Today's Inspiration.
He was leaving, this time for real. He couldn't take it anymore, the end was going to come some day. They always believed in crossing the bridge when it comes. Today it had, and it all felt like a sudden numbness.
She was a Muslim, and he was a Hindu.
They had met 5 years ago in New York city, it was odd for a Muslim girl to have come this far to study. Indians always stick close in foreign seas. They were friends instantly almost like they've known each other for years. They had each others back. Sometimes you feel so connected to someone, its hard to pull away, like an external source is keeping you glued to them, like something is holding the two together. One day he said he loved her. She didn't a say word and avoided him for the rest of the trimester. They couldn't avoid it for long though, the pull.
Today she was looking at the picture their friend had clicked of them, over looking the grand city where she had fallen in love and found the other half of her soul. There was blood flowing from her hand as she smiled at the memory of that day, he had kissed her for the first time and she had never felt more complete. Today he was counting his last breathes in a hospital bed miles away from where she was.
She was back home in Hyderabad with her five brothers, two sisters and father. Her mother had passed away when she was only 7 years old. Her step mother had come to know of their relationship, she had told her father about it. She still can't let the memory of that day go away completely, she can still remember his cries for help, the darkness on that street and help that never came. She was trying to stop his bleeding, she was trying to calm him down, they were rushed to the nearest hospital, she couldn't move. The very next day she was brought home, her father had been clear this was the last she was seeing of the city.
The blood continued to trickle down from her hand, each drop bringing a new memory of him, of the things he said and how amused she would be. She was feeling herself lose conciousness a little at a time, the blood was now making a pool around her hand, her breathing was getting slower and as she breathed her last breathe, in a hospital miles away the doctor said "Time of death 16.36"
What good is the privilege of being born in a free country if you can't even choose who you fall in love with?
Today she was looking at the picture their friend had clicked of them, over looking the grand city where she had fallen in love and found the other half of her soul. There was blood flowing from her hand as she smiled at the memory of that day, he had kissed her for the first time and she had never felt more complete. Today he was counting his last breathes in a hospital bed miles away from where she was.
She was back home in Hyderabad with her five brothers, two sisters and father. Her mother had passed away when she was only 7 years old. Her step mother had come to know of their relationship, she had told her father about it. She still can't let the memory of that day go away completely, she can still remember his cries for help, the darkness on that street and help that never came. She was trying to stop his bleeding, she was trying to calm him down, they were rushed to the nearest hospital, she couldn't move. The very next day she was brought home, her father had been clear this was the last she was seeing of the city.
The blood continued to trickle down from her hand, each drop bringing a new memory of him, of the things he said and how amused she would be. She was feeling herself lose conciousness a little at a time, the blood was now making a pool around her hand, her breathing was getting slower and as she breathed her last breathe, in a hospital miles away the doctor said "Time of death 16.36"
What good is the privilege of being born in a free country if you can't even choose who you fall in love with?
I've sent my mail!
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Absolutely LOVE the photo.
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