Tuesday 4 April 2017

7 Stages of Love - Ishq(Short Story)

She opened the door as she saw her friend standing at the door with a big packet wrapped in a shiny paper.
"Happy Birthday Meher!", the girl said as she came inside and hugged her.
"Thanks Sanjeeda. Glad you came."
"Here is your gift.", said Sanjeeda as she handed her the packet.
"Come on, Meher. It was not needed. There is no party. I just called you so that we can have a quiet dinner with my family."
"Its Ok. You will anyways like it, something you wanted since a long time."
"What is it? Can I open it?"
"Later. Come on now, lets meet uncle and aunt.", she said as she pulled her inside.

"Hi Sanjeeda. How are you dear?"
"I am good uncle. How are you?"
"I am good as well. Come, lets have something to eat.", he said as he pointed to the food kept near the table.
"Who is it?", they all turned as they heard a faint crumpled voice. A pale, rickety old man sat in one corner of the room.
"Dad, its Meher's friend, Sanjeeda."
"Who is Meher?", he asked as Meher giggled.
"Your grandfather doesnt recognize you?", asked Sanjeeda with surprise.
"Shhh. Keep watching for the fun", she whispered to Sanjeeda.
"Dad, Its Meher's birthday today. Sanjeeda has come to wish her."
"Strange. Abida never told me.", he said. "I am tired. Where is my room?", he asked.
"Wont you like to have food, Dad?", he asked.
"Who is cooking food? Abida?"
"No, Dad. Its Nida."
"Who is Nida?"
"Never mind, Dad. We will get your food in your room. Come, let me take you there."
As he helped the old man get up, the old man turned towards him, "Thanks for helping me, dear boy. Your parents must be very proud to have a son like you.", he said as Meher and Sanjeeda giggled.
"Whose house is this, anyways? How much rent I am paying?", they heard him say as they disappeared in the room.
"Whats the matter?", asked Sanjeeda, amazed.
"Alzheimer's disease. My grandfather was with my uncle when he his memory started to fade away. Last month he got a sharp attack and he forgot almost everything. He kept lying there like a statue, not sure where to go and move. It was then decided that we would bring him here for better treatment."
"And your grandmother?"
"She died a couple of years ago."
"Stranger! So, he doesnt remember anything?"
"Nothing at all. Not even his name. You saw he wasnt able to recognize his own home that he built in his time."
"But, who is Abida? The name he keeps calling?"
Meher looked at Sanjeeda, "My grandfather was a young boy of fifteen when he was married off to my grandmother. His father had passed away and my father had to support his four siblings, his mother and his newly wed wife. They stood like rock supporting each other in times thick and thin. When I was born they were not that old, and trust me, I never saw them fight. I always saw them together, laughing, talking, taking evening strolls hand in hand. They built whatever little fortune they left for their children, but they did it together. He doesnt even remember his own name, but remembers my grandmother. Her name was Abida."

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