Home?

true

I don’t want to write about romantic love anymore. I’m not bitter or anything, kinda remorseful in a sense because I have my fair share of heartaches and heavy feelings with guys who aren’t willing to reciprocate what I can offer. But love is so overrated nowadays, it’s like everyone treats romantic love like an oxygen for a dying soul. They treat it as an antidepressant for their lonely mindsets and empty hearts. How about unconditional love from people who cares for us the most? Isn’t it considered a form of love? We all desire for a romantic partner whom we can spend our Friday nights and Saturday morning with. We want to receive sweet morning phone calls and text me when you get home kind of love. We want long car drives with someone while listening to our favorite songs. We want someone to watch our corny horror movies with and watch the stars in night afterwards. We are blinded by the fact that if we don’t get to experience those, we will never be truly happy. But how about the feeling of doing something we really love like reading a favorite novel on a long bus ride and the feeling of the first sip of coffee in the morning? The feeling we get when we see the smile of our parents after receiving good news. The feeling of hugging a sister after few months of not seeing each other. Some moments are being taken for granted while we are so busy wishing for someone who can’t even paint a smile in our faces.

I do... do I... ??

Yesterday I went shopping with my granny and aunt. For a change, I was wearing a sari. a black sari with bronze border. I was looking pretty good.

The idea of going with them was not a good one. I was damn bored. I was gazing around the shop looking at things that I would never buy. What else to do...

I was standing there looing at some dress, when an old lady came next to me and asked "Your sari is amazing. Where did you buy that from dear?"

"Its from Kerala aunty"

(I am now in Chennai. TN)

"Oh! its beautiful. I was shopping for my granddaughter and she loves black. she is almost your age and looks like you too. could you please help me select one for her. My taste you see is quite old"

"sure aunty"

I was happy that she asked for my help. Now at least I will be looking around with some purpose. Now, there is certainly one thing about old people. they are damn inquisitive... In no time they pull out every detail about you. So was this lady, she was asking me all sorts of questions, I did not want to be rude so I answered with patience and moreover she was very sweet.

After a while I picked out a black sari with pink and green border. It was a beauty. she seemed satisfied too... as I was helping her with a billing she insisted on getting me something too. now that's too much. I politely declined. She finally gave up and suddenly out of nowhere a guy called her.

"Where were you? I was looking all around the place for you"

"You were bored weren't you. This young girl helped me pick a sari for your sister"

"Thank you so much. I'm Ram"

"Hey. I'm Razia"

A tall handsome young guy. A beard, tall, husky voice. Just amazing. I never used to believe in love at first sight. "Bullshit" was my synonym for it. But yesterday when I saw him I got butterflies in my stomach. I just couldn't take my eyes off him.

But that's it. I get that feeling for the first time and that too towards a person I will never meet again. 

God wasn't that cruel too. that aunty was so happy with me helping her that she too out a small piece of paper, wrote her name, address and her grandson's no. she told me to call him if I get any confusions with the address as I am new in town.

I have that paper right in front of me. I do lie him. but do I? I can call him should I? questions unanswered I sit her perplexed. I don't now. maybe as I always say, there isn't love at first sight, it always a crush and he would also pile up in my little list of crushes.  

I am doing it again

I thought I was done with it. With this so called "Love". I believed that what I expect of love will never be given to me. I was sure it was all over. 

But here I am sitting on my desk, gazing at my desktop screen, reading all those wonderful texts he sent me. Those lines of poetry that I had always wanted to hear. His words are the petals of the rose named love. But I fear that  the thrones of the rose will prick me in no time.

Maybe  this insecurity of mine is pointless, maybe even meaningless. That's what he told me too......

Maybe I am just fearing a bit too much. Maybe I am thinking too much. maybe........

I hope its just all in my head. And this time maybe it will work out. maybe my insecurity will just be done. he may be different from the rest. I now he is. the better different I hope

My thoughts are spirals

of feelings cross linked

with other’s perspectives.

I don’t get what you say

and you don’t get what I say.

My perceptions are right for me

But it just leads to misunderstandings,

i din’t mean to hurt you

or prick you by my words.

Its not that I don’t understand

But all I seek is answers 

to questions in my head.

Maybe I should not have asked,

Shutting my mouth would have been better.

Now its all shattered like glass,

too hard to replace.

I don’t have the energy to do it.

I wish it all ended,

or rather

I wish I could just sleep

for days and years altogether

never waking up to another day

never having to deal with the chaos.

I know I’m running away

but i don’t have the strength to stand

to deal with this

I feel hopeless

I wish I could sleep

not just tonight but forever.....

I Wish for a Second Chance

Have you ever wondered how life would change if you just got another chance. Have you thought that if you could go back in time and say that one thing you ached to tell her so many times, maybe things would have changed between the two of you? Well I have. I think about her every single day and think how wonderful it would have been if I could’ve just told her how much I loved her. But now it’s all in vain. She is getting married today, yes she is and all I am able to do is think back and analyze how I missed the chance.

Parvathi; she was just breathtaking. She was tall, perfect curves, had hair that was flawless and her smile, worth a million dollars. She was the perfect girl. She was my junior in college.

On the opposite, was me. I was the most introvert person in college. It took me a year to get acquainted with the girls of my class; it was difficult for me to look at girls. Having studied in a boy’s school throughout my life, it was difficult for me to even be with girls. With friends, classmates and others I was able to talk to girls after a year.

When she came I just fell for her. Love at first sight if you call it. And when I told my friends they were surprised of course, but they wanted to know what made me fall for her of all the people in college?

“Well, I had a strange reason, she looked like Anne Frank.”

Yes, I loved Anne Frank. I loved the way she smiled, her charisma, it was just magical. And I always used to wonder whether there would be a person with the same charisma and then there came Parvathi. I dint care about what others thought. To me it was just important that she was the girl I always wanted.

She knew nothing about it. Well, by now the entire boy’s hostel knew that I was in love with her and then the girls in my class knew and I bet some in their class would also know about it.

I had to start trying to let her know how I feel. But I was scared, scared as shit. It’s not that I dint try, I did but nothing worked out. I went everywhere she went to, the cafeteria, the book store, everywhere but never got the guts even to say a simple hi. I would not even look into her eyes when she was passing by. I wanted to but I just couldn’t. All I did was stare at her beauty without her knowing about it. My friends started to pressurize me to tell her my feelings.

Finally, one day while we were having an inter-college fest I decided to tell her, I went to her class, told my friends to call her out, my buddies did so and then when she came out I went numb. I dint know what to say. So I stared with a very odd sentence on asking her regarding her residential area.

“Aren’t you from Vettur?

“No I am from Attipara.

Well they are places of complete opposite directions. Having realized about the blunder I just made, I lost all the confidence to talk to her and I left the place. That was a disaster, my first ever conversation with her was just the worst of all. My friends consoled me in all way possible. And then a friend of mine gave me an idea,

“Hey, why don’t you try the virtual world? Send her a friend request in facebook, get acquainted and tell her how you feel.”

That was a good idea, and so I sent her a friend request, but she dint accept that, after days I cancelled it and sent it again, nope this time too she ignored. It was not that she was inactive or something, she had in fact accepted the friend requests of other guys in my class but not mine. Finally, after sending her a friend request 5 times, I gave up.

My friends dint, they badly wanted to help me out. So a friend started trying on my behalf. We both used to travel by the same bus to college. The bus would first pick up the boys from hostel and then the day scholars, so everyday he used to save a seat for her next to me, and whenever she got in he would just offer her the seat, but every time she refused. And that was when I slowly started to realize that maybe she really had no interest in me. I still was in love with her, but dint want to try anymore.

One day, a senior of mine called me and asked me regarding her.

“I hear that you like this girl Parvathi, is it true?”

“Yes” I murmured

“Forget about her bro, I like her now and she is mine that is all”

“Excuse me, you can’t just tell me to forget about her, I liked her even before you. She can’t be yours.”

Well I was fighting for a girl who doesn’t even know that I exist.

“Well then, lets both tell her about what we feel and let her decide whom she wants to be with”

If I was able to tell her that, then even after a year and a half I won’t be just looking at her, rather she would have actually become mine. I was a chicken. But I just was like that, I couldn’t do anything.

This guy started doing tricks, she was sitting next to him in bus, they were seen along quite often, and a month or so later I came to know that she was with him and that they were both in love.

Today they are getting married. I wish I had a second chance that day during the fest to tell her how I felt about her, I wish I was not such a pussy and had told her about my feelings. I wish if only I could go back in time and fix everything up. I just wish… I just have never felt the same for any other girl the way I felt for her. She was my real life Anne Frank. I just wish I had done something. I wish I got a second chance.

I went to the ocean today

I felt blue and thought it would help

But the ocean seemed strange,

There was this feeling of being full, choked up with emotions

I couldn’t see the horizon,

It felt as if the ocean was one with the sky

I know there will be a scientific reason behind this

But my mind couldn’t think of it

All I saw was the ocean being much sad than I

It was as if it had been missing something…

 .

The beach was emptier than usual,

There were a few surfers

Some who had mastered the art

While some training under them

There were little boys who were taken aback by the waves

And there were men who stood meddling through the waves

 .

I was sitting there on a rock, with a book in hand…

I wanted a distraction from the chaos in my head

I was blue from dawn

 .

There was this old lady, who walked up to me,

She said I was in her spot

I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Sheldon from the big bang theory

I moved and made way for her to sit…

 .

She was staring at the waves with ease in her face,

Those wrinkles felt, they had seen much calmer oceans

I couldn’t agree more

 .

And out of all these people, walking, sitting, and playing

Far away were two dogs, playing in the ocean,

Running around, enjoying the pleasant evening

 .

It seemed as if they had just been left out after many days

When man has himself been locked down

 .

They ran towards me

The little one jumped up and started licking my hand

 .

This one time, I wasn’t angry that someone was disturbing me reading

I patted him, and he was so happy

I couldn’t resist a smile

 .

That was it, as soon as I smiled I saw him run away

Back to playing with his big friends

Who was not just playing with him, but was also guarding him

 .

That little boy made me smile, and looked into my eye with so much love

I returned home, with a broader smile, a lighter heart and a better mood

I grab the tissue box next to me as I weep, while she says she was there just for him and doesn't tell him how much she loves him, because she loves him to let go. I cry. While he says the wrong name at the alter I cry because that's not who he's meant to be with and I cry.

My phone beeps, it's the reminder telling me to write. I close my laptop grab my notebook and stare at the empty page.

I think of what makes me cry, as that's what I'm supposed to write about and I have no clue what makes me cry.

I think of my abusive father, the assaults I've faced, and nothing brings a tear. I think of my first love and how he cheated on me, and go on to think of all the love I've lost and still not a tear.

I stare at the empty page, thinking of lost love and lost childhood, and nothing makes me sad. I've grown hostile to them all.

I give up. Close the book, and that's when I hear the Azan at the distant corner, along with the prayer announcing the Eid tomorrow.

It's been 8 years since I've been home for Eid, I search for my prayer mat and dust the Quran. I'm not religious at all, but the only time I pray is just twice a year, that's the least I can do for some biriyani, and moving out, that's the closest I have felt to home. The azan is what makes me home, it reminds me how my granny rushes to go pray as soon as she hears it; it reminds me of the eagerness I and my little brother used to have during Ramzan to break the fast. It's the closest I feel to home because the only part of childhood I remember till today is my grandpa coming to pick me up from my school, and going to the mosque nearby to pray. It still is my grandpa's mosque to me while he is now buried there, it has become his. The wait to pray tomorrow is what makes me drop a tear, and that's when I realize, the Azan giving me the distant memory of home is what makes me cry.

I set the room for prayer, grab that notebook with the empty page, start writing with tears filling my page and go back to sleep.

Image from @a-small-startup

He is spoiling what we have...

Perhaps I guess he spoilt what we had...

The outside word is harsh and cold

That’s why we keep our doors closed…

My mom told me this the first time I asked the reason behind closing the door.

Then another question arised as to why we keep our windows open

And she replied “to view the world.”

But….

Wait…!

Why see the harsh world

If we close our doors to it.

Why have windows if we want cocoons…

It was then I realized lately

That we dont close our doors because the outside world is harsh and cold

But because we are scared of the outside world

Which consists of our “own”

And we still have windows because we are anxious to know whats happening out there

This lie we tell

The blame we put

Its all an escape

To the fear within us…

The fear towards us.

We close our doors

Because we fear the outside world

19:03:18

I was never theirs

It took me a long time

To realize what had happened.

All this while I was blaming them

For the way I was.

It was me who made all the mistakes…

Mistake of trusting them,

Believing in them,

Thinking they were mine.

I thought I was loved less…

How wrong was I..

Coz’ I was never loved at all.

I thought they wanted good for me,

Alas, good was never present.

I thought a lot of things,

Perhaps how wrong was I…

My parents were never mine,

It was never their mistake

Coz’ I was the one who had mistaken

That I was theirs

But it turns out that

I was never theirs….