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The Desk Part-5

About Pallavi Luthra

I am a marketing professional. Reading and writing are my greatest passions and I wish to express my thoughts and ideas through my stories to the readers on this portal. So happy reading to everyone!

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Shikhar, who was fuming with anger yelled, “Are you blind? Can’t you see what you have done? It was a real teakwood desk. So expensive, it’s my grandad’s memory and you did spill ink on it?” Urvashi tried to explain but Shikhar thrust a hand towards her, indicating he is not going to listen to anything. He shouted again, “How could you do this? Have you ever seen or possessed a desk so expensive? How would you when your father was a regular government employee and your mom gave tuitions. Your study has also been done, thanks to the scholarships you got. Absolute idiot!” barked Shikhar. Urvashi left the room teary eyed, without a word. She did not turn back. She ran towards the staircase and started running down when she missed a step and she fell rolling down the staircase. She landed on the floor in a pool of blood.

Urvashi was dead.

There in the room Shikhar was feeling ashamed of his random and impatient behaviour once again and was cursing himself because he knew he had lost Urvashi, but not like what he was going to hear. His chain of thoughts was broken by a loud yell from his mother. “Shikhar, beta come here fast. Urvashi is not responding.” He dashed out of the room to see what had happened. He took Urvashi in his arms and kept calling her name, asking her to wake up. “Urvashi, Urvashi, get up, please, I am sorry!” A stream of tears came rolling down his eyes. “I am sorry, the desk is not as important as you are. Please don’t leave me.” But where was Urvashi going to wake up to respond to him? She was gone forever.

Shikhar usually wrote with a ball point pen. It was Urvashi who taught him to write with an ink pen. The habit she inculcated in him took her life. Or maybe it was Shikhar’s impatience or maybe destiny. Questions to which Shikhar gets no answers till date. It’s been ten years that he is looking for answers to these questions but all he has got in return is the regret and guilt for being so rude with Urvashi. He asks himself, “Why did I do this to her? Was a desk more important? Am I so materialistic? Would his grandad appreciate this behaviour of his? His temper and impatience had taken away the most valuable person from his life, his love, Urvashi.

Urvashi had gone but the desk stayed there, standstill in Shikhar’s room without any complaints. It never questioned why did Urvashi drop that ink on it? It never asked him why this stain? The desk didn’t have a voice. It was his obsessive voice that made him mad about that episode which took her away. Now each morning Shikhar sits at the desk but the mornings are no longer merry as they used to be. He doesn’t find anything appealing in the nature around, which he sees from his window. Nothing allures him, neither the song of the cuckoo or the rain droplets falling on his face or the morning mist. Everything is lifeless, still!

He starts a battle of forgetting Urvashi every morning sitting at the desk and every night he sits there losing the battle. Not even a single sob of the desk is heard. All that is heard are Shikhar’s sobs which just doesn’t get over. The room is as it is, the desk is as it is but Urvashi is nowhere. What is really there is the ink stain on the desk which is fading by the day but Shikhar’s wounds are geting deeper and sore with each passing day.

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