One last cigarette…..one last letter.. letter to the dead.

Why do people write…
It might be a source of money for some, or a way of expressing ..
Why do I write? For me .. It’s more like a bliss .. it heals me .. most of the time when I get lost.. I look for a respite .. some magic..a way to be invisible from the mundane things ..then I read or I write .. it has a magical affect ..
I keep reading people’s blogs, I take ideas from them… I cherish and learn..
Anyhow… this post is not how I am so genius because I can write this crap! Or how I waste my bloody time…
This letter is about a friend (only for 10 hours) and this is my first and last letter to him..
I call it .. the letter to the dead..
I saw somewhere that.. ancient Egyptians wrote letters to the dead when they didn’t find comfort with the living beings... it stirred me at first so much.. that I could not sleep for few nights. I contemplated death and dying .. and pondered over it again n again ..

what feeling did they get when they wrote these letters…but now I feel what they must have felt… sometimes doing this is the only way to pacify yourself….
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I was traveling to Dehradun to visit my family friend. It was his brother’s marriage time.
“Why can’t you fucking go?” I asked my brother.
“Fuck of... either go or die.” Replied my brother.
“Ok, return my 5000 Rs if you want me to go”, my brother said.
Pheww! I had no other option, so I packed my bags and headed off to Dehradun.

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I was not very happy but since I had no other option, I got ready for my rendezvous with my so-called family friends. He he
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“Rajat is his name”, I thought but I was not sure. So here I was standing at palampur bus stand waiting for the bus, but I didn’t even know their names.
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It was really chilly that day at palampur and I was shivering … well not really that much though.
Bus was just about to leave for haridwar via Dehradun.
Standing at the bus stand in the chilly winter day reminded me of the days when we used to go to our aunts home in our summer vacations, there was this force that kept us waiting for the summer vacation.
My aunt used set out four cups of tea and a plate of Britannia Marie biscuits on the little cane stool every morning. I used to help her by dragging four cane chairs and setting it around the table. But now it’s been 5 years since I met my aunt and had tea at her nicely maintained porch.

God! I miss those bloody days…
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“The honking of the bus brought me out my day dream”. I sat at the given seat number.
“Is this seat take, son”, a voice came.
I squinted to see where that voice came from, “no, uncle” I replied.
A nice looking man sat beside me, though he was in his 50’s but his visage was glowing like anything, salt and pepper hair made him look like a 70’s villain though.

“Cigarette”, he said.
“No, thanks”, I blurted.
Suddenly that old commercial started flashing in front of my eyes where A man is seen viciously puffing away from glory and the music goes on, in the background – “cigarette in my hand, I felt like a man” and in next few shots he coughs, droops and finally metamorphoses into a skeleton.
“do you mind putting your cigarette away sir, I feel like throwing up”, I said.
He threw his cigarette away but then he stopped talking to me, may be he got angry or he got offended.

It was half way from Chandigarh when our bus stopped for snack and fuck what not..
This was the first time I saw that handsome man completely, he was quiet muscular and attractive. I couldn’t stop myself so I went ahead and asked for the matchstick.
He gave me the matchstick and we started talking.

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I was totally in love ..
There are people who are just born to be in love. I am one of them.

There are people who are born to be loved. I am not one of them.

I am not ShahRukh , who finds his love at the end of the movie.
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I have loved. A little too many times. I’ve been loved. By too many. Never for the right reasons.
I fell in love with the my teacher when I was in school, but yes that love was innocent.
I fell in love with my Dad’s driver because of his so called “dimpled chin”.
And bla bla bla…
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So it was not new for me to have fallen for a man just right away, I was like a hungry tiger, just waiting for the prey.
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“So what do you do?” he asked me.
“MBA, final semester uncle”, I said.
“Uncle, what the fuck is this?”, finally he said.



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and you, I asked.
“Well to start with, I have blood cancer, and I might not live more that one month, so I m going to haridwar for one last dip. Going to mussoire to see the place for the last time where I proposed the love of my life, to Chandigarh where I studied and spent the glorious days of my life…

And bid farewell to all those who were important for me”. He said.

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I was stoned to death and the way he mentioned it and they way his blue eyes glittered , mesmerized me….
“cigarette” he said.
I nodded for the sound of yes as I was speechless.
“here”, he said. “not good for health though”, I said.
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“My son, he is a doctor at PGI, he loves me a lot. I love him a lot too but his wife thinks I am evil so they left me”, he said.

“it really kills me” he said with tears rolling out of his eyes.

He told me how he had brought up his kids and how he sacrificed his life for his son and daughter and never married again after the death of his wife.
He told me that he doesn’t want his son to waste his hard earned money on his treatment.
I knew he was lying, I ve seen people throwing out their old parents.
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how 8-10 hours passed in the bus was such a surprise… he told me his life experience.
He was an engineer in the army (his physique showed it), how he raised his kids, his hobbies and all.
Even I shared many thing with him. It was such a fun.
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we were about to reach Dehradun, and suddenly I said in the middle of nowhere.
“Do you know that I am gay?” I blurted… and I really don’t know why I said that to him.
“Wow… and why did u tell me” he asked.
“Because I want to kiss you, not like as in sex “kiss you”, but the other kiss you,
I mean I want to do friendly kiss , may be on the cheek or on lips, not like as in sex “kiss you” I kept mumbling…
I just forgot everything and kept mumbling,, god knows what.


“but the other kiss you…, I know what you mean”, he said.

“Sorry”, I couldn’t think of anything else.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you this, but I don’t know why I said that to you”, I said
“Don’t worry”, Tell me what else do you like.
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“Nothing sir”
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I didn’t speak to him after that,
I couldn’t, how could I?
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“I AM GAY” WOW…
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I was wondering what would he be thinking about me.
So when my stop came. I got down from the bus.
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“You didn’t tell me your name” someone said.
I turned around and found him there standing with his bag outside Dehradun bus stand.
“weren’t you suppose to go to Haridwar” I asked.
“Well, how could I missed that kiss on my cheeks or lips, not like as in sex kiss…”, he said wittily
We laughed and then decided to spend the night together and talk and get to know each other.
We took a room at the hotel nearby…
I had my way with him though( yippee)
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Well it was not sex but it was something … I have no words to describe it though.
I told him how I wanted to hear his heartbeat while I sleep, how I wanted to feel the warmth of his chest on my cheek and how I wanted to see the male form in its full glory.
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He had no objection to anything…
We knew our boundaries and we spoke, got naked, lingered around in those limits only.
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next morning we exchanged numbers and set on our own ways.
I reached my “family friend’s” home and enjoyed the party. Though I kept thinking about the bus guy(Mr. B) all the time.
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so after a week I came back from Dehradun,
but I felt like I was missing something.
I called him on the number he gave me but my call never reached him.
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one day a letter came to my home address with a small carton.
I opened it and found one cigarette. So it was a full cigarette box but contained only one cigarette. And the letter said:

“Dear friend, one last cigarette from your UNCLE… you made my day that day and made me feel special, I wish you could sleep on my chest everyday and listen to my heartbeat. But by the time you will receive this gift of mine, my heart would have stopped forever but I know it will be there beating in your ears and I hope you accept my gift a cigarette and a kiss which by the way is not a “sex kiss”.
Your Friend… forever!”

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I couldn’t stop myself from crying that day. It felt like I have lost something very valuable, there was a feeling of excruciating pain somewhere inside me.

I am calling it “something” because I again have no words to describe it. It may sound ordinary and fictitious to you but as people around me said…

We have been there… done that.. presumably for them it was nothing, but I couldn’t help thinking about him .. again and again… day after day …
I know that his image will remain with me forever a silhouette in the dark smoking a cigarette

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now more than a year has passed since he died… it seems so cruel that time passes so gently and heals away all the pain, now I remember him quiet less, once in blue moon, the pain is less.
I wrote him a letter when I had just come from Dehradun from that marriage. But I received his gift before I could post it.
I call it the letter to the dead… but I guess the dead person I wrote to…is nobody else….. but me.
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so now when I remember that face.. vaguely though.
I take out that cigarette that he gave me and I kiss it gently
“Kiss,, not like as in sex kiss though”…..Duh!
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So here I m left with… one last cigarette and one letter…..
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I don’t know about that man any more that one nightstand and still I miss him.
I was told by some friends to write blogs .. n was warned .. It doesn’t guarantee you readers some of my friends said they had been posting for eons but they read it themselves so my letters to dead were written for my own self posted here.
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Well I was sitting on my couch, with my dog. Watching TV.
And I saw one guy just like Mr. B. so I though of writing about him.


I am bored and confused…
Ps: Again I got lost while writing… I had a terrible headache…
But I’m human and as I said in one of my blogs.. I’m a sinner.