The Loner
The loner was suspended in air, naked as a new born babe. He was the illustrated example of what happens when one sacrifices too much for the sake of love. He was a defeated human being left to his own devices. His head was down and his hair covered his otherwise beautiful face. He lay in a Christ like posture but was not bound by visible chains. The invisible chains were another matter altogether. They coiled around him like serpents, drawing up his life force. The line began from the point where his chest began and it extended to the very depths of his soul. His heart was simply, a series of scratches, cuts and burns… It was in a glass case kept somewhere… he saw it clear as the day, but was unable to reach for it. The glass case was laughing at him and his state. When the taunting became unbearable, he tried to pull at his chains. “Quiet human…” the snakes hissed at him. There was no breaking free. His eyes fell shut of their own accord, waiting for the dreaded hoof beats of the dark horse drawn carriage.
Like every human being that existed on the planet earth, the loner too was not always a loner. Ironically though, he too had a past. He had a wonderful wife and four children. It was a happy life. Sunshine and rainbows always formed the background of his past. He was satisfied. Then one day, a faithful encounter changed the entire balance of his life. He fell in love. It crept slowly, like the fog on a dreary day. Love poisoned him and destroyed his sensibilities. He was warned from childhood not stray from what was originally intended. But he drowned the little voice down. It was not enough to stop him and his passions. He had already realized the truth. His wife, a very clever and a vengeful woman had expected this from him and were prepared. She took the kids, packed her bags and left.
But his love would never understand his predicament. It was but a forbidden love, known only to the deepest chasms of his mind. It suffocated him. Love bound him like a serpent and he was unable to move. And the heart that longed, that wept was ripped apart from his chest. The loner woke up from his everyday nightmare. It wasn’t the case that he never retaliated. He did, but it was a lost cause every time. The truth cannot be ignored anymore. He was bound in chains that would never even rattle at his efforts. He was a man punished for no reason. He tried to be faithful in his own way but no one cared. The lonely man could only gaze at his own battered, bruised heart.
Alice
He was definitely old. “A little too ripe for her tastes…” mused Alice. The man’s face was obscured from her and the rest of the world. She wore khaki colored cut-offs and black converse. Her white blouse was tucked in effectively. The silky black hair was gathered into a French knot and the beauty of her eyes remained a mystery under her glasses. Her eyebrows were scrunched together as in immense concentration while she made a note the man. He just came in yesterday. For the first time in her life she was clueless. She couldn’t make out the distinct voices that always spoke to her before. So, she did what she could do and that was to let a frustrated sigh, kick back in a recliner and light a cigarette.
The man in the background followed her movements like a hawk watching its prey. He was always one step ahead of her. He could very well predict what she would do next. Her name tag read: Alice. J. Burton. He wondered if she had a family, and felt a stirring of uneasiness in the direction of his thoughts. He himself was not a clairvoyant, but he knew she planned to move on to the whiskey in the decanter placed next to her. Her frustration got to him too and he wanted her to stop. But he knew he could not stop her. It was not in his power to do so. The man slumped in defeat. Alice knew what she was doing but she did it anyway. After all, she too craved for some love…
Love
The Professor continued, “Love is something that is well known to all of us. It is a feeling that exists in various forms no matter who you are or what your inclinations are. I strongly believe that Marcel was a free thinker, a revolutionary of his time. He was a man who clearly stood apart in the era, he existed. The Loner and The Frustrated Woman simply mirrors that echo various forms of attachments that existed at a time where they were unmentionables. The Loner could be anyone. It could be you or me. He could be a straight man cheating on his wife or a man who just understood his bisexual state of mind. That man is not lonely because, of his current predicament. He is lonely because, the society condemns him to such dilapidated state. Alice is also in love. Her love is materialistic as she loves her drinks and her cigarettes more than anything else in the world. She also suffers heartache as; she is aware of the fact that her love would slowly consume her and eventually lead to her untimely death. On the other hand, The Loner and The Frustrated Woman could be representations of Adam and Eve. The loner Adam looks down at his children still running around in the name of love. While, Eve in her love for the material world, never gives a second thought to another living creature. I would like this class to prepare a paper on: The essence of love and its importance in the society today.”
The Book – A Vision.
Emily placed her pen down. She got up to stretch. Her fight against life is over. She had collected her Jar of hearts just like Marcel’s painting. Marcel’s two sketches defined her life. It was a part of her as she was of it. However, before she said goodbye she had a small job to take care of. She had to deliver her copy of the script of her autobiography to her editor. ‘Love- the Loner, the Woman and the Professor’ is her latest short story. It was one of her most praised work of fiction.
“Is this all you could find?” asked Mr. Patel. Ronnie just shrugged. “Oh…okay. I want you to go out there and announce her arrival to the crowd. Emily’s is waiting at the door.”
The story ends here. We never know if Emily arrived or what her problem is. There is no idea if what Emily says is true or if there really was a painter named Marcel. But you the reader can be sure of one thing, the narrator is true to herself and her confusing tale is a figment of her imagination. But who knows, maybe there might be a bigger picture or a fifth person that even the narrator is unaware off. The narration breaks off at this point as everything fades into nothingness.
–END–
