Our Blues

Prologue

She pointed at his chest, the left side of it where his heart pumped blood viciously and his lips parted in a kind of sigh– he didn't know if it was relief or surprise, or both.

Her smile grew wider. She opened her palms as if asking him to put his hand in hers, or most probably she was asking for his heart. The whisper of a promise lay in her gaze.

Uzair had no language left in his mouth. Whatever resistance he'd displayed for her in the past had long begun to crumble, and now only a thin thread of it remained. He knew it wouldn't be long, that upon her insistence, he'd yield.

"We can't be together. I have told you many times already," he spoke quietly and slowly, so she'd be able to catch his words well. When not a single line of her expression changed in response to his statement, he stood up from the stool and grabbed his bag of tools. His lunch time was over, and he hadn't even finished his chai, "please go home."

He began walking to the construction site, half-heartedly, knowing that she didn't need to spread her hands before him for him to lose his heart to her. It had happened already, long ago, before he even realised.

The sound of her footsteps rhymed with his heartbeats. He stopped and turned around once again. He couldn't help his gaze from lingering upon her eyes, and the bewitching smile that curled her lips.

She noticed, stepped closer, blinking purposefully. She signed something to him, but the only gestures he could pick up meaningfully was me and you, and the rest was lost to air. He shook his head and smiled sadly, his battered, hesitant fingertips reaching for her clean, beautiful hands to lower them back to her side. Her gaze followed this touch, a flicker of hope in her eyes that he'd have to crush once again– one final time.

"You..." he began, searching desperately for words to convey all the thoughts and feelings in his mind. He lowered his gaze to their lightly touching fingertips too and took a deep breath, murmuring to himself, "I wish the world would end now." So, I wouldn't have to let you go.

Uzair looked at her face one final time. Silver jhumkas clung to her ears, moving every now and then when the wind blew, and tangled the auburn strands of her hair with them. From the first moment he'd seen her, her eyes had enraptured him (though he refused to admit that back then). Those big, hazel eyes of hers shaped like an almond,as the black kohl and mascara made them appear even more enticing.

Life brimmed in them– a man's reason to live.

From the pocket of his flannel, he retrieved a piece of paper he'd folded and re-folded since the past few days. His handwriting was still awful and crooked. What else could an illiterate man do? To have written even this much, however it appeared, was a gift. A gift she gave him and one he'd cherish forever.

He held it out to her. The elated smile on her face turned tentative as she received it from him. Before she could unfold and read its contents, Uzair spoke, "For a very long time, learning to spell seemed useless. I didn't care that I wasn't eloquent or well-educated because I thought that knowing how to read or write wouldn't change anything. There wasn't anyone I wanted to speak with anyway."

She focused intently on the words taking shape on his lips, eyebrows drawn together, breathing ever so slowly in case it broke her focus.

"But then you came into here," he confessed with a bittersweet chuckle and a pat to his heart, "bright sunlight on an otherwise stormy day. You...brought me back to life, taught me how to breathe and feel."

Uzair tried to swallow the knot in his throat, but to no avail. "You taught me what little language I know today and I will forever be grateful for that."

The frown on her face deepened, as frustration pinched her features. She raised both her hands, palms turned to him. Slow down.

The breeze ruffled her hair and his fingers quivered involuntarily. "I'm sorry."

Tears gathered in her eyes. She shook her head, but it must have been clear on his face that this was at last, their final meeting, because she gingerly reached her hand to the sleeve of his shirt. A last plea.

"I never learnt your language despite desperately wanting to, because if I did...this moment would have been ten times harder to survive," Uzair admitted. "I hope you'll always shine, wherever you go. May you forget me tomorrow and forever."

But not today, not yet. Remember me for a few more hours. Love me for a little longer.