The Bridge
The Bridge. I look at the vast body of water flowing beneath. Its a strange sight, looking at the Sabarmati river from the middle of one of its seven bridges. It makes me realise how small I am. And how easily I'll be long dead before anyone will notice my body floating lifelessly in its currents. I take the sheet of paper out of my breast pocket, read it again, in the scorching sunlight. 'Dearest Jigna, I know you've been hurt, and won't speak to me ever again, but when you read about my death in the paper, please know then that I loved you till the end of my life and I prayed for you with my last breath.' But hope is a weird thing. I pull out my cell, dial her number. And, with a prayer, I put it to my ears. Tring tring... Tring tring... Once... Twice... Thrice... 'The number you're dialing is not responding' I hang up. I put the phone on the letter on the bridge parapet, climb over, look at the sky and mutter: ...