Posted on by Someone is Special

Life is a chocolate

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 53; the fifty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Soulmates: Love without ownership by Vinit K Bansal. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The chilly wind blew up the dead leaves in the air piercing the numb silence of the graveyard. The damp close air with reduced visibility reminded her of the world she lived years ago. A bowlful of memories locked up in the torn piece of her heart belonged the person living in the gravestone. She went down on her knees, placed a Swiss dark chocolate on that gravestone, pressed her lips on the name “Varun” engraved on it. Tear drops filled up the space between her lips and the gravestone. And the clouds too poured down their grief to mark the end of a beautiful story.

* * *

The thousandth ray of morning sun fell on his face. He twisted, turned, and tossed up on the three-years-old hostel-bed. The fresh aroma of the tea activated his brain that ordered to him to open his eyes to greet the day. He saw a card and a plastic cup of tea kept on the table. He extended his arms, took the card in one hand, opened with a smile, as ordered on the card. It read…

Okay, One, two and three,
Let’s the fun begin with tea,
Get up from the bed,
Freshen up Mr. Red,
Wear the sexy red shirt,
Come to our heaven Mr. Flirt!
Yours,
Lady Book.

He threw himself out of the bed, sipped the tea in a minute, rushed to the bathroom and freshened up in less than half-an-hour, ran to the heaven. He saw a card on the library door. It read…

Words we love, reading
Again and again, feeding
The hunger inside, seeding
The peace of love, wanting
For more from his pen, leading
The world of poetry, dancing
With the host of daffodils, loving
Reading whatever he was blessing!
Yours,
Insane Poem,

The first line itself was enough for him to run to poetry section and grab Wordsworth, still he read till the last word to enjoy the words. A card fell down from the book. It read…

Come to the place,
Where we first met.
Come to the place,
Where we first fought.
Come to the place,
Where we first cried.
Come to the place,
Where we first smiled.
Come to the place,
Where we first sat together,
Come to the place,
Where we first ….
Yours,
Idly & Kuruma.

“What’s was that word ending with ‘er’” He said to himself. He turned the card to see a smiley that made him laugh. He kept the card along with other cards in his shirt pocket, ran to the canteen, only to find the ever-smiling sweet-enemy classmate, Aron. Aron showed Varun the card he was dying to read, but Aron did not allow him to read till he paid for his breakfast. It read…

I am the synonym…
Of your smile, tears (happy and sad), mood (good and bad), status (Facebook & Twitter), the ordinary words that you scribble and yet sounding beautiful when I read, and of course, the Swiss dark chocolate that you love a lot.
Yours,
Swiss Dark Chocolate.

And on the backside of the card, it read… “Meet me at my home now!” On reading the card, he ran to hostel parking lot, then to his bike, to be surprised to see a “Swiss Dark Chocolate” with “I …. …” written on the cover, and kept on the engine. He started the bike, changed the gears and flew to heaven.

In about half-an-hour, Nithya received a call from him on her mobile phone. She said, “Loser. Loser. Loser.” A stranger spoke, “Mam, can you please come to Apollo hospital. Your friend met with a road accident. I’m…”

She fell unconscious.

When she opened her eyes, she saw him covered in white, placed inside coffin. Aron walked towards her and handed over a Swiss Dark Chocolate with “I …. …” written on the cover. Aron said that Varun was admitted in the hospital in “braindead” condition. Doctors operated Varun’s organs to save a small boy who was in need of a heart. She looked at the chocolate, pressed her lips on the cover, and…

* * *

The chilly wind blew up the dead leaves in the air piercing the numb silence of the graveyard and made her skin shiver. She went down on her knees, placed a Swiss dark chocolate on that gravestone belonged to her, pressed her lips on the name “Varun” engraved on it. The bowlful of memories flashed before her eyes. Tear drops filled up the space between her lips and the gravestone. She said, “I …”, and her heart stopped beating, but her lips whispered two more unsaid words.

Varun saw her unmoved for more than ten minutes. He came out of the car, running and shouting “Mamma” with a Swiss Dark Chocolate in his hand and a card in the other. It read…

“Life is like a dark chocolate. Bittersweet. Depends on how you see it. You can make it sweeter by turning the odds to favours or by losing to it. Choose your way, Varun :)”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 36

0 Replies to “Life is a chocolate”

  1. Sarav..I love the way you can turn simple things in to one that moves hearts…

    FYI…the link you posted on Blog-a-Ton takes us to a page on Blog-a-Ton that says no contents found…you should check.

    Reply

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