!....?

Like these tip of buildings we see

Lays the faces of people

Not just others but also yours and mine

Where all of our beauty is beneath the clouds

And they see from top

Flying so high

Never coming down

To know what we are

I wish you came down

And knew what I was

Right from the bottom

All the way up.....

We seem to often complain that life seems strange. Well, life IS strange. There is really nothing we can do about it. In life everything is a surprise, we say that all we have is the present, but guess what we even ruin that. Coz, we don’t know what we are gonna end up doing.

I am not depressed right now, I am not angry either, for me this was a surprise. But somewhere deep down the lane, I knew that I would burst out, that I would lend a shoulder to cry on like I did last night, and that I would burst out the next day.

“It’s too good to be true.” It indeed is. How can you just agree to anything that someone says? What about your perspective then?

What about taking care of yourself, when are you planning to do that? I have done the same thing that you do. The same question is what rings in my mind all the time “what would they be going through?” BUT YOU SHOULD FUCKING STOP. In this long and tiring process of taking care of others, we lose our self. Because like we do, nobody in the fucking world cares. I know it’s not easy to change, but when you can change for good, why not?

Why would you want to keep stumbling upon the same stones that you always have? Why?

I know there are a lot of questions I am asking you here. I know. But these are questions you should ask yourself. I just am asking it so that it rings a bell.

I was the same as you. Talking care of other people’s feelings, their thoughts, what they would feel, and how they would have been feeling at that moment. But who are we to decide that? Everybody in life has shit to deal with, and it is their problem not ours. We need to have a grip on us, our feelings, our thoughts, what we are going through, because only then can you have a clear perspective about what you want.

Compromises for others are to be made in life all the time, but that doesn’t mean that we just keeping pushing our feelings in to that deep pit. Nope. We don’t do that and moreover we shouldn’t.

I don’t know what you feel, what you think because you don’t say and all you do is just agree with whatever shit I say. I may make sense, I might ever be right, not for you but for me. So stop doing things for me, stop agreeing with me and start giving respect to what you feel and you.

The mornings have been lazy lately,

with disturbed patterns of sleep,

you wonder when you go to sleep and when you wake up.

.

But the mornings these days are also tremendously beautiful,

the sunlight hitting you just the right amount through the windows

the tree outside that’s blooming,

leaving just the right amount of flowers on the ground.

.

The birds chirruping outside breaking the silence,

the squirrels cry out of joy,

all of them coming out at the right time.

.

The evening strolls in the terrace,

with my coffee in hand,

the book I’m reading,

yet again the birds and  the wind that brings in peace.

.

And then today came the first of summer rains,

the birds all flying with a sudden alarm,

they welcome the rain even before we know of it,

the eagles flying above the clouds, welcoming the warmth.

.

The petrichor hitting me first even before the drops of rain,

I let them fall on my face,

the heat comes down

there is this sudden chillness in the atmosphere,

and then it rains heavily.......

.

I sit down enjoying the rainfall, 

finishing my book,

wanting to write about it all,

but it’s worth the wait.

I wanted to take it all in.

.

with rain came the wind,

the lighting and thunder,

the sun who went into hiding

comes back with company,

.

the colors of

violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red

fills the sky,

.

I continue sipping my coffee,

reading my book,

looking up constantly at the sky, the birds and the rainbow.

.

I go back to sleep that night,

with a huge smile, a content heart and a finished book.

Thinking of a beautiful day that unfolded itself

seeing all those that no one saw,

that no one noticed,

that beauty,

and that melancholy of the day having finished so fast

the melancholy with serenity

that no one saw

no one would ever see

the melancholy with serenity...

.

Lost

He saw me that day, but just walked away. I looked at him, at his deep brown eyes that said a thousand words, sang a hundred songs. I saw that he still loved me but yet decided to walk away. If I ask him, he would say that it’s for my own good. But I fail to understand what is this good that I have without him. What is that he does not want to make me a part of his life?

I asked, I screamed but he just turned away.

Well I know all this just sounded a bit too melodramatic, but trust me it isn’t. Whatever he did to me at that wedding day walking away from me was just not fine. Yes, my fiance “the love of my life” just walked away from our wedding without even looking at me.

My beloved father who had been separated from my mother for the past 15 years, to whom I have not talked more than a couple of times all this while decided to turn up for my weeding. The problem was not he coming to the wedding (even though that was my main intention behind not inviting him) but his reaction. Like any other melodramatic movie father, in the moment of “kanyadan” came when my maternal uncle was giving away my hand, this great man created a scene stating nobody else other than him can do that. Well if he had been there when I wanted him maybe I would have let him, I definitely do not need a father for namesake. So I decided to go against it. And seeing this drama my would-be in-laws decided to grab the opportunity, as they from the beginning had a problem in my parents being separated. So my fiance’s mother took him by his hand and grabbed him out of the hall… and I stood there staring at him walking away with his mother as a four year old kid being denied of his favorite toy. This was crazy, crazy as ever.

My dad dint stop there he accused me of not inviting him for the wedding and challenged that without him I could never get married. Well I dint want to anymore. My friends, the literal love of my life came up and made sure the drama ended. The humiliation, the heartbreak, the frustration all that came stemmed up and all wanted to do was run away, run away from all these eyes staring at me, from all the fake sympathy I was going to get. All I did was run, reached my room packed my bags, took my wallet, my passport and took a cab to the airport. I had no idea where I was going. I dint want to cancel my holiday and go back to US because again I will have to explain stuff there. All I wanted was to go somewhere.

With no idea in my head as to my destination I was sitting in the airport when suddenly my phone beeps, I get a call from an unknown number, at first I ignore thinking it is someone wanting to know where I was, but then I decided to pick it up at the third ring. It was the hotel confirmation for my honeymoon. Well I dint have my “honey” with me but I guess I could go there and get some peace of mind. I decided to go, checked in, it was a 3 day package, and as I was not among the girls who would morn over ice cream.

I went in, ordered some alcohol, took a long and refreshing shower and sat in the balcony watching the beach, drink in one hand and a cigar in another. I wanted to just stay like this, away from all the mess, all the confusion that just was there in my life. I dint want to take up any trouble right now. And my phone was lying there dead just like me, I dint switch it on after coming back, I dint want anybody to know where I was, and come for me.

Finally after three days of seldom loneliness, alcohol and sleep I realized that I dint do anything to come under hiding. I decided to go back, face everybody because it was not me who walked out of the wedding; it was not me who couldn’t take a stand against the person I loved. He did that, if there was anyone to be ashamed of, it was him. After being in love for bloody 8 years, and knowing me in and out, if he has done this to me, then it is not me who deserves this isolation. I switched on my phone, there were hundreds of texts and calls, I ignored them all knowing it would all be the same from different people. And then my phone buzzed, it was him, Imran, well I dint want to talk to him, now or forever, I did not pick up his call, nor did I reject it, and then came a call from my aunt, she at first scolded my which was obvious as they did not know where I was, what was I doing, and when I told her where I was and what I was doing she relaxed. She said Imran had called a number of times, and that he wanted to apologize and get married to me and me alone. But I did not. She said that he had come home every hour hoping I would have come back. I did not want to see his face.

Finally, in the evening when I  decided to check out and head back home, I heard a knock at my door, I thought it was the coffee I ordered and told the person to come in, but mistaken was I, it was him, he was standing right in front of me, looking right into my eyes this time, wanting to explain a thousand things, but I dint want to hear even a single thing he had to tell, all I said was a small good bye, hugged him out and told him to leave, not just from my room but from my life.

He wanted to speak, opened his mouth but maybe realized that it was all in vain and just left.

I am not going to be melodramatic and say that “all men are one” or that “I hate men” or something. I just lost trust in him, and in the whole thing called as “love”. And this trust once broken takes a lot of effort to get healed, to be gained back, and so I guess will be my case, as for me it will take another lifetime to trust someone and fall in love all over again.

Life turns upside down in just a matter of seconds.

I have made friends and enemies here,

Where I envy and love certain people

I do hate a few.

In just a day I'm leaving this place

Packing a lot of memories and moments

Which is heavier than my luggage.

I have made some friends for life

Whom I might not call everyday

Or think about all the while

But the place they have in my life is irreplacable

I have always been scared to let people get close to me

The fear of being vulnerable

The fear of getting so close

That if they leave I can't survive.

Very few people make an impact when they leave

But only a handpicked make an impact staying.

Today when I count those few I'm glad I have them

But I'm scared of leaving them and going

I'm not just gonna miss them

I'm gonna miss their constant presence and the impact they make

I wish tomorrow never ended

Because the next dawn is an end

To a lifetime of memories and joy

Now I realize that moving out is indeed sad

I don't wanna go

I don't wanna go...

Stop associating success with age.. Stop associating happiness with age... Stop associating journeys with age... If something makes you happy and you are able to do it now do it! If you can't, wait and do it when you can! It doesn't matter how old you are what matters is how happy you are how content you are... Age is JUST a number

I never saw her like this before.

She has never been so vulnerable before

.

I never knew that an old chord like this

Would stir up so much.

.

I have never heard him like that

All so messed up yet so clear about what was going on.

.

They should both just go on

Move their separate paths.....

Actually they have.

.

It's just old chords like these.

Because

Some voices just brings in memories

And some people bring back a smile

And they are the ones like that.

.

And they would always be like that.

No matter what,

Some times, some things, and some memories never change

Hot summer days are the worst time to go on a drive, but I still decided to go on one. I thought maybe the AC in my car and the sunny sky would be a better change in comparison to my cramped room with humidity hitting the roof.

It was one of those days where I was eagerly waiting for the summer rains to drench the soil and let out a cool breeze.

As I keep driving, without a destination, nor a map to guide me through, taking turns as my brain tells me to and my heart wants me to.

I stop at an empty road, waiting for the 30 seconds on the signal to pass so I could head to the place I didn't know of.

That's when it came, the thunder, the lightening, the wind the breeze the dark afternoon and the darker clouds.

The radio tells me it's some cyclone, my heart tells me it's the first of summer rains.

I pause, I don't move an inch. The clouds starts pouring, the heavy water droplets on my car roof hits my ears, I scroll the window pane, and let the rain drops fall in.

My face now wet, my head filled with a hundred thoughts, I make a U-turn and head home.

I play loud music to shun the voices in my head. I stop at a tea shop, ask for a strong filter coffee and lit a cigarette, the radio yet again tells me of casualities due to the cyclone and my head tells me it's just the summer rains.

Image from @a-small-startup

The crying man in the train

I travel a lot, not because I love to, but because I have to. When I was young I used to travel from Bangalore (where I used to live at that time) to Palakkad (which is my native place). And the best of entertainment which I used to get were the rush in trains, the tea and samosa hawkers, the announcements, everything was just wonderful. And being young all I did during those journeys was sleep. (I am a person who can sleep anywhere, anytime).

After my fifth standard the train journeys all came to a halt as we settled in Kerala. And then after seven years or so, my journeys came back again. I went Mangalore to do my graduation and with that I started travelling a lot.

Sometimes I used to travel with my friends while otherwise alone. And during all these times my only company were my books. I always stay away from my co passengers. I don’t like talking to strangers for no reason at all. Most of the time, I travel by unreserved ladies’ compartments and hence neither is there any entertainment (As there are no boys) nor am I interested in the co passengers with whom I travel. But once I travelled by a general compartment and that is where I met the crying man.

That time I was travelling from Vellore to Palakkad and since there was no direct train I had to get down in Coimbatore and board a different train to Palakkad. I got down at Coimbatore and there was a connection train to Palakkad which left in just about five minutes.

My train was in platform no. 4 and my connection train was in platform no. 3 for which I had to go all the way down and climb another bridge and there was very little time left and so I had to literally run, still by the time I reached the other platform with my two heavy bags and my sling back the train had already started moving hence I had to board on to a general compartment.

And there I met the guy. I was sitting in a semi empty berth. A lady was sitting to my left, and on the berth opposite to mine also only a lady was sitting.

And after around 2 minutes or so a guy came and sat opposite to me. He was tall, dark, and was in almost his late 30s or his early 40s. A good looking guy for that matter. But what caught my eyes was not his charm but his moist eyes. Well the matter that he was crying was not strange as it is a natural human emotion. But what was strange was the fact that he was crying in public, now that is not common especially in a country like ours where from the beginning the boys are thought not to cry especially in public.

At first I just let it go because it’s a free world and anybody can cry anywhere, but he was just not stopping it. He went on and on, and he was wiping his tears with his sleeve and shirt and so out of courtesy I gave him my handkerchief. He accepted it and started wiping his tears and blowing his nose.

“Hey, are you all right?” I asked

“Actually…. no” was his reply

“I know I am a stranger but sometimes talking to a complete stranger helps the most"

“Maybe, it will…. But I … I don’t know you”

He was right why should he tell a stranger the reason for his sadness.

“Ya you’re right.” Was all I could say.

But after around five minutes he talked to me again

“I am sorry for being rude I know you were just trying to help”

“It’s ok”

My curiosity to know his problem was now at peek. But I dint want to intrude again. So I just kept quiet and waited for him to open up himself.

“Well my wife is returning today”

“Returning from..?”

Well asking that was a mistake because now he started crying again

“Why are you sad if she is returning, shouldn’t you be happy?”

“Well if she had left for her parent’s house then I should be happy but she had an extramarital affair with my colleague and now since he got bored with her she is returning”

“What??” I exclaimed

“I know it all sounds strange, but you won’t understand, I don’t even know why I am explaining my whole story to you, maybe because as you said, saying everything to a stranger may help or maybe even because there is no one to whom I could tell all this

I had a best friend in office, he was my only friend. And he used to come home a lot too because I used to insist, maybe that was the biggest mistake I ever did. He was a bachelor and he always wanted to have home food and all, so I thought maybe I could help.

His character was also not that good; he changed his girlfriends every now and then and engaged in a lot of one night stands. I dint judge him for what he did because it was his life and he could do whatever he wanted to do.

But I dint think that this character of his would ruin my family life. My wife is very attractive. And instantly my wife and my friend became good friends and I dint think there was any harm in it, I was not among those husbands who have problem with their wife having male friends.

And within no time my wife and my friend were having an affair, well they managed it well because I dint have even a slightest doubt about them.”

I had to ask, “How did you know then?”

“I came to know about it when my wife ran away with him. She dint even explain things to me she just sent me a text saying “I’m leaving” and just left”

I gazed in astonishment. “Well do you have kids?”

“Yes a girl studying in class II”

I dint say anything, as he was saying it so he can be relieved I dint want to make it awkward for him.

“Well it’s been two weeks now and my wife called me yesterday and said sorry. She is returning today, I am going to pick her up”.

I was amazed, I was out of words, a guy was going to pick his wife who left him for two weeks, god I have never seen a guy like this, I wanted to ask a lot of things, but again I was just a stranger...

Maybe he read my mind or something

“I know you would be wondering what a guy I am. Maybe she just felt it as the heat of the moment and now she regrets, or maybe worse he is not a commitment guy, I don’t know what happened and I don’t want to know either, I just love my wife and my kid and I want my kid to have both her mom and dad to be with her when she grows up.

By then his station came, he bid me farewell forever, thanked me for listening to him and went away. I don’t even know his name. And I won’t meet him for the rest of my life also, but he left me with a heavy heart. I was speechless. I have seen a lot of couples in my life, my parents, my uncles and aunts, and a lot others like that.

My own parents were divorced. They have two kids but they dint think of any such thing. In fact no man’s ego would allow him to do such a thing.

The crying stranger was one of world’s best fathers I have known.

Wounds

While I cry myself to sleep once again.

I look up and the clock says 3am.

It's been a while since I've had a proper sleep cycle.

While somedays I sleep by 5 or 6 in the morning,

The other days I don't sleep at all.

Sometimes it's the haunting loneliness that blares up as a wound

Other times it's the thought of people I've lost

Friendships and love forgone, most times it's the fear of missing someone again.

While I delete contacts and mute statuses on social media. I still go back to my gallery to look at pictures of us together.

It feels like bandaids on wounds I only revisit again.

Sometimes I stalk the ex who left me for someone else

Other times it's the once bestfriend I'm sure who doesn't remember I exist.

Telling myself I'm better off without toxic people in life

I hug my little panda doll from when I was 10 years old

And cry myself to sleep, thinking of all the wounds my people gave, all the people I've lost and those who left me behind.

I close my eyes, the cellphone chimes.

It's all a vicious cycle again

Image from: Razia @a-small-startup