchise-owner of

Chicago pizza as he has lost a lot of business because I

had occupied one of his tables for 50

days non-stop and not even ones did he ask me to

vacate the seat.


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About The Author

Subhansh as he describes himself is an accidental

engineer and an artist by choice. He says that he does not

know how to imagine a story; he just sees stories around

himself and writes them down in his laptop.

P


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About The Book

What happens when you wake up one fine day and

realise that you are all grown up, like 7-8 years older

than what you think you should be. You don't remember

what has happened in the past few years and you come

across a diary in your handwriting. It tells you about the

only person that you remember. You think that one

might be happy, but what if the series of events that

follow, reveal that you are not who you think you are???

Confused?? Read on to clear your confusion.

P


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xi

31st May 2012

Lying on my roof, I stared at the vast black canvas, stars

sprayed randomly all over it. I could easily relate to the

sky, as my life in itself, was in no way different from it.

Entirely filled with darkness, with few happy moments

with Vani that motivated me to live on and a moon like

glow of a hope, that one day she would walk into my life

and end the loneliness spread over my heart and then

would never leave it. The following lines written by my

younger brother clearly implied my state of mind:

dil k suro k kuch saaz likh raha hu,

Baitha hu tanha kuch aaj likh raha hu,

Soch m hu jiwan kis or ja raha h,

Na soch h yaha, na kuch samajh aa raha h,

Pareshaniyo k bhawar m fir aaj fas raha hu,

baitha hu tanha kuch aaj likh raha hu...

It was 31st may 2013. That day I was alone at my house.

My family was out of station, off to a relative's place and

I was free to do anything that I wished to do. I was lying

on my roof enjoying the night.

The breeze brought with it, the sweet smell of the

Madhumalti flowers planted in front of my house. The

same smell, the same weather that had forced me into

another, not so good state of mind (Wait for 'just love is

not enough') and would have led me to such a state that I

would not have been able to share with you, the story


xii

which was about to unfold in front of me in the next few

hours.

I laid there looking into nowhere, a cigarette

between my fingers, the smoke making rings as it

vanished in the oblivion, the tobacco casting its spell,

feebly aware of my surroundings, my heart wondering

into the past bringing along with it a familiar and

unbearable pain. It was funny though, that I had started

to enjoy this pain. The flood of memories brought with it

the following lines into existence:

Baitha rahu teri yadon m,

teri yaden he dil ko jalaye,

yaad teri aaye

jab yaad teri aaye...

m usko hardum hasata raha,

mujko tanha koi jo mil jaye,

par raton m tanha he roya karu,

mujhe yaad teri jo sataye,

yad teri aaye

dil ko tanha kar jaaye...

yaad teri aaye...

jab yaad teri aaye...

aankho k aansu bhi sookh gaye,

khushiya bhi raas na aaye,

tu jo ho sang to ye gum bhi hasin,

bin tere khushiya bhi na bhaye,

tu jo mil jaaye...

khushiyan jiwan m aaye...

yaad teri aaye...


xiii

jab yaad teri aaye...'

Deeply engrossed in my past I was dragged into the

reality by the sound of a song:

'ulajhta rahu, jhulasta rahu, teri chahat m jiyu, m

jine ki khwahish m jalta raha, ye kaisi khalish, ye m

karta hu kyu, ishq tere jalwe, har pahar dil m palwe'

from the movie 'Ye Saali Zindagi'.

This was my phone ringing.

Who could call me this late in the night' I thought.

I took my Huawei accent in my hand and looked at

the caller id, which showed 'DEVDAS'.

Why am I not surprised at all?' I smiled.

DEVDAS is the nickname I had given to Rishi, a

friend of mine.

He had this habit of calling me at such odd hours

for useless reasons. For instance, the last time that he

had called me it was 2'O clock in the morning. He had

called just to ask what pneumatic meant, which of course

I did not know.

When I asked him why he wanted to know about it?

He said because there is some company in Noida that

manufactured pneumatic machinery. He had called me

despite the fact that he had a computer and an internet

connection in the very room in which he slept.

My experience with him told me that he was calling

me for some such silly reason. But as always, Mr. Fate

had decided to prove me wrong one more time.

'Hello...' I said as soon as I picked up the call

waiting to hear some stupid question from his side.

'Hello… Akki' he said in a shaky voice.

'Oh My God! Rishi are you drunk?' I asked hardly

able to believe my ears.


xiv

Of all the guys that I knew, Rishi was the last

person whom I could imagine being drunk, but yet, here

he was talking to me on phone, totally wasted, at least he

sounded like it.

'What's up man? What happened?' I asked as my

mind raced up to think of any valid reason as to why he

was drunk, in which of course it failed.

'Can you pick me up?' he asked again in the same

shaky voice.

'What? Like now?' I stammered.

'Yes, is there a problem?' he asked.

'No, not at all'

'But where are you?' I asked as I was sure that he

was somewhere outdoors as I was able to hear the sound

of the crickets and that of crying dogs every now and

then.

'I am outside Meethapur shamshanghat' he replied

in such a casual way as if it was absolutely normal for

someone to sit outside the cemetery after midnight.

'What! What the hell are you doing outside a

cemetery?' I asked horrified by the mere thought of the

thought of being there. Being outdoors at such hours is

another thing but outside the cemetery, Rishi was

pushing me beyond what I could ever have imagined.

It is worth mentioning that Rishi is a very

adventurous guy but he too had his limits.

Mountain climbing and bungee jumping in

themselves were enough to give him the jitters and here

the guy was calling me sitting outside a cemetery at such

an odd hour.

'Nothing…by the way I hope uncle and aunty won't

mind?' he said not wanting to upset them.

'Actually they are out of station and I am alone at

my house' I said feeling relived about the absence of my


xv

parents, as explaining them where I was going at such

odd hour was difficult in itself but bringing a drunk

friend back with me was more like walking on red hot

coal.

Though they knew Rishi, but they too would never

have imagined that he is into liquor. And even if he is

then too why he wanted to crash at my place instead of

going home that late.

'Good, then come as quickly as possible' he

requested.

'Ok, I'm on my way' I tried to assure him while

preparing myself to go to the cemetery at night. Just the

thought of going to the cemetery was giving me the

chills, I could hardly imagine how Rishi would have

been feeling had he not been high.

P


xvi


The Silent Love - A Tale of 2 Hearts

~ 1 ~

_____________________________________________

Rishi (22 may 2014)

„hey RISHI are you all right?‟ I heard someone say as

he kept a hand on my shoulder.

„rishi‟ someone else screamed on the top of their

voice sounding worried.

„who the fuck are these people‟

„where the hell am I?‟

„and why is my vision so blurred‟

„why is my head spinning‟ I thought to myself as I

stumbled.

I was damn sure that I am going to get injured by

this but someone caught hold of my head right before it

was about to hit the floor. It turned out that I was

fainting and right before I could hit the floor someone

standing there had slid below me right in time to catch

hold of my head between his lap and his hands.

„go and inform Menon sir‟

„tell him what has happened‟ screamed the guy who

had caught me.

In the small duration that my blurred vision cleared

I could see some strangers really worried about me.

„he is on his way. We have also called for an

ambulance‟ announced a much matured voice which I

later learned belonged to Arun sir.

01


Subhansh Sahai, Rakesh Singh

~ 2 ~

„move aside, let him have some fresh air‟

announced a much older voice.

„rishi can you move?‟

„do you need us to call someone to help you move?‟

the same heavy voiced man asked supporting me from

my shoulder.

My legs were still unable to hold me up but I got up

and the guy guided me down through a fleet of stairs.

With this everything went black.

P



~ 3 ~

_____________________________________________

„ahh!‟ I growled holding my head as it was hurting

badly.

I was in for a surprise as soon as my vision cleared.

I was in a room that I did not recognize. I was in a

strange room which had only two beds and two

cupboards kept in a corner. I myself was feeling a odd. I

was feeling as if I had gotten a lot heavier and bigger. I

got up holding the wall by one hand as I was still feeling

a bit dizzy. I walked towards the door. Before I could go

out I saw myself in the mirror which was mounted on

the wall just next to the door.

„what the fuck!‟

„how the hell did I grow so much‟ I stammered as

the man looking back at me from the mirror was a grown

24 years old guy. The last I remembered, I was a 15

years old guy.

„Palak…‟ I groaned.

„I had to go to meet palak, she would be leaving for

Allahabad in 3 days‟ I thought to myself.

I moved out of the room into a much bigger hall, it

was then that I realized that I was in an apartment. There

were two more rooms in the apartment, I opened the

doors of the apartment and them to be empty too.

I realized that I was the only one in the entire

apartment so I decided to move out of it.

02



~ 4 ~

While moving out of the apartment I saw a very

peculiar door mat outside the main door. I decided to

look for someone who would know who I was. More

importantly I needed someone who could tell me what

had happened to me. All the apartments on the same

floor were locked from the outside. I took the lift to the

next floor. There I was deciding which door to knock,

when I saw a similar door mat outside an apartment. I

decided to enter that apartment as I had understood there

was some common link between the apartment in which

I had woken up and this one.

The door of that apartment was open so I entered it

without thinking twice. The first door was locked so I

moved towards the next room in the apartment. It was

not locked, so I entered it.

„rishi! What are you doing here? This is girl‟s

apartment‟ screamed a girl as soon as I entered it.

„and anyways Priya‟s room is the next one‟ laughed

the other one

„uh.. sorry‟ I said immediately leaving the

apartment.

I didn‟t know who this priya was, but one thing was

clear that these girls did know me. I had also understood

that I was not meant to be in that apartment so instead of

asking them about what was going on I thought that it

was better to leave. I left the apartment and took the lift

to the ground floor to go out of the building. It was a

really beautiful society. As I moved out of the society,

the security guard saluted me. I had understood that I

must have been living there from quite some time as the

guard knew me. I was trying to decide where to go

standing at the gate when someone kept a hand on my

shoulder.

„where are you going? Come let us smoke‟



~ 5 ~

„what the hell does he mean by let us smoke? I am

just a kid‟ I thought to myself. But still I followed him

because I had understood that he knew me and he could

clearly answer the questions that I could not ask the

girls.

As soon as we reached the adjacent shop, the

shopkeeper gave him a large gold flake and me a classic

mild.

„hmm, this means that I do smoke‟ I thought to

myself.

„bro, you had us scared today‟ he said while puffing

the cigarette.

„why? what did I do to do that?‟ I asked him trying

to strike a conversation.

„bro don‟t you remember? You fainted in the class‟

he said looking at me.

„if you don‟t mind, can I ask you something?‟ I

asked him.

„sure‟ he replied a bit uncomfortable as I had had

not replied to his question.

„where am I? who are you?‟

„what the hell has happened to me? How am I so

grown up‟ I asked him giving him the shock of his life.

„I think you should come with me‟ he said throwing

his cigarette and holding me by my arm.

The shock was clearly visible on his face. He

started moving ahead guiding me. I followed him,

thinking that I would get my answers now. He took me

to the next building and we took the lift to second floor.

We stood waiting for the door of flat 204 to open after

knocking it.

An elderly man in his early 60‟s opened the gate.



~ 6 ~

„how are you rishi?‟ he asked me as soon as he saw

me.

„fine, but who are you?‟ I asked him upfront now

fed up of waiting to get my answers as palak would have

been waiting for me.

„what do you mean by who I am?‟ he asked clearly

looking tensed as 2 drops of sweat appeared on his

forehead.

„I mean who are you? And how come am I so

grown up‟ I said as I saw the drops of sweat flowing

down his forehead as more drops emerged on his

forehead.

„I am Dr. menon. I am the director of your college‟

„what is the last thing that you recall?‟ he asked

getting tensed.

I told him that I recalled being 15 years old and that

too in Delhi.

„don‟t worry I will take you to the hospital

tomorrow. Go and sleep in your room‟ he told me

indicating the guy with me to guide me to my room.

Menon sir took me to Manipal hospital where I was

diagnosed of retrograde amnesia due to emotional

trauma. I was unable to recall any incident that could

have been emotionally stressful to me. I called my father

to inform him about what all had happened in the past

two days. In the starting he did not even recognize me,

but then after 2 minutes he recognized me. Even he was

unaware of anything stressful that I might be having in

my life. The doctor said that the remaining memories

can come back in due time and he prescribed me Anti-

depressants.

I was unable to recall anything that I had studied in

that semester hence I was forced to leave my college and

head back to Delhi. While packing my stuff I came



~ 7 ~

across a diary which was packed and top of that was a

sticker which mentioned “for my best friend ever”.

„it must be for Akki. There is no other idiot who can

be my best friend‟ I said while unpacking it.

It was clear that I had packed it to give to Akki, but

the requirement of time was for me to read it as it might

help me understand the series of mishaps that had

happened with me. I kept it in my bag and decided to

read it on my way back to delhi in the flight.

„Beta, when is your flight reaching Delhi? I will ask

Akki‟s father to pick you up‟ my father told me when I

was waiting in the guest lounge at the Airport.

„dad, I‟ll book a taxi. There is no need to trouble

him‟ I said.

„he was saying that he will in Gurgaon and that he

will pick you from there. Anyways you are sick and I

don‟t want to hear anything else now‟ he said ordering

me.

I was not left with any other choice but to oblige. I

boarded the flight, which was on time and opened the

diary that I had found in my hostel room.

What unfolded on my way back was my own story

and that is what follows:

A journey of true love that a girl had for a boy, a

journey of the trust and affection that a boy had for a

girl. The journey of a true and purest form of love, a

journey of

SILENT LOVE

A tale of 2 Hearts,

P



~ 8 ~

_____________________________________________

Rishi (8 April 2007)

It was the month of April, the temperature was hot and I

was enjoying the so called famous 'Dilli ki garmi'. I lay

down in my bed sweating, a fan running on full speed on

the ceiling, fast asleep wondering into the labyrinth of

my dreams. I was roaming around in a park happily,

laughing my heart out. It seemed that I was very happy.

All of a sudden I felt that someone had called me from

behind. Out of curiosity as to who it was I turned back a

bit too fast and collided with a girl about 16 years old.

She had been holding a flower pot. Due to the collision

the flowers and the pot fell to the ground. After the

collision I gazed towards her face but was unable to

decipher who she was? I kept on looking at her face. She

got angry and said

'What are you looking at? Who do you think will

pick up the flowers?' I was immediately brought to my

senses by this comment, I was embarrassed and I

apologized to her and helped pick up the flowers. With

this, the scene changed and everything became dark. I

don't

know how much time passed, but in the morning I

was woken by my mother at 5'o clock.

„chutti hai to Iska matlab ye nhi ki tum barah bje

take soyege ‟ were her exact words.

03



~ 9 ~

„come on mom let me sleep‟ I begged her to allow

me to sleep for few more minutes. But my mother had

this very strange philosophy that we should get up early

in the morning. If we want to sleep, we can do that after

7 a.m.

I got up as I knew there was not the slightest chance

of my mom allowing me to sleep until or unless I was

sick. I brushed my teeth, washed my face and wiped it

with a face towel. Then my gaze turned slowly towards

my father‟s scooter the famous Bajaj Chetak DL 3SV

0315. Chetak was a two wheeler that had changed the

way that the Indians, traversed. And my father despite of

me begging him to buy a motor cycle since past one year

was adamant on using his old Chetak. And just to be

clear I really mean a really old scooter. What we had

was not the new version of Chetak which was smaller

and lighter than the first one that was introduced in

India. My father was a proud owner of the older version

that was twice as heavy and one-and-a-half-time longer

version, the first and real Bajaj Chetak. It seemed he had

a lot of memories associated with it. He often told me

stories of how his father cried with happiness when he

gave the keys of that beast in my grand pa‟s hands after

a rigorous savings done for almost 4 years. It was the

first real thing that he had bought from his own salary.

Remembering this story always made me promise

myself to buy my father a motorcycle or a car from my

own saving one day so that he too would feel the same

pride that my grand pa had felt that time.

I don‟t know when I had taken a scrap cloth and

had started wiping the scooter engrossed in the memory

of that scooter‟s story. It was a daily routine for me

anyways and I would have done the same even in my

sleep. Ones the wiping was done, I took water in a mug,

soaked the cloth in water and started wiping the scooter

with it till it was shining (at least as much as it could



~ 10 ~

have). Then I opened the gate of my house, took it off

the stand and guided the scooter out of the house.

„Don‟t take too long‟ screamed my mother from

inside the house as I kicked to start the scooter.

„I‟ll be back in a jiffy mom‟ I screamed back.

„you always say that but you are always late‟

shouted my mom back.

„ok I won‟t go anywhere‟ I said turning off the

ignition of the scooter and putting it on a stand.

„good. I don‟t know what has happened to today‟s

generation, now their parents can‟t even say anything to

them‟ my mom said looking away from me showing that

she was angry at me.

„God! Mom‟s and their emotional blackmail‟ I

thought to myself before re-starting the scooter and

started down the circuitous roads of my colony to go to

my destination the all so famous

„SHUKLA BOOK DEPOT‟ which could be seen in

almost every corner of Delhi.

Those days it was a daily routine for me. My 11th

class exams were over and every morning I used to go to

the book depot to pick up the morning's English

Newspaper India Express. Usually this was my father‟s

routine but ever since my vacations started, this chore

was dumped on me. This was my father‟s way of

making me a responsible person. Something that my

mother thought was such a wonderful thing as I was

sharing my father‟s burden, as if buying the mornings

newspaper was such a big thing. Anyways I was doing

what I could to avoid a serious emotional drama from

my mother.

While passing a road I saw a man in his mid-40's waving

a hand at me. He was wearing a plain blue jeans



~ 11 ~

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