The Bleeding Rose

I first saw him in my new school's corridor. A thin , easy-on-the-eyes, fair boy of early teenage. His hair looked good, ( that's why later whenever he used to cut his hair short , it somewhat bothered me ). I was new to that school, my life feels so miserable whenever it comes to changes . Between the hustle of new people new environment , that person seemed friendly . Whenever our eyes met, there was a spark , undeniable spark. I don't know what destiny had for us , but putting us in the same section in the middle of the session was more than just a coincidence. We were in same grade but different sections when I first arrived, but due to some squabbles between faculty and students, we got intermixed. Back then , it was a lot for a new student like me, I didn't know anyone, the little adjusted I felt in my previous section got reduced to zero. He got me at zero.

For me, I am a person who is little hard to love. I seek a lot of attention, get annoyed easily, speak a lot sometimes and become shun still the next moment. I am a paradox.

That person was like a contrast to me . Interaction started and considerable amount of glances exchanged . During a poem recitation in class one day we sat beside each other, that was a tale of a bird pair who called themselves 'the perfect companion" of each other. Then and there sarcastically, we called each other "the perfect companion". Maybe that instance our luck cycle charmed. We never really had a formal confession rounds in front of each other, we just fell and we knew it, jointly. I really don't know what was that, that had drawn me towards him, but I was happy, all dolled up. Whenever he walked past me a sudden bolt of bloodflow reached my heart.

In today's date, I just feel a stark soreness in my heart, it not pain exactly..... but more ! I have grown darker with time both at image and personality. What happens to a cloud who's about to weep but still holding on , my aura turned grey that way.

In course of time, there filled proximity between us. It was late winters, we two were sitting in the library, doing some tasks together . That was the first time he hold my hand, my left hand, as if never to let go . Left hands are special for weddings as it's believed that a vein ran directly from the fourth finger on the left hand to the heart . This vien was called 'Vena Amoris' , which translates to 'vein of love' because of the believe that heart is the centre of our emotions.

We started caressing each other very now and then. I loved his short touches. Gradually, one thing led to another, we two grew close, but separated from the rest of the world . It was like we two were inside a cocoon, love played the role of it's Fibroin and Sericin .

I got blind , didn't predict the upcoming turbulence would not only break the cocoon but also breaks us.

We spent One-Thousand One-Hundred Six days in amorous tie-in, but I never liked it when he called me his "girlfriend" . I wanted more recognisation, his "family". We knew we were different, something beyond , something even deeper than love. Maybe I overthought.

One-thousand One-hundred six days of laughs, tears , promises , small talks, long insightful conversations, surprises, touches, flowers and HIM....... Now all memories.

Nonetheless , his dreams are big. I learnt that from him. We had a huge bucket list together. At present, my only wish remains is that my person doesn't fulfill our bucket list wishes with someone new. I still remember the chills I felt in my nerves after the espial of him and her together.....him and someone new.

It was the month of June , one of my family members got a serious malady. I was not able to cope up with that sudden breakaway , those tough times , those tears of my loved ones. I wanted to confide in somewhere safe and warm , in him. He and I got into an argument then, because he was becoming phlegmatic towards me day by day. However , it got sorted out soon after . Consequently I told him something very sensitively out of the blue - " let's spare one rose everytime we think about giving up , and when the number of roses turns to be a Hundred , let's burn them all together " ....burn all the 'giving up' notions . I read it somewhere that the fumes of burning dried rose petals is extremely aromatic. It never turned hundred . Somewhere I feel good that we never thought about giving up after that point , but then I smiled hysterically , my night-black eyes moist , recalling that , we actually gave up. No more roses.

We both are in our late teenage now. Yes, he left me, maybe because as I told u I was hard to love or maybe because nothing left for him to be amazed by me as he had been to every fold of my skin, seen every scar. No matter the heartbreaks, tears and pain... I will always and only be comfortable with his touches only . Till date if I get into any trouble, he is the first person that processes in my brain.

I am holding a rose now, a white one. I do not expect to be loved by the person I love , anymore. It's just my stubborn soul got attached brutally with him. As I told you, I am not fond of changes. I feel like one of my part is missing throughout the day without him and at nights I just fall numb. Love in true sense happens once in life and sometimes if we are lucky enough we get to spend our entire lives with that one person. But we have to keep moving on despite these huge dismays. I have him treasured in my heart, and my heart will go on.

The gust of wind tossed few strands of my hair. I tied it up into a bun. While doing so, I ignorantly kept the pearl coloured rose on the newly painted shoe rack. When I picked it up, I saw it covered in vermillion stains. My heart bled that day like my rose and sky turned grey.

Monsoons are here and monsoon memories with him are going to strike again.

Till death part us.

- Jigyasha Kashyap