TREASON BY ROMANCE

18 January 1942, 10PM:

Dear Noor,

I know it hasn’t been more than two weeks since I’ve sent a letter. It’s just that I’m missing you. I’m unable to stop thinking about you. I know that you hate it when I behave obsessed about you. But you should also know that mine is just a harmless obsession; you can even call it an adorable obsession. I just couldn’t resist writing to you. I did control myself for a week but I’m afraid, the tensile strength of my patience isn’t as much as I expected. I just wanted to tell you that I Love You. I know that you know that I Love You, I just couldn’t stop myself from writing to you. It doesn’t mean that you should write to me soon. It’s just me. Ok? You can just read my letters and wait to tell me all about what you feel when you are able to write to me.

Yours Beloved, ever waiting Husband,

Nayan.

Nayan folded the letter, put it in an envelope. “You treat the envelop like it’s her. So romantic!” his sister Akanksha giggled sarcastically. Nayan jumped a bit “You spooked me!” he complained as she continued giggling. “You don’t understand, Aki” he blushed. “True! I don’t even want to” she sighed and sat beside him. “You think I should send this?” he looked at her and she looked at him back. She couldn’t reply, she just kept staring at him. It’s because Nayan’s face didn’t look like he was expecting an answer. She knew that regardless of her opinion, he will not send that letter. She smiled, took a long blink, nod her head and asked “It’s third time this week. You didn’t send the letters you wrote earlier. You saved them in your desk. I don’t understand why are you even writing when you don’t have the courage to send it?”. He looked at his desk and thought for a moment. “It’s not that I’m afraid to send, Aki.” he paused for a moment and looked back at her “I’m missing her and my instincts want me to write to her and at the same time. I know that I shouldn’t be distracting her from her work. I’m unable to stop my urges to write to her. Whenever I feel like writing to her, I just sit down and write whatever I feel like writing, I’ll save them for her. I’ll show them all when we finally meet after this long wait” He started blushing again. “Too dramatic! I always considered you as a rational person. I’m skeptic about that now” she laughed while patting Nayan’s shoulders. “How many letters did you write and not send in these 2 weeks?” she asked. “19” he answered closing his eyes tight and covered his face with his hands as he couldn’t face his sister. “There are only 14 days in two weeks, Nayan” she exclaimed and pulled his hands out of his face. He looked straight into her eyes and said “Exactly!”. “You are weird ! You are seriously missing her! You are impatient and irrational. At the same time, you are able to resist yourself from throwing all those letters on her face. You are too patient and completely rational! What is this?” she asked with a puzzled expression on her face.” Duality of mind, little sissy. But yet somehow I write to her before she writes to me making an impression that I’m annoyingly impatient. I don’t mind though” he smiled and got up to his desk. He opened the first drawer in the left and looked at all those 19 letters for a moment. He sighed and added the 20th letter in the heap. He lit his cigar and rested on his recliner looking at the rain for the rest of his day. 7 hours had passed and he woke up to realise that he dozed off an entire night on the recliner. He went into the bathroom, opened the little wooden compartment below the mirror. He took out his wooden hair brush engraved with design of sun, brushed his hair and while putting it back he looked at the other hair brush engraved with moon on it. He looked at it for a while, put his brush in the compartment. Rushed out of the bathroom as if he would die if he didn’t. He took out a letter paper from the bundle, opened the ink bottle, dipped his foutain pen in the ink and put it on the paper.

Dear Noor,

He started writing again with a smile on his face.

1st February 1942, 10AM:

It was raining outside and Nayan was waiting for his driver to arrive. “I feel like a selfish rich brat, Aki. I should’ve listened to the weather forecast this morning. I shouldn’t have sent for Ravi” Nayan was shouting and was just walking in circles in the living room. “It’s okay, Nayan ! Of course you are a selfish brat but this time you really didn’t know. Nothing much you can do about it” she laughed. Nayan threw his pocket comb at her which she evaded successfully and starred teasing him by laughing at him. The gate creaked and Nayan rushed towards the main entrance. “There he is!” Nayan said to himself looking at Ravi enter the mansion with an umbrella in his hands. “Thank goodness you’ve an umbrella!” he yelled at which Ravi was puzzled. “Let’s go” he signalled Ravi to start the car. “The weather is cats and dogs, sir. It’s just an aerogram right? I know how to send an aerogram. Leave that to me. You don’t need to be out in this weather” Ravi expressed his concern. “Ah, it’s nothing, Ravi. I’ve seen worse. Besides, you don’t need to pretend concern. It’s not your cup of tea” Nayan giggled and got in to the car.

4th February 1942, 4PM:

“I should’ve controlled myself. I should have waited till she wrote to me, Aki” Nayan was talking to Aki and she wasn’t even listening to him. She was immersed in the radio. “Maybe she got angry. She might’ve thought I’m being obsessed and wanted to control me by not sending a letter. I shouldn’t have wrote her before 4th. She said… She said that I’ll receive a letter every 4th. Why do I even behave like an impatient idiot?” Nayan looked at his sister. “Even you are not listening to me. There’s no one in the world who wants to talk to me!” he yelled and went back to his room. He took out a letter paper and started writing again. He was apologizing for writing earlier than the promised day. Their agreement was simple, he’d receive her letter on 4th of every month and he should send his reply before 10th. Never did he wait for the 4th.

“… This time I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t write to you before you write to me. Don’t be angry, mon amour..”

He wrote and rushed out to send another aerogram.

4th April 1942, 12PM:

“It’s been 4 months, Nayan!” Akakansha yelled at her depressed brother “Look at you! She might have found someone els..” Nayan looked at her in a rather furious way “You can’t understand. She’d never do that. We are mentally married!” he yelled back. “Mentally married… You sound like a mentally challenged person now” she grabbed his hand and made him look at her forcefully and said “She’s not writing to you anymore, Nayan. Nayan, she moved on. It’s been 4 damn months!”. Nayan put up a blank face “I can’t explain, yes, we’re mentally married. Besides, her work wouldn’t let her have the comfort of finding someone else”. “You said she’s a magazine writer. Come on!” she poked him. “I can’t tell you… Leave it be, Aki. Leave me alone” he sighed rubbing his eyes. “Father is coming back from England. He’s gonna stay for a long time. It’s up to you to explain what the ladies garments have work to do in your room” she punched him straight in the face. She tried to divert him but it reminded him of her again. “I wanted to tell Father about her” He said taking the cigar out of the ash tray and dragging a puff out of it. “How many letters did you write in these four months? ” she asked looking at the desk’s drawer overloaded and puking out some of the letters. “294, didn’t send a single one since 4th” he said in a depressed tone and dragged another puff. Akanksha pulled the cigar out of his lips and crushed it in the ash tray. “If you understand her so well! You don’t need to feel depressed. If her so called important ‘work’ lets her write to you, she will. Now go and have some sleep” she said while leaving out of his room. He went to the bathroom and started staring at the moon graved hair brush. He held the moon graved hair brush in his hands and took it close to his lips. “You will write back. You will come back. You are fine, you are just busy” he kissed it.

June 17th, 1942, 12PM:

Nayan was on his recliner, looking at the heap of letters lying on his desk. He turned the radio on and kept on changing the frequency. He was listening to International news stations. He stopped when he thought he heard something relevant.

*Buzz* * Radio static sound*…. Five British- Indian spies caught on February 4th received sentence on June 16th 5PM. One of them was Noor Sheik, a woman spy. “She was the reason for the compromise of their identities” said Suraj, one of the spies. It seemed that she compromised their security to send a letter to her beloved. She possessed a heap of unsent letters. What is this? A treason by romance? They were shot dead even after many agreements of extradition by the embassy**Nayan switched the radio off. His eyes were wide open. He couldn’t hear a word more. His breath was deep and intense. He collapsed in the recliner. The force of him collapsing made few letters on the desk fall down and the tears rolling down his eyes fell right on the letter he was writing yesterday.

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penfluky

Writing is not a skill acquired through practice. Not for us, at least. Writing is a phenomenon that occurred to us when we wanted to shout our thoughts out. It occurred when our brains formed a labyrinth of thoughts with no way out. Only way was to break the walls, the walls we constructed in our minds. The walls which stopped us from letting ourselves out. We broke the walls using the most mightiest weapon, the pen. Writing was our way out of that maze. Words and sentences flowed like a stream of some river, which consisted of A2Z instead of H2O. Soon the river filled the brain and the labyrinth was not visible anymore. 

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