Concrete Love


“Stefan, my boy just throw away your pen! You shouldn’t leave your life for this dead concrete pen! 

Throw away, Stefan! Just throw that away!”. 

One month ago. 

It’s 23rd September, my birthday. And instead of staying excited, I’m here, sitting in my room alone with my diary, the only friend of mine. I’m 19 now. How funny it seems when you think that you spent your nineteen years in this world doing nothing except breathing. My life is more funnier though, because I have to do a lot of things so that I just breathe little, anyhow. I’m Stefan and I’m suffering from epileptic seizure. I got to know about this problem at the most unexpected, unwanted time. A school boy solving numericals in his classroom suddenly started having convulsions, others were laughing, it felt like any dark room with no one around and voices of laughter echoing, enjoying the boy’s situation. The boy felt that he’s facing death. Ambulance’s siren was heard later, the boy surrounded with hospital staffs and some familiar faces can hear the voice of his mother cries and words, “Stefan, my boy, wake up, please wake up, mumma loves you, my boy, please wake up”

I woke up after couple of weeks, I opened my eyes for a second and immediately closed my eyelids. I was breathing and for the first time I felt that breathing is really hard for me this time. I touched my head, my curly hair is no more, I’m bald. I didn’t open my eyes, the world was looking like any mirage to me, life was like any mirage, and I don’t want to fall in this trap. Life is cruel. Very cruel. I got discharged after three months, I was happy because finally, I was going to live a normal life again. I was expecting normal life, and I forgot that expectations too are nothing but mirage. Nobody in school chose me as their benchmate, nobody was talking to me, but everybody was talking about me, “This baldie got an ugly life”,  “His parents gave birth to burden”, “How many more birthdays to celebrate?”,  “He’s wasting the oxygen for sure”

There was only one person, Ariana, who was there with me during my hard times. She was different from the other students, she didn’t laugh at me, rather, she chose to laugh with me. She was the only one who told me that I’m handsome because I’m bald. I love writing poems, she got to know that when accidentally she saw a diary in my bag. She opened it and read.. 

“I am waiting for the morning

which will come with rays of hope, 

I am waiting for the nights

which passes by writing love notes, 

I am waiting for the monsoon, 

because I’m the pluviophile when alone

I am waiting for a life little happier, 

because I feel homeless at home”

“Stefan?! You write poems?!”

“Huh? Oh my god! Please give me that diary!”

“No way! I’m not going to return you this right now! I want to read them all. Please”

“Ahhh…Okay. Return this to me on 23rd sept”

“Why 23rd September?”

“Ahh.. I like that day”

23rd September. 

“Hey Stefan! Here’s your diary, and I must say that you should publish your write-ups”

“Thanks Ariana, I’m glad to hear this”

“By the way, Stefan, this is for you. Please unbox it”

“Oh my, thank you! How do you know that it’s my birthday? Okay I’ll unbox this first. What’s this?!”

“This is a pen made of concrete. It has got no ink inside, it’s just a solid concrete pen. Before you ask me it’s significance, I will tell you. You deserve this concrete pen because you both share similar characteristics. Both of you are beautiful inside and lifeless outside.. you write beautiful poems and keep them hidden, and this pen is so aesthetic but people find it useless. You both reminds me that “not every beautiful thing is happy and lovable.. and not every breathing person is living.” So, dear Stefan, this concrete pen is made for a beautiful writer like you”

Ariana’s heart was beautiful. And every beautiful thing in this world faces great obstacles of life. Ariana’s obstacle was deadly. Blood cancer. I don’t know whether to pray or hate The Almighty. I did nothing, I felt more lifeless. She was strong though. She used to smile whenever she see me. She told me to do the same. I asked “why to be happy when there’s not even the shadow of happiness?”

She said, “I’m not asking you to be happy, I’m just asking you to not get upset, you see? We both have lesser lifespan. At least live for a while?”

//One month later.//

I can hear the doctor saying

“The only thing for this boy, that’s going to act like the antidote is O negative blood”

I can hear my father crying. 

“Blood! We need blood transfusion! O negative? Okay! O negative?! Anybody here?! I’m going to pay any amount you want! Please, save my child, please!”

“Dad, where’s Ariana? Is she okay?”

That was the most unfortunate coincidence of my life, of our lives. Ariana and I got admitted into the hospital the very same day. Ariana’s condition was more critical. 

“Dad! Is Ariana okay?!”


“Take me to her. Take me to her!!! Please! I beg!!”

“No, Stefan! Don’t make this situation more tough for us, please! You’re not in the stage to leave your bed, you gotta live my boy!”

I was crying, I felt most helpless that time. I picked out that concrete pen from my pocket. 

“Dad, please let me meet Ariana for the last time, I need to give her this pen back, I want to tell her that even she’s just like this beautiful concrete pen, strong enough to fight! Dad, please”

“Stefan, throw away that pen right now! Your life is more important than this lifeless concrete! My boy, throw that away! Forget everything, everybody!”. 

One year later. 

It’s 23rd September, again. I am here, breathing, alive. Writing a new poem, not a happy poem, not even any sad one. Ariana, you see how I keep your words in my heart? You know right? Ariana, you should have stayed a little longer with me. You didn’t, 

but I will. I will live this time, because of you. For you. 

Here’s one poem for you. Read? 

“Oh my nights, keep me awake for some more time, 

Do not get vanished before I complete one rhyme, 

The ink is dry, let’s wait for the monsoon again? 

And find a home where life is not easy, but no one to blame.. 

Oh my seeds of memories, get into the soil this time, 

take some days, months or years, grow to live fine. 

Life is always going to be the lives of triumph and defeats, 

Holding beauty of everything even in the lifeless concrete”

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