I'm Glad I Got To Read The Script First Before The World Could..

The peaceful Old Lady

There is this temple opposite to the house I stay, I do not know which deity, but I know it’s a Hindu temple. 

Every evening someone comes and cleans the whole temple, lights a lamp and keeps the gates open. I do not know who does that. From that time everyone who passes by pause their walk and take a peep in, some just peep, pray from the outside and leave, while others just ignore the existence. 

But then, there are these people who stop, take a peep, pause, and then decide to go in, they walk in, wash their hands and feet at the tap outside, and then pray. Some leave after the prayer is done, while others sit there for some time, I wonder what they think of, maybe about everything that’s going on in the world or maybe about something that’s happening inside their house. I wonder. 

Today, I decided to take a look inside the temple myself, I am not a devotee, not religious either, I am just curious. I went inside, looked at the statue of the God, roamed around and decided to sit there for a while. I liked the positivity of the place. It was nice, the vibe and the aura the place holds is nice. That’s the only thing I like about places of worship. 

One woman comes in, does the rituals in the right forms, and comes and sits next to me. We exchange a smile and neither of us speak. After a few minutes, she asks me where I am from as she has never seen me in that neighbourhood., I tell her that I am visiting a friend here and that this is not my place. Out of curiosity, I ask her where her house is. She gives a smile, a smile I can never describe, and then says, “I don’t have a house, I stay here until they close this temple and wander off to the next one.” I did not know how to respond and regretted asking her the question.

It then strikes me that I can find her a place to stay, I ask her if I could call some people who can come and fetch her, an old age home, maybe. She thanks for the offer, but then said that there is a peace in the way she lives. I try to convince her rather lure her with all the things she can have, a safe place to sleep, food, shelter, better facilities and everything that comes to my mind. Nothing helps. She thanked me again, and I asked her why, she said there is nothing she has to gain or lose, she has a family who are happy without her, she said she was happily married. No one abandoned her, she chose this, if there wasn’t quarantine she generally helps in one of the big temples.

She told me that she was not a devotee, rather liked doing what she does. She got up to leave, I asked her where she was headed to, she said there was a temple in the street nearby, and felt like going there. I waved goodbye and saw her leave. Her small figure faded as she walked slowly yet with so much peace. 

I hope I meet her again.

It has been 4 days since I met her, and she has not returned, sometimes I wonder if I intruded a bit too much and maybe that’s why she is not returning. Maybe this temple is too small, and she found a better one. Whatever it is, I wait every evening, sipping my coffee, hoping she would return among the peepers and passer-by's I see every day. The peaceful old lady has not yet returned, and I wait…

I diagnosed myself of suicidal tendencies.

I'm over it now

I'm glad I'm over it.

I was fascinated by death

But it's over now.

What would have happened

If my thoughts had gone real..?

If my laziness had not pertained.?

Yes, I was lazy to die too...

I would have jumped off that building I pass through everyday.

I would have been somewhere else now

Food to the worms

And in time would have been just bones and only bones.

Many would have cried....

Some for days, others for weeks, and

Yet a few for months.

But the law of memory would have allowed everybody to forget me.

That's what happens to everybody.

That's normal.

But then, why is it normal..?

Why do we forget..?

We say people are everything

Then why do we forget..?

I know its moving on,

And that it's very essential.

But then, most of the time

The person doesn't even remain in our vaguest memory.

Aniversaries of death in the initial years

Brings back the flood of tears.

But with years, even that dissappears.

So, what significance do people have

What do they mean in life.?

That haunts me today

More than my chaos.

And now, death does not facinate me

But rather the question....

Why does the memory fade away..?

!....?

Everytime you talk to someone new. You reveal something new. And you keep wondering why you said that. So am I wondering now. Why am I telling you all this. Why am I talking to you. You were a complete stranger until recently and suddenly you have become someone I can count on. Where is all this leading to. What does all this indicate.

I have had many people come and go in my life. I dont want you to be added to that list. I like you and want you to stay. Eager to find out how this ends. Where this is taking me.

Gosh! What am I doing. Why am I doing this.?!

OMG OMG OMG...!!! Thank you so much @writerscreed

Weekly Top 10 Writers

Writerscreed has compiled yet another list of 10 wonderful writers (in no particular order) whose works have wowed us this week. Do take a look and check them out if you don’t already follow them! Great job everyone and as always, keep writing! ❤

@dallasauroraborealis

@syntaxandsemantics

@jameslingerthereal

@24xsevenchaos

@hiddenbehindmycreativity

@themidnightblogger23

@wingedpiglets

@a-small-startup

@cherokeeghostwriter

@honest-inks

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.

Vikram from the coffee shop

I was new in town then, had not known what to do and where to go on a boring Sunday afternoon. I took my bike and went to the mall and the first shop that my eyes fell on was the book store. I went in brought “The Girl on the Train” by Paula Hawkins. Well, a lot of people had suggested that book to me and finally when my eyes fell on the book I couldn’t resist it. I brought the book and headed to CCD. I don’t know whether it was because of Sunday, or because everyone was bored, the coffee shop was crowded like never before. Thankfully I got a table for two, went in, sat down, ordered a cup of hot cappuccino and started reading the book. Just when I finished the third of fourth page, a guy came in and distracted me. I get very annoyed when someone disturbs me in the middle of reading. I looked up,

“Is this seat taken? The café is crowed and literally there is no other seat available so do you mind?“

A tall guy with great physique and just amazing eyes, a guy to whom you could never say no

“Sure, no one is going to come here”

“Thank you”

Well, I continued with my book and he got into his business. Surprisingly he too had a Paula Hawkins’ book in hand. “One Minute to Midnight” I was about to ask him whether he had read mine, when he noticed the book in my hand.

“That’s a good book, I very recently read that and trust me the suspense is good”

“Oh! I was about to ask you the same. Actually this is the first book of the author that I am trying and I have no idea how it’s going to be. I have heard great review about it from friends and so thought would give it a try.”

“Well, you won’t be disappointed, trust me. Even I started with that book of the author and this is my third. I just am not able to stop”

“That’s nice to know. Well if its reader certified then I am sure it would be worth it.”

In no time I realized that we had both closed our books which is quite unusual about me because I never stop reading and talk, otherwise I am very talkative but when I have books I just am absorbed in it. But this guy had a different charisma; he just made me do the unthinkable. We talked about a lot of stuff like books, other authors, how Indian authors have developed in the past few years, criticized a lot of authors and surprisingly both of us agreed on a lot of things. Normally my taste of books is bizarre, I don’t completely follow any author or genre, I just like to experiment new authors, genres and different styles. And when I say this to people everybody thinks I am weird but he was just like that. It was amazing to find a person like that. I had associated and connected to a complete stranger in no time.

We had talked for hours and after a long time I realized that I had to go. I did not want to leave him and go anywhere but I had to.

"It was great talking to you, but I have to go now, so see you again if possible”

“Oh yes even I need to be somewhere I just dint realize how time passed. It was great meeting you too.”

“Bye”

“Hey, I’m Vikram, by the way”

He extended his hand.

“I’m Razia” I replied and we both shook hands and parted our ways.

That was when I realized that we had talked for hours and dint even bothers to ask each other’s name. It’s been a year and a half now since this incident. Whenever I see that book I remember him, but even though I had been back to the coffee shop again a couple of times I dint meet him.

To be honest in a way it is good because maybe it won’t be the same if we meet again, because that one day that I had spent with him was wonderful. It was nice and I don’t want to ruin it with another meeting. Sometimes it’s just good with one meeting alone. If that person come back in your life and takes a permanent place it might not be the same.

When new things happen in life, what do you do? Depending on the happening you either become happy or sad, right?

Well, that's what I'm going through right now. I am happy, well happy would be a small word, I'm extremely overwhelmed. Happier than ever, and that's what worries me... But I guess with him by my side I will be fine.

Because today had been a perfect day. Brunch with friends, lot of laughter and hard core fun.

He sent me something that's his. Something that was a piece of his life... Maybe I really had no idea how much I made him feel infinite...

This feeling of happiness seems wonderful, well leaves me speechless whenever I think about the great things happening.

Maybe I should just sit back and relax like how he always says

I do not know, even though its confusing, there is clarity in this fairy tale that he has built me. Because more than love, I trust him

And after all this expansion they asked me if I'd like to stand for their president election, apparently the fishes are asking for freedom and cleanliness so they believe if I become their president the fish would never get cleanliness. But on the other hand, the fish is making our cat to stand for them, apparently over the period of time they became friends and since I don't clean his bowl he's very angry.

You’ve been putting off cleaning your late fishes aquarium. Today the algae did its first space flight test.

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

Why is being strong so romaniticised.

Why is crying and talking and being yourself considered weak?

Why is letting go difficult

Why aren't we given time if it's difficult?

Why is being you so suffocating

Why can't you be you?

.

Why is romance so fragile

Why is it that you need someone?

Why can't you cling to pain

Why is ease so easy?

.

Why can't you whine

Why can't you complain?

And Why is that you can write only when you are in pain?

.

Why is your healing

Someone else's pain?

.

Why is your time not at their time stamp?

.

Why can't people know we're all at a different pace

In our journey towards ease.

.

Why is it difficult to see someone cry

And not just be.

.

Why do you want everyone to smile even beyond that pain.

.

Why can't you let the pessimism

Go away on its own

.

Why do you guilt someone over healing

Why do whine over someone else's pain.

.

Why can't you trust over time

To do the healing.

.

Why can't you love the pain and the sorrow

And embrace the person

.

You don't want change you want remedy

You don't want ease you want comfort

.

You don't want serenity you want pleasure

You guilt others over your guilt

.

You ease others over your ache

.

It will all be right

Just no more wrong infront of you.

.

Let's put up a brave face is it?