I don’t know why you left so suddenly. I still don’t know what went so wrong that we do not talk to each other anymore. I wish I could return to the moment and change it so that we no longer called ourselves not friends anymore. But then I also don’t remember when we became such best friends. I told you my darkest fears, my treasured secrets, opened up about all my weaknesses; you knew them all too well and you promised to keep me company through all of those. You promised to stand and stay beside me through thick and thin. But then if I knew your intentions, if only I knew you were just another fair weather person maybe I could have safeguarded my naive little heart. You left and you took a portion of that stupid heart with you. I call you up at times hoping and wondering if you would ever tell me you wished things would go back to as they were before, hoping just to hear that you miss me and our times together. I hope you would just waltz back into my life and stay there forever like the promises you made. And you know exactly how to be back too for I told you the way in. But if wishes were to come true maybe we would not have met and left in the first place. I hope you do not remember your way in, for I know you will come and stay and make a home and leave again. If only you would fight to stay, instead of fighting your way out!
I hope the new friend you make you do not call them your best friend until you know you are there to stay for a forever and not leave them high and dry when they need you the most only because they say or do things that do not tune up to your whims. I hope you do not feel the pain of leaving for it cuts deeper than that of any sword in the world. I hope you do not go through what I went through to forget all that was said in all merry times. I hope it has been easier for you to walk out rather than stay.
PS: In memory of someone once considered as the dearest and bestest. Friends argue, friends disagree, friends fight; but friends do not leave!
Does it always take a stolen glance,
To form a misinterpreted thought?
Or does it always have to be an intellectual phase,
To perceive a misconception?
Hanging on by the filaments of poor judgement;
Hold on you silly scared little heart,
For there is no mercy for a fallen hero in love.
I see a light in your voice,
I form a dream in your words,
I concieve a future in your thoughts,
But perhaps it is all a fragment of my imagination;
Only to be shattered like a thousand pieces of an ever brittle mirror!
Damaged, irrepairable-are these the only words,
That appear to come from depths all so loud?
Life of some misconstrued lies,
Or some some straight faced hard truths!
Ever wonder which is more conniving or deceiving!
To be loved or to be caught up in the idea of being loved,
Or to be woken up in a nightmare of only lust!
And the irony of such treacherous thoughts,
More resolute and evident with the imminent victim in plain sight!
“The most important kind of freedom is to be what you are!” – Jim Morrison
It is strange how on the eve of a national holiday always I find the strength to pour my heart out or maybe that is just my way of screaming out my independence or the need for it or maybe I am just trying to take some solace in a creative activity. Nicker-nackers, as I call them or maybe as generally called a recollection for hope and at times a confidence boost for the self loathing souls. The human heart is a funny thing; sometimes too silly or too obstinate and full of pride and yes it has a soft weak side too and the most dangerous it gets when it falls in love. What not it does or makes its owner do just to get a little attention from the object of its affection! The real misery starts when it gets a dire ill fated rejection from the very object it cares about. The ruthless hatred that is borne at such fate boils the heart out and might even put the devil to shame. And what not to soothe an ailing little heart and free it of its miseries; everything obviously justified easing the little wretched heart which has fallen into its self dug graves. I wondered often as to what emotions or actions flow through in the time period from when the heart is broken to the moment for the rise of the hatred; the border-line of the two mutually independent opposite feelings and what does happen if the hatred does not simmer down; is it ever possible to be free of such guilt and anger; never knowing the answer lies in self within and not wandering around. But of course such knowledge does not come from years of experience rather in a moment of truth, a glance back into the ghosts of the past. Impulsive and fragile as a young heart might be eagerly falls in love with the shining friendly smile often not knowing the consequences that might befall almost always against the good judgement of the noble brain. Falling in love perhaps is like floating on clouds, the weightlessness of everything and the ease with which two souls tango through the world around. But then fairytales are not for the present generation to live. Not everything falls in place when you behead the dragon, free the princess or kill the evil witch. Stupid and silly for a person to wear their heart on the sleeves when the world seems to be full of heartless mad kings and queens. And in this century, the evil generally lives through the eyes of the very object of your affection. The very soul you tried to seek your solace in is the one which is ever ready to bring your downfall and hiss and bite at you like the most poisonous rattle snake. Masquerade! And maybe when this realisation dawns on the heart it gets infuriated and then starts the period of hatred.
“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned”- William Congreve
A heart full of rage is so dark that it might even put the black diamonds to shame! So why not put up an appearance, a disguise to betray the peeking glaring eyes for there hardly is anything else to do. And thus enters the various boosting activities or maybe even called the self distracting actions. And on such times I create my own collage of creativities. So I made a list of things to do and topping the chart was food. Comfort food seemingly not only comforts the ailing heart but also refreshes the taste buds. I cooked and baked and ate till I was sure I looked like a floating balloon; why should the heart float alone-reason justified! Oh how I wish I had just noted down the recipes of the amazing dishes I made and of course the appreciation I got from my delighted mother who did find it quite strange for her daughter to have lost her way into the kitchen suddenly perhaps! But then imagine the disappointment when I measured my weight and found to have lost a few pounds instead of gaining! The heart was torn again; the food was supposed to make the body bulge and not skimp it so then cooking and even eating cut off the list. Next I shifted to paintings. Yes I was happy to be reunited with this old flame. Not much of a painter but I was satisfied. After a while even this wore off or maybe not, I still have my paint and brushes and colours but just been taking a break out of it; vacationing. I shifted focus to the next item on the to-do list and “oh my” this perhaps has the most calming down experience ever. I bought three pairs of heels and two pairs of flats, five tops, two dresses, two saris, two kurtas, a small makeover, one watch, a few other tiny daily accessories and two very ugly bags which thankfully I returned back and hopefully will get refunded. But then how much of the appearance or the act is just enough? I now have a restraining order to stay away from the kitchen or clean up the mess I make after the various though yummy but experimental dishes, I have a huge credit to repay for all the unplanned and also unwanted expenditure and for that I cannot shop for the next two months at the least and the colours well most of them dried off from the long vacation I took off it. Not knowing the limit is perhaps the most dangerous of all and maybe that puts us in another deep ditch of shits. Over excessive of every little thing that my petty heart craved for! And it was then that a realisation dawned upon. I did everything to make up for some lost solace in something or somebody else in return which was actually doing no good or benefit. A few shed tears also seemed a waste of preciousness. My parents raised me a princess; only daughter and pampered a lot. It isn’t like not faced with tough times; there were and very much of it but then I was raised as protected and all away from harms ways under the protection of their shield of love. And shedding a few tears for the silliness of the heart seemed on my part all wrong and unjustified to my parents and maybe that very realisation gave me a certain height of freedom. I realised it was never worth to pursue a thing which failed to put a smile on my parents’ princess and that exactly was the independence the heart needed. And strange as it might be the head hit the realisation exactly at midnight and reading aloud a certain excerpt.
“At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. It is fitting that at this solemn moment we take the pledge of dedication to the service of India and her people and to the still larger cause of humanity.” – Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru, first Prime Minister of a free independent India.
It’s February-the onset of spring and the month of love. How do you stay away from the object of your affection with Valentine’s day just around the corner! Trees get new leaves, flowers bloom, love stories some flourish and some in the making. Ain’t that some mushy mushy cute! And when you talk about love there’s always some happy and some sad. With love stories comes hush hush tonnes, heart throbbings and heart breaks, butterflies fly unnecessarily making your stomach churn inside out. Shakespeare did say that the course of true love never did run smooth. It has obstacles in different forms and does come in different packages, sometimes in the form of parents interfering and sometimes with your best friends intervening. But again they say love conquers all but may be love never was meant to be in the 21st century where lies, betrayals, scandals maximise and sound more romantic than frivolent humble stories where plots doesn’t just involve two but at the least three or four trifling souls. And when you try to act as a mediator you have secrets, some baked with icing on top to be gone gaga over and some half cooked better to be left in the oven to be thrown away with left overs. Strangely enough the half baked stories turn out to be the juiciest gossip in town. And with you in the midst makes you the ring master, something which should be kept safe and taken to the grave with you and you only. But what if the mediator has a story of her own to tell, who should she confide in and where she finds her solution; while the rest are left to guess what it could be when only a few lucky ones only have cues to it. Love can be enigmatic, charming, ambiguous and also dangerous and only depends on how far you are ready to put up an angelic show.
♪♪ Got a secret Can you keep it? Swear this one you’ll save Better lock it, in your pocket Taking this one to the grave If I show you then I know you Won’t tell what I said Cause two can keep a secret If one of them is dead ♪♪
Three words, eight letters, the most dangerous of all; made some lives and ruined some others. Love is life and life is full of secrets. So are you in love today? Can I help you? I promise your secrets are safe with me. Unless its just yours only! You are lucky am on my best behaviour thou.
There are three things in life we do alone–we are born, we die and if we are in our mid twenties or approaching it and not happy with your present job and are looking for a better job headed for the best in life we appear for the IIMs/IITs and PSUs as we call them, and take the C.A.T./G.A.T.E. And while such exams are supposed to measure the best traits and knowledge gathered during our bachelor degrees, preparing for these inevitably brings out the worst. Whatever/ whichever we decide to go with is totally irrelevant as long as the end result is the same–high paying job, high street shopping, fine dining and good status. Whosoever did say money doesn’t bring happiness didn’t know where and how to throw it all.
♪♪ We live in a greedy little world
that teaches every little boy and girl
To earn as much as they can possibly
then turn around and spend it foolishly
We’ve created us a credit card mess
We pend the money that we don’t possess
Our religion is to go and throw it all
So it’s shopping every Sunday at the mall
All we ever want is more
A lot more than we had before
So take me to the nearest store
Can you hear it ring
It makes you wanna sing
It’s such a beautiful thing–Ka-Ching!
Lots of diamond rings
The happiness it brings
You’ll live like a king
With lots of money and things ♪♪
–Ka Ching! Shania Twain
The phone keeps on ringing non-stop.
“God people get a life!” I rant and shout out, “Dad please get the phone. My hands are deep in the dough.”
Generally, I am assumptively the perfect daughter, though the single one in the house, totally not pampered or I would like to think of myself, never ordering around, so my father who was reading a newspaper in the next room happily obliges to receive the call.
“Hello. No, this is her father here. Yes. Oh. Ok. Please hold on while I get her on the phone.” My father talks over the phone and calls out for me, “This is for you dear.” He carries the cordless around and holds it near my ears and says “It’s someone from the Mayor’s office.”
“Ughh!” my utter disappointment. “I am busy and the people around have ample time to give strangers call from strange offices!” I think. “Hello. Yes this is her. Oh! Ok. Thank you. Yes of course. Sure. Please send the invitations. Yes we will be there. Ok I will definitely be ready with the speech. Thank you. It was a pleasure.”
With all the ramblings with a few pauses, my father stands beside me and watches my face turn from regret to confusion to a smile to a blushed crimson and finally after the call ends, he enquires “So?”
“I am getting an award. Dad it’s my day. My THE DAY. I got it. I really did make it.” I happily reiteriate the entire conversation. I tell him it was a co-ordinator at the Mayor’s office and the award giving out ceremony is this Friday at the town District Library at five in the evening and that we will get an invitation card and that all our friends and family would get the invitation too.
“Oh my sweet little girl!” my father happily cries out. “Congratulations, you deserve it.”
My father rushes out of the room towards my mother in the garden to share the good news of their proud daughter. As for me, in my over bound happiness, start forming images of the day and playing my acceptance speech in my head. I picture myself wearing the bold mustard yellow Dhakai Jamdani sari, with the blue and green shankha patterns embroidered, which I pair up with my grandmother’s beautiful pearl neckpiece with the dangling charm resting over the green border of the sari. My name being called upon, I walk up to the stage to receive the award while my friends and family keep cheering my name aloud. I take the microphone in my hand with the smiling crowd below and start speaking. “Oh my glorious days finally! I am happy. I am glad. I am honoured. And I cry, not tears of sadness but of joy. A series of emotions overwhelm me and I make myself realise that it is finally happening to me. I thank Thy Lord for marking this destiny for me, my parents for being my constant support, my friends for encouraging me and most of all the society for…” where-in mid way through the speech I hear a shrill screech and the audience infront start to dissolve as solid colour in water and the vision seems to blur out and my mother’s voice starts becoming prominent in the backdrop of someone standing over.
“Wake up or you will be late for office,” I suddenly realise my mother shouting out at my comfortable closed eyed position as if I were lying down somewhere.
I open my overtly slept-in eyes and try figuring out reality. “I was dreaming. Again!” I think aloud. My mother pushes the window curtains aside and morning sun totally glazes at my face with a smirk, “Wake up late riser.” I take a look at the bedside clock and thump it to shut the alarm and shout out, “Oh my God! It’s past 9:30.”
“Now get of bed, lazy girl. Freshen up soon, am laying out the breakfast.” My mother smiles at my dreamy eyes and says, “My dear you dream a lot. Work as hard on them and success will definitely be yours.”
“Yes mom. I am up and awake. Will be at the table soon,” I manage and realise the dream really was a good one.
“Me and my drama obsessed life. Even dreams couldn’t be under rated here.” I think and smile.
These are my favourite pair of shoes. Yes they are somewhat old as in old during my freedom days three years back. My country had been colonized by the British for nearly around two hundred years and yes its been over six decades we have gotten our independence but not individually of course; my parents though born post independence era do not grasp the concept of it entirely. If Hitler were alive and known them, he literally would have done his best to adopt them. I mean no insults or sarcastic ungrateful remarks to my parents, they raised me good and total right but just and only neglecting the concept of individual independence. It was only three years before when I was first allowed to leave home and all thanks to my job in a different city. But no not total independence. I was accompanied by both my parents and they stayed for over a week and also had my return tickets booked along with theirs. And they made sure my local guardian dropped by my office or hostel every alternate days to check, probably they were afraid of me being taken over by some alien from outer space! Well then some twisted luck or fate within four months I got transferred to a different city where my parents couldn’t afford to find a local supervisor. Thankful for that somehow though. Well then coming back to my favourite pair of shoes, I bought these for my first birthday away from home. That and a LBD. My first LBD for life and also my first heels in years. In years as because some concept my dad had as in heels have a negative effect on your spinal cord and also his daughter might and actually definitely trip and twist her ankles and whatever else bad or worst he could conjure upon in his over protective mind. My early adolescent years were totally spent with flats; private school-boring monotonous black shoes and then after that all flat sandals, titos throughout college. I had to wear flats for parties and occassions even; obvious they a shade prettier than the everyday ones but still those never gave the curves and sensousness as those by heels. So for obvious reasons I was pretty happy about my pair of black heels. And where did these take me; well everywhere special-my first birthday party out of my parents home, my first night club and also my first real date ever(though am no longer with that guy but then memories are always to be cherished). But for now am again back at my parents home. No am not jobless but coincidentally to my parents unbound happiness, my present job posting is in my state and their favourite town; so goodbye pretty heels and hello flats. But I do have hopes and total plans of moving out pretty soon and then replacing the entire shoe box with pretty high heels(#fingers crossed).
Normally as a person I keep a very close circle, a total low profiler. I like taking into account every personal detail of the environment and horde of people around so that I willingly or even at the least unconsciously don’t hurt their feelings. Am quite down to earth and at times maybe even an introvert to a stranger or to someone outside my comfort zone. But then as the moon phases and faces the sun totally I transform. If that could be compared to shape shifters, you can call me an emotional shifter. I play, I party, I scheme and I manipulate and I do everything possible to entertain an I-show. And these I guess it’s quite evident that I added a new event to the show-I blog. But then since the posts seemingly are coming out too often as in daily I guess my moon phases faster than the general time of a fortnight and in a way am grateful to it for it lets me be me for a change from the surrounding monotony. Always happy as a chicken just out of its coop, maybe merely for a few hours but just to be let loose and pecking its favourite worm flavour from the ground and savouring it till the last bite.
We all have made mistakes of the heart, some speak-able and some despicable or maybe for some still in the making. There always or must have been someone in everybody’s life whom at certain point we wished never knew, a memory that never happened unless of course you are just out of a classic Walt Disney fairy tale Since childhood we have crossed paths with many other stressed out souls as us. Some become friends, some we fall in love with only to fall out of it again until we find the next right person to take our heart away and make it their business to keep it safe and sound. Half the world’s poems and sonnets would not have materialized had all been with the right person since the inception of life forms. Matters and doings of the heart is really an irony!
What is the first reaction of a person to a heart break; may that be a heart break due to a lover’s feud or a friend’s back stab? The first sign of distraught and we always start searching for the scapegoat to put all our blames on. At times totally justified and mostly unwarranted to the person meted out but then it’s not our fault for being biased as in not deciding and meting our fate on the total wrong person. It was all the fault of the heart. Even science can vouch for that! According to the scientific society, the heart is a hollow muscular organ of a somewhat conical shaped tapering towards the end and tilted towards the left portion of the body. Hollow as in the totally clueless and mindless things it does as in being befriending up the total wrong person and falling blindly in love with another such ill creed. That makes some sense perhaps. And tilted towards one side totally reads biased-ness.
There is nothing to be ashamed of having such unruly affairs of the heart. Isn’t it said that failures are the stepping stones of success. Literally to say it is all about putting a strong keel on our happy go lucky boat of life. Maybe these to-be-forgotten once in a lifetime mishappens are just a drift to direct us into the happy open arms of our Prince Charming.
Have you ever imagined living in an alternate totally alienating environment? What if the environment we are actually living and surviving in right now is just an on stage drama? We at present consider ourselves to be the most superior creature.
Have you ever imagined living in an alternate totally alienating environment? What if the environment we are actually living and surviving in right now is just an on stage drama? We at present consider ourselves to be the most superior creature. What if that is just our version of a half truth! What if we were just mere puppets or pretty dolls in somebody’s huge backyard!
A frog sees a black and white world. Maybe to it we are the gods and goddesses. Do we care about it or actually do anything to make it happy and comfortable? We don’t because we do not have time for a lesser being than us, after all it is an animal, it will survive or perish or whatever as Darwin said survival of the fittest. But what if this is the exact very thing that is actually happening to us too. What if there are superior beings to us and that too totally around us in our day to day lives? A frog in its inferiority sees everything around in black and white and we in our inferiority don’t even see the superior highly intellectual beings.
Hypothetical but still imagine this situation. Gross. Weird. But still that might be the reality of our petty souls. And all we cry and wail about is small stupidities in life, a broken nail or a broken heart, when and where we are actually so very inconspicuous. Shakespeare did say we were all actors and actresses on a big drama stage. So maybe we all are in a big playground playing small camouflaged roles and making a mountain hill out of our ostentatious lives. A crazy little world it is. But if we are actors and actresses and mere puppets, then why not put up a good show. Let’s put up our bestest make ups and prettiest dresses and show them what we got. Life’s short. Let’s make it a bit entertaining.
Good Luck fellow humans in the strive to be judged the best. You can all walk the ramp here while I be the showstopper. 🙂