Monday, January 25, 2016

The First And the Last Knight.

Now that Chetan Bhagat has declared that he will write a story being in a woman's shoes, how can I not dab on what I wanted to write?


Hi, my name is Dhan Maya. I am 60 years old woman. I have three sons and a daughter. I will tell you my story.

We were kids when I first met Dophu Dorji. I was told that he had moved into our Chukha colony from Thimphu. His father worked as a watchman. My father was a Junior Engineer then. Dophu and I were group mates in our second grade. 

I remember him as one of the nicest guys I have ever come. While we were kids, there was no difference me being a girl and he being a boy. I would always abet him in his mischiefs. I can't abridge our whole life, but those were the days when I believe we were happy. 

Time would pass and puberty would hit, we would remain friends but there were no mischiefs. Somewhere between teenage and adulthood, I fell in love with Dophu. 

After we were done with our high school, I went to college in Darjeeling. Dophu however, couldn't go far in his pursuit of studies. I would hear about him from few of our old friends, but those news were just like clouds in winter days, I won't hear much. 

I graduated from college and was dumped in the pool of unemployment, it wasn't anything new. Most of us were prepared for unemployment, it wasn't easy to score high grades in North Point. At times I felt, it was the very college degree I had attained, that made me abortive. I mean, I could have taken a clerk's job, but that would hurt my ego and henceforth I remained unemployed. 

When I finally got a job, I was placed in Phuentsholing. Sometimes, certain things happen to us, things that will change our lives and things that will never happen twice to us. Good way or bad, one's life would change after that. 

It was one of those rainy days in Phuentsholing, days when Municipal Engineers would regret for not coming up with better drainage system. It is funny how it happens all the times, during summer: their regrets. 

I met with Dophu after a decade. He was still the same, but now had become more debauched than what I had heard of him. He had divorced his wife and his wife had left him with a kid. She had left him because her family had never liked Dophu, but they were blinded with love in the beginning. Dophu being from a Nomad family, could never make a place in her father's family. Dophu had screwed up her Father's social gatherings like funerals, marriages, losar festivals and not to forget, baby showering. You know, questions like, who your daughter got married to? She had divorced him and had gotten married to another man, who was an Engineer, but she was always beaten by that man. That caused Dophu more pain and from there on Dophu became alcoholic and even though he was an accountant and was a talented artist, his full time job was getting drunk now. He wasn't fired from his firm because his bosses saw his previous contributions. But for how long would they see and hope for his sobriety. 

I was very much sadden to see him in that phase, his self esteem had been destroyed, his confidence devoured to the last grain, there was no purpose for him to live. It was then that I had met him, it was then that I had rekindled my love for him, for I always loved him. 

He wouldn't recognize me in the beginning, I had to ask the bar owner where he stayed and dropped him there. That night I didn't sleep, that night I felt sorry for him, I felt sorry for myself and I was raged with the world for being mean on my Dophu. 

I would then always go to his house, made sure that he didn't drink and I never gave up. How could I, more than I loved him, he was my childhood friend. It took me a year to make him fully quit his drinks, and trust me it wasn't easy. I would encourage him to make paintings and slowly, we opened a gallery. The earnings were not persistent, but when one painting would be sold, an entire year's rent would come up from one canvas. If he sold three or four canvases in a year, we would live lavishly. Money however wasn't much of a problem. 

Dophu resumed his sober days and when all was fine, one fine day, he just asked me to marry him. It wasn't romantic proposal like in movies, but this wasn't a movie. 

When I look back at our journey, when I remember those childhood days, I just wish that Dophu never had to endure so much of grief in his earlier days. Perhaps that's the thing about life, we are given too much of fairy tale stuff that we always imagine ourselves to be princesses to be rescued, waiting for our knights in shinning armours. Maybe, not all princesses require to be rescued and not all knights come with shining armours. Sometimes, some knights who have potential in future are just battling their own monsters, and maybe, just maybe, they need our help to slay those monsters which were unleashed by some wrong princesses. Maybe those armours got rusted and all they require is hope and motivation, that motivation to pick up their swords again, maybe an honourable man is made, when he forgets and is reminded about his pride and honour. We just don't amputate our limbs when we are wounded, we do hundred and thousand things to fix the wounds but to amputate it. Sometimes we just wait to be treated like princesses, that someone will conquer heaven and hell for us, that someone will love us head over heels, that someone will come and make everything all right: we just expect and never realize that at times, we too have to put in some efforts to be treated in the ways we want to. Sometimes, we just have to be deserving to be loved like the way we have always fantasized. 

Ps: The author is not married and this is not his story. The author is a man.
Don't be selfish, please like and share, so that others shall too read it. :) Good night. 

2 comments :

  1. Beautiful as always! Enjoy reading it! You should write a short story book you know! :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. loved it!! tragic story with a beautiful ending :)

    ReplyDelete