Realised Embraced Sacrificed

Chapter 7 : The Love That Struggled

The photos on my bedside table of those days in Goa have become my confidants - frozen smiles that hide the ache, moments of togetherness that I cling to desperately.

How I wish I could turn back the time!

Three hundred and sixty-five days have passed, but not even a hundred times, Kabir and I got a chance to properly talk to each other.

Trust me, when I say, it is devastating!

Kabir is carrying a phone, but the poor networks in Drass don't allow us to converse. The calls sometimes do not connect, and if they do, they end in a few minutes and sometimes, even in seconds.

However, they are so so precious!

Those occasional calls are like fleeting bursts of sunlight in my life.

And when his voice comes through the phone, my world comes to a still.

The erratic signal and the rushed conversations remind me of how precious and rare these moments of connection are.

I hold onto his words like they are my lifelines, playing them over and over in my mind until they become a comforting mantra. The sound of his voice, the way he says my name, it's etched into my heart, a melody that sustains me through these long months of separation.

He tells me about the snowstorms, the relentless cold, and the way every step is a battle against the elements. He speaks of the challenges, of missing home, of counting down the days until he can hold me again.

I listen, feeling a mixture of pride and helplessness, wishing I could shield him from the harshness of it all.

He describes his fellow soldiers and his routine, it's as if I'm a part of his world, even if only briefly.

In those moments, I'm transported to his side, my heart swelling with love that knows no distance.

The crackling lines carry echoes of his laughter, the sound of his voice a symphony that resonates in the depths of my soul.

And then, his letters, his letters, now rare and brief, tell tales of cold that swallow the world whole, of nights spent huddled for warmth, of a camaraderie born out of shared trials.

I read and reread those letters, each sentence etched into my memory, each word a testament to his dedication and strength.

Each word is a treasure that I hold close to my heart. The pages are worn from being read and reread, each creases a proof of my longing and devotion.

I trace the familiar handwriting, hoping that it was his fingers I was holding.

And, every time I send him a letter, I pour all my feelings onto the page, hoping that the words will bridge the gap and reach him in the snow-covered land he calls home.

I sometimes die to talk to him, but I can't.

Every fiber of my being, every cell of my body, and every molecule of my existence looks for Kabir.

I want to crib about all the problems I go through, but I can't. I want to share my happiness with him, but I can't. I want to tell him how I dislike my senior who always finds excuses to condemn me, but I can't. I want to tell him how I have made a new friend, but I can't. I want to tell him how I bought ten dresses, cause it was a sale, but I can't.

I want to do a lot, but I can't.

Sometimes, weeks pass without a call, and sometimes a month.

Being in this relationship is sucking the life out of me, but just remembering Kabir's face, his eyes that promise only and only love to me gives me the strength to keep going on.