Chapter 1
Mohan is sitting on a porch in front of his temple with a flute in his hand, he is looking up in the sky. It is a mesmerized morning with everyone going to someplace and coming to someplace. Children are playing in a lawn of the temple. Mohan is smiling now, his eyes are closed and slowly he lifts his hands and put his flute to his lips, a super divine melancholic sound takes the charge of atmosphere and a beautiful morning becomes extra beautiful.
No one noticed him. It has been quite a time since everyone stopped noticing him and his music. Though there were days when everyone danced to his tone, to his flute. Now, rarely anyone enjoy his music as well as his presence. Now, he sits in front of the temple and waits for his last breath, last note of music, last blink and last thought. He has started playing flute some more these days because he wants to die with his music on his lips. He has started thinking her some more these days because he wants to die with her thought on his mind.
He is playing same tune which he first played on her thirteenth birthday, on her request of listening something new.
A child, he neither realized nor recognized is sitting facing him. He stops abruptly and looks at the child. That child got dumbstruck at his gaze, so pure, so full of love and warmth, for a second he forgot why he was sitting there and what he wanted to say or do. Mohan is not used to these staring things happening to him, he felt strange.
After five minutes or so,
Mohan – What happened?
Child – Still in awe!
Mohan – Temple is open, go take the blessings of Lord Krishna.
Child – What’s that?
-He said pointing towards his flute.
Mohan – This?
-He holds his flute meekly tightly.
Mohan – This is a musical instrument. This is mine and I am not planning to give it right now.
Child – I liked that song you played.
Mohan – Yes. Okay.
Child – What about your family?
Mohan gets angry and feels a sudden urge to get up and leave but his weak body won’t allow. It takes a lot of time and a lot of effort on his part to get up, ‘moving’ is a topic of second chapter.
Mohan – Don’t disturb me, please.
Child – Will you tell me the story of Lord Krishna?
Mohan – No, I don’t know.
Child – My father says that you were the best friend of my grandfather but now you have gone mad.
Mohan – Why are you eating my mind?
Child – Do you remember my grandfather, his name was Nilesh, people called him ‘Neelu’.
The child said that name once but it echoed in the head of Mohan several times. His eyes pooled with tears and he again looks at the child to inspect. Cleary, he looks like young Neelu, his own Neelu, his best friend and his soulmate.
Mohan – Neelu!
-He gasped and liked the taste of his only friend’s name on his tongue.
Child – Yeah! You remember. He is dead, I never met him, please tell me about him, please tell me your story. Everyone says that you were the integral part of his life. Please! Please!
Mohan – Okay! I will tell you, I will tell you my story.
Mohan placed his flute down and went to some different place in his thoughts. Many memories spin around his head and he kind of tried to relive all of them in a fraction of second. How life had started and how it had ended, he thought. Again, he looked up in the sky seeking some permission, he picked up his flute and this time he played an ear tearing croaking cracking sound. The sound was loud and immature and too thick to even bear. The child put his hands on his ears and screamed.
He is playing that sound which he first played in front of his first friend, critic, listener and admirer, Neelu.
After a torture of about ten minutes, he started with the only story he knew and he wanted to tell, his own story.
