​A Slice of Time


We both – a second person and I, spoke hearts out.. finally, atleast I did for sure, on how it was for each-other in the slice of time that was saved for us to be together; as we will have to depart from each other soon.. for sure, forever. We speak out only when we know “not anymore”, unlike when we were actually through the relationship; don’t we? even though what spoken out would not help but just be mere a memory. Even if we were outspoken during the journey of the relationship; we speak out the unspeakable only towards the end or at the end; I mean, like confessions, regrets and remorse. Atleast I’m concerned, that is the case always.
I expected it to be a dialogue, rather it ended up more as my admission. Perhaps because, I was the one who had gaps to take it all and the second person had nothing new in me to learn for the self. I say ‘second person’ because I don’t know what pronoun to use.. ‘He’ or ‘she’ would not particularly suit the subject, I’m afraid ‘they’ or ‘them’ would alienated my relation with the subject and ‘It’ would be disrespectful. So, we will agree mutually to understand the other subject – other than me, in the dialogue as “Second person”.

                                —-

“It is bit weird and embarrassing”, I said sitting on a chair, not so lied down – respectful posture.

“Go on.. we are running out of time already..”, said the second person in gesture that won’t allow you to take for granted. A caring tone with slight pinch of authority, for which I got used to for a while now. 

I held out a painting.

“What?!”

Painting depicted a fishing boat among waves in a ocean, a fisherman on the boat caressing a fish – that he caught, within the water. Fish had a facial expression of a belly rubbed dog. Fish hooked in its mouth, hurt, but not much. String from fishing rod, in his hand, is left uncut to the hook in fish’s mouth. It looked something like – fisherman training a fish for something, rater than fishing; Fish was hooked for it’s good, not for his need.

“So, you are the fish? And I’m the fisherman training you?”, I saw the second person radiating a blissful smile, for the first time since I get to know the second person. 

“Yes”, I smiled back bright, “whereas, since the start from a know shore of the ocean, hooking to some or the other fishing rod is a known happening on this ocean with other shore – invisible. I was hooked to your’s eventually. At initial part of time, I thought you were sweet. But only later I got to learn, that the initial sweetness was the string you unrolled to get me to your way, by keeping the string uncut. Down the stream, I had to endured through the hardness imposed. Was displeasing in unexpected ways. I hated you like a teacher whose classes I always wanna bunk. But I had no choice, you see”, I heard a chuckle, “But.. But.. now that I strangely feel, as it is going to end for sure forever, I may see you now like a teacher whom I have hated for their authority and rigidity, but years later I would be glad that such person was once my teacher; for I may realize only then that, without whom I would not have learnt things that are subtle, without whom I would not have learnt to learn. I’m glad, I was hooked to your’s at a right point in time. Thank you for being hard on me.” 

I held out my hands to hug. We had an awkward hug. 

With reverence, I again said, “Thank you much, Two thousand sixteen.” 

I heard the second person say, “I only did my job.”, I was caressed.

“Oh.. Here you are.. “, I heard Two thousand sixteen calling someone loud. We both saw Two thousands seventeen nearing.
                             ——–

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