Crappy Birthday To Me

It’s my birthday today. Big deal. I feel just like I do any other day. I am doing the same things I do everyday. I feel nothing special about today or about myself. I am not one of those people who likes to celebrate birthdays, probably for the same reasons I prefer to lie on my bed on new year’s eve while all my friends are out partying. Maybe it has something to do with the years passing, time slipping away, opportunities bungled or lost completely. What worries me especially on this day is that I may never be able to fulfill my promises, that my dreams would remain just that, and that I may never be successful at the things that matter most to me. My paranoia is fueled by the fact that I actually have had to abandon some of my dreams as the years passed by. And no matter how much I accomplish or where I am in life, when my birthday approaches, I feel the same way. I feel like I didn't do enough, or loved enough, or wrote enough. I am clearly a the-glass-is-half-empty type of person. Sad, I know.

I don’t usually let people know when my birthday is. Only my immediate family knows and a few close friends. I just don’t like people making a big fuss out of it. Nevertheless, I have deliberately kept it public on my Facebook. I am doing a little experiment on human hypocritical behaviour. I love to see some of my Facebook “friends” leave a message on my wall on my birthday asking for a ‘treat’ or where the party is. Yeah sure! You haven’t been in touch with me the whole year but since you left a message, I would gladly give you a treat and invite you to the party. Pathetic. It makes me feel good about myself that I am not like that. I will not wish someone on their birthday if I haven’t kept in touch the rest of the year. That’s that. I don’t care if they feel offended.

I cringe every year as my birthday looms around the corner, knowing that it will be just like every other birthday, filled with disappointment. I realise that expectations have a huge part to play in my hatred for birthdays, and maybe a tad bit of loneliness. However, I genuinely enjoyed my birthday in 2009 because I had some very close friends and loved ones who made it special. But as I look back now, I can't help but regret having had a good time because it wasn't long after that that we drifted apart. I am not even in touch with some of them now. And so, I really hate birthdays. 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate YOUR birthday, just mine. Neither do I detest celebrating someone else's birthday. In fact, even though I don’t exactly enjoy it, I do make it a point to remember and wish people close to me on their birthday or buy them presents if I am not broke, partly because I value my relationships and I know how much they look forward to it.  However, I just don’t like celebrating mine because I don’t feel like it is worth celebrating. I hate getting presents now, and I hate people wishing me a happy birthday. There is nothing happy about it. It kills me when someone buys me a present on my birthday. I hate it that they feel obligated to buy me something. Of course, I would love it if someone told me how glad they were that I am alive on a random day, or if someone bought me something randomly that they thought I would like. But that hardly happens now. Of course, it wasn't always this way. In my younger days, I actually looked forward to my birthday and the presents and celebration that followed. I thoroughly enjoyed my sixteenth birthday, reveled in my freedom at eighteen, got drunk at twenty-one, but now I am almost appalled at the thought of it all. It feels so suffocating now. In fact, other people seem to be far more happier about my birthday than I am. My flatmates and a few of my friends are throwing me a small party tonight. I don't blame them. They probably think I am going to love it. I really want to, but I probably wouldn't. Yet, like every year someone throws a party for me, I will pretend or at least try to love what they did for me. I really hope none of them reads this.

Crappy Birthday to me.

A Tainted Love

For a very long time, I believed that there was nothing that I would get to know about her that would surprise me. That no matter what I learned of her, from her or someone else, however expected or unexpected, would hurt me or upset me. I was absolutely sure that I knew her inside out, everything that she was capable of, her every thought, every fear, every dream. This was one of the reasons that I kept going back to her again and again, knowing that she was the only person in the world whom I was sure I was not mistaken about. Of course, there were times when I wished she was not like the way she was, that she was better than the person that she was becoming. One mistake I made was to think that I was responsible for protecting her just because of the fact that I was in love with her; that I was supposed to shelter her from the evils of the world. Alas, the more I tried to hold her, the more she seemed to fight back and slip away. Maybe I was too protective of her or maybe it was in her nature to trod a self-destructive path. I really do not know. Maybe if I had continued to let her mar me, she would still have been here by my side today. Then again, I know now that I was blindly worshipping a fallen goddess, believing in a false religion.

I won't lie to myself. I still miss her sometimes. To be truthful, I am not even sure anymore if I still love her, but I know that I still care for her and probably will for the rest of my days. Believe me, I have tried to forget her. I destroyed every piece of memory, physical or otherwise, that would remind me of our better days. I am still learning to try to live without her in my life. Actually, the credit goes to her alone for my endeavour to do so. If she hadn't done the things that she did or said the things that she said, I would probably have been wallowing in pools of self-pity, and destruction. However, even if I was or still am, I'd never let it show, neither to her, nor to anyone else. I had always been soothed by the presence of my protective shell. Whenever I felt fear, or lonesomeness, I would curl up inside my shell until the feelings subsided. On one such occasion, she expressed her desire to know her way in through my shell. Being the blind love-struck fool that I was, I found nothing wrong in letting her in. I even went to the extent of letting her take the shell away. I no longer had something to protect me with and I felt I didn't need any because I trusted her to never lead me back to those dark corners, not when all I saw in her was light. She then went on to tell me that she wanted me to tell her everything that I felt inside and I faithfully did. Every time I was hurt, or sad because of something she said or did, I would tell her. But for her, it was only an opportunity to make me realize that she was still going to do what she wished even if it meant hurting me in the process. I soon started feeling as if I lay naked on the cold floor as she slowly and painfully peeled the skin off my body. And yet, I kept going on, despite the many new wounds everyday. Some healed with time, some left their scars forever etched on my soul, and some are fresh to this day. And then I had the revelation that she wasn't the only one to blame for them. I was letting her do this to me and I was convinced that if I took even more step, I would surely die. It was then that I decided to let myself loose of the appalling fantasy that she had trapped me for so long. I came out a stronger man, yet forever weakened in the deepest trenches of my being. Since then, I've become too afraid to show emotion. I'm scared of even the thought of getting close to a stranger, for after her, everyone is a stranger.


Despite all that, how pitiful is that the only person I confided in when I was struggling with suicidal thoughts for a long time, was her? How sad is it that the only person in the world whom I could trust to understand what I was going through was the one who had driven me to that point? Then again, as I said, I didn't blame her completely for what I had become. She had every right to live her life the way she wanted to. I should have realized it when she showed the first signs of wanting to be a free bird. I should have let her go, and at one point I really thought I had. Her presence in me was so strong, her power over me so intense, that it actually took infidelity for me to try to break away the strongholds that she had on my heart and mind. And when she found out, I expected and really wanted her to never want to see my face again. Of course, I whispered my apologies because I did not want her to hate me for what I had done. I must say, I was surprised when she forgave me. I tortured myself for a long time with pangs of guilt and self-loathing because of that. I considered myself to be the bad one, not deserving of her love. And so I quietly walked away from her life, leaving her with remnants of my vague reasons for doing so. At first I hated myself for it but eventually found peace in knowing that I had done the right thing. I wanted her to find a love far greater than the one I had for her. She soon felt she found it in a person I had never expected, or wanted her to. I wondered then if fate was yanking at my strings like an evil puppeteer, not knowing that it was just the beginning of sorrows yet to come.

I had promised myself a while back that I would not write about her anymore. And when I kept that promise, I found that my blog lay vacant. Even the people who reveled, and sometimes mourned in my sadness, had slowly stopped dropping by. I realised that if I kept my promise, I would never be able to write again. I struggled for months to write something that didn't have undertones of her influence on me but I was fighting a lost battle. Just like everything else in my life, she had possessed even this. No matter how hard I tried, my every poem, my every word, became about her even when I didn't want them to. She often used to complain that I never wrote her a 'happy' poem. She felt that my sad and dark poems made her look bad. I, of course, knew it was not true. She just could never see the meaning behind them. I'm sure that if she somehow was to read this, she would feel the same way she always felt, that this too is about her. She would feel that I want people to see her as some kind of soulless monster who fed on my emotions. If I could, I would then tell her that like the many others I wrote before, I didn't intend to make this one about her either. All I wanted was to write about how I felt, what I was going through. It was supposed to be about me, and me alone. And yet, as I read it back, I see that it's going to be hard to believe that. If she had ever known me, she would have figured it out a long time ago that to write about me was to write about her. Of course, I'm certain now that she would never come to that realization. She has moved on, to better places and better people than my heart and me.

What is the state of my mind now? I often ask myself that. I wonder if I would ever be as close to a person as I was to her. I ask myself over and over again if I would ever be able to trust another woman with my heart and soul. Of one thing I am sure. I know that I was once a part of a tainted love that could have been pure and sacred under different circumstances or by making different choices. Whatever the reason may be for the way I am today, whether it be fate, or God, or just chance, nothing and no one will ever be able to erase that taint on my soul.

- The Lover @ Soul Intoxicated

Rebirth

Sometimes life brings you to a certain point where you don't know what to do. You can't even find the reasons behind your confusion and sometimes you feel like crying for nothing and yet you can't cry, or shout out loud but you can't. It is really irritating when this happens because even if you are around people, or hanging out with your friends, your mind seems to drift away, trying to search and pinpoint the reasons behind this restlessness.

I was restless that day. I made some tea and went to the rooftop along with my radio. It was dusk and the lights from the vast cityscape shimmered like stars. I slowly sipped my tea, smoked a cigarette while listening to the random songs playing on the radio. Something had been bothering me all day. I couldn't put a finger on what exactly it was. I really needed to get high, to keep my mind off of this for a while. I decided to call her. I remembered the last time we smoked pot, we ended up getting philosophical. Maybe this time too, I might be able to find an answer.

"Hey..."

"Hey..."

"I need to talk to you...come to the rooftop...and bring some."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing...just some shit I need to figure out...I'm already there.."

"Okay...see you in five."

I was lying on my side on the cool cement floor staring into oblivion when I heard her footsteps. She promptly came and sat next to me. None of us spoke for a while. She took out a joint, lit it up and passed it to me. I took a deep drag and felt relief as I felt the smoke in the back of my throat. I then passed it back to her. We had our silent conversation for a while while passing it back and forth. We sat there listening to random people calling up the RJ and talking to him about their problems. I wondered why they did that.

"These people share their shit with the RJ because they don't have many people they can trust." She looked at me. Could she read my thoughts? Maybe she said it randomly. She passed me the last bit of the joint but I refused.

"Now...tell me what happened?" she asked putting her right hand over my shoulders.

"I've been getting restless about a lot of things but I can't figure out what those things are...you know what I mean?" I looked at her to see if it made any sense to her. She was staring at her feet. I continued anyway. "And it is eating up my head. That is why I thought of smoking weed because then we talk and it clears my head."

"So did it?" she asked.

"No."

"Well it's simple..." she said suddenly shifting her position, now facing me, a weird glow on her face. I knew answers were coming, the weed was having it's effect.

"....do you believe in rebirth?"

"What has that got to do with what I am feeling? No, I don't. I think it is all crap."

"Hmm. You feel as if there is no fun in life anymore and you just can't figure out what to do next?"

It was more of an answer than a question but she was right. I felt exactly like that.

"But why? I mean...I've had fun, I've done amazing crazy things, I've had good friends...though most of them are not there anymore...but.."

"You're dead."

It felt like a punch on my chest and my heart almost stopped for a moment. There was so much conviction in her voice that for a second I really thought I was dead.

"What do you mean I am dead? Can't you see me sitting here? Now don't tell me I am a ghost." I lit up the second joint she had brought.

"You have finished a life...see, a lifetime is divided into parts called life. You've finished one."

I passed the joint to her. "You don't make any sense."

"Well...since you have finished a life, you're dead...and it's time to take a rebirth and start a new life. Throw away the leftovers of your past life...live this new life in a different way. Stop thinking about why you can't get back your old days and start thinking about what to do next."

And then it struck me.  I realized I was irritated by the fact that I was stuck in the past for too long. I didn't want to move on in life. I had to die and be born again, start a new life in a new way. She was right. She always is.  Somehow she managed to hit me hard with facts every time in her own weird way and I loved it. Maybe I should never have left her, but it's too late, and we are better off like this.

"You're right." I said, and she smiled at me. She got up and pointed to the front of her T-shirt. It said "I Am Always Right".

"But what if I don't want to die? Maybe just fall asleep for a while? Won't that work too?" I felt like a fool asking her this after everything she explained but I wasn't ready to die just yet. This time she laughed and turned around. The back of her T-shirt said, "You Are Right Too."

I smiled.

- The Lover@SoulIntoxicated

The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side...Or Is It?

It does not matter how beautiful the fence is, or how wide the space it encloses in is, the colors outside of the fence are always brighter. The paths and the places the paths lead to, enshrouded in the cloak of optimistic expectations and imagination beckon us to walk on, past the carefully posted pickets and come closer. I suppose it could be because ignorance leaves a lot of room for imagination. Perfection may be impossible to achieve but it is easy to dream about. All that is prohibited acquires a silver fantastical sheath merely because it is forbidden, because it's put up on a shelf and cannot be had. It is safe to imagine the extent of its beauty, the magnitude of its splendor. It's so much fun to play around with the delicious thoughts of breaking the rules, the thrill of crossing barriers and jumping fences.

I have such a short attention span and even if I am surrounded by shiny objects, my eyes eventually fall on those that aren't mine, can't be mine. Then there is the element of curiosity. The satanic question 'why' zooms around in the mind in all kinds of prodding pricking phrases, accompanied by 'what's and 'how come's. If it is lying there in my way I might step over it, but if it is wrapped in brown paper and shoved under the bed, my neurons will ignite with unbearable curiosity which would be very, very hard to subdue.

The grass may be greener on the other side, or it might not be. The important thing is it looks like it's greener and if you've walked for too long on your own patch of grass, it appears to be rather old and yellow - merely because you've been pacing across it for quite a while. It can be because you are an egotist and you just cannot stand the thought of there being something, or someone you're not permitted to have. When it's all about you and it's not so much about the enticing attributes of the forbidden object but the maddening thought that it is you who cannot have it.

Man's existence is so much more exciting because of his instinct to reject that which is offered to him and want that which is kept away.

- The Lover @ SoulIntoxicated

The Other Woman

I lay there in the bathtub staring in oblivion. The pain in my chest was too much tonight. I wanted it all to go away. I wished I could just tell him I knew and get it all over with. But I held back the urge for the millionth time. I wished I could scrub the skin off my body. I didn’t feel like myself in it anymore. I felt dirty and impure hiding all the filth inside me. And then the bathroom door opened and he peeped in.

“Honey, are you done yet?”

I didn’t know what to say. I looked at him and just smiled. That is all I had strength enough to do. Was I done yet? I guess I was done a long time ago, the day I had first found out. He came home late like he had done many times before. But this time it was different. I could sense it in the way he was acting and talking. I asked him as usual what made him so late and unlike before, his answers had a tone of uneasiness. I knew then that he was lying but my love was too blind to see it. It has been almost three years now and it still is. I know he is still seeing her, sleeping with her.

I came out of the bathroom wearing a robe. He was waiting for me on the bed. We were going to make love. Maybe he enjoyed having sex with her but we; we made love, and making love was not an easy thing to do especially when one of us was faking it. Knowing that what we did was exactly what he did with her made it that much harder on me. I felt intimidated. I still wasn’t able to understand what made him seek intimacy in someone else. Was it because of me or was it just him? Was I too flawed? Was I not exciting enough? Did I not satisfy him completely? These were questions I wanted to scream out to him every time we made love. Rather, I just moaned out his name. He thought it was in pleasure but he had no idea how much pain was hidden in it. He was in me but I never really felt it.

“Oh! I love you…” he groaned.

I wanted to say, “I know you do but not enough. You love me but you love her body.”

“I love you too…”

I’ll never let him know that I know. It’s a secret I’ll take with me to the grave. And maybe in the afterlife, when everything is revealed, he’ll know that all this while I knew and then the way he’ll feel will be my revenge. Till then, I’ll keep on loving, and moaning and pretending. I just wish I had the kind of power over him that she had that made him risk everything just to be in her. I wanted to mean that much to him. For once, even for just a moment, I wanted to be the other woman.

The Lover @ SoulIntoxicated

Your Smell

I love the way I smell of you when I'm on my way back. The metro is almost empty at this time of night and the few people there seem to be lost in their own thoughts; slowly moving, almost dancing with the train as it moves on the rail. The air outside is warm; it's cool in here. I'm smelling my hands, my shoulders. I smell of you.

A smile on my face seems to bother a girl sitting in front of me. 'No lady, I'm not hitting on you. I'm just lost in my thoughts. I'm missing someone I saw just fourteen minutes ago. Why don't you let me smile and miss her? Why don't you find something or someone to think about as well and get lost in your thoughts like everyone else?'

I walked the rest of the way home and took a shower. Then I closed my eyes and I could still smell you in my head and I smiled. I wanted to meet you again. But then you call me up and say things I don't want to hear. When will you understand that I cannot give you those things? I'm not like that. Suddenly your smell becomes too much to bear and I can't breathe. I'm choking, I'll die.

Then I leave you, I put the phone down and I walk away. You blame me and I blame you back. We try to get back again and I try to get used to your smell again. I can't. And soon, I find a new smell and I start loving that smell like I loved yours once.

I'm sitting alone waiting for my train, smiling.

I'm walking home alone, smiling.

It's been so many years since you, your smell. There have been so many smells now and today, I can't smell anymore. Maybe I shouldn't have let your smell go. Today I don't even remember how you smelled like.

- The Lover @ SoulIntoxicated

Puppet

Sometimes I sit quietly and watch my memories and dreams, my past and future dance together. I haven't had the best past possible, a little laughter and joy here and there, and countless bad memories. I try not to think about them though. Sometimes I wonder about my dreams, those that I play with and torture myself with, secret fantasies I dare not wish aloud, that I would not really want to materialize. And now a pale melancholy seeps into my heart and I feel lonely. I wonder what I'm getting myself into, then I decide that it's okay and I'll just stop struggling and looking back. I'll see where the current takes me to wash away, to feel powers stronger than my conscience and doubts sweep me where they want me to be because it's good to let go sometimes.

Your absence lingers around me like a glittering presence. Your unreal caresses are more distracting than their actual touches. I dream in a state of consciousness, a desire to remain asleep because it was simpler then. I fear that you will be like a vortex sucking me in deeper and deeper and then you'll let go of your frail grip around my wrists letting me fall into a black hole where I will have nothing of you but fading, paining dreams. I fear that I will lose everything as I gaze into your eyes because you have become foreign to me and yet so addictive.

Then the mere thought that you could possibly desire me to be yours is such a frighteningly beautiful fantasy that I dare not let it seep into my heart completely for it will overwhelm me. It will paint every corner of my soul with such vibrant shimmering colors that if then they are taken away again, I'll be blind forever. So instead I touch tiny pieces of my dream, play around with faint fantasies and wonder how long will it be till I can satiate myself with just portions of images that I want so much as wholes in my being.

Sometimes I want to carve little black 'fuck you's all over your body, scratch eternal scars on your skin and tell you that I wasn't a puppet. You were not supposed to make me dance whenever you wanted to and then just cut off my strings and let me lie helpless on an abandoned stage. 

But...but...I am a puppet and you do have my strings in your fists. You...you, the unstable, noncommittal, shadowy princess of words and virtual caresses.

- The Lover @ Soul Intoxicated

Dear Destiny

Dear Destiny,

It was you, who first told me that 'if ever I were to sit beside you, you could not talk for hours and we could have the best conversation ever.' It was you who talked of darkness, and of love, conjuring a slide of subtle sweet words that I sipped down, mesmerized with the wondrous possibility of having someone fall into me. It was you who created a changed man who was capable of love. But with that, came a changed man who could now feel pain and be afraid. It was you who created my destiny. 

You talked of your desire to be loved, and to love, how you needed someone to need you. I felt I was destined to fulfill that desire but you never really believed in destiny. You wanted me to stretch my arms towards you but you wanted me to understand when you suddenly needed to withdraw into yourself, into your shell of broken dreams. I was so preoccupied in wiping off your tears that I never noticed the ones in my eyes. Slowly the tears dried out and I fell asleep in the dark. I never really understood the meaning of wiping off your own tears.

You talked of being too scared to commit, not realizing that every time you kissed my face, told me that you missed me, that you longed for my arms around you, and every time you talked of us together, you made a commitment. It was a promise that my heart swallowed up and sent pulsing through every vain in my body. But still, the closer I tried to get to you, the further away you seemed - an irony I was not able to understand. Wasn't this what you wanted, what you needed?

You asked me what no woman who believes in coincidences should ask of a man; to love you unconditionally, to dream with you, to "trust" you. Despite the many conditions that sprang up, the dreams that kept breaking, and the many reasons that made trust seem futile, I gave you what you asked for. I was so obsessed with trying to fix you that I didn't realize that I was slowly becoming unfixable. I didn't know that I was not supposed to fix you, someone else was, or were. I wasn't your destiny after all, just a coincidence in a string of coincidences. I wonder if I was ever able to make you a believer or just make you even think about it? Then I wonder why I became a believer in destiny myself? Was it because of you, because you were my destiny or were you my coincidence too?

If indeed you were just a coincidence, then all of it meant nothing and I shouldn't really care because more coincidences will come along, and I'll start all over again. The damage would be fixable and I would eventually find my destiny. But what if you weren't a coincidence? This thought haunts me all the time. If you really were my destiny, then that means I'll be unfixable forever. How and when am I supposed to know? Time will tell? I haven't heard time speak for so long that I doubt if it even has a voice. Maybe till the day I find out, I'll assume you were my destiny because even though that would mean I'll be unfixable, it would also mean that all of it had a meaning, a purpose. My love was not in vain.

Love,

Me, Unfixable.

- The Lover @ Soul Intoxicated

The Battel within

But a battle with your own heart is the most difficult battle to win..you know your enemy so well that you often forget by which side and for whom you you are fighting..you play from both sides...and so you lose half the battle even if somehow you manage to win the other half..the victory will not be satisfying because a part of you will fail...Your failure is so pre-written...nothing works..no weapons..no strategies...you cant hide..you cant run..you cant bow and you have to stand the whole battle...no matter whatever it takes..

**Quoted from one of my own rants..something i felt like sharing

The Situation

You know of the situations....when you look up at things...and they are messed up....fully, completely, totally..

and the reason they are so is somehow you...your selfishness..your whims...your needs... your attitude... your wrong decision... your meanness... your childishness... your inconsistencies...

and you know of people whom you have hurt like anything....when you actually never meant to do that..when your nafs controlled you...rather you controlling your nafs...and when you are sorry to the mortals as much as you are sorry to your God....

when you wanna go back in the time..and rub the whole past....the past being long enough to result in such a big mess...when you know nothing NOTHING in the world shall make things right....

when the things you have been hiding..the things which prove how weak and selfish you have been...those things which bear a proof of your wrong doings...those things which shout so loud that you shut your eyes rather than your ears in order to ignore them....the things which bear enough evidence that you no longer deserve to be human...because you have never acted like one before....

when you are sorry...but you know that that its the smallest thing you can do..that your sorry is of no use to anyone..when you wanna go and die..but you know you are weak again...when you wanna hide..but you know you cant run from realities...when everything is crystal clear...but you dont want them so..

when you are sorry..and you cant say or convey so....when you know this is what you ever deserved in exchange of your doings....but still somehow..somehow you want the things to be right..perfect again..

but this time not for your selfishness or your good..but you want them too be good for those people whom you have hurt..and who have suffered because of you..knowingly or unknowingly...when you are ready to compromise everything to see them happy..

And yet you don't find a way...

Have you ever been in such a situation???

Change!!!

People who know me would agree that I am a very practical person… I like reasoning things out, I don’t really react on impulse and I always judge a situation before I come to a conclusion. But if there’s one thing that I just cant come to terms with, then it is CHANGE. ‘Change’… it’s such an eerie, bizarre event which takes place in everyone’s life… I mean, why do things and people have to change? Why can’t everything just remain the way it is…? But the truth is… things change, people change…. and all we can do is watch helplessly, as time engulfs us and churns out different situations in our lives… yes, changes happen without us even realizing, and by the time we realize, it is too late to change the change!!

And like all changes I dread, there’s one more thing that changed in my life…. And that is our very own Writer’s Lounge… agreeably, I was never the most active member on the Lounge so I ideally don’t have a say in this, but I definitely am one of the oldest members on the Lounge… and somehow it’s hard to see that most of the people I shared my lounge experiences with are nowhere in the picture now… It was like zip zap zoom… and everything changed!!

The Lounge has got lovely talents right now, like always… And am more than glad to see all the new members doing so well… but I miss my old pals like crazy… Asbah… Priyanka… Shruti… The Lover.... where are you guys? Life’s just not going to be the same without these people around… and however hard it may be to accept, I know that those good old times are never going to come back.

Most of the people deal with change well…. Some don’t… and I am one of them. I still haven’t accepted this change and I don’t know how long it will take for me to accept it. But then, as someone rightly said… “Change is the only constant thing in life”… People change, things change…. and so does life!!!

Another Sleepless Scribble (Night 2)

Continued from Another Sleepless Scribble

4:03 AM

It was another night. Just another one for everyone else; for nobody thought about it before they closed their eyelids for the day – before they surrendered to the dark, still, insensible night. However, the night was not the same for Shona. Shona, never sleeps. She lives in her own world and forgets about all that happens around her. She was sleepless again – again tonight!

Having nothing else to do, having nowhere else to go, having no one to speak to, she came out of her house and strolled in to the lounge – The Writers Lounge. She came in and saw the door closed. Was there anyone there? Well, she did not know. She hardly knows anyone in the lounge, apart from her love – her friend – her mate – her companion. She thought he might be there, somewhere in the lounge, still! This was the best time for him to be in the lounge, and hence, she strolled in – not to disturb him or anyone else in the lounge, but to get a mere glimpse of him. A word or two exchanged would be bonus for her. She crept in.

It was chilling in the lounge. Not a single leaf moved – not one breeze blew. The lounge seemed to be frozen. The lounge seemed to be lonely too – very much similar to Shona. She opened the door with utmost care. It opened slowly and a few rays of light and a few handful of air came in along with Shona. She closed the door behind her. It was pitch-dark. She stood there for some time and checked around her – nobody around – absolute silence. She walked towards the dashboard to check the various posts in the lounge, which were posted today. Her hands were trembling as she browsed through the posts. Her lips moved while reading a few. Her fingers got stuck to a few words and her eyes to a few pictures, but she moved on with the newer posts.

Suddenly she saw a post with her lover’s name on it. Did he post it? Her heart skipped a bit! Yes, it was him who posted this today. Oh! What a feeling! She felt him around while reading his post. It was a story – a simple story of a small village girl. She read the first words of the story, “I Love You Shona…” What? Shona? Was this ‘Shona’ the same as herself? Her heart skipped another beat! He has told her time and again not to talk about themselves in public. He has told her time and again not to relate his stories or poems with herself; but her heart – would it listen? It searches for her in every Cinquain he writes; it hunts for her name in every Acrostic he writes; it looks for her presence in every Haiku he posts. She never found a single post of his which was not related to her. However, he never wrote anything like this before. He never wrote about her anywhere. She was always incognito until this post! She could not believe her eyes. For a moment she wanted to hear his voice and talk to him. Oh! If only she could see him once – for once!

There was a message in the Shoutbox that made the noise to break her concentration. “Hi mates, how are you all doing? None here? Let me talk to myself then J” It was him! Oh! Was he here all the time? She would never know; but, he is here now – right in front. A simple message in the Shoutbox would link her to him. He will come to know that Shona is here too. What a coincidence! Her wish to meet him and to talk to him was fulfilled in couple of minutes time. Oh God, had known this before, would not she have ask him instead?

Shona stood there – unmoved. She did not utter a word. She did not go to the next page. She did not do anything that would tell him of her presence. She would not – for she was not supposed to. She was not supposed to bring him in public. She was not supposed to get close in public. He will not like that and may turn crueler towards her. She would not want that too. She remained invisible. She remained unearthed. She remained silent.

“Good Night Mates… Have a good time reading and a wonderful day. Have fun and keep rocking together.” Another message in the Shoutbox. It was him again. He was leaving. She wanted to call him. She wanted to pull him towards her and kiss him on his lips. She wanted to tell him that she loves him. She wanted to share herself – and everything she had; but she remained silent and he was gone.

She stood there for some time to ensure that he is gone. Once she was sure about his absence, she stood there for some more time. She would never let him know that she was here – feeling his presence and admiring the story he wrote with her name in that. The lounge was chilling, but her heart was beating faster and faster. She did not feel the cold. Her blood was boiling all the time. After a few more minutes, when he was gone, she looked around her again. Nothing has changed. He came and he went away, leaving Shona unnoticed and nothing changed around her. Weird it was, but that was normal, as he told her to be.

She did not break the promise – she could not. She was happy now. She was refreshed. She opened the door again with similar care and came out of the lounge and the door closed behind her.

Another Sleepless Scribble

3:33 AM

In Response to Kajal's A Sleepless Scribble

Tan was always awake, when you tip-toed into the lounge. The gentle wind on your face through the window chilled his spine. He was sitting alone in another corner of the lounge, scribbling on his notepad – making absolutely no sound. It was lonely. It was cold. It was dark. Still, it was fun to be here. Suddenly, the door opened – a thin ray of light became wider as you came in. Tan could see you looking around, fearing if you have wakened anyone else. The notepad in your hand and the desire to write something was visible. You came in and sat near the window, at the corner. The waft ruffled a few strings of hair on your face. Probably you felt shy and you smiled. Diffidently, you sat down and started scribbling. Tan saw it all!

Tan wanted to shout aloud and say ‘Hi’ to you. He was so pleased to see someone alongside at this hour. He was overjoyed and was going to call you. But then, the wind blew again and those strands of hair alongside your chin flew. They brushed your face and you smiled – again! What a wonderful sight! That was something one could die for. Tan felt no different. He could not move. He could not utter anything else. He sat there – in tranquil – staring at the most beautiful sight he has ever seen.

Then you started scribbling. Your hands on the notepad were moving fast and faster. The thin rays of moonlight through the window pane made your face visible. The million dollar smile on your face was noticeable. He noticed it all the time you were there. Tan smiled within himself. Looking at you in harmony gave him eternal peace. All silent! Then suddenly you stood up. The silence broke with the sound of tearing and folding paper. Probably, your scribbling was over and so was the heavenly time. You left the torn paper from your notepad on the table near the window and left the lounge. The door opened and closed – making no further noise.

“Ka…” a soft cry came out of Tan’s mouth, after the long silence; but it was so weak that it could not reach your ears. You did not hear anything and you left. The door closed into silence again. A dark, cold and lonely silence! It was sad and dull. Tan sat down and reluctantly he took his notepad and wrote what you just read. He did not want to, but he wrote, just for the sake of letting you know that he was there – always – all the time! It was silent again, as he finishes writing the note – to you!

A Meaningful Conversation

S: What are you doing?
A: Touching you.
S: Why?
A: Because you're "it".
S: I'm "it"?
A: Yes.
S: If I'm "it", what are you?
A: I'm "not-it".
S: You're "not-it"?
A: Yes.
S: Can't we both be "it"?
A: Nope.
S: Why not?
A: What would people think?
S: What people?
A: Those who make rules.
S: What if we broke the rules?
A: Nope.
S: We wouldn't have to tell them.
A: But how could we do it?
S: We could both touch at the same time.
A: Really?
S: Yes.
A: And then we would both be "it"?
S: Yes.
A: I like this idea.
S: You're it!
A: So are you!
S: We did it!
A: Yes. Together.
S: But don't tell anybody.
A: Why?
S: They might get the wrong idea.

He Cried...

I sat beside him on the couch, our hands inches apart from each other. I desperately wanted to take my hand just a little bit closer and just touch his hand with the tip of my fingers. But it stayed just where it had been. Despite being so close, I felt miles away from him.

The air conditioner was on but I felt a weird warm feeling inside. She looked at me. Her eyes were like two brown pools of sadness. I knew she wanted to touch me, stroke my hand, and caress my cheek with the back of her palm, just anything to feel my closeness. I looked away.

He avoided my gaze and looked away. He then leaned back and gave a sigh that felt like an explosion in the silence.

“What do you want?” I asked softly and finally looked at her. I really looked at her this time. Her eyes were wide with pain and tears were rolling down her cheeks. She put her hand over mine as if seeking comfort from the feel of my skin.

“I want what you once wanted but can’t give me now, or you won’t.” I sighed.

She sighed, strangely composed like the calm before a storm and held up her hands helplessly in a gesture.

“Do you really want to what I want? I want to wake up every morning beside you. I want to lie beside you at night and watch you sleep, your face next to mine. I want you to come home to me everyday, sit down to supper together and talk about our days. Then I want to follow you to our bedroom and cuddle up like an unbreakable knot and I want you to love me and make love to me. That is what I want.” Saying this, I burst into tears.

And with that final burst of speech, the dam broke and her tears poured out in an immeasurable gush. I looked away.

He looked away as if it pained him to see me cry.

It was hurting me and I didn’t’ dare look at her again. “I cannot give you what you want. I am not ready yet. You know how I feel about marriage. We are together. Isn’t that enough for now?” I said, my voice rising defensively. I then gently laughed.

He laughed softly, somberly. Laughter was his mask; it protected him and hid him from showing what he actually felt. He said something, trying to make a joke. I didn’t even remember what it was later.

Trying to joke at such a moment was a bad move. “Why do you have to make a joke out of everything?” She cried, her voice trembling with the strain of emotion. “Why can’t you just feel? Cry?” she asked. “I cannot help it. I laugh when I am nervous.” I replied uneasily. She nodded.

I just nodded. I had heard all this many times before. Silence engulfed us in its drowsy softness. He threw his legs over mine. I felt a sense of contentment. He covered his eyes with his arm and his breaths changed, quickened. I laid my head across the warmth of his chest. It felt so soothing, and familiar, and to think I would never have it again…it brought on almost a feeling of fear deep within my gut.

Her sobs were quieter now, but no less emotional, and I felt her body shake with the force of them. “Here, feel this.” I said and clutching her fingers I touched them to my cheek.

I felt the dampness and I looked up. This time he didn’t look away. He smiled but there was no laughter in his eyes, he had tears. “See what you do to me?” he said. I was surprised. I had never seen him cry before.

Her breath sharpened. She had never seen me cry before. It must have come as a surprise to her.

I wanted to see it, to feel his emotion, probably for the last time. We cried silently together, his hear beating with a slow rhythm beneath my ear. “I’ll never have this again, will I?” I sobbed.

She sobbed and gasped for breath. It was killing me to see her in so much pain. “Don’t say that! And please don’t cry!” I begged. “This doesn’t mean it is the end.” She still continued to cry.

Despite the hope that blossomed in my chest, I kept crying. I stroked his face. “He doesn’t love me anymore. But I still do.” I thought.

She stroked my face. “She thinks I don’t love her anymore. But I do.” I thought.

We sat gazing at each other, both of us scared to think about what would happen once this moment ended. Goosebumps danced along our bare skin, and we breathed as one.

A Letter I Will Never Send

This is not a good bye, but that’s just what it is. I don’t want to feel that we’re parting, or have parted, or somehow I’ll never see you again. I hate saying goodbye, usually I’m too stubborn to do so. And in this case, I still cannot bring myself to believe it, or admit it. So, in spite of what this may seem, I want you to know this is not a parting.

About two months ago, I started writing a letter I was meaning to email you. I now realize that I can never send it. In the letter I tell you everything I can never say behind this wall of silence. We are two different people, almost strangers. It would be distasteful to send you a letter regarding our yesterdays. It would never find you as I hope, it is a passionate letter which would be foreign to your heart as I am not your lover. My hope of yesterday stands in direct conflict with today’s reality.

The reason I am not going to send it is a simple one. I know your reality.I know my ideas and memories have no place in it. I dare not trouble the calm waters of your life with my fierce spirit. Remember, I have not stopped loving you. I will be writing about you for years to come. The desire that powers my pen for you, also has very real action. Meaning, behind these words are real force. Last time I saw you, I wanted to reach out for you, and almost did. And I don’t, for a second, doubt that you didn’t see that. You looked at me again for the first time, and I you. Behind your composure I saw that you still wondered about me. Two years away had rid you of some of the ill feeling you harbored. Leaving you looking at the fork in the road, wondering which direction to take. I know when you went to bed that night, you thought about me.

And I spent that night, scratched, searching my heart for some desperate way to speak to you outside the language of English. Wishing, you could put your hand on my chest and soak the energy which is my source of power and weakness. What you would have found would have been pure, and all yours.

Life moves on, and forces us into new realities. Like the way your comfortable life would be a total shock to mine. Like the way he says I love you is nothing like the way I do. Think about what you see in my writings, think about what you see in his. I digress, these are words better saved for some place else, not a letter of goodbye, not when this is supposed to be a letter of emotional indifference. (Oh well, I have never been any good at emotional indifference).

It is a line in the sand, a historic document telling how I felt about us, before time put too much distance between us and made us into strangers. I don’t want to walk down a path that you’re not walking, but I have no other choice. I don’t want to say goodbye, but there is little else.

I’ve spent almost 3 weeks trying to figure out how to say goodbye to you. I fumbled with ideas all day, but none seemed fitting for the gravity of this situation. So I decided upon something else, I wasn’t going to say goodbye. Instead of saying goodbye, I have another plan. Here’s what I’m going to do.

Nothing.

I’m not putting you away and I have no intention to stop writing about you. I understand your life has taken you elsewhere, but that will not stop me from what I do best. Obsess. I’m going to kick, scream and shout. I’m going to write passionate love poems about you to the best of my ability, as a protest of your absence. I am going to lament over you for the next several years. And at the end of it, I will look back over the time and say “Now I am done, my sacrifice for you is over”. That time will be a scar on my arm which will serve as evidence and reminder that this was the only way left for me to love you.

I want to leave a piece of my heart missing for you. I want to lament for you across many years. I want there to be a piece of my body and soul that is lost. So that way, no other girl can touch it. So that way, there is a part of me that is solely yours. Your absence will be a ledge in my heart. And when women see it, they will look out across it and wonder what was once in it’s place. Forbidden for them to ever know all aspects of how I love.

And that is how I choose to lose you, on my terms. And in many years from now, I’ll wake up, and be ready to begin my life without you.

Last time we met, remember what you saw when you looked in my eyes? That desire contained is what I want you to see while you're walking away.

Her Madness

A true story. Every word of it.

Some things are hard to define; to me she was one such enigma. I am still unsure whether I truly loved her or not; the truth is a part of me still yearns for her, her touch and her madness. And her madness was what that touched me the very first time, the madness with which she danced with me, holding me close, bordering almost on cheap obsession. I had never been fond of dancing. Sitting in a corner at the nightclub, I didn’t notice when she came and sat next to me. It was when she took hold of my whiskey and gulped it down did I realize her presence.

“Excuse me! That was mine!” was my quick protest.

"So?” she replied glancing at me. And then she took hold of my hand, withdrew the cigarette from in between my fingers and put it to her lips. As twirls of smoke danced around in the air, I couldn’t help but discern the beauty of her. She was clearly drunk. I could tell she was sad as well. There was something about her that mesmerized me. The voice of James Blunt crooned in the background…

“You're beautiful. You're beautiful. You're beautiful, it's true. I saw your face in a crowded place, And I don't know what to do, 'Cause I'll never be with you.”

Yes, it was true. She was beautiful. And I really didn’t know what to do, what to say. Was I angry? I don’t think so. Then what was it? I felt weird, unexplainable feelings churning inside me. As she took the last drag, she looked at me. Her eyes screamed in pain. I wanted to free her. For an eternity, none of us spoke. Every sound around me went dull. I was transported to a different place, and all the while she was right beside me, her eyes hollowing out my soul. I wanted to feel her touch again. There were a thousand sentences forming in my mind that I wanted to tell her, but words felt superficial.

“Dance with me…” she said and stood up. It sounded like an order. But it was a desperate plea, a cry for help. I felt being pulled away into the crowd. All around me, sweaty bodies blended and severed. The darkness was kept alive with the flashes of red and blue lights. People around me were in a trance, worries of the world eons away. And she pulled me into that dream. As our bodies moved to the rhythm, it amplified my heartbeats. I only saw her, and just heard the music. I wanted to dance my life away with her. I was dancing, like I never had before. And then, when she held me, I had my answers. She was lonely. So was I. It was a revelation. Till then I had not known what it was like to be loved. It melted me. I was drunk high on all the attention, and the power of seduction that came with it. I was in my own universe. Temptation outweighed my coherence. Suddenly the world felt crowded again. She read my thoughts. “Come with me...” she said. We cut through the swirling crowd like waves through the ocean; she, all the while gripping my hand tight as if afraid that I would let go. I felt a connection. I wondered if she felt the same. And later that night, as our bodies became one, it was the beginning of an agonizing end.

Was I being contrived? Or was it just another outlet for a fantasy? Was it a sinful ambition or an untamed desire? I didn’t get the chance to know her enough to know her mind because it was madness all along, and I drifted along the discrepancy of bedlam. Yet she remained a constant thought, an irrefutable reality. Maybe I wanted her to remain one. Something told me she didn’t want to let go of me either. But she could never possess me. It was the only truth of our connection. She could never belong to me and me to her. Our touch was an appalling crave. It did something to us emotionally. Yet I didn’t comprehend whether to her it was all about the touch or a trace of love existed. She would hold herself back, and thwart my expression too. The distance did something fatal to my soul. That was when her madness would pour in, rain in with all verve and leave me drenched and rapt. I loved the gleam in her eyes, the nostalgia that would follow and the reverie that would precede it.

My insecurity vended with time. I started to believe more in her. We tugged at a subtle part of each others' emotions, which we could never let our respective worlds see. Our bond of five months seems so fresh, I can still recollect every word of hers, written or said, the sweet nothings she whispered into my ears and the method in her madness. I still wish she had chosen me more often than the fear of guilt, and made interesting conversations a lot more times. I wish I had told her that it was more than just the sex. I wish I had known her a little better and not been rude to her that often. There was a dignity in her silence and never ever did she hurl back a mean word to me in reprisal. I still desire her in my darker moments, yet there was more to her than just her touch that created madness. Her intellect; it was a pleasure getting to hear her speak her mind. She had the clarity of conviction.

I wonder if I meant something enough to her. I wonder why it was meant to happen and I wonder what at all had us going? Our paths will soon diverge, and it’s a sin we will never divulge. The desire to hold on till the road divides and we lose sight of each other lingers on. It's a memory I will live with, of a girl who won me over with her inexorable madness and satiated me selflessly. Was I able to be with her? Maybe…

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