Once Again.

Empty.

Serene.

Calm.

The message, that your eyes convey.

Once again,

We met, we talked

You held my hand,

for I feared getting lost,

Again.

A gesture so little,

carried meanings so deep,

Yes, in plenty.

Seasons came,

Seasons went.

But You and I,

Stayed aloof.

I see the inky sky,

I feel the grass,

And I know that bird,

who mocks my love.

I have, no qualms,

no regret,

for I realize, you're not the soul I loved,

But I know pain,

excruciating raw pain.

And,

Once again,

I slip into sweet oblivion,

As we grew apart.

Closure

She could not operate machines. Not then. Not now. She always alleged Technology eats away the little joys that make me happy. Squinting into the wide screen with eye brows meeting in the middle and typing around the haphazard arrangement of alphabets gave her liquid pain across her cheeks and an acute sting in her skull.  She preferred pens, ink pens, for their sheer simplicity and beauty. She loved filling them with ink when they ran out of it.

She took out her aged diary, dotted with tiny speckles of her daughter's mischief, picked up her pen and started doodling little hearts in red ink at the torn corners of the page. It brought back memories. Memories of happier times. Memories of innocent smiles. Memories of him, and them. One abstract thought, and she tore the page off. That painting hung in her living room for a very long time now but ironically it was a metaphor today. The sky had stopped pouring. The dew drops wanted to fall off the frail stem, demanded closure, but something kept them desperately dangling.

A tear fell, hot as acid, and scarred the flimsy white.

Nostalgia won. Again.

She wrote. And then, some more.

She could not find it in her heart to forgive him for dying on her. She felt cheated. He promised to grow old with her and watch bad TV throughout the day's length. Why did he have to break it ? Time moved too fast for her to keep up with its pace. They said it'll be painful for a few months and then her life would adapt itself to this subtle change. Why hadn't her pain subsided ? Four long, wistful years had rolled by. Hadn't she suffered enough ? These questions itched her fate and she couldn't scratch it. Once again, there were no answers. She didn't know what to feel anymore. It was a tiring task. Right and wrong agreed with each other. Her face broke into infrequent tremors of grief, pain and wishful longing.

She too needed closure and somehow it hid itself well.

A sudden squeak of wood against the floorboards and a barely audible thud. Her husband was home. She could hear him hang his trench coat behind the door. She had been a faithful, loving wife to her husband all these years yet somehow she cursed herself for betrayal, a part of her cried for a different destiny, mourned the irreparable loss, everyday.

She got up and hid the brown diary back into its place.  

Disguised Repercussions

Another monotonous dutiful day. The bed was meticulously made, with neat edges. The tiled floor shone with brilliance. Lunch was cooked. She lay on her back, staring into thin air, the sheets felt cold, and vivid thoughts began to flow in once again. A kaleidoscope of memories and decisions that led her here. It seldom rains in January, but today it poured heavily. The clock ticked out loud, like a hammer, she could hear it mingling and playing with the sound of the rain. Her breath danced in pronounced rhythm. 3 years ago, she was a proud graduate. An engineer with phenomenal skills. And now, her identity merely boasted of a doting wife and a loving mother. What went wrong ? This had become a pattern in her daily routine. An ugly, abominable pattern. She would send her husband off to work with a gentle kiss, finish off with her house chores, put her daughter up for a nap, cook the mid-day meal and then get down for some rest. She loved them with all her heart and soul. They weren't at fault here. But then who was ?

These unwanted disturbing thoughts visited her everyday.

A 6 figure job-of-her-dreams at a leading MNC fell into her lap as soon as she finished with her degree and it literally killed her when she was told she cannot avail the opportunity. Her confidence was bruised. Her faith in family and its values was cicatrized, scarred for life, impaled with the pain of never getting a chance to prove what shes worth doing. Within 7 months, she was married off to the perfect guy of a perfect family who preferred dying over sending their daughter-in-law to work. She felt guilty about wishing that she was born to a different set of parents, the ones who would've cared more about her independence than her marriage at the vulnerable age of 21. She condemned this traditional hypocrisy on the inside but revolting against it now would make her unacceptable to her loved ones. And then all of this sacrifice would be for nothing, she pondered. Would she have loved them any less if she had a career and a life of her own ? She was stuck. For life. And did it really matter ?

At times, she wants it to be a mirage, a nightmare, but then regrets it the next instant, because if it is an illusion, then she would have to come back to reality and go through all of it again.

Everything seemed distant. The woman who stared at her in the mirror this morning seemed alien, and yet, somehow familiar. Ageing and maturing with each passing day, but not deciphering a moment of it. The insistent buzz of her phone broke the trance. Her husband had called to tell her that he had reached office and that he loved her.

She waited a long moment, smiled sans humor and said,

' I love you too, Infact that's all I do '.

Best Friends Are NOT Forever

That one friend you loved the most, that one friend you shared your most dirty secrets and fantasies with, that one friend who ripped you apart like a heartless butcher, that one friend will always matter the most.

I clicked on the'New Post' button as soon as I logged in today thinking I'd just write about it and get it over with. But here I am, staring at the blank screen from the past 3 minutes wondering why do I even want to write about her. She broke me, she made me cry my eyes out, reached heights of misunderstanding me and still, there is that little corner of my heart that wishes her the best of all worlds.

She was my best friend for as long as I remember. We were joint-at -the-hip twins. I had more in common with her than I had with myself. People used to call us the alpha-beta couple. Perhaps because my name starts with an 'A' and hers with a 'B'. And we always took pride in it's lameness :D, because we thought they both can't exist without each other. Well, apparently they can. I've spent the most beautiful years of my teen age with her. Technically, she was my better half. We've played, yes played, laughed, cried, and even had pimples together. More so, we even started PMSing in the same time frame. I promised her that I'd be that crazy aunt who'll spoil her kids. We literally took an oath that we'd tell each other everything about our first nights. No, that isn't cheesy, that was two little 17 years old giggling and promising to be bffs forever.

Laughing like maniacs over something as petite as a tongue slip was routine. I haven't laughed like that since the day we've stopped talking. I miss that. I want my stomach to hurt when I laugh. It just doesn't happen now. I wish we'd never played the 'You've changed, a lot' game. We both lost. Each other. I don't miss her, I don't want her back, but my mind and heart refuse to shut down her memories. We've broken up hundreds of times, called each other names, but it never got this nasty. It has almost been an year since I've seen her now.

She left a void. I have many beautiful people in my life right now. Everything is stable and lovely. But the void still exists. They love me, I love them. They care. I care. It still doesn't feel the same. I know it never will. This void has crept beneath my skin. Looks like you're only allotted a certain amount of tears per person and I've used up mine. Her absence doesn't make my eyes moist now. It feels like autumn. Dry autumn.

I love you B, I always do, even while I hate you.

Of the hand that held hers

Ridhima was dead. Sarah had overheard some doctors discuss over how should they break this news to her. She was not able to move any part of her bruised body below her neck. Was the accident so bad ? The grief was too big to acknowledge. She knew she will be alone for the rest of her life. Was it only a few weeks ago when I broke the news to them ? Everything came flooding back to her.

She remembered that day.

***

It was the day. It was finally the day. It was the day Sarah was going to remember for the rest of her life. She had put on her blue pullover because somebody had once told her shades of blue represent peace and calm.

'No, I should probably change into my safe pair of denims' Sarah thought.

A brawl over her short skirt was the last thing Sarah wanted to happen that day.

Her panic was rising with each passing microsecond. She could almost taste bile in her throat. She picked up her phone and called Ridhima for the 50th time. Her network switched to voicemail.

'Where on earth are you R ? You better be on your way to my place. I'm on my way to panic-death here. This isn't just about us now. I need you to grow up and take some responsibility.'

and Sarah disconnected the call. She hadn't realized, her forehead was dripping with sweat. She opened her closet, picked out her white towel that came as a thank you gift from her spa, wiped off all the sweat from her face and took the longest breath of her life, muttering

'They are my parents, they brought me to life, they have to love me, no matter what, its their duty to love me, this isn't a crime, its just the way I'm made, they have to broaden their horizons and grasp what I have to offer this time. its all going to be okay'

and she exhaled from her mouth.

At that second, the doorbell rang. Her heart picked up pace. This better be her. It was her. Sarah's ears picked up traces of warm greetings from the ground floor, her parents seemed to be in the best of their moods. Ridhima climbed up the stairs in a hurry, almost tripped once and finally reached Sarah's room. As soon as she entered, Sarah hugged her. They held each other for a long one and a half minutes, as though trying to dissolve their worries into each other.


My decision is correct, its all worth it, SHES all worth it, I love her, and it is time to stand up for what I believe in.

Sarah's mother's voice broke the embrace, but they were still holding each other. 'Let's do it Sarah' Ridhima said and smiled her disturbingly beautiful smile.

Downstairs, Sarah's father was reading his daily morning newspaper and cribbing about the presence of everything but news in the newspaper, and her mother was busy in the kitchen. Sarah nudged her elbow into Ridhima's ribs and whispered I love them, I don't want to be abandoned, she was close to tears. Even her whisper was hoarse and husky. Ridhima knitted her fingers with hers and squeezed her hand gently. They love you way too much to abandon you. Stop panicking Sarah, I love you, don't ever forget that. Its now or never.


S - Good Morning Dad.
Dad - Good Morning my angels.
S - I want to talk to you Dad.


He folded his newspaper, put down his specs and looked at her daughter. The seriousness in her daughter's voice was alien.

Dad - Sure beta, whatever it is.
R - No uncle, We want to talk to both of you together. Lets wait for aunty to finish with her toasts.


In a minute, Sarah's mom appeared out of kitchen with a dish full of yummy-looking toasts.

Dad - Okay kids, let's eat first, and then I'm all yours, he smiled.
Ridhima - No uncle, it's important.
He looked at them with curious analyzing eyes, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead, and said Okay.

Sarah - Okay. Dad, I know this is going to come as a shock to you at first but I very desperately need you to understand what I'm about to say now. I am 23 and I don't want you to assume that I'm immature. It isn't a choice. Its what I am. Its how I'm made. I'm happy with life but I cannot survive without your consent. Okay ?
Mom - You're scaring us now. Just tell us. What is it ?
Sarah - Mom, Me and R, we love each other.


Her dad laughed hearing that.


Dad - We know that baby, We know you both are less of friends and more of sisters. And we love you too. Where is the news in this ?
Ridhima - Uncle, you don't understand. Its not the sister-love, its the lover-love. We want to get married.
S's mom ignored the hint, smiled and said 'Oh, Is this about marriage ? Hari, our daughters are grown up ladies now'

Sarah - No mom, You really don't get it or are you just pretending not to acknowledge it ? I love Ridhima and I want to marry her. I'm a lesbian mom. Deep down somewhere, you've always known this. I could sense it.


Silence took over. Sarah's parents stared into thin air. Nobody said another word for the next minute. Finally Ridhima said 'We love each other aunty. It doesn't make us any different. It just makes us brave enough to accept it. We are made this way. Please try to understand'

They both left the room and did not talk to Sarah for 2 days. After 2 days of misery, her dad came to her room and tried to talk her out of it. He wanted Sarah to meet a shrink for a purification ritual and this proposition broke her completely. Her mom wanted her to start with therapy. A week passed, and their house was still filled with an unknown awkward air. After months of endless arguments and discussions, Sarah finally had to leave her parent's house to start a new life with Ridhima. They did not want the society to know about her.

3 days after moving out, Sarah and Ridhima's car met with an accident.

***

The soft blue walls of the hospital filled Sarah's vision. All she knew was that Ridhima was dead. Warm tears flowed down her cheeks and she could not even wipe them off on her own. An eager nurse sprang to help her and asked 'Oh great, you're awake ma'am, do you want me to call anybody ? your family ? you will need their support through all this' 

'No, I'm alone, I don't have a family.'

5 days after the accident, Sarah also joined Ridhima in heaven. Her parents never tried to find out how their daughter was.

I wish people had better understanding of human nature and braced it with open arms. 

Painful Escape

This is the diary entry of a 41 year old woman who wants to walk out of her marriage of 20 years, away from Tanuj, the man who never loved her, and into the arms of Akash, the man who acquainted her with true love. Her twin daughters have made it clear that if she does so, she will be a childless woman for the rest of her life.


Dear Diary,

I haven't written you in a long while now. and I've truly missed you. Its time, its time for me to make a decision. My stomach is clenching even as I am writing this, its like somebody is rolling a dough inside it. Its a hard dough. My girls, they are merely 19. Would it be the right thing to do at this time ? I can't afford to lose their love, their warmth, if at all they have some for me. It all feels wrong, and right, both at the same time. I have never been this confused in my entire life. And if I don't make a choice now, my heart will grieve till eternity. Akash has given me all the support and love I was expecting from Tanuj, I had rented my heart and soul to this marriage, but it just isn't working. You are such a patient listener. I wish you could drop a word of advice in desperate times like these.

Silence is engulfing me from all sides, its making me nauseous, its becoming hrad hard to write. See there, I made my first spelling mistake in you. Is this pen trying to humor me ? But I can't stop. It all has to escape my system and pouring it down into the depths of your diaphanous pools of white paper is my only rescue plan.


Last night Tanuj came to my bedroom around 1am. I was wide awake. I sat upright and he sat next to me cupping my hands in his. I thought he was going to lure me into staying or beat me into the argument 'How did you even think of such a thing' but his words were the last things I was expecting out of him at that hour.


He said 'When you first told me about Akash, I was writhing with pure rage. The man in me felt defeated, as if his manhood was being raped off and he could do nothing about it. My wife was falling for another man and I was just a spectator watching the proceedings. But I've been thinking about it since past one week and your facts still hold their truth firmly in place. Why did we never realize that we were falling out of love ? When did it happen ? We have been sleeping in different bedrooms since a decade now. I dismissed this earlier using the excuse 'Everybody needs their own space'. I was such a fool. Anyway, I came today to tell you that you shouldn't stay because of the fear of this society or our girls. They seem to have taken more from me, they will live. I have never given you the love,the care and the support a woman deserves from her better half. I've failed you miserably but now, when somebody else is making you happy, I will support your decision. I owe you that much.'


He said the last words slowly, meaning every syllable of it. He didn't wait for my reply and strode out of the room. I was left dazed. These words were as close as Tanuj had ever got to my heart in these 20 years of our marriage.


But as I'm writing you right now, Tanuj's words are making more and more sense. Why should I worry about this hypocrite society when they don't care one bit for me ? They don't know what I've been through. I dare them to walk a mile in my shoes and then return to have a balanced argument. I have lived 20 years succumbing to my parent's will and 21 years to the man who never loved me. If I have to make a decision it has to be now. Or never.


I'm leaving you unfinished today. The next time I write you, I will be a happy woman.
And by the way, my first wrinkle started to surface today.


Love.

Barren

The cursor winks innocently at me, patient and giving, appearing and disappearing. It seems to follow the rhythm of my heart, waiting for me to knit something on the clear white screen, but there are no words, none to scribble across it. My gaze is held transfixed by the moving traffic,

why is it so smooth today ?

It is one of those moments when you stare at something without actually sinking it in. It is a mesh, a mesh of varied colors. A yellow taxi, a white Mercedes, a toddler dressed in bright green, Oh, her pram, what is it, deep blue or electric blue ? and the brown exteriors of the mexican restaurant across the road.

My screen-saver comes to life. The waiter brings in my third Lattè, I peel my gaze off the haze, Had I forgot to tell him to put in less milk this time ?, What is wrong with him ? Has mom coaxed him into shoving some milk into my milk-starved system ? The stupid thought took flight as soon as it had landed into the company of the voices in my head.

The voices are growing, maturing with each passing minute. All budding new thoughts are ragged and limped away like lifeless dolls. They're not whispering to each other anymore. They want my attention, each one of them, they're fighting for it, I should really join those power-yoga classes Aunt Maggie suggested to Lenny.

I could feel ice in the air I was inhaling, It was going to snow soon. 

Finishing my coffee, I fold my laptop, gather my thick-rimmed over-sized glasses from the top of my head, give my eyes a little cover, hug my neck with my peach silk scarf, straighten my dress, run a finger through my curls and head towards home.

There are days in every writer's cave when words are just not ready to fall in place, with their pen poised in the air, mind set into motion, no thought overcome those dominant voices and succeed in materializing themselves into ink.

This is one of those days for an amateur like me and I'm not liking it.

Can't I be in love with both of you?

***

02 September 2011


That question, those words, rang in his head like a church bell for days. Loud. Demanding. His heart was cicatrized, she'd bruised it with scars for the rest of his meaningless life.

He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he first saw that same tenderness in her eyes, but for another man. She had shone like the brightest star in the galaxy at the mere mention of his name. Their brilliance back then hurt his liquid eyes now. He should have got the hint right there. How could he be so ignorant ? How could he do this to himself ? How could he do this to them ?

NO.

  

how could she do this to them ?


27 December 2009

She had those perfect amber eyes, eyes so deep, only a thick band of amber around the pupils, he'd wanted to fall into them and then keep falling forever. Hair so lustrous he'd wanted to entangle his fingers in them. Those swells of feminism across her breasts, her hour glass sculpted waistline always made him wonder 'Is she for real ?'. He held her like a gorgeous fragile creation of an artist, like a painter's muse, as if he might break her in his arms.

Her melodic voice brought him back to the surface.

She'd said ' where are you lost Arin, the movie is about to start, Let's hurry up'.

And all he could manage to mumble was 'Aria, tell me something, Did you bribe God into customizing those gems for your eyes ?'.

She gave a low seductive chuckle and hurried them into the movie theatre.
Aria had dug her nails into his flesh, he'd warned her about the ghost part of the movie but she was determined to watch it. And just when the squeaky door started to open on its own, Aria stood up and screamed at the highest pitch of her voice.

02 September 2011

That scream brought Arin back to the present. His ears could hear the sound of a glass shattering somewhere in the near vicinity and for an instant he thought he'd imagined it. His family was waiting for him downstairs but he could not make his legs cover the distance.

How could it be so easy for her to send a question like that across my face ? Arin asked himself. And what was my answer supposed to be ?.

It was 13 months since he'd last seen her but her memories were still haunting him, occupying a large room in his head. Even that little black mole on the nape of her neck hadn't escaped his thoughts. Grief threatened to overcome. Tears began to swell in his eyes but he fought to send them back to where they came from. He threw a humorless laugh around his room as he remembered what his dad had told him when he was six and was crying because he had a wounded knee 'Big boys don't cry my boy'.

He wanted the time spent with her to become a tale from his distant childhood, something he could scarcely remember even if he wanted to. No matter how hard he tried, he only wanted to catch glimpses, and if possible, not even them.

He shoved away her thoughts and started looking for the better half of the brown sock he was wearing in his left foot, Why do I always find my socks without their pair ?, opening the last drawer of the wooden rack, he was face to face with a picture, I told Meher not to click this picture, when will she ever learn to listen ? It was Aria leaning over his right shoulder and his palm covering half of the picture signalling Meher not to click it.

16 November 2009

He picked it up and remembered that playful night, It was their common friend Meher's birthday. Aria had never touched alcohol before, but upon insistence she did some shots and they really got the worst of her.

The only good thing about that night was that while Aria was drunk, she clutched onto Arin's shirt like a little baby clutching onto the only piece of clothing within its reach. She hung on to him in a way that said You're all mine and Arin rained back all of his love supporting her, hiding her into his warm embrace.

That was their first affectionate embrace. Arin could never forget that day.

02 September 2011

Arin, Arin, Where are you lost son ? He could suddenly hear the motherly voice of his aunt standing right in front of him, shaking his shoulders. He came back to life, Nothing Umm Nothing, I can't find my right sock, Let me put the black pair on, You will see me downstairs in 5 short minutes. A forced smile punctuated his otherwise lifeless words.

I have to let go of these thoughts, let go of her and her betayal.

I will, I will, soon, I have to.

But how could she ask me a question like 'Can't I be in love with both of you ?'

The question had stung his heart then and it had the power to do it now.


He wiped the warm tears trickling down his eyes and rushed downstairs.

***

I will name my daughter Aria if God ever blesses me with one :) Short melodic names starting with the alphabet 'A' sweep me off my feet :)
This was a different genre I tried, Be nice enough to tell me how it went ? even if it didn't touch your heart :) Your criticism is also welcome :)

The Symphony of Grief.

Life couldn't be more demanding,

Can't I go back to the time when my biggest jolt of fear was marking the western countries in the world map for the geography exam ?

A lump in my throat tells me my eyes are going to rain,

My senses are numb,

Grief refuses to leave my side,

fingers firmly weaved into mine,

Tears do not want to part ways,

did sadness bribe them ?

Loneliness made me sleep with himself again.

I'm screaming with no voice,

I wish someone hears it and snuggles me to the sweet bosom of happiness.

Is it just me

or

this offensive universe is plotting against you too ?