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Sunday, August 9, 2009

Unheard Melody


Isn’t it weird that fragrance of an old perfume, music of some absurd song, first rain of the season and even the date mentioned on a photograph brings back a plethora of memories of the past. I wonder how such a small thing can hold so strong a connection and engross in a way making one oblivious of the surroundings. Something similar happened to me when I heard the song ‘Pukarta chala hoon main’ on AIR FM Gold after almost 3 years and some memories cropped-up.

He was a stranger and owned a bakery near my institute where I intentionally sneaked in after the class everyday and at times in the break time too only to catch a glimpse of his. There was nothing extraordinary about him and I still can’t figure out what swayed me. Most of the times he was absent but whenever he was there, I tried staying long by loitering around and asking his aide awfully ineffectual questions about the products. All I longed for was a welcoming smile and a small chat but he always overlooked me. My crash course merely demanded two months and probably after this it was not possible to see him. I didn’t know when I were to visit Delhi again and if I did, there wasn’t any surety of this bake house being still here.

I kept the hope alive and did not stop visiting the store but I always flinched when it came to initiating the conversation. I wanted to tell how much I adore him but knew, to him it will not matter a tad. So the days passed and came the final day but he seemed equally adamant. All I desired that day was a nice goodbye. Knowing that he would be least bothered, I kept my expectation to the minimal.

I went to the shop with my fingers crossed and encountered his aide who always assisted me with the best-flavored cakes, delectable chocolates and other delicacies of the store. I searched ardently but couldn’t find him anywhere. Disappointed I made my way back when he entered the shop. I hastily turned around and told his aide about my departure in a loud-enough-to-be-heard voice. He wished me good luck but I was awaiting a word from someone else. He finally spoke but to my disappointment, to his assistant and left whistling some song without any acknowledgement. I left the city with an unanswered desire and a tear in my eye. That was when I saw the last of him.

Initially I found it hard to forget him but eventually his thoughts faded. Everything seemed just normal until I heard the song which turned out to be the same he whistled that day. I didn’t know it will take me three long years to find this out. I recalled it colossally for quite a long thinking that he was trying to deliver something through that but by the time I was back in town, I had forgotten the tune. Though it is too late and all water under the bridge now but it did succeed in retrieving the archived memories and restoring the feelings.

7 comments:

Shine Kapoor said...

Gosh! Reminds me of my "Raje" episode :-(

Himanshu Tandon said...

Interesting.
Wish you could fill in a little more into this 'fable'.

Nishtha said...

Hmm.. Will try to do it in the next one :)

samitmehra said...

Yes ur right..I think lots of people associate certain fragrances, certain songs even a certain kind of weather with things related to their past...pure nostalgia.

I hear Roo ba roo and go back to my IIT days....kya ada kya jalwa tere paro and I am transported to my cadet training days...the smell of a bakery and i am whisked away to port blair where i was a frequenter in the bakery below my fathers office.....the first rain to my first love and so on....

Nice writing...

Ritesh said...

true, ....no doubt about it, the moment the fragrances strike the nostrils, the moment we see some connected things, we start feeling we have been through this. Many times we think about it for a second, pause and then forget. This is untouched part which is rightly highlighted by writer. Never the less,this happens only when you start listening songs passing the streets, when you start to observing the noise of running vehicles, u start liking chirping of birds in the morning in the other words when your brain is in overconcious state. This is where writers brain worked and is highly appriciable to observe things other than daily chores. This story itself says nishtha is improving day by day,,,

by best wishes are with her...hope she writes many moer stories and keeps her friends abreast with her creativity...


ritesh

Anonymous said...

You know something...even time has this power to remind one of the good times. If its 10 O clock on a week end I get reminded of some one...when it 07:30 on a week day I get reminded of some one...

Its basically an association of any of our senses which connects to some part of the brain...

richa said...

hmmm well nish to be frank enough its gud but i felt dere is sthg missing in d end ......i donnoo wat coz i m nt dat creative ???apart 4m dat its a piece of a fi9 imagination....dere is no doubt in dis....best of luck 4 future