The Soft Dismissal

"रगों में दौड़ते फिरने के हम नहीं क़ायल,
जब आँख ही से ना टपका तो फिर लहू क्या है "

- ग़ालिब

“There was no reason for us to be together so there shouldn’t be one to break apart either.”

“I agree.”

“There were no expectations earlier, so there should be none now.”

“Hmm, I agree again.”

“And we don’t even have to say that we agree to disagree like we do for everything else.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I agree.”

“Alright, then. Will close the chat now. Goodbye.”

“Huh?? Is that it?” I asked.

“What else?” she texted back.

“Hmm.. nothing I guess. Alright then, take care. Have a good life.” I replied after mulling it over for a few seconds.

My text warranted no response and there was none. I waited for a minute looking at the screen and then flung the phone aside.

This wasn’t how I expected us to end at all. The least I hoped was meeting over a cup of coffee (if not beer) and shaking hands and leaving with a hug. I would have perhaps even watched her turn round the corner before driving away, like I always did.

A soft dismissal is a really lousy way to have your innings cut short. It is almost when you play a half hearted shot or are unsure of which way you want to turn the ball that you end up getting out. There is hardly an appeal by the opposition and you just walk off the ground. As a batsman, I always considered getting out by a lofted shot or with balls crashing in your stumps more honorable than just dabbing the ball and giving a return catch to the bowler.

Having known her all these years, I always thought we would go down with a loud crash and a rumble and break apart like a mirror crashing, with sharp edges flying everywhere. The soft, mushy crumbling of a cookie wasn’t how I envisioned it. We should have torn each other apart, flayed and flogged and barked and bitten and cut and slashed at each other. We should have smothered each other, banged our heads on the wall and pushed each other off a cliff. We should have brought out our sharpest daggers and splattered our guts out on the floor. There should have been a fire raging, waiting for us to throw each other at it. Maybe while doing that we could have generated enough heat to have our ends fused again, welding and repairing ourselves in the process.

I mulled over about texting her back and asking her to reconsider our exit plan. This wasn’t the way to go. A soft dismissal didn’t seem right, it didn’t suit us. We were too thick skinned and seasoned to go down like rookies.

I picked up my phone. There was a text waiting.

“You seem too eager to get rid of me. Well, this isn’t how I would go.”

I chuckled to myself at her text and replied. “I agree. You better fight me to your last breath..”