“I was left alone. Life was sad for me in this evil world, and I was indifferent to everything. I was lonely, enormously lonely. Life had become unbearable, but why?, I often asked myself. Of course, I realized that it was going to happen, that at some point it would be like that. But these sufferings have firmly enveloped my heart and didn’t let to move. Nothing interested me, nothing surprised me, indifference overwhelmed me. In the dark evenings, I wandered in the streets of the city for long hours, and in my mind complained to everyone.
I often thought about suicide phenomenon. Are those who do not resist evil thoughts and trying to complete with the most precious thing - their lives, doing a right thing? Understanding them, I was also blown away by the fact that they could not realize the temporality of the phenomenon of being in love. You just had to employ all your strength and courage. "End the life?" I asked myself every time and the answer was NO, it's even funny to think about it. I was feeling animosity towards all those, who created this hellish life, who had invented disgusting regulations, that made the life harder and more awful.
Until nowadays, many wise humans have never been able to put an end to human cruelty, brutality, rudeness, greed, even find a solution for an irresponsible love. No one understood or even tried to comfort me, but who could do it even if they knew about my feelings and suffering? Maybe the passing age was the guilty one, or the unanswered love that made me like this? I was trying to find the answer in the writings of Hemingway, Tumanyan, Saroyan, Dickens, Charents, Teryan and others, who were the enthusiasts and investigators of the human soul. I was drawn to philosophy, and start reading psycho-analytic novels and stories, and even was reading scientific literature about the human brain activity. I was stubbornly searching answers to my questions and couldn't find a single one. But all was useless, it was better to communicate with living people, share ideas with them and live your daily life. I did not want to exist and swim in the ocean of illusion, but to live a full, exciting, vibrant life, to love someone and be loved one. I understood that the sufferings would be less, if I could find and love another one. And this is where Sati came into my life, but she rejects my love, saying that she loves someone else. But how does this happen, why? This is as natural, as it is difficult to understand. After all, the love can’t be an ordered thing. It is an incomprehensible phenomenon, something like a disease that suddenly enters your brain and heart, infecting your blood and you start to suffer. That phenomenon which is called LOVE, took me on its waves, like a pouring river, and carried me away in an unknown direction, throwing towards stones and rocks, raising on waves again, mitigating and improving my sufferings ...
I have often felt that the urge to live violently, that life also has beautiful sides, is worth living in this world, at least for one unanswered love. She lifted me up, helped me live, to finally frustrate and make me sink. I fell in love with Sati, knowing that she loves someone else. But why did I allow such foolishness, what could I do with my heart and soul now?
Now I ask you, to examine me and criticize. What was my mistake or crime, where have I been mistaken, and where did my misery starts? You would say, of course, that you should not have fallen in love with a girl who loved someone else. Quite right, but how?
This was the major problem. After all, human instinct, passion, and mind often act in contrary with the will and wisdom. I loved Sati, but could not explain why. Why necessarily her and no one else? There were so many girls around me that were much more attractive, beautiful and feminine than she. This is the strangeness of the life."
Sitting in the hotel room, Arti was experiencing growing pains in his hands, all over his body, but he continued to write. Sadness had overwhelmed him, the tortured and painful memory had been inflamed. Why is that so? And now he feels the need for someone's presence, and mostly, Sati was the only one he need.
It's awful and painful. That day Arti found Sati and lost again. What a moment, what a happy meeting! What is going on with him, and can he stay that way for a long time? Today, again in his hotel room, he has a desire to write about that meeting. Such a meeting is unlikely to happen again. Although they met every day at their workplace, but this meeting was different.
Is it a reality, is it not a dream? He was tired of the rain, tired of waiting for her, and she was looking for him and screaming. He has to write down about this now, not to forget the details. Like a drunkard, a fanatical smoker, he now needed to write. Write and smoke, smoke and write.
He had already written a few pages when he suddenly noticed that the last page of the notebook was followed by a blank green cover. The paper is over, what a misfortune, and the thoughts are scrambling around in his head and a huge desire to stick to the pages of paper. It was evening, foggy, with a heavy rainstorm. He was stoned, shocked and excited.
Making a drastic decision, he left the hotel, hoping that there would still be open bookstores in this city. Will try to buy at least a simple notebook for students. He was thinking, that the stores would be closed down already, but the instinct was taking him down the street. He wanted to find a store open, but perhaps everything was closed. The silent notebooks were looking at him from the shelves behind the closed windows.
Suddenly he remembered that there was another notebook in his suitcase, which might have clean sheets. He returned back to hotel, opened the suitcase, found the notebook and started browsing. There was only half a page of white paper left. He decided to go outdoors again and try to ask somebody’s help. In the meantime, he asked the hotel cashier who couldn't find clean sheets or didn't want to, the doorman shrugged his shoulders, a passer-by person wondered, and possibly thinking ,that he is a fool.
And you, Sati, will you understand what a clean sheet of paper meant to him at that specific moment, when he wanted to extend the wonderful moment of your meeting? He has found you and lost you again, maybe forever. He had spent all clean sheets of paper on your letter yesterday and tried to write a novel, and today he has no paper to write about. But he can't sleep until he writes about your meeting. While walking down the street, he looked at the passers-by, thinking to find someone with a notebook or piece of paper. What a city is this, not even students here? He walked and waited for a convenient moment, as a tiger hiding in the bushes following his victim to make a critical jump.
Here's the success that made him smile: Two students face him on the sidewalk, who were returning home after a movie or other event at this late hour, and their notebooks with blank papers, white papers will be there. Surely they do not need now these empty papers, they will need them tomorrow, but he needs these papers right now. Arti cut the path and walked towards the unknown girls and breathlessly said:
-Hello, sorry, can you give me some clean, unwritten papers? I have to write a letter, and the bookstores are closed."
The girls looked at each other in amazement. One of them opened the bag, pulled out the lecture’s notebook, and tore a pair of papers and gave it to him. Arti quickly grabbed the girl's hand and asked for another piece of paper. This time the next girl opened her bag, pulled out a notebook, tore a few sheets for him. In the meanwhile, the girl's handbag fell down, and various things and notebooks were dropped.
Arti remembered Sati again, her bag loaded with various things, as well as notebooks with dozens of formulas and mathematical definitions, that they were writing down during their classes.
lping the stranger to collect her items thrown to the ground, Arti thanked her a lot and quickly run into the empty room of the hotel. And the girls probably thought he is a crazy and left with a smile.
Precious, clean sheets were already found, and now he can comfortably sit at the table and write about their meeting …
Putting down his feelings on the paper, he lay quietly on the sofa and began to remember the days gone, groping in the smoke. And tomorrow he will continue his novel when he will buy thick notebooks from the bookstore and tell us about everything from the beginning that was going on for over a year. It will describe their first meeting, their first contact․None of them could have foreseen future relationships, their life full of trials ...