coldcupcakecollector

[coldcupcakecollector]

The Last.

The beauty of the last time lies in its unpredictability.

#1 NECKLACE OF SHELLS

The last time I saw my grandmother, she was walking along the shore of the beach. I starred from a distance with an aura of calm on my face. Her fine lines were more apparent; she seemed smaller somehow as if she was going back into the earth. Her face resembled the winter's landscape, and her eyes reflected grey not because she was getting old but because the life in her eyes felt like departing. That day, the thought of her dying crossed my mind for the first time. As soon as my thought became louder inside my head, I made a disgusted face trying to bury the idea as if I never thought of it. She turns around, and I smile at her knowing she is here with me. It was her birthday, she had only wished to spend a day with me. That day was the first time I realized that I had been so indulged in my work that I couldn't see my own Grandmother ageing. She yelled from a distance, "I found it!" I ran towards her with my feet dipping into the sand. I asked, “what did you find?”

She said, “I found the last shell for the necklace I am making!”

Her smile of pure joy was as if contagious. I asked her,

"do you want to make the necklace here on the beach?" She nodded her head, indicating yes.

We sat on the beachside as she pulled out the other shells that she had been collecting all these years. She had adopted the hobby somewhere after her retirement, but she never let anyone touch her shells. This was the first time she taught me how to select the right shell to make a necklace.

She taught me meticulously, from selecting to crafting and how every shell is different from the other. We laughed and giggled about the shapes of the shells and then talked a bit about family matters. Small talks filled the moments with my favourite memories of today. I joked to her about her obsession with the shells, and she never let me touch her shells until today. She smiled at me and said,

“My shells have been precious to me but not more than you, and now they are yours."

She gestured the necklace over my head, trying to make me wear it. I touched it gently around my neck, embracing it and said,

“ I love it!”

At that time, I didn’t realize she was giving me a goodbye gift. A list of her most precious thing. As I said her goodbye that day, the water felt retreating a bit further, and in that second, she looked like the reflection of the sunset that is the most beautiful before it whispers, "Goodbye."

END.

#2 HOME

The last time I saw this house, I was fifteen years old. I was reluctant to leave the place and move to another country with my parents. I loved the walls of my room that I had painted myself as I grew up and the photos that I had on walls pasted from all these years. I didn't want to leave the kitchen, where I sat on the slab to share some giggles with my mother. I never wanted to leave that house, but I was given a minimal choice to live as a dependent child. We moved to a new country, I was not welcoming of the place at first, but as I grew, I adapted to the area, but somewhere my heart still held on that old house. Thirteen years passed, and today, on my birthday, I decided to take a solo trip to India, the place where I was born and my first and favourite house. I navigated the way through the changed roads, faces and rules. The place smelled familiar yet looked so different after wasting an extra hour trying to locate the site. I called the man who was helping me repurchase the house, and he asked me to pick me from my location to visit the house. As I approached nearer to the place, my heartbeat became faster; I wanted to take a u-turn and go back to London. I was scared to look at that house, get attached again, and feel the emotion of being taken away. The car tires screech on the ground as the driver takes a sharp break in front of the house. It is here… the place that I couldn’t stop thinking about even for a single day of my life is right in front of me! She sits in the car seat uncomfortably and doesn't lift her eyes up to look at the house. The homeowner gestured me to step out of the car, but I couldn't gather the courage. He looks at me intently, and something in the eye contact reassured me that it will be fine. I step out of the car and slowly inspect the house from top to bottom. The house still gives me chills and warmth as I look at it. The white paint of the house that I remembered had been changed to brown; it looks a lot different from my memory. Everything in the place seems smaller now; I rushed to my childhood room; it changed utterly and converted into a study room. But when I stand in the same room with my eyes closed, it gives m the same sense of “home.”

END

#3 THE BROKEN THREAD

Armaan leans over the railing, sipping coffee without tasting it. His overworked brown shoulders seem worn out as the moonlight falls over them. He looks out from the balcony of his apartment to the city lights of Delhi and wonders what he has done in 34 years of his life.

He says to himself, “I haven’t even been able to provide my family an average life. Am I up to any good or will I ever be?” as his mind races to a multitude of doubts and questions, there is only one constant thing, that is, his unquenchable thirst to gain power and money.

Small and tender hands wrap below Armaan’s chest as he turns to face his beautiful wife, Arwi. She looks intently into his brown eyes, trying to find the once lively and fun guy she fell in love with. He looks at her tired face but only to look past her. The sound of rattling leaves and the wind blowing becomes louder as they talk to each other without speaking a word; an invisible thread of affection between them gets thinner with every sigh.

Armaan gets back inside the room and opens his laptop, he starts to scroll through his job applications, but none has replied. An email pops up, Armaan gets excited, hoping for a reply for his application, and he got the response from his most awaited company, the Dexaon!

As he opens the email, he reads the first four words with his eyes wide opened, “ We regret to inform…" he slams the laptop against the dusty wooden table in frustration.

Arwi enters the room, hearing the noise and says, " you need to get that temper in control. We can't afford you breaking such expensive things." With the essence of guilt and irritation, Armaan looks at Arwi as if he wants to yell a thousand words but is quiet.

Arwi’s mood flips in seconds as she pats the bed beside her, gesturing him to come to bed, but Armaan only becomes angrier from her mood swings and gets back to facing the computer screen ignoring Arwi.

Armaan's frustration after getting rejected from multiple companies consumes him. His frustration reflects the toxicity in his marital life. The days started to seem like they have been cursed to be longer and frustrated for him. He gradually stops trying to apply t the companies. Something inside him had broken, which made him give up on his hope to do good in life. Eight months pass since Armaan even looked at his laptop or any job application. Arwi has started to stay back at her office for extra hours to work. She comes come tired and goes to sleep. Her eye's enchanting has somehow been covered under the blood-filled eyes from screening the whole day. She looks at Armaan lying beside the sofa in the same shirt from; last four days. She looks at him with pity and tries to lift him off the ground but couldn't. Tired, she knelt on the floor, covering her face with her hands. She lifts her head and looks with her teary eyes straight into the mirror and could remember the last time she saw love in her eyes. The thread of affection had finally broken.

THE END.