Excerpt for Colour of Holi by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Colour of Holi

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By Hiranya Borah






Copyright 2017 Hiranya Borah


Smashwords Edition







Smashwords Edition, License Notes


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Preface


It is another failed love story from me. This is a complete fictitious story. If you find any resemblance with any living or dead person, it is merely a coincidence only.

Thanks to my readers and friends and above all my family for their constant support to write something usual and unusual. I love them all.

Thanks to Smashwords for publishing this story book along with my other books.


Author

Chapter I: Meeting after a Long Time


It was a pleasant surprise for me to see Arati after almost thirty years at a recent family function of a common friend. Still she looks stunning.

‘You look so young, a desire may crop up in my mind to play another innings with you!’ As I started my flirting with her, both of us started laughing loudly.

‘Unless my husband does not kill you!’ She said to me pointing her finger at her husband.

‘Oh he will not mind! Even though he will not allow me to play with you, definitely he will look at you differently! Am I right sir?’ Shaking my hand, I asked Arati’s husband.

‘Yaah. Your comments will reignite our love for each other for few more years hopefully.’ He retorted back.

‘You are very lucky to marry Arati. Arati was on the radar of many of us. But she did not give any lift to any of us. Therefore, we have to settle for someone else.’ With a broad smile I said.

‘Can you tell these things, had your wife been around?’ Arati commented.

‘My wife never minds for such loose talks coming out of my mouth. Particularly, after my age crossed the threshold of the half century, she used to say, I have already crossed the expiry date. According to her, I am now a toothless tiger or a venom less snake. I can only make sounds from mouth and behind.’ I made a fun of my own old age and its consequent effects.

‘Oh, so sorry. But I am yet to reach your stage now. Arati will definitely certify that.’ Arati’s husband boasted like any other North Indian male.

‘Oh, that is great! That may be the reason why Arati is still glowing!’ I have a habit to make others feel happy at my own cost.

‘Hey, don’t believe Hiranya. He is a dangerous man. He is like ‘Bagali Bhakat’ (stork who pretends like a saint to catch fish). I know he is still after ladies of all ages. So beware of him, he may snatch away any ones’ wife.’ Pradeep, a friend of mine, commented from behind to puncture my claim of being toothless tiger or venom less snake (impotent).

All of us laughed; but I saw some rage in the eyes of Arati’s husband for actually making fun of his boasting on his masculinity before his wife.

Chapter II: Last Meeting


It was year 1985, when I last met Arati. On that day, she was with her mother, Purabi and brother Ashutosh to see off her father at airport. I was also leaving Guwahati by the same flight.

On that day she was wearing a red sari with a red blouse. She was stunning with her red dress which matched her skin colour. I could not take away my eyes from her, till I crossed the security of airport for boarding. The last sight of her is still vivid in my eyes.

Yes, I loved Arati. But I could not dare to tell her about my feeling about her. The reason was simple, I never thought I was any match for her. I was from a lower middle class family, staying in the hostel with a monthly expenditure limited to Rupees one hundred fifty only. On the other hand, she was from an upper middle class family who used to come to the college by car driven by a driver. So my love for Arati is nothing more or less than perfect 50% of any love affair.


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