An Afternoon In Verona
Like every other girl, I dreamt of my perfect man. The only difference was I didn’t dream to live my life with him.
I have never lived in the same place for more than three years ever since I was fifteen. When I left the house I grew up in, I was not really upset. I was rather overjoyed with the idea of living in a new house with a whole new bunch of neighbors!
After finishing my high school, I was sent to Delhi for my graduation as a reward for my revolting act. Like every other teenager, I was in love and wanted to question the world as to why I couldn’t love someone who went to a church or mosque unlike me.
I cried when I left and promised him that I would come back soon to meet him. Well, things changed. Not that I was in love with him anymore, but I loved shedding tears for him. Very soon I ran out of tears any my excuses for being with him.
Soon after this I found myself enjoying the attention and company of my flatterers. I wouldn’t deny that I tried to find peace in them and forget about the one I loved. Yes, I loved another man. But he left me even before I could know that I loved him.
Instigated by my revolting nature, I decided to give up my career of Chartered Accountancy and become a chef. My father as expected refused to pay for a course that would help me end up with such a disrespectful job.
My sister paid for my culinary course in Paris. I used to call her few times a month after going there, but then the international calls became expensive and cumbersome. And the few times a month changed to may be one or twice a year.
The last time I heard of her, she was somewhere far off in the East living with her husband and daughter. Or was it a boy? I don’t remember. I wonder what she looks like now. May be she looks like my mother as she did in her youth. I don’t know.
My father never talked to me again, for I disgraced him by opting for something he didn’t approve to be respectful. My mother wanted me to go home, so I did. For my father’s funeral. She looked very old. She wanted me to stay and shed tears for her loss. I wish I could, but the tickets too Australia was too expensive and I couldn’t afford to cancel the trip.
I promised to come back soon, but she knew I wouldn’t. So she accepted my negligence with silence.
Like every other girl, I dreamt of my perfect man. The only difference was I didn’t dream to live my life with him. After I went to a different London, he called a few times asking me to come back, but I had dreams to live!
I didn’t feel sad when I left one place and moved to another. The new places were more homely than ever. I kind of loved the bohemian in me. Every time I left a city, I promised it my re-visitation only to fail in doing so. Unlike the men I left behind, I don’t think the city thinks much of my betrayal.
I used to work for seven months a year and traveled to different place for the rest of the year. Waking up in a new bed in a new room in a new city gave me utmost pleasure. Occasionally I would wake up beside a handsome man who could make a nice caring husband. But I had no time. I had my dreams to chase, places to see and many more men to wake up beside.
This afternoon as I sit here in my apartment in Verona with the gentle breeze kissing my hair away, I don’t exactly pine for love. But I don’t think I would mind the company of the men from my past, my mother, my father or my sister. I guess it would be nice to tell them that I love them.
— Learning&Creativity (@LearnNCreate) June 9, 2014
Got a poem, story, musing or painting you would like to share with the world? Send your creative writings and expressions to email@example.com
Learning and Creativity publishes articles, stories, poems, reviews, and other literary works, artworks, photographs and other publishable material contributed by writers, artists and photographers as a friendly gesture. The opinions shared by the writers, artists and photographers are their personal opinion and does not reflect the opinion of Learning and Creativity emagazine. Images used in the posts (not including those from Learning and Creativity's own photo archives) have been procured from the contributors themselves, public forums, social networking sites, publicity releases, Morguefile free photo archives and Creative Commons. Please inform us if any of the images used here are copyrighted, we will pull those images down.