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Monday, December 18, 2017

Death Of An Invictus

?He was calm and the tears too, trickled down at the last moment to script his passion about which he lived and he died…He remained invictus till the last very moment of his life…

On to the gravel road many refuse to plough but she prefers walking on to that. The gravel underneath her feet rattles and the sound beseeches the silence. In silence, the existence of each and everything partakes to establish an eternal bond with the one who once lived with certainty that he is Invictus…Today Rosella after many years, would be meeting Roberto…Who believes that he is an Invictus…As Rosella leaves the gravel road and hit the main road…she feel the sense of loss…Something grips her mind to say that things are not same…not only life has changed but the lanes too which she was passing through have lost its unique presence. She knew instinctively, that where to turn ,to reach Bakers lane…Bakers lane hold lots of memories for her and she has not forgotten this particular lane of Marseilles…

The baker lane at this hour of the day disowns everybody. One can only walk with their shadow. And when it rains the lane carves a beautiful emblem with archaic designs of the buildings around. Street lights add to mysticism. She walks down the lane to reach Le Tambour…A bar which she frequently visited with Roberto… tonight, it seems baker lane is not in its best to cast seductive spell…the lane is deserted…She could see now Le Tambour… She ploughs her way to town squire; surprisingly today being a weekend she found fewer crowd. It is very cold, she thought, it may snow tonight. She walks towards the bakers’ lane and there, she felt the consenting familiarity. In the entire boulevard avenue, baker lane stands out as different. It has its unique sense of identity with its ancient look. Somehow, she always felt at home there. She looks at her watch, it is 8 PM and thoughts that she very rightly guessed, that from the sub way, she will make it to Rubin Lounge in ten minutes; and dot she is there. She enters the lounge and finds, that man not there. He looks around, expecting people to look at her, but in contrary no one did. located at the middle of the lane with its unique barely lit entrance…

She settle herself at the corner and ask for a large cognac and within no time she gulps down to the throat, in one go. And another drink, she washes her throat in urgency. Two shots of cognac makes easy for her to be comfortable with people around, but they are all busy talking to themselves. She never felt so miserable and neglected. She looks around to catch the attentive gaze and she finds a man, smilingly gazing her; she smiles back. She asks for another drink. The man walks up to her and scribble on a piece of paper that, if he can buy a drink for her. She pleasing looks at him and answer...”Oh! Sure, you can, but who are you?” He smiles and says nothing...He sits opposite her and sips his drink calmly. With his silence, she is bit uncomfortable now. “Who are you?” She asks again. He just not reacts. She is restless now and shifts his chair closer to his and says, “Look man, I don’t know you; I asked your name, you have not answered. I am not keen to know your name. If you know about Roberto, tell me…Isn’t you are Peter who called me saying that Roberto is coming… He remains unfazed and unmoved. The impacting liquor makes her more exuberant with her words but she is restless and irritatingly asks that man, “It appears you are not in mood to reply my question.” The man shuffles a bit and rests his both the hand on the table and smiles. She furiously ask “Are you dumb….or you mad…who the hell are you, tell me about Roberto… don’t waste my time.” Instead answering her …he pulls his chair next to her and with heavy accent asks, “Lady what’s your name.” Lady infuriating questions back…”What, you calling me lady…what the hell you are thinking…get lost. Oh! Come on, I am not the lady you are looking for…Don’t bestow me with your words of honor…Calling me a lady…You certainly must be a mad man…but it’s long time ever since Roberto left no one called me with so much respect” She pauses and mumbles, “Crazy people.” She gets up with heave but remains as composed as ever…She walks towards the exit, the man calls back loudly “Rosella, hold a minute…” and she stops…looks back with anger…The man once gain loudly says You know Rosella…your invictus is dead…your Roberto is dead…he is no more…The man as I got to know your invictus died as your man only..do you know this…he died as your man only…Rosella walks back to the table with tears in her eyes and struggles back to sit …She pulls him by his collar and yells “ You are a liar…this cannot be…my invictus can never die…he is not meant to be consigned to death…no…never…my Roberto can never die…he is invictus…how dare you could say this…” She pauses for a while and continued… “so you lied to me…you are the one phoned.. who called me to say that Roberto is coming at this bar…so you lied…how you can be so cruel…” uncontrollably she is sobbing…The man remains as composed as ever but cracks in his composure can be seen with shrieking wail of this lady and tears escape from his eyes too…he takes out a small diary…and hands over to her and in shivering voice says… “This is from Roberto…he asked me to give to you in person at this bar Le Tambour…This is about your invictus…the man who penned down this for you…yes the man, who promised you that he will remain invictus, has asked me to hand over this diary to you

Lady, sobbingly asks “Was he calm”…the man replies “Yes he was till the last moment…he was calm and I saw the tears too, trickled down at the last moment to script his passion about which he lived and he died…He remained invictus till the last very moment of his life…”

She is lost, lost at the truth…she is not at all concern about the people around…silently she realizes …silently she assures… She looks at him and say nothing… silently she gets up and leaves…

Yes,Silently she leaves La Tombour and once on to the Bakers Lane she yells “MY INVICTUS…YES YOU ARE INVICTUS…”

-Uttam Gill



About the Writer

Uttam Gill is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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1 comments on Death Of An Invictus

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By Barbara MacDonald on October 24, 2015 at 12:08 pm

Very nice Uttam, keep writing...

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