“Calling Home“- displayed the screen of my cellphone screen as soon as I clicked Rahul’s name in the contacts list. Even my phone knew that he was not just the man I loved but he was much more than that. He was my HOME. They say, “Home is where the heart is.” Yes, he had my heart, since the very first day I saw him. Not because he was overtly gorgeous or anything (but he is) but because of the sincerity and honesty that his eyes held. He was a living proof of goodness in this world.
Rahul always picked up my calls as soon as I called him. It would not take more than a couple of rings before he picked up the phone and wait for me to say something. But today he wasn’t picking up my calls. I had already called him for over ten times and he still hadn’t picked up my call. Typically, I would have freaked out if he didn’t pick his calls but today I was expecting this. Today was different, as I said. Today, we had fought. Like we had been fighting since the past few days now.
Rahul and I shared the kind of love where we would pick up fights at the drop of a hat but we would make up sooner. We just couldn’t stay mad at each other for long. And even today in the morning when I stormed out of the house and went to work after our fight, I felt terrible for behaving that way even before I reached office.
So immediately after settling in my seat at work, I went to the pantry to brew my coffee. I needed coffee to restore my sanity before I could call Rahul to apologise. After having done that, I dialled his number but he didn’t pick up. I didn’t call him again because I knew he would be driving. I returned to my seat with my coffee and thought I would call him sometime later.
I let an hour pass. I picked up my phone and texted him to check if he had reached. It was customary. He would drop me a text saying that he had reached office everyday. Today, he still hadn’t. I knew he wouldn’t because he was mad at me. So I did. He didn’t respond, still. I assumed he would be in a meeting or something.
Another hour and a half passed. I called him again. He didn’t answer.
He didn’t reply to my messages or return my calls. Half of my day had passed and I had placed him fourteen calls in total. Before placing anymore calls I decided to go to his workplace and apologise in person. So I did. I booked a cab from my workplace to his and revised and re-revised my apology speech on the way.
I was just fifteen minutes away from his office so I decided to call him again. To check up on him, whether he even had time to meet me when I arrived. He still didn’t answer. Finally, I reached his office, and asked the cab driver to stop the car on the opposite side of the road as I wanted to buy Rahul some flowers.
I bought a bouquet of tulips for him. Rahul loved tulips. I called him again hoping he would pick up so that I don’t have to call one of his colleagues to bring him downstairs. I was so so excited to meet Rahul again. I would hug him tightly, apologise and kiss him. After which we would have had coffee at a cafe nearby.
So, I began to cross the road. To meet my love and to apologise to him. Tell him how much I love him. Luckily, he picked up my call. He said “Hello, yeah tell me”? Each cell in my body danced to the sound of his voice. As soon as I opened my mouth to talk, a shriek cry uttered from my mouth. I had been hit by a car.
Before I knew I was five feet in the air and then I landed on the ground with a thud. I still remember being in the air for 3 seconds because Rahul’s face floated in my mind for exactly that amount of time and I murmured “I love you, I am sorry.” As soon as I landed on the ground, I didn’t remember a thing. I do remember a few flashes where I saw Rahul talk to me and say that he had forgiven me and that I would be fine. That he would never fight with me, ever again.
And yes, we never fought. Ever again.
Today, five years ago, I died in a car accident, right outside Rahul’s office. Till date he comes to my grave, with a bunch of tulips, his favourite, and thinks ‘If only he had picked up the call before that.’
Guest Post – Shared by Neha Kandwal
Also published on Medium.