Fragile

It was her birthday.

Dressed in her favourite lemon yellow kurti and a new pair of blue denims, she strode into her office, before time as usual. The new dress on a birthday was a tradition she followed thanks to her mother. Amma always made sure that Chinnu had something new to wear on her birthday, year after year without fail. So now even after her mother was dead, she followed those traditions her mother had instilled in her.

It would be just another day at work, with her busy schedule she could conveniently forget the pain that celebrating alone would create in her. As Chinnu’s day wore on and she went on doing her routine cycle of data mining, assimilation and reporting the phone on her desk rang. It was the reception. “Ms. Mathews, there is a courier for you.”

Clueless about who could be sending her a parcel, she went to the reception to pick it up.

There was nothing on the box except her name Chinnu Mathews and her office address. Curiosity wouldn’t let her work, she was sure. Hurriedly sitting down at her desk, she began unwrapping the box which was neatly packed in brown paper. It opened to reveal a gift-wrapped box on which was written a single word. FRAGILE

Like a hundred waves crashing on a rock, came a flood of memories bringing back bitter sweet images from the past. His packages always carried the word ‘fragile’ on them.

In the sands of time? She thought she had lost him somewhere, how else could they have been away from each other! Her best friend, Sharat had come back from somewhere and was back in her life. That too on her birthday. What more could she ask for!?

As excited as a toddler, she unwrapped the gift paper carefully and tore through the cardboard to see what was inside. To her utter dismay, she saw that it was some glass artefact that she had ordered sometime back.

What a cruel play of fate to make her realize that her heart was indeed fragile.

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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

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12 thoughts on “Fragile

  1. Ohhh.. even I started creating hopes for some happy ending.. Alas! the end.. I can somewhat relate.. birthdays come with a lot of hopes and when they arent fulfilled.. πŸ™
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