Cliché

Thoughts that cross my mind have been told across a zillion times and the come across as clichés or dialogues. But has anyone thought that they might be my real feelings. It might just be that I am going through that block where there is nothing new for to think or write and this phase will pass. The ray of sunlight will peep through the grey clouds and I will smile again as if I had never known any sorrows, until then I wait and search for my smile. It is just a traffic jam not a dead end. Even if, it would have been a dead end I will find my way off and carve my road. Till then I wait for the traffic to clear. I don’t wait for anyone to find me happiness or grant me permission to seek my smile. I know how to find my star. The sole guiding star of mu soul is hidden behind the clouds and the clouds will go. I just have to make a strong wind and all the grays will fly off giving way to my soul star. Till then I wait and work on my way through.

Some Meaningless Banter On Love

“Love Comes in a Package” – A friend of mine used to tell this to me long time back.

She elaborated on my questioning glance that when you fall in love with a person, you accept them with their good, bad and ugly, all features intact. You do not change them as per your whims but make amends in your lifestyle to suit the relationship requirements. You should make space for their mood swings and tantrums, and smilingly ‘move on’ as you know they would do the same for you.

After so many years, I still remember her words ringing clearly in my ears as I wait for the one who would accept me with all my goods and bads – the best of me with the worst of me. If it were true in her case, why would it be too much to ask in my case?

However, life is not same for everyone. I’ve forgotten the feeling of love – the pink heart shape glasses that come with it. The ability to see beauty in everything has faded with the keen and alert glare at the world. I don’t let myself believe in love. I don’t wish to believe either. The belief makes me weak. The stories of ‘Prince Charmings’ sweeping their beloveds’ off their feet has lost its charm. The dream of opening the door for my love every evening has lost its meaning in this constant race for sustainability.

I’m no more the delicate and sensitive person I was. Now I try to see trough everything, even when I’m supposed to let go and let things happen on their own accord. The world has gotten into me – it has turned me to follow their rotten ways. It used to see me in a bad light and now when I’ve turned bad, it deems me fit. An insensitive slave – a part of their meaningless race.

I used to say that I’ll never be a part of this rat-race, but here I’m. A part of me is still alive that wishes escape and believes in love. Nevertheless, other part says – go-ahead girl, change. They won’t accept your honesty – so lie. There is no such thing as love and peace – and that’s how I have come to believe that reality does not have ‘Prince Charming’ and ‘Happy Endings’.

PS: This article was written on 1^st of July. Too late in posting it, I guess.

Life Without Your Smile

The first ray of sun peeps through my window to wake me up. I smile with your smile – It’s sheer joy and plain happiness that I gain out of it. The strength I derive out of it is Life.

I wonder what my world would be without that smile of yours - A damp dark room with roaches running all over. -The moldy stench that rots every living thing in vicinity. The cold shiver creeping in from the cracks in the floor will reach the core of warmth in me and will kill the flame.

I never knew what your smile was worth until today, when my heart ailed to see it gone. Gone, as I was the reason for your sadness. You smiled when I asked you for it, but it never had the warmth of the brown that your eyes carry.

My world will go vacant without your smile. My strength will fail – m y brightness will fail – my entire existence will fail. There will just be a scar remaining on my face in the name of smile. There won’t be any more sunrises to brighten my mornings. There won’t be any joy in my mischiefs. The sparkle of my eyes will be lost.

I wonder, where would life be or would it worth be living – A LIFE WITHOUT YOUR SMILE.

I’m a Wee Bit Jealous

I saw u coming through the thick traffic from a distance. You are always visible. I never have the trouble seeing you even at a distance. Not because you are too tall or you shine in the crowd or anything like that. It’s just because my eyes always seem to find you, be it far, be it near, be it crowded, be it dark, I will always see you.

So, today was no different. I saw myself through your eyes while getting ready to go out and meet you and I knew you will see what I did. I smiled but you didn’t. Somehow, today I felt you were a bit distant, preoccupied, and then you told me that you had an argument back home. But, I knew that was not the whole reason.

We spent the entire evening together and I heard everything that you had to say. I was there with you, though something was amiss between us. The usual “US” factor that your friends said was missing. I made sure it was. I made sure you spoke up as you made me speak my feelings. You taught me it was easy to talk and with you words came so effortlessly, so why is it difficult for you?

I made sure I am not paying attention to you and I made sure you felt it too. I looked into your eyes and realized what you were going through but I wanted to hear it. I wished you would say that you were jealous like you said you were possessive. It is one feeling I still cherish. I still smile at the mere thought of the fact that someone is so possessive about me. Did you not see me smile the entire day when you said that?

I do not fight with you to make you feel bad about something. I fight, so that you speak. Say that you love me with your entire being, as you really do. You said what I wanted to hear. You finally said, “I’m jealous. I want your unwavering attention.” And I smiled with my entire being. My entire angst vanished. I’m not angry anymore.

Efforts and Expressions

You crawl to reach me and the effort is so much that it really impresses me. And I start to appreciate your efforts and then you venture deeper. You try to delve in the deep dark desires and secrets of my heart. Why?

Are you not satiated with my love?

Why do u have to understand me to love me. I am no book that you read with every page you turn. I am no theory that you would assume. I am a human being. The philosophies of love are many. Why do you try to mix them all to make muck. Its a filthy saying of lotus in dirt, love does not have to be that. It does not even have to be roses in thorns. It can be a mere wild flower amongst the woods. Why do you have to flaunt me as a trophy. Why do have to change me to suit your demands. Am I not the same person you fell in love with. So why so many assumptions and alterations?

Answer me truly and am all yours. You falter once and I am gone. For good and forever.

Shades Of Life

The freshness of dewdrops on the leaves - basking in the sunshine - spreading their sparkle - scattering the shades of life.

The tranquil in the arms of a dew drop must be bright to attract the beautiful sun rays and break it down to its essence. The brightness suddenly takes a beautiful turn and grows mellow. The existence of a ray breaks down into zillions of figments of colors and still the light smiles. The amplification of beauty is confusing. I try to understand, why?

It’s me yet again, sipping the shades of life through my eyes. I’m trying to soak in the beauty of this calmness. The overwhelming calmness tightens its grip on my throat and I strangle. There it starts creeping again – the pain. As I stand still with no emotions visible on my face, the pain soon scatters into various frames. The frames show a beautiful me. A girl with innocence in her eyes and sparkle in her smile.

It’s the growing reality in me that the whole of me is encompassed of those various frames to make me. Every bit of pain is every bit of joy and here I stand in totality to see the dewdrops disappear, as they take my pain away.

And now I realize why the sun rays hug the dew drops. They try to understand the reality of beauty and in lieu they give us the shades of life.

PS: This writing is the outcome of a four-liner inspirational poem by a friend. Thanks bud, you made me write this!

Storm Under the Calm River - 3

You can read the First and Second part here.

As I walk back home, two neighbors pass me. One looks at me and whispers something to the other. I overhear the words ‘poor parents’ and ‘mad’.  If only words could explain the rage that passes through me. It always infuriates me – being a loner and seeing a psychiatrist doesn’t mean I am mad. And I am never able to control my anger in such a situation. I hardly ever get angry, but this makes me lose my cool. Sanchit should know about this all right. After all, he died because of this, didn’t he? My evil face, which remains hidden all the time, erupts again, and, with relish, I muse over how he died.

I have reached home. Ma looks up from her work, but something in my face stops her from saying anything. I walk up to the mirror, and I understand why. My eyes have a nasty glint; I look menacing, even to myself. I wonder if Ma could see the blood on my hands too. I rest my forehead on the cool mirror surface. I decide to end it once and for all. I plan. Somehow planning my own death gave me intense peace of mind these days. An overdose of sleeping pills, lots of sleep, and never waking up again. How tranquil would that be! But I don’t get the perfect chance. I wait on. I decide on this evening. My death is assigned to take me away this evening. And this time I am sure.

I sit and think. In this world of fake love and relationships, only our love was true. In fact, I loved him too much to let him live. He was perfect in all ways. I adored him. But he simply did not get it. I was not mad. Why would he say that to me? He said others called me that, and he said he sometimes agreed. Then why was he with me? Wasn’t he my friend? The first time he said that was when I told him about the snakes. I trusted him completely. I was ready to open my heart to him. “This is not right. I think you might have a problem. Do you want to see a doctor?”  Problem! He called it a problem. The words still ring in my ears. And doctor? What did he mean by doctor? Why didn’t he have the guts to say he meant a shrink? Like that Asmit.

That day I was shattered. I didn’t want him to become like the others. But who was I to fight Fate? He said that he pointed out those things because he cared about me. How does hurting me account for care? Slowly the love was turning into rage, a violent rage. Every time he had something to say. “This is not real, you are imagining it again.”, “Why are you like this?”, “What is wrong with you?”, “Shruti, you are going mad.”

Nothing is wrong with me and I am not mad. I did not want to hate him. I had no other option.  So one day, I killed him. It was very simple actually. He helped in fact. While I was contemplating how to go about it, he planned a trip to Matheran. And then it was a piece of cake, pushing him off the mountain.

Back to my room! I waited for five whole weeks for the police to come. I was his only friend. The police was bound to find me. They didn’t come. The only thing that came was guilt. I realized how much I loved him. I had killed my best friend. Was there any other act more despicable then this? I saw his face wherever I went. He watched my every move.  I saw the accusations in my classmates’ eyes when he did not turn up for a month. I could not stand it. Was I finally going mad? The warden complained that I screamed in my sleep. How could I explain the scratching on the walls to her when I couldn’t explain it to myself? Were my nails actually capable of doing that? I was living my own death.

Then one day, I quit. Now, here I am, back in Jairampur, seeing a psychiatrist when I don’t need to. Sanchit got his wish. Hah!  Everyone gets a dying wish. But why did he have to die? I realize I am crying. Just until evening, I think. I crawl into my bed again. Hushed voices from the adjacent room wake me up. I was always a light sleeper. My Ma and Papa, and I would recognize the third voice anywhere, Asmit. My ears perk up. Schizophrenic? Who is schizophrenic?  I know what it is. I have read about it. People living in their own imaginary world or something of the sort. Who is he talking about? I concentrate.

“There is no Sanchit.” Of course, there is no Sanchit. I killed him, didn’t I? But how does he know?

“…He does not exist. She created him in her mind. Her subconscious mind knew what people were saying about her. Sanchit was her creation to tell her directly what she already guessed. I called up her college. There are no records of any Sanchit studying there during her college span. That is why her classmates eyed her curiously when she thought she was talking to Sanchit. Obviously they could not see anyone.”

Now I am starting to panic. What is he saying? I am sobbing relentlessly. What do they know? I slowly leave my body and float near the roof. I look down at myself. I am screaming and tearing my hair, hurting myself physically. The three of them rush into my room. Amit injects something in my veins as my parents hold me. I fight but soon I drift off to a zone unknown.