Gone By

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Authors: Beatone Hajong

 

Gone By

 

 

 

 

 

                                           
 
Beatone Hajong

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Acknowledgments

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This Novel was both joy and challenge to write, a joy because I could portray myself some way or the other although I had made myself a fictional character with my real name. A challenge, as it’s the first Novel I have written. I thank to every characters in this book for becoming a part of it. Every word that came out from my little brain, I thank to those thoughts of life.

 

I’m profoundly grateful with my whole heart for those, who some way or the other took the chance to know about my Novel while I was writing. Although I received no encouragement from anywhere I express my deep gratitude and thank to all my beloved readers.

 

This book doesn’t mean for any particular person but it’s meant for all. I believe I could keep up the standard. In one way I want to thank all, because it wouldn’t have been without you. Every youth of our nation, every Person of our country and the people from all around the world, I truly take the chance to offer my whole hearted gratitude and the love that you’ve showed to me.

 

As this is my first Novel, I hope I could keep the charm. I have tried my best to make you feel all I could do. I have tried my best to portray what life’s is all about. Any fault that you come by I hope you can consider it.

 

There are people without whom I shouldn’t wind up, without further ado, I want to thank them....and that is you.      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

What does it mean to truly love another?

There was a time in my life when I thought I knew the answer. It meant that I’d care for Anannya more deeply than myself and that we’d spent the rest of our lives together. She once told me the key to success is to love yourself and that’s what I have been doing for the life I had been living now. When we dreamt we would have our own mansion, with attaining certain age of our lives the proposal of marriage would surely come on our way. A family, steady jobs were nothing more than a basic needs. She had that same kind of ordinary dreams as like me. She was like that religious maybe that’s the reason I fell for her. But no matter what went in our lives, I could still imagine myself lying beside her at the end of the day. While we talked and laughed.  Lost in each other’s arm.

 

Part of me still doesn’t believes we are no more together. Yet, the connection stayed behind. I sit on the hillsides waiting for her to appear. She won’t be able to see me of course. When a person sets thing in motion there’s an unease and regrets which we start enduring until we learn the truth. Part of me aches with the thought of being so close to her yet so untouchable. But, now our stories are different. It wasn’t easy for me to accept the truth because there was a time when we were the same as one. With every memories she appeared into my life. I humbly accepted the thing which had come on my way. Perhaps, this is what I could learn falling in love with her. Beyond that I have nothing to know myself indeed the real truth of my life I could figure it out. It was when I saw her for the first time, I did really felt something in my heart. Someone who could know me better and I would know her whole through my life. It happened so quick between us that we didn’t know what made so dutiful between us. I gradually began to like her more than myself. With a thought I emerged out and finally fell in love with her. When years had gone  everything didn’t went right according to what I had thought before I could be her. There came a time when we had to diverge our way and follow our own path. Until I could overcome whole of my heart it was Isha who had helped me out to do miracle in my life. I began to write a diary which I had dreamt to turn into a Novel under the name of Anannya, as the best tribute of my life. With the touch of humble gratitude and respect I firmly dedicated this words of memory to her for whole of my life. Isha had been with me until she flew back to Houston. More like a friend which had turn into love at the end stayed as a mystery between Isha and me. I still ponder thinking about my first and last real love Anannya. Although, I knew Isha was a distant story of my life.

 

Now my present life has become very strange. I fell in love with Anannya when we were together. Even more in the years when we were apart. Our stories had three parts: a beginning, a middle and an end. Although we know every story unfolds in this way. I still can’t believe ours didn’t go on forever.

 

Here I reflect all these things and as always our times comes back to me. With all the collection out of my fractured memories I initiated to recall her back once into my life, although may not be real but in my memory she still exist. I find myself remembering how it began, and for now these memories are all I have left.       

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PART I

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One

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                                                                                                                                8
th
May, 2011

 

My name is Beatone Hajong. I was born in 1990. I had no idea who was I for the last few days of my life. Realizing to wake up from mismatch world around me, I took a walk along the sandy shore that day, abandoning myself from the chaos, in search of serene and a silent hope again. The gentle sea breeze rushed through my skin and I could cover myself with only a thin shirt and a baggy jeans. Few droplets of moisture came rushing along with those high buffering wind which moistened my face. I could taste some salt dissolved in it from far distance Arabian Sea, as I licked out my tongue onto my lips. I walked to a spot where I could find no people but the hustling noise of highly raised sea waves. Neither was I contented nor was I charming out. I was thinking about her. Few steps ahead there laid piles of stones and shells, which were thrown out by those heavy waves along the shore. I picked one that looked the best. I thought I could gift one to her amongst these. Perhaps, my heartfelt love for her never ends. The ambient around seemed quiet and I could perceive there was nothing nearby but me all alone walking. I sat for a while, few birds chirping out in some strands of melody.

“I wish Anannya was with me” my lips whispered softly.

 

“How hard it’s to live without the one you love” my heart propelled. Almost whole of my day I passed gazing at those dreadful and tormenting high waves. My torrid love ecstasy induced me to become a new genre of human being. There existed a change in my way of expressing, my way of talking and I could feel the heaven on earth being fallen in Love with Anannya, the girl that I always dreamt about. I slid my left hand into my jeans pocket. I could feel a piece of paper wrapped inside. I quickened to look for what was it. It was a poem written on it which I forgot I had kept for her. That was my first written words for her which I kept nourishing wishing someday I would read it out for her holding her hand. I never knew I would feel so much about her. She was the only reason that I had kept my long breath lasting. I entitled the poem in her name “Anannya” and read it aloud. As I proceeded to read, my loud voice swiftly lowered down. Some tormenting thoughts followed to haunt me.  It was nothing but She whom I had been missing. I couldn’t redirect my heart but turned into a damped fellow.

 

“Why am I the fella of injustice in love” I muttered out in chronic illusion.

The girl, Anannya whom I had been in love for so many years never loved me back. My eyes began to get dimmer, it’s vision shuddered down. Felt the tiny drop from my eye lashes. I didn’t know when tears came rushing from my eyes. The time had elapsed by now and it was 9:30 pm, the only person was I still in that beach mourning for the Love I desperately needed.

 

I had to hire a hotel room for my lodging. I was on a two days vacation in Mumbai. It delighted me spending the day watching those fishermen along the coast of Versova coastline. In every step I took, I always wished had she been here with me, I would have seen her glittering smile. I always wanted to tell her, I love her with my whole heart. I started walking back to my hotel. On my way back I stopped at a roadside to get some eatables. My half empty stomach needed some nourishment. The only stall available was a small thatched roof with kettles of tea and some biscuits jar. The time had gone so far late by now. And I was still standing amongst those rowdy winds escaping from middle east Arabian sea. I held a cup of tea in my hand, thinking I’m still in Love with Anannya. Each day waiting for a miracle to happen. How my life changed and yet yearning for her love. In every beat of my heart some words drizzled out swallowing the pain of missing someone like her. Memories left behind, nourishing the days and the agony that whirled around my world, trembled me down for a while. That gleam which once used to shine on my face, washed away by those fountain of breeze. I silently walked back to my hotel room. There I was asked by a hotel boy “May I help you Sir”.

 

Travelling alone was never a new thing for me. Since the time I had joined the Engineering Institute, I had been covering miles distance of expeditions, which were indeed exhilarating. A sort of thoughtful introvert had been my image, lacking the art of friendship gallery like the others. But staying single inspired me more and I could grasp the bright side of Life. At the time of bitter loneliness, the only thing that came on my mind was she. I had been building my days without light thrown into the dungeon of darkness. The only source of my life’s light was Anannya.

I ordered the hotel boy “Could you get me a bottle of beer”.

He calmly accepted my order “Yes Sir”.

It was the first day of my two days vacation. I had no freaking idea, what would be the next morning hour of my routine. It’s not my body that’s exhausted, neither my brain in dilemma. It’s the beat of my heart that sounded softer murmuring out her name in every pulse. Some thoughts about her are so concrete that cannot be erased. Anannya was a girl of friendly nature. Many a times it was She, who would make me feel alive but a lot more she always used to feel that essence of love with me.

 

A knock at the door, and I was still drown  in her thoughts, imagining if she would be here, these two days would have turned into two centuries.

“Excuse me Sir” the hotel boy knocking at my room door.

I hurried up to open for his service. “Here is your a bottle of beer, and a package of chicken leg fried Sir”  handing over to me, he said.

 

At the most I had nothing left in my pocket to pay the hotel boy for his humble service. I looked for my wallet which I had left in a drawer. Some notes were popping out, I managed to pay 100 bucks to that boy. He greeted me “Thank you Sir” and exit for his other calling duties. I held the beer in my hand, looked at it very keenly. I had never been so alcoholic, yet today it steered me to snarf. I had no idea what’s the reason behind. But I continued to pour in my glass until I could feel the blurred vision covering my eyes. I realized to put myself up into my bed. The drug that took over drifted me to an end of gigantic outburst feelings and emotions with no boundary, thinking about her. Screaming aloud on top of my voice, beats of heart racing faster while calling out her name
Anannya
for more than a dozen times. The only friend that supported was the lonely night. Speaking about its mystery outcomes and the strength of Man over coming grieves. I was brand new for such moments. Never knew Love would teach me more than books. I hired some thoughts from some corner of my brain which I read earlier from many motivational books, dragging my broken beats to settle down for the night. I looked up, laying on my bed. The ceiling seemed painted white. The drug still running through those burning veins of my body and I stood in a mode where I could not able to separate the conflicts of Love and War. She had become the everyday diary to me. In fact, a collection of prose and poems I used maintain especially for her.

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