The Skipper – episodic short story

It is loneliness, Isn’t it? Isn’t that what makes people fall in love? Isn’t that all that is left  after people fall out of love? Isn’t that what makes a twenty something boy fall head over heels for a twenty something girl?

Every heartbeat of mine had once throbbed to an angel. It was sixteen years ago, the first time, my heart had skipped a beat. In those first few moments of clear brilliance I had seen her laughing, those crinkly eyes and a cute chin, unaware of admiring ones watching her; she was lovely… that cute rascal. From then on, for every conscious moment of those years, my heart kept skipping its beats. For ever word of love she poured into her letters, for every tear she shed and for every first time i spotted her in a crowd, I kept skipping a beat. Those were the years of skipped beats; a tribute to the immense love everywhere.

Its been ten years since those beats stopped skipping. In those 3650 days and 378432000 heartbeats, not once did my heart skip a beat; but for those moments of irrational hope. Hope, hoping against now. And now no more at all. Just that dull dub dub dub dub… Thats all it says. No singing of out of tune wonderful songs or tireless walks. 378432000 heartbeats… just working away – silently, unaware… lub dub lub dub…

It was difficult at first. Trying to actually forget what skipping a beat felt like. To actually forget that there was no one else other than a mirror. And then I learnt to teach myself. To make it a habit of skipping her presence. If I knew she was coming I would just skip the place. I kept avoiding people, places and even things that reminded of her. It was just a sheer forecful departation of the heart from the soul. Training the heart to stop wagging the mind. But then today was different. Avoiding her was out of question.

I knew she had moved on. Probably with another wonderful man who would keep her more happier than I ever could. Probably…

But then I could never ever forgive her for leaving left me. I even tried hating it for all the stupidities and sometimes for those blunders. I sincerely tried hating her but that took a toll on me. So I stayed with anger. Anger came easy. Thinking of the time she would shoot off her frank opinion on a wonderful piece I had written and bam! there I was angry. Or that time when she had given up on me completely. Or that time she would cry inexplicably. BAM! Angry again. Anger worked like a charm. Lonely. In a corner. In the dark. Anger.

I sat beside her. It was unexpected. But something had changed. Her looks I think. She had tanned quite considerably i think. Or was that just her looking more beautiful than I ever remembered? Or just that tinge of pepper in the hair? She seemed to have put on weight too. Where was that girl i had fell in and out of love with? Where was that elegant beauty that I had cuddled up to?

Memories came back fast. That same scent of roses and vanilla. She didnt seem to change much. The same choices. The same accessories. The keychain was a different one now, not the one I had given her.

She clearly had moved on with her life. Just like she had moved on then. And i was left alone. Confused. Dazed. And now she wouldnt even look at me. Would not even smile at me…

A stab of pain shot through the heart tearing it asunder trying to keep myself under that uncontrollable anguish and then suddenly… she laughed. Those same crinkly eyes. Those same thin lips arching in a beautiful bow kissing her cheeks in a chubby blush, forehead arched in a lovely wrinkle waiting to be kissed. My heart skipped a beat… In ten years, it skipped a beat.

And then i realised. That probably, probably till the end of my life I can never get over her. That I could never stop loving her. Even if she were to be a great old lady of wrinkly skin and a grandma of saggy skin of 80 years, wrinkled and senile, she would still be that cute girl I had fallen in love with. She would still look the same to me. Now and forever.

And today, after a decade, sleep and peace came easy to me.


This short story marks the end of my trilogy on love, pain and her. Others that were part of this unplanned trilogy:


8 thoughts on “The Skipper – episodic short story

  1. I don’t know, how do you fill your posts with so much of emotions… to me it looks like very real … something that you yourself experienced… and if its not then you are a genius of words (which in any case you are 🙂 )

  2. damn! I will now have to resort to some light hearted movie to cheer me up ..
    And it doesnt help that its 5 in the morning, and I am locked up alone in my room, does it ?

  3. @kunal
    well… what is real? real is just a set of electronic impulses to your brain and to your neural system; which can be replicated artificially…


  4. PS. Apologies for cross posting. This is not spam.
    Hello Hyderabadi Blogger:
    We have a plan to unite all Hyderabadiz: Calling out to all Hyderabadi bloggers.
    We are trying our best to gather as much as possbile (I mean the sound and the fury, show and tell, look and feel of our true colors).
    Push, pull or try your best to bring more people join the event of uniting Hyderabadi Bloggers.
    Best, MT and the Team of Hyderabadiz

  5. Pingback: 2010 in review « T3,The Think Tank Chronicles.

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