Friday, February 7, 2014

I wish, I told him "I love you!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MqoANESQ4cQ

[Play the link above as you are reading, it gives more feel to the whole story, or so I think]
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I have never really enjoyed festive season. It reminds me of the things that I do not have and makes me sad. It was a cold December night, when my husband got a call. He had to leave to the Army camp as it was an emergency and warranted his presence. He would not disclose anymore information. I was very angry at him, as he promised me, we would spend Christmas and New Year together. I did not talk to him that night, and went to bed angrily. The next morning, I woke up to see a note left by him, saying "I will be back soon. I love you" with a small pendant next to it. Tears rolled from my eyes as I sat holding that piece of note and pendant in my hand.

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The day after Christmas, I got a call. I remember dropping the tea cup that I was holding in my hand and I woke up two days later in a hospital near by. I was told, my husband passed away. I looked out of the window, as it was snowing and drew a heart through my finger tips on the moist window pane.We always wanted to kiss under the snow. I was discharged, arrived home and the whole house felt so empty. It was a new for me to live all by myself in this big woody house that he bought for us. However, I always knew, I will see him soon and that we will have a Christmas together. Only this time, he is gone and there is no coming back. I shrugged my legs, sat on the couch reading the note, and fell asleep.

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It's been 7 years since he is gone, and there is not even one moment, I do not think about him. Everybody says I have to move on, I should go out a lot and I might find love again. It's not the truth. Everyone has a HIM. I found him, loved him, married him, and he is gone now. If there is one thing that I can do, I want to rewind 7 years to that cold December night, hold him tight and say how much I love him and want him to be careful. Perhaps, that would make me feel better. But, now, I only have memories and the guilt that I did not talk to him the night before he left. I go to bed crying, thinking about that night. I have trouble sleeping at night, and I am very scared, actually.

  

I visit the nearby park during Christmas night, sit on those benches looking at the colorful Christmas lights and the snowy sky, wishing him to be next to me, holding my hands.
I know Christmas/ New Year is not going to be the same anymore. I hate festive season, it makes me feel sad, that I lost the one good thing I had and I am never going to have him back.

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Sometimes, It is alright for adults, to be kids, be possessive,  to make mistakes and perhaps go to bed crying. 

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Enigma

She always wished for a life like this. Simple yet complicated. Powerful and demanding yet bound by the four walls of the house that she lived in. Everyone in life yearns to have some sort of luxury, some sort of greed that makes us all go crazy and desperate. That was the life she was heading towards. Power. Money and eternal happiness. Each of us is bound by this enigma called morality. Although, very subjective, it looks or rather has been made to look very objective by the society we all live in. Complicated, stereotypical, cob-webbed society that we all live in and wish to break at some point; yet we do not for the fear of cast up on and told off.  
However, she did. She broke those laws that are not bound to be broken. She came out of the cob-web for the search of a fresh air, something refreshing, different, and more varietal. Moving away from such a society, definitely gave her a sense of independence, freedom that she yearned. There always was a void, deep inside her that resonated harder as days went by. We all wish to achieve this eternal happiness or some such and move faster towards it or in search of it. Little do we know, we all are caught in this big cob-web that seems to bind us in some way or another and there is no escape out of it unless you burn it down completely? There is and will always be a conundrum, a situation that warrants fix and once you think you have reached  the point where non-extraordinary is not an option, you run more faster and do the same things over and over to keep this web spinning, to keep yourself going and there is no stop. Money, Power remains but does it always give you eternal happiness? Did it give her eternal happiness?
She decides to fix this. All it takes is one phone call – but is this the independence and freedom she wished for?

The phone rang……


Saturday, March 24, 2012

The unknown india!

Just for others who do not know me, I am an Indian. Don be curious and ponder why am I talking about my background, and what relevance does it stand for this post anyway. Indians who talk shit about India or talk about how polluted and nonsensical it is, have absolutely not lived their life in India. All of you, including myself at some point who thought India is all about garbage, mindless idiots and extremely corrupt nonpunctual people are so untrue and got all of it totally wrong. Either you have lived in a glass mansion all your live and feared to take a long walk in the blissful evening filled with all sorts of noises right from- the random chuck-chuck guys leaving enormous dusts; the melodious music from the far away temple; the birds from the huge banyan tree under which oldies take pleasure sitting and having a chat.

This is the India. India is JUST not about children begging around with poverty all around. We are happy colourful people. We like it this way. We don leave our parents even if we are 80 yrs old. We love them more than anything. We don want to leave our country and go somewhere else to live our old age home. This is our home. Look around for yourselves: The magnificent Taj Mahal that shows what love is; the Gate Way of India showing- what bravery is; the different cultures and temples to show the colours; the smiles, the happiness and above all the unity and our flag to show what freedom really is.

We WILL be curious to know what happened to the random Singh, Kapoor and Patel who live in the corner house in our streets. We will be inquisitive to know who is moving in to our neighbourhood and take offence if they don welcome us to their house once they get settled. This is the India I know. You ask me if Indians are cheap and have an accent and that they are so nasty; do not expect me to nod my head and say yes. I will give you a weird look and pretend like I do not know what you are talking about. Every country has a bad face/side. We people see you for what you are and not what you were.

This India, this colour; the smiles - you cannot miss it and its worth living for.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Savored Memoirs!

Leonardo Da Vicni said “Our life is made by the death of others”. It is true in every sense, at least in my part of the story. Just when I thought I had none to look up to, none to talk to, and none to hear me out, he was there standing, waiting, on the other side with arms wide open, embracing every moment of my life.
I miss being with him every single day, seeing myself grow with him. Tears.Smile.Hug.What haven we shared? There were days when I used to happily return back after school, just to whisper into his ears how beautiful the day passed by. Some days, I whispered the story behind my teary eyes and he embraced me like a best friend.

Sometimes, all of us wish to have a friend who could just know what we are going through, who could just pull out a smile from the melancholic face and well that one friend generally remains as a wish and never shows up in reality. But I was lucky, I must say. To the others, I liked being alone. But for me, he was there all the time, during the cold winter nights, during the bright sunny days, when my favorite pen stand broke and when I could not make it to my favorite band, I just took a walk down to my park, stood next to him, and stared right in to his eyes and he understood me so well, and boom, I felt better. May be because, he never judged me like the school kids.

Few friends are chatty, some are silent, reserved and some would just be a bad mouth. I never had any complaints about him. He was a good listener, looking at him would make me feel so blessed and I whispered when I was bored staring at him. We shared some sort of eye to eye telepathic conversations that only us could understand. And the best thing was, he never asked me back anything, he never wanted me to hear him out. He waved in air with his gorgeous arms and just let me be.
It is said, it’s hard to get friends who last for lifetime. But I always thought I had one, until, one day, when I returned from school, he was gone. I went down to the park and there was a garage, replacing him, (the coconut tree) who stood there for me every time. And today, he was gone like that. But this time, I held back my tears. I could not cry, for people might think I was crazy. But every time when I think about him, the days when he embraced me and no one did, makes me feel good that I too had a life lasting friend and someday, one day, I could plant one more when I grow old and motionless.

I was taught in school that nature takes care of u if u take care of it; that nature is good, that nature always gives you, and if u believe in nature it will make u feel good. It did all that they taught in moral science period. But I learnt in the EVS class that one should protect trees and that if we don’t it would glad to ecological imbalance and people would go starving. As, I write this piece, I wonder if anybody learnt EVS at all, because, he was cut down to built a garage which they could have built in another place. Or, maybe this is what is meant by “Our life is made by the death of others”?
Sometimes the best memories in life are savored to pass it over to the generation that comes. And this is one such memoir!

:)

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

FOREVER AND ALWAYS

"Aie, How do i pedal if u ride this fast", she grimaced, as he stood there with his little cycle. My eyes which was continuously facing the Accounts sheet, looked up for a moment when i heard her saying it. She stood there with tears and they left after sometime. Some entertainment is better than nothing, i smiled at them from my balcony and left inside.

Next day, again she tried moving th cycle as slowly as she could while he glided as rocket through the widened, faded and deserted streets. She stood in front of my house gate, leaving her cycle down and watching him waft. She watched for few minutes, then " Mmmm..Mom, asked you to teach me, do u remember that?" she pouted. He stopped beside her, took her cycle, parked his near the gate. "Look how i pedal and you do the same, alright?", he dictated.

Two days he tried showing her patiently as to how to pedal. He no longer quickly twisted his cycle at the ends of the road and created that fine dust. He slowly moved the cycle just for her, but it did not help her. She could not pedal, she took one step and she fell the next minute, scratching her small hands. I was so curious to see what he would do next. He never lost hope, he smiled at the poor thing, made her sit on the cycle, he held her cycle from behind. She turned and warned him never to leave the cycle. He vowed. She moved few steps now, "much better unlike before, come on u can do it", he shouted. She got down, they hi five-ed. Today, i saw her gliding as gracefully as she can in the very same faded streets but she never pouted, she smiled graciously, while he rode beside her. Looked cute!

Forever and always, to those Cute things:)

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

VALENTINE’S DAY

This post of mine, won the Best Runner Up blog last year.

She lastly signed her death form. She signed and ended the signature with a raised smiley. He had tears in his eyes but controlled it, her boy friend. In two days its Valentine’s Day and they are in the local hospital. She was admitted for the last time, by last because she reached her terminal stage of cancer. Those scissors and cotton balls must have reminded of her crafts teacher. They gave her anaesthesia to relieve her from the pain that she had under gone for almost six long dry months. He has unconditionally been there with her, throughout her gruelling cancer period. This is going to be her last few days. She was deep in her sleep. He took the doctor out and warned everyone from the doctor to the nurse and the maids not to show up with a

sad, serious face. He changed the entire setup of the room. He covered the room with her favourite pictures, changed the wall screens, and scented the room with her favourite room spray. When she woke up, she was puzzled to see the entire room changed. He disposed off all her medicines which she was having it every day for all those six months. He brought her pretty clothes to wear and played good music. Before going to bed she asked him for medicines. He ran his fingers in to her beautiful black hair and said she has almost recovered and medicines are no more going to be her food. She smiled with joy and prayed God. She told him that her prayers did not go in vain. He nodded, smiled at her innocence and kissed her forehead. He read out some fashion weeks and some novels before putting her to sleep. He chocked in between while reading but managed his fine tone and composure. He slept right next to her. It was February 14th and he woke up early in the morning, got her beautiful flowers, a mixture of all vibrant colors. She slowly opened her eyes and he stood in front of her with a wide smile and flowers in his hands. She sat up with tears in her eyes. She kissed his cheeks and kept the flowers near her. He said it’s their fifth year of dating and held his fore arm to his chest. Her beautiful eyes looked tiny now covered with dark circles. Her flawless cheeks looked sober and dull. She was very weak yet she believed she has recovered. She asked him as to when they would be leaving. He promised her they would be vacating the hospital this night and they would soon get married by the country side. She was overjoyed by his words. He could not control his tears, so he left the room saying he has some talks with the doctor regarding her discharge. He went to the vivid garden down the hospital. He sat there for hours looking at their couple photos and her love letters and her personal diary. He finally cried, after six months. His strong heart which believed she would recover and come back to his life finally yielded to tears. He saw an eighty year old man in the end of the park. He sat next to him and poured down his entire grief. He lied on his lap and burst in to tears. The man said she is too lucky to have him. But she never could hence have him. He rubbed his teary eyes and left to the room. The evenfall, he played some music for her and went through some books. She asked him for some water. She complained of pain in her stomach. As the night fell, the pain became gross and unbearable. She cried of gruesome pain. The doctors rushed inside and did the necessary. He could not see her like that. He left the room and stood outside. After 15 minutes, the doc came out with tears. He hugged him and said “O, boy! She is gone! But never from your heart.” He cried loudly. He cried so long as he could. He then entered the room and went near her. He knelt down, looked at her and wiped the last drop that was running down her cheek. He noticed a small note beside her. It read:
” Honey, I know you lied about my recovery. I am not angry at you for that. I too pretended to be happy; I did not want to disappoint you. I knew God would not answer my prayer this time. I had always got everything whatever I wished for. I was very greedy and asked him for a life long journey with a guy like you. But unfortunately I am leaving you in the middle of the journey. Hope you forgive me for this. Thank you for those beautiful pictures, music, clothes and flowers. I will always be there for you unconditionally though not physically. I love you!”
He held the note and lied next to her crying. Few months later, he recovered from his grief. He visited her grave every weekend. He listened to her favourite music and went to bed reading her note that she left for him near her death bed every night. And he placed some good flowers in a glass cup near his table, which had the same water that she had sipped and left it near her table in the hospital before her demise.
Life is not all that fair. It gives you one big precious thing but you cannot live with it for a long time. It is like, you have a huge chocolate pan cake before you but you’re handless. And it is very rare to find someone like Him to feed you that pancake without asking for a share in it. It was indeed a rare yet a lovely valentine’s day. :)

I TOO FELL IN LOVE


I did not realize when my friends told me about the disorder in their sleeping pattern. At a point of time, everyone around me had a person to share their things to! Every one to whom I was close to, kind of alienated themselves, not much but variably. I was perplexed, paranoid, confused. Wondered, where did those guitar classes, happy meeting on Sunday’s, football classes go. None of my friends turned up. I felt amused at this relation that they were holding to.

~
A week later I ran in to this friend and asked him to give me company on a Saturday evening after school. He refused. He said he had to go for a dance show! I was bewildered, the guy who made the chick in my class cry her heart out teasing her about her dance, was attending the very same girls dance show. Where the hell was this all heading to - I mused. I did not arrive at a concrete solution.

I went to my mom, and asked her permission to make a late night call to my friend that night to ask him about this change. She side glanced me, reminded me that the time was eight. But I convinced her, got the phone, and went up to my room to finish the business with the men who lost their heads! "Hh...Hello is He there?" I inquired. But his mom replied he was sleeping. I called up the other gentleman to ask his scene. His phone was busy. I left him a message to return my call, knowing his parents had left him to their servant. Grey, the latter mentioned gentleman, showed up the next morning. He did not talk about the calls, texts anything. He smiled as he waved and sat on his place. I approached him, asked him to confront and he did! In fact they all did. They all now spoke as real gentlemen; they spoke of so many things which went above my head. Date, dinner with her, red roses, scented cards? Whets all this? And why now, when New Year is about to come? - I paused to question them. Valentine's Day, was their only answer.

You mean, valentine, a girl friend, it took time for me to register that word into my pot head. I went to Grey and asked him if that aint a swear word. After that, everything was self explanatory. I was embarrassed. At this point I felt my mom should have given me a girl's name. I was burning inside to have a valentine too, to erase my embarrassing moments. I went to the kitchen; saw my mom preparing supper. I roamed inside for some time and then went to the couch. I sat there, wondered for while as to how I should put this. I did not have the sack, like my fellow gentlemen. Left to my room, eating cookies! I thought my life cannot be just about eating cookies and asking permission for making late night phone calls. I am no more a boy, but a man. I gathered all the left out guts and went to the dinning hall. Now I see another man in front of me - my dad! How am I going to act, how do I bring it, where did my hypothetical mustache go, I panicked rubbing the skin between the upper lip and my nose.

"Mom, Dad! What do you think about me getting married?” I asked! Period... Later on, I regretted, as that was the worst thing a ten year old could have asked. They patted my head and spoke of something else. How could I do this, what is wrong in having a valentine this time, why don anyone understand my anxiety? Questions after questions annoyed my mind.

Weeks later, I found her finally. New neighbors, my mom shouted as I ran down to take a peek. She wore a pink frock. She waved at me as she smiled. I became quick friends with her. I thought she was the one! I did not attend my friends calls, did not go for football practice, did not do anything productive, but I played stone, paper, scissors with her, just to touch her flawless soft skin.

We became good friends as days went by. We shared almost everything be it a choco pie cookie to catching a place in the yoga class. I was so close to her that I forgot how the days passed by. The feeling was so different. Talking over the phone without mom finding it and crying for silly fights, such a bliss the days were.

"Aie, How do i pedal if u ride this fast", she grimaced; as he stood there with her little cycle. Boy, she looks stunning in that frock. She stood there with tears as she fell from her cycle.

“Ahm, Well I was taught by my dad. Din your dad teach you how to ride one?”

“Nope. My dad and my mom are divorced and half my life went in juggling between them before I could I settle down in here with my dad, she smiled as she said”.

“Alright, do not worry, I will teach you how to ride the bicycle. Okay?”

“She nodded and smiled, then left”.

Next day, again we tried moving the cycle as slowly as we could while she looked very panicky and tensed. The street looked widened, faded and deserted and there I stood with my lady love teaching her to take tiny steps in her bicycle. “Okay, See how I glide through in my cycle and then I will show you too how to ride. Ok, Deal? Watch me now. She watched me for few minutes, as I glided through the deserted streets like a rocket. Few minutes later, I stopped it and parked the bicycle beside her, and made her sit on her cycle and made her take tiny little steps by asking her to peddle it front and back.
Two days, I tried showing her patiently as to how to pedal. I forgot to quickly twist my cycle at the ends of the road to create fine dusts. I slowly moved the cycle just for her, but it did not help her. She could not pedal, she took one step and she fell the next minute, scratching her small hands. I never lost hope; I smiled at the poor thing, made her sit on the cycle, held her cycle from behind. She turned and warned me never to leave the cycle. I vowed. She moved few steps now, "much better unlike before, come on u can do it", I shouted. Three weeks I was her master. I felt so great when she rode her cycle graciously unlike before. I never felt so happy when I stood class first, but was beyond happiness when she rode her cycle. “Gosh, what was happening to me? I pondered.” But whatever that was, I felt good, and happy.


I decided to ask her for a date, give her red roses, scented cards, and kiss her hand. The last part was my thing. I wanted to be different from the rest of my gentlemen bees who flocked around my class queen bees, while I got the queen of the queen’s bee with me. I never really liked similes and metaphors, but now Shakespeare was my god, Romeo and Juliet was the best thing that the world can have! How could I change so much, has she really got in to me? I sneaked the phone in to my closet every night only to talk to her. I could not sleep; I puked that night, because there was this weird feeling. A sense of anxiety, happiness, nervousness, a state of impulse to capture everything, gushed in to my muscles, nerves and veins, in to the stomach and settled in the esophagus out through the mouth. Is this all about valentines? Girl friend? scented cards and roses? - I lay flat dreaming.

I rehearsed profusely to make my valentine day perfect. "Hi, You want to come for a date?” Hi, What say a cup of coffee?" so on and so forth! Finally I got the perfect pick up line. Few days for the Valentines Day, I was all excited and happy. I went to my mom and dad, told them about my valentine stuff, iterated the pickup line, and stood still for their comments. My mom hugged me, while my dad called me the champ as I had his exact love genes, that passed on to me without any flaw. I went to my room, stared at the roof, fell asleep.

Few days and she was gone. She went to her mom's place. Her parents were divorced and for the next six months she would stay with her- I got the info. I felt something cracking deep down inside me. I ran to my house, up to my room, shut the door, and cried my heart out. That suit which hung on the wall laughed at me, those scented cards smelt lousy, and the roses are dead by now. I was a valentine-less boy.

14th February, I woke up, went down to the kitchen. I saw my mom and dad hugging. I went and hugged them too. I was over with that trauma. I wiped my tears and gave my mom red roses and the scented card, told her the pickup line and I kissed her hand!

I ran to my room, looked out of my window in to her house and felt that I too was in love a week back! I smiled!