There are no next lives

It seems like a dream now. A life I probably never really lived but only dreamt of. It sure ended like a dream, like an incomplete story I read of a pixie who stored a whisper in a box to send to her lover. Like a half watched movie.

Earlier that day the phone had rung ... finally. I picked it up hurriedly, it was breath to me. I was hungry for her voice. It'd been weeks since I last heard from her. The ball was in her court - to leave her life the way she lived it and come to me, or forget me forever and give into her people because if one thing was sure - it was lack of any middle path. Her family, community, people will never accept me. I'm an outsider to them.

The fact that I'm human was not enough. Being the same race didn't do it either. The purity of caste needs to remain. I needed to be of the same caste and community. you can change your economical status with time, or social. You can but not change who you are by birth. Religion, Race, Caste, Creed ... the labels stitched to your soul, you can never wash them away.

We talked for some time about how we are and then she told me she can't do it. "i'm sorry rishi ... maybe next time ... in out next lives", she whispered in a moist voice. The time slowed down, and the consciousness thinned. The mind was racing but my thoughts were numb.

What do you do when your God decides to change his own religion?

"There are no other worlds Mansi", I heard myself say, "There are no next lives. What we have is what we have. We have but one life and our lives are already lived, they are embedded in time. The second chances don't exist."

"Just say goodbye rishi, this is probably the last time we are talking to each other ... just know that you meant everything to me, but we have some burdens we need to carry ... don't fight with me today love, just say goodbye", Mansi said.

"Don't you see it doesn't mean anything to say goodbyes Mansi? our lives are lived the way they have been. The time does not move. Its an entity in existence. We'll keep meeting each other for the first time, we'll keep promising the promises to each other in eternity. I'll keep losing the battle to win you from your world ... and I'll keep losing you again ... and again."

She kissed me goodbye on the phone and disconnected. I never tried to call back. The purpose was lost.

The cards and love notes, an odd letter or postcard, dried roses and photographs, the frozen moments; I had to get away from them. Burning them was not an option. I don't know how one does that, burn all these memories away? So I tore them to pieces and threw them away.

But there are still some things left ... her voice, her touch, her smell, her taste, the evenings we had spent together, the rains we had got wet in. The walks we took, the talks we had. How does one tear these away and throw them to the winds?

I don't know how to do that Mansi ... get rid of you from within my blood, and my soul. Have you gotten rid of me from within your soul? ... I'll need to be reborn from you to achieve my peace with the self ...

"there are no next lives rishi", Mansi whispers to me, "there are no second chances. we have what we have ... just say goodbye ...".