You shall be there, always;

She gave me peace, like a morning coffee. Her laughter was like the very first sip. You savor it and wish you could retain it until your last breath.

Like its aroma, her fragrance ascended shyly and kissed my soul with ecstasy.

I was myself, when around her, and yet so not myself.

In the lee hours, I think about her.

The picture of her hair dancing flamboyantly at her shoulder. Her gaze, slipping into my soul, as if it had an intention to steal. The touch of her fingers, carelessly sucking the breath out of me.

It gives me peace. Makes me feel weightless at my feet.

I smile like a fool, until I realize that in a matter of seconds the picture would tear itself apart.

Was the feeling mutual? Certainly not.

It was something that I could not possess. Perhaps I was not supposed to. The best things in the world are better left unattained. It is just to be felt and preserved in our memory, like a beautiful memento.

The Cunning

Hi, 

I know you can hear me, feel me. I am the one who stays as uninvited guest embedded in you. I lure you into the darkest pit, blinds you of the obvious, and envisions you of the things which will eventually hurt you, and break you into shards. I could topple your world. Making promises on your behalf, I show you dreams which you would never experience. I walk beside you as your companion but in reality I am your most dreadful enemy. I break you, bit by bit, until you cannot hold anymore. I hit you where it hurts until you cannot tolerate anymore. I stare at your sorry eyes and bring you to your knees. And then when you finally realise how your life has exploded into fragments, you would be too weak to gather the pieces. I am here, and will be, always.

Yours Sincerely,

Heart.

Picture courtesy: A writer and his thoughts, meaning in life. 

Gentle Reminders

She was not so fond of flowers. It reminded her that all good things dies quicker.

Before I fall out of love

That one night I lay awake wondering why I loved you. It was 5:20 in the morning and you were asleep. I couldn’t think of any reason strong enough to possess my mind and heart in such a manner that the mere thought of separation sent a chill down my spine. 

I couldn’t remember the day when we met, or the day when I fell for you. But I do remember the night when you possessed my soul, trapped it in your charm, and locked it within the fragile walls of your enigma.

Sad truth is, I know you don’t feel the same for me, and I’ve realised you never will. 

A distant and composed melody echoes in my mind, and tells me that one day you will feel for me. It is hope. Against all odds. 

A deafening whistle tries to suppress it, and tells me that one day it will wear away. It is reason. 

It tells me that my hope will stay alive only for so long, until it vanishes as a result of your apathy towards my love. Apathy is a strong word to describe your feelings towards me, but it’s what my heart says tonight. 

Before that happens, before I fall out of love, I wanted to pen down what I feel. Months from now, I might read this, to realise how I’d walked through a sandstorm once, and survived. I wanted to make a note of my feelings before I stop feeling anymore. 

There was a time, when I’d built an iron wall around me before you found your way through it. You’ve sneaked your way inside, not to tear me down to ashes, I suspect, but to give me memories I might cherish?

But memories are not always pleasant. Sometimes it is just the opposite. It is a reflection of all the things that meant a lot to me but not to you. A reflection of all the things we could have accomplished, but we’re afraid to. A reflection of the words unsaid, actions untaken, and feelings not shared. 

Imagine going into a room full of fond memories shared by the two of you. It soothes you, carves a pleasant smile, eases your mind, until you realise that you’re the only one who visits. 

I’ve not fallen in love with your beauty. I’ve not fallen in love with your jovial nature. Neither with your enchanting smile, nor with your shining eyes. I’ve fallen in love with your presence, and your perfect imperfections. Everything else is secondary.

Your presence around me makes me light as bird, floating above, oblivious of any stress or sadness. And it shatters my heart to realise that it’s just temporary. 

Before I fall out of love, I needed to confess how I loved tucking your hair behind your ears which kept falling in front of your face. How I drown in immense pleasure when you rested your head on my shoulder. How I felt like walking in paradise when you walk beside me holding your hand in mine. 

The way you tilt your head and speak in hush tone at 3 in the morning sitting beside me under a tree, I can keep looking at you until eternity. 

It is in your sweet smile that I have found solace. It warms my heart, and sends an impulse in my veins. 

Looking at you, I feel as if I am looking at the sunset towards the horizon, when a mesmerizing breeze caress my body. Though it feels soulful and looks beautiful, I couldn’t endure the distance that separates us, and when the sun finally sets, I am left alone in the darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

You, my dear, have made me break every protocol, every promise I have ever made to myself. You came into my life like a hurricane and demolished my rules like a house of cards. 

All I was left with, were ashes which once were feelings disguised in the form of the smiling mask I wore everyday. 

Before I fall out of love, I'd to tell you that I’d imagined my life with you, living under the shadow of your radiance. I’d imagined myself talking about my scars and finding warmth in your consolation. 

There are no two ways of saying this, but, before I fall out of love, I’d like you to know that you’ve consumed my heart and one day I would like it back. 

I would lock it within an impregnable fortress never to be let out. Chain it with memories, and shut it behind the doors of my outright disgust.

I’ve missed you too!

“Stop missing me and call me already!!! These hiccups are killing me!” I updated on Facebook.

“ How many calls did you get?” a friend pinged me.

“None”, I said, “ I wondered if that person was too shy to confess, until I realized my mom was not on Facebook. I called her, and the moment she heard my voice, the hiccups stopped.”

Picture Courtesy: Anke Photography

Little things

“When did you fall in love with me?”

“ The day when you held my high heels in your hand just so that I could dance without hurting my legs”

Someone

Buried beneath my melancholy reflections, I was sitting at the last row of the last bench when she caught my eyes, walked to me, and sat beside me. Looking at my face, she sensed the turmoil in my head. Surpassing the insurmountable odds, I expressed my feelings from the deepest pit in my heart instead of pretending that "I am fine. Just a bit tired".

She listened to me patiently, rested her hand on mine, and assured me that she was by my side, without a futile attempt at "Don't worry. You'll be alright."

Light as a bird, contended as a monk, I woke up to the estranged reality when the morning clock blared. In my dream, I realised that happiness is a return gift bestowed upon you when you open up to someone. All you have to do is to find a 'Someone'.

The Dance of Happiness

My heart sent my mind aloof, crashing into the distant stars, when I caught her hopping on her feet, in profound joy. Her eyes sparkled an enigmatic shade of sapphire and her lips carved a heavenly smile. Her short hair glued meticulously on her sharp round face, and her hands clapped against each other.

The happiness that erupted from my two year old niece holding a new shell of kinder-joy, dancing like fine wine in a golden chalice, surpassed the happiness of an adult who had the entire world delivered to their feet, by a mountain.

Becoming a Man

Child you're young. And pure, and absolute. Your bruised knees, and your heart breaks would heal, sooner or later, with time.  But time, Kid, is a wicked mistress. It gives, and it takes. It heals, and it steals. As you walk the path of life, you'll keep losing yourself. Bit by Bit. Each step will steal a part of you and give you something new.

If only you had a mirror of reflection to your past you would realise - Everyone is a stranger to themselves, to what they once were. And when your path ends, whatever remains is what you've always destined to be.

All your life you'll be merely an instrument of creation of your own self. 

The Half Written Pages

It was when I observed her half lit face in the full moon night that I realized. No one looks more depressingly lost in dreams than a person looking through the window of a moving car. The moonlight chased on her skin interrupted abysmally by the lime street lights.

We passed the snaking streets in its deep sleep, the silent houses in their evanescence, the swaying trees in their waltz, in a heavy silence. A silent conversation engulfed us in its broad wings. We said nothing and yet a thousand words rallied between us.

I stole a quick glance at her from the corner of my eyes. I could see her looking into the nothingness, barely concerned about her hair as they danced about her. She kept biting her lips and twitching her nose from time to time. I remembered that she wore the same yellow top with cup cake graphics atop the same brown trousers when we went to shop for a sofa together. I hated the combination. She loved it.

“Is something the matter?” I finally broke the silence.

“Oh!” She spoke retreating from her reverie. “It’s nothing.”

We both knew what was caving into us bit by bit but for some reason unknown, neither of us could bring the subject to the table. When she sensed an uneasy silence creeping between us she spoke again.

“Neerav.” She said. Although I kept my eyes on the road I could feel her stare warming my heart. “I know I should have told you this before. I know it’s too late. But you have to understand.” She said as if there really was no other alternative. “I wanted to tell you earlier.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I asked barely refraining from giving in to my feelings.

“I just…” her voice broke, and then she composed herself, “I just couldn’t muster the courage. I always had this feeling that it would be too hard to convince you. To make you understand.”

“Understand what, Vedika?” I squeezed the steering in my suppressed anger, “You… you kept me in dark. All this time.”

“I am sorry, Neerav.” She said in a voice which vaguely resembled a whisper. “It was too hard for me then. It’s too hard now. But we have to do this. It is the best for us. You’ll understand”

“Oh, I understand.” I gently maneuvered the car into a well lit alley. A group of teenagers were playing cricket and just as I honked at them they dispersed with their bat, ball and a broken wooden chair which substituted for the wickets. We were nearly there.

“What’s his name?”

“Raza.” She spoke with a gentle smile that stretched beyond her cheekbones.

“Is he a…?” I asked an obvious question which needed no mentioning.

“Yes.”

I stopped the car and looked at her twinkling eyes, “Vedika. I know that you have made up your mind but I still need you to think this through. There is nothing wrong with us, baby. We could make it work. There is nothing wrong with me. Lets’ talk sense here. I don’t know what gave you this absurd idea but I don’t think this is a good one. Are you really… really sure about this?”

“I am, yes.” She said in a tender voice. “And I never said there was anything wrong with you. You are perfect.”

“If you have already made the decision yourself with no participation of mine whatsoever, then why did you want me to accompany you?”

“I know that I have made the right decision but I wanted to see your reaction when you see him yourself. Then I’ll be certain that I indeed made the right decision.”

“Hey!” yelled a skinny fellow clad in shorts and tee too loose for his composure, with the bat resting on his shoulder, “Move your car off our field. There is parking lot back there. You are delaying the game!”

Vedika chuckled as I hit the engine and our car advanced.

“I just hope you don’t regret this.”

I met Vedika in an almost uncertain circumstance. It was the late summers and I was home during my college holidays. I opened the door to my father and saw her standing behind him carrying the grocery bags. Before I could acknowledge her presence, she pounded the bags at me and extended a gentle smile. Before I could ascertain the situation she was gone down the elevator. I followed my Dad to his room. “A gentle lady”, he remarked.

He explained how she offered to help him carry the bags regardless of his protests. “Such a young gentle lady.” He remarked again.

Our second meeting was a tad longer and meaningful than the earlier one. Apparently she was a cashier in the departmental store of our society. That time I went along with my dad to carry the grocery bags and avoid another bag pounding from a stranger. In reality however, I wanted to meet her.

Even though she noticed my approaching I doubted that she recognized me from our previous, almost non-existent meeting. I let out a few conversation starters and before I knew it we were indulged in an actual conversation. I thanked her for the other day before we checked out and my father said, “Until our next visit, gentle lady.”

She had moderately olive skin and her hair was abandoned for the greater part of the time. Her wide smile was persistent below her round nose and above her barely-there chin. She was not beautiful, but she was placid and enigmatic like a drowning sun.

My father didn’t have to go grocery shopping after that. Our brief meetings near the counter enhanced into a few substantial trysts eventually and before we knew it, we fell in love.

We got married, few months after my dad passed.

“We’re here.” She exclaimed.

I pulled over and we both got out of the car. I stood looking at the white board with black writings:

Child Welfare and Adoption Agency.

Vedika walked towards me and slid her arms across mine.

“Trust me.” She whispered in my ear.

“Vedika, I told you before and I am telling you again. There is nothing wrong with me. With us.” I explored her moist eyes, “We could make our own. Our own child.”

“Why do we need to create a new blank page when we could consummate an existent half filled one?” said her obnoxiously compelling wisdom.

“Vedika…” I fumbled. “At the cost of sounding rude, I have to ask. Do you really think that this boy will blend in our lifestyle? Let’s have a moment of consideration here dear. He has not been with his parents for a greater part of his life and…”

“Neerav.” She interrupted me. “I had spent my childhood in poverty. My father passed away before I could even call him my dad. My mother raised me all by herself. I had not toys so I either played with my friends’ toys or I just played with the kitchen utensils. Their clinkering amused me.” The memory carved a gentle smile on her face.

“One day my mother brought me a discarded toy when she was fed up of the commotion in her kitchen. It was a doll. A broken, dirty, and a rather ugly doll. I was overjoyed nevertheless. However, my joy lasted only a day as when I brought it to play with my friends they laughed at me and made fun of my doll. They mocked my doll as it was broken. In other words, it was an invalid. I ran back home crying.”

“My mother, she gently caressed my head while I explained what happened. ‘It’s a useless toy’ I said and threw it away. My mother picked it and gently whispered in my ears. I could still hear those words stark as a day. ‘But my child, the doll that the others have in ever so ordinary. And what you have is a rather special one.’ She looked at my frowned and puzzled face and continued. ‘You see all those other dolls are neat and tidy and well dressed as because they are still naïve. They lack the knowledge of what the world has to offer. This one here? She is special because she has been through worse. She has been through worse, and she survived.’”

“The next day I told this to my friends. And you won’t believe. No one wanted to play with their dolls anymore. Everyone wanted to play with mine.”

“You see Neerav, it’s not what you appears to be what matters, but the story that you carry with you is what matters the most. My mother indeed had a false story for my doll, but we Neerav, we could help our child to create a grand story of this own.”

Her words perfumed my mind with a sweet delirium. I witnessed her disappearing behind the shadows of her past. It is true, I believe, that you can walk away from your past, but the past never walks away from you. It lurks in the depth of your soul, locked away in a fortress you barely visit.

She could see, I imagine, a glimpse of her past in the boy. She could see a boy deprived of his childhood. She could imagine that his mind was like a sinking ship and the feelings and emotions that reside in the mind of a child had long abandoned its vessel, like the crew abandons a sinking ship. A vessel which she was certain she could fill with love and affection.

I wanted to believe in her fairytale but my conviction pulled behind me like an anchor. I was not convinced. Not until we entered the property through the old brown wooden door with large oval grooves and blunt edges.

“Welcome back, Miss Vedika.” Exclaimed the overjoyed lady, with vague wrinkles and heavy glasses, behind the reception, “And welcome Mr. Neeraj.”

“Uh… It’s Neerav.” I corrected.

“Vashi!!” She yelled, barely concerned about my name. “Could you please fetch Raza? Tell him his new parents are here.”

“Right away, Ma’am!” emerged a soft feminine voice from inside.

“He has been awaiting your arrival since early morning.” She said with a wide grin, “All dressed and combed up, that sweet child.”

“Why don’t you two take a seat? Vedika? Mr. Neeraj?”

“It’s…” I started, “Oh forget it.” I said, more to myself than to her.

Few minutes after we took our seats, our attention invited us to a child walking towards us with uneasy and yet firm steps through the foyer. His khaki shorts below were yanked up to his chest and his navy polo was tugged beneath the shorts and buttoned to his neck. His hair was greasy with oil and combed sideways. His brows were barely visible above his brown, slim eyes. He chased a glimpse at us and smiled making his slender lips stretch slenderer.

I pulled myself off the chair and walked towards him. Vedika couldn’t be more right. I looked at him and realized that the child that stood before me had long abandoned his childhood. His mind searched for a home, in a hope to discover something new. Something meaningful. I rested my hands on his shoulder and felt his soul trembling. The boy wandered his eyes through the room until it met mine. He looked at me, as if asking for acceptance.

I sensed that Vedika was looking at us. I sensed that there were tears in her eyes and warmth in her heart. I sensed that she knew she indeed made the right decision.

Victim

A young, starving, disheveled, foul-smelling, penny-less bloke; with unkempt hair, sunken eyes, and dry mouth, was seconds away to take a leap from the ledge and put an end to his misery, once and for all, when his eyes blinked looking at the most beautiful painting of his life, twenty feet below. Its creator stood tall admiring the marvel he created, regardless of his amputated arms.

The Last Chapter

With a gasp of relief I turned the last page of the last chapter,
" Done with one subject at least ", I reminded myself.
It's funny how the eleventh hour preparation makes us so laborious that we accomplish all that we couldn't do throughout the semester. Tonight I feel the adrenaline running through my veins. The thought of approaching final judgement vexes me so bad that it couldn't leave any hope of merrymaking  - watching movies, hangout, fancy dinner , a date.

Probably the last exam of my life, and then I'll be back home. And, life would change entirely from what it was these four years. The hours long leisure time with friends would change into text messages and phone calls, the frequency of which would diminish with passing time. Today I yearn for mothers recipe, tomorrow I will ask for the junk food shared among the four close souls. The four souls, who in a matter of few weeks would go their four separate ways towards their four separate destinations. The hangout would change into group chats on WhatsApp and though we could have all sorts of laugh and jokes, the hearty laughter of ours when we pull each others legs would go unmatched. The bonding string of our friendship is strong, that I believe. But somewhere deep inside I fear for someone among us to go too far away for the string to split. I fear for the strangeness that we would witness in each others eyes when we meet in days to come, a clear reminder of how our lives have changed.

If you want to walk ahead, you have to leave your past behind, they say.

Never thought a past could be so priceless that it could substitute for a thousand approaching presents. Its hard for me, its hard to walk ahead when there is so much to stay behind. I don't want to, but I have to. Even if I stay behind, life won't stop for me. It would go where its supposed to, and there, I would be alone again. So, its better if I keep walking and hope for something greater.

Years ago when I was about to join the college, I was happy. I was happy to go to a new place, to meet new people and to make friends with them. I liked the freedom, the independence. It was nothing like it is now. Back then, my heart wouldn't have weighed so heavy thinking about the separation. But today its like I have a new family, a new home, a new identity; only to perish within a month.

As mournful as I am today, I am equally grateful to have lived this life. To have found love, friendship, happiness, served with a slight taste of hate, sadness and remorse. More importantly, I have inched into a phase entirely different from what I could ever imagine in my wildest dream. I have a special memento stuck in my mind of all the special priceless moments but I am unsure, whether in near future it would bring a smile on my face or tears. Smile for being a part of such a beautiful span, or tears for not being able to reclaim what's past.

And I lay here, helpless, waiting hesitantly for the last leaf of the last chapter of a beautiful four years to turn over.

As Loud as a Whisper

It was the darkest night of her life. Her cry was as loud as thunder but it fell on deaf ears which failed to perceive them. Her naked body laid on the footpath smeared with blood, begging for mercy. Surrounded by a group of deaf people who seemed to have gathered to quench their thirst for amusement she was crying for help. They stood still like a bunch of lifeless and soulless creatures looking at her in awe, no one bothered to help. Her pain was unimaginable as if she was thrown in a lawn of thorns which pierced through every inch of her body. The crowd was thinning gradually. People suddenly realized that it was not a place of their interest, they realized that they have to be elsewhere, they realized that it was none of their business because she was not among any of their sisters or wives or relatives. It was not their family's pond of blood which gathered on the footpath. She was introduced to a new face of mankind which she never believed to exist. In no time the spot was deserted. Her mind flashed back to her past when she was a teenager. When the only thing that hurt was moms scolding and skinned knees. A few drop of tears and a pills of medication would suffice for healing the wounds.

"Mom, am I beautiful?" She asked with a flavor of her childhood innocence.
“Most beautiful in the entire world my child. Just like a doll"
“I would get married one day just like you did, won't I mom?"
“Of course dear and your hubby would be the most handsome man in the town"
“What if something bad happened? What if I become ugly?"
“Beauty is not in the face sweetheart, it’s in your soul. No matter how the life forges you, how it disfigures you, your soul will be the same - beautiful like a flower"

She was beautiful indeed. Her face was so illumined as if the moon had cast its glint upon her. Her curly hairs were often clutched neatly behind her head while some straps of her hairs hung in front of her face making her even more adorable. She had the most innocent smile which would make any person fall in love for her at the first sight. Her dream was to mount the peak of success. She wanted to earn a fortune through her hard work and spend all of it for her family - her father and mother. She opted for late night shifts. But, her decision proved to be the most horrific which was about to haunt her entire life. On her way back at nearly midnight she was pulled into a minivan while she was reaching for an auto rickshaw. The very moment they pulled her they started tearing her clothes apart. She tried to resist and every time she did she suffered a heavy blow from them. But yet she continued to retaliate and the blows continued which eventually left her unconscious. The next thing she know was being thrown on a street.

She was assaulted, raped and thrown out of a running vehicle. Her flesh was scrapped and her bones were broken. Yet she managed to crawl her way to a spot under the beam of the lamp post in a hope that somebody might see her and help her. People saw her but they just lacked the mettle to take an initiative. They just walked through her looking from the corner of their eyes pretending as if they didn't notice. A vehicle stopped and its inmates popped their head out to take a glimpse. She raised her hand as she lost too much blood to scream anymore. Her heart blossomed with a hope that she was being rescued. They hopped back in; she heard the engine roar and watched it disappearing into the darkness. Hope lost again. She cursed her pitiful condition, her helplessness. She fought within herself. She feared from closing her eyes as every time she does so she saw those faces. Faces of the animals in a human disguise. They took everything from her - her integrity, her honor, her self-respect. They took everything except one - her will to live. She battled within herself. Every time her consciousness advised her to let go she denied it. She wanted to live. Though her life won't be the same ever after but she wanted to give it a chance. Instead of giving up she chose a different path, a difficult path, to fight till her last gasp.


“Dad still loves you even when you got old. Your skin has got wrinkles. It isn't what it used to be when he fell for you. He finds your soul beautiful, isn’t it?”

Her mother laughed and pulled her towards herself. She sat her on her lap “Yes sweetie. He loves your mom dearly. His love makes him blind to my wrinkles or my ageing."

“I want to marry such a man mumma. Just like Dad", she spoke in her sugar voice.

Even if she survives death she has to go through the roughest time of her life to survive the society. She would become a subject of the kitty parties, her family would be cut off from their relatives and if not they would look down at them. Her friends would taboo her. The most disgusting thing that could ever happen would be that she herself might be held responsible for the mishap. The fickle society which boasts of ethics and morals would show their true colors of hypocrisy. They would change their faces at a flip of a coin. If she lives she has to pay a huge price dealing with the people but she was ready to pay the price as she was rich with her will, courage and determination.

"But mommy, what if he turns out to be a bad person? What if he breaks my heart?” her curiosity was never ending.

“Listen sweetie pie, in future, life is about to give you thousands and thousands of gifts. But not all of them are going to bring happiness and joy. Some of them might be bad some worse. But don't ever allow them to deplete your hope. Don't ever give up on life because you never know what you're going to get next. There might be a time when you fall off the ladder but if you preserve your will and determination, you'll climb back up in no time"

It has been hours since she was left for dead but yet nobody cared to put a single cloth on her body let alone helping her. Her body was shivering, weakening and yearning for mercy. She was beginning to see apparitions owing to the mayhem in her head. Her head was feeling so heavy as if it was about to explode. She tried to stand up only to realize that her ankles were fractured as well. She laid still.

"Help me... Help me", she whispered within herself.

 A bike halted at a few meters from her and she could see the driver staring at her. Maybe he was deciding whether to help her or not or maybe he was another soul less creature who just wanted to peek and leave. She didn't cry for help. She simply looked at him. She heard the engine start as it was heading towards her. He took a closer look at her. He could see her puffed eyes half closed. Her breath was amplified. Her body was smeared with blood in such a way that it was difficult to search for a wound. He saw from above his shoulder that people had gathered at a distance and they were looking at them while he placed his jacket on her body. He felt something at his feet. She clutched his trouser and mustered every ounce of her strength to speak
“Please... Help me. I am as human as you are. Help me... I want to live"

“Of course. I am here for the same reason", he said while he waved his hand to stop an auto rickshaw. He pulled her up in his arms and slid her carefully in the rickshaw seat. He sat beside her. He held her firmly and ensured her that everything's going to be alright. He kept on talking in order to avoid her from sleeping. On the other side she was fighting within herself to be alive. She was just so reluctant to give up. She felt a strong urge to close her eyes and let all the pain and miseries to vanish but she denied it. She kept her hopes up. She was going to survive. Humanity is still alive no matter how miniature its population is. The stranger kept on talking asking about her life, her parents, her siblings and everything that he could think of. Even though she failed to answer he kept on talking. It appeared as if god has taken his test before sending his apostle for her rescue.

Back during her childhood whenever she had a nightmare her mother used to tell stories of fairies and angels. In her stories angels and fairies often rescued people from their dilemma.

"Mumma, is there anything such as an angel in heaven for real?"
"Of course there is sweetie and some of them have descended to earth to pull us up from our miseries and failures when the whole world had turned up against us. All you have to do is to preserve your will and never give up"

She gathered her strength and pulled her head up to look at the angel who was sent for her rescue