Happy Disillusion

They finally broke the barrier, shattering a year long silence.

He extended his hand, offered his friendship

She believed it was a start of a budding relationship

Both basked in a happy disillusion

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Walking with the Differences

They were two individuals.

He loathed some things she loved.

She loathed some things he loved.

Emotionally, both would be on different planes. Always.

Yet, they co-existed and were the best of friends.

They accepted and walked with the their differences with their arms around each other.

Paranoia

A walk after dinner. The streets, strongly lit by neon and colourful lights, was beginning to slowly fill in with strangers. Her mind reeled. Thoughts raced past the reality: Strangers. Proximity breaches. Small bumps. Accidental touches. Loud noise. Disgusted looks over her appearance. Eyes over her flaws. Space, lack of space.

STOP!

One quick heartbeat. “Was it because of the climb?” she wondered.

Then there was the second heartbeat. Followed by third. Succession of rapid thuds. Hands on her chest, she tried to hold it back. Rubbing her fists in small circles over her heart, silently asking the red thing to slow down.

Breathe!

He looked at her.  “Are you ok?” he asked.

Silence. A nod.

They kept walking towards the brightly lit street.

The easy, comfortable silence between them let her mind wander. Her thoughts raced again: His disappointment when she says no. The decline of interest. The need to search for interesting communication for the lack of hers. Questions. Multiple questions. “Why is he with me? Would he rather spend time with someone else? Would he rather talk to strangers than watch me struggle vibrate my vocal chords?” Lack of knowledge. Lack of interest in common topics. Ignorance in politics. Ignorance in music. Ignorance in movies. Ignorance. Lowering self-esteem. Feeling ordinary. Wondering if he is there next to her out of obligation of friendship. Repeated nos. Repeated denials to him to do that one thing he wants to do together. Unable to fit in, again. Frustration. Questioning the very existing thread of friendship. “Why friends with me?”

STOP!

BREATHE!

Eyes closed. Fear gnawed at her hesitant heart.  She agreed to do it with him. She walked next to him in the middle of the street.

Mouth sealed. Words dead in her throat before they materialized. Discomfort ignored. Her sense and soul as empty as the emotions of the city.

Wild mess of paranoia threatened to burst out of the vein in her head.

Deep breathes. Control. Pause.

She walked on next to him, as he looked into his phone.

For acceptance.

For love.

That Happy Place

It was a big hunt, to find that one place of solace where I could find eternal peace. A place I can always run to everytime I felt down.

I first thought a beach called Thiruvanmiyur in Chennai. A place to let lose all the frustration with the strong night beachy breeze. I could see the stars twinkling if the weather was clear.

Then I moved.

It became impossible to touch those silky sands again and feel them slip between my toe. It became impossible to want to hear the waves at my whim and desire. I missed it.

I was in search again.

Then I was in Ha Long Bay. A visit. With people I liked being around. There was this boat ride. Being in middle of vast water body. Feeling peaceful in the midst of small islets. Sitting on the top of a big boat. Listening to the wind blow. Feeling tiny in midst of this huge, beautiful nature. Enjoying the silence I longed for. Leaving my sadness bit by bit. Because it could take it. Peaceful.

Then the trip came to an end.

I couldn’t travel across countries just to feel the serenity at my whim. It didn’t stay with me.

The search continued.

The next place was relatively closer. It was 3 hours drive away from the city. It was a lake in midst of a small city. It is called Kukkarahalli lake. A 4 kilometres stretch. A peaceful walk early in the morning. Walking around the water body which is surrounded by lushness. People co existing in peace. Doing their own thing. I had found a small corner in the middle of the stretch. A series of mini stairs which attempted to take me closer to the water. I could sit there, forever. Look at the calm water. Silent. Graceful. Emanating some strong positive energy. Making me feel refreshed. Renewed.

I had to return to the concrete jungle. Earn my livelihood. It wasn’t closer, again

The search continued.

When the heart is exhausted, relieved, in turmoil, the magnanimity of simple things stand out.

I had found my happy place at last. It was and is right here with me in my home. I discovered it while watching Charlie and Lola with my 2 year old niece. Her favourite cartoon currently. She either sits on me or next to me with her head leaning on my shoulder. Today, she sat on my lap resting her legs on my pillow. Her head resting on my chest. Snugly wrapped around in my arms as she sucked her thumb while she watched Lola create Lola land.

The search had ended.

There it was, everything and more than before. Right in my arms. Every single day.

My Happy Place in the world.

Over The Edge

They were thick friends. Almost inseparable. Even the distance couldn’t keep them apart. They made memories, every single day, even if it was over the phone. They were that sticky, close, inseparable friends.

One day, unknown to her knowledge, he was pushed at the edge of the cliff. He stood there, silently, feeling the gravity pull on to his center. He closed his eyes, feeling the breeze gently push him closer to the edge. He swayed, but he had held on to his balance.

She was his last piece of silky silver thread that he could hold on to and pull himself out of the abyss, if he happened to tip over.

So, his mother sent him away to her. Maybe spending a week with her would help him clear his head, his mother thought. She sent him away to be her, with huge hope nursing in her heart. She wanted her son back. Badly.

Next day, there he was at the airport, reluctantly embracing her in a lose hug. She was disappointed with the lack of his usual enthusiasm. She shrugged it off and pulled him in a cab to take him home.

She tried to get him to talk. But he now preferred long silences.

She wanted to help, but she didn’t know what that worm was that was slowly digging into his brain. She only knew he wanted to talk but couldn’t find the right words.

Her patience was running thin.

She was only 24. She didn’t understand the mighty darkness that he was enveloped into. She prided herself into being practical. She prided herself into believing that everything about her was in the proper place.

She didn’t understand his inability to get out of bed or go for the long walks that they once enjoyed doing together.

He had crawled tighter in his shell. Lost to her, forever.

She failed. The guilt was beginning to build in her. It stayed inside. Suppressed. Closed.

She assumed the air of being practical and fair. He needed to hear the truth. He needed to be shaken out of his numbing tune. But he was gone. Lost in his music. And she pretended to move on as the silence between then grew. It ate into her. Her eyes had grown old.

Time passed into months.

She believed it was love. The idea of love was enticing. She was pulled into it. Dragged to make a decision. A rash one that too. She was encouraged to take it. She was also warned against it. Mostly, she was warned about the reckless risk she was jumping in. It was impulsive. She did it anyway. She thought, “Fuck this shit. I don’t want to look back in regret.”

But she did. She had lost.

It didn’t matter who looked down on her. It mattered when her mother like figure looked down on her. She wasn’t angry. She didn’t reprimand. She just was disappointed.

Hell broke loose.

She was pushed in silence. Her eyes closed. Her mind closed. A wall was built around.

A plea for help was denied.

The pile of guilt and shame kept getting bigger.

She could no longer pretend. There was lengthy silence. Panic attacks in the middle of the road. A mind that was slipping away in darkness.

In midst of this, there was a failed marriage. Battle of ego and pride. Sanctity of relationship was lost. Belief was shattered. Ideology was broken. Her last source of comfort had slipped from her hand.

Panic attacks got worse.

She went down to see him. She had lost him. He was there near her, but not with her. It felt like her heart was socked hard.

Guilt.

Went back to routine.

She was living with constant panic attacks. They owned her.

A doctor treated her without meeting her. Thrusted 12 small pills in her hands. Advised her to take one every night. It will help you sleep, he said. It will help you breathe easy, he said. But it would only numb her muscles and her senses.

Things felt bleak. She didn’t know where she was anymore. Where her mind was wandering, she didn’t know. She grew fragile. Fragile enough to let a stranger’s taunt get to her.

She found herself standing in front of her own abyss. But there was a friend, who had touched her shoulder, and unwitting asked her to stay back. It was a faint, muffled sound. But she heard it and took a step back.

She had reached out to her phone, thinking of giving him a call. She typed his name and then locked her phone. She couldn’t give him a call. Someone, whom she could reach out to at any time of the day or night. She needed to speak but the words were stuck in her belly.

Her mind was losing its strength to hold on.

Panic attacks came with added wandering thoughts. Scary thoughts. Thoughts that gave her ideas. Made her believe in disillusion. Pushed her. She was close to touching insanity.

She was tipped over the edge.

She stood over the end of the abyss ready to make her final lunge.

But before that, she had to speak with him. She had to reach out to him. She had heard he was doing well now.

She plucked her courage and spoke to him. She spoke about how vain she was. She spoke about how she had failed with him. She spoke how the pressure had buckled her down. She spoke about her guilt of not being able to help him. Of all the guilt that had eaten her away. The unspoken love. Trying to me up for the lost time. It had only taken her 3 years.

She felt lighter after speaking with him. With every tear flowing down her cheeks, she felt her chest getting lighter. The pile of guilt seemed to slowly disappear.

It felt like she was getting her business in place before the deed was done. With this thought, she went to bed.

A rested sleep after a long while.

The next morning, it was worth being alive.

That One Hug

They stood on the porch at four hours past midnight, as their paths awaited to be diverged again. Their adventure had come to an end. With time, the familiarity that the distance had deprived them of, was discovered in an unknown land. With time, the comfort of being themselves with each other had fallen in comfortably like that one missing puzzle of a jigsaw.

When it was time to say their goodbyes, he held his hand forward while she glared at his formality. She opened her arms timidly and he took a step forward and gave her a hug. This was not a drunken state of mind hug. This was a conscious hug. And his hug conveyed everything that maybe his words couldn’t for the last three years of knowing each other over long distance.

That one hug, opened up a box of suppressed emotions in her. But she hid her face in the dark as she saw him sit in the car and head towards the airport. She walked away towards the elevator before he could see her again from his car.

But that one hug…

The pretense icicles in her heart had melted. There was acceptance of deep attachment to another human being. She was overwhelmed and surprised with the enormity of the feelings she had for him.

She held back the dry tears that threatened to break from her eyes. She thought maybe sleep will make it easy to bear. Maybe sleep will make the ‘momentary’ feeling wash away, she thought. She went and slept on his freshly made bed.

The morning after dark was cloudy with light drizzles. The enormity of being able to feel so deeply had still successfully caught on with her as she boarded her cab towards the airport. She confided in her friend, who sat next to her with her arms on her shoulder, as she began to understand that she was simply missing him. She had gotten used to the unasked assurance from him. The unasked fulfilled promise of being by her side, no matter how, when she needed him the most. She had gotten used to his presence around her during their adventure together. As her friend held her, she let go of her pride and felt hot tears flow freely from her eyes.

It was finally the acceptance of a beautiful bond that they shared – friendship. It was a pure, unadulterated, unselfish, maybe a little selfish, friendship. It was the acceptance of letting go of her controlled boundaries and acknowledge the special place he held in her life. It was this acceptance that made her determine to make an attempt to show her emotions like he did with her all the time.

To be honest, she had taken a while to realize the emotions of his hug. Once the feeling of his arms around her shoulders was gone, only thing that remained was the warmth that he had left behind. Maybe this was their last goodbye after all.

Indifference on The Mango Tree

The wind of changes has blown, yet again. You have found happiness, in the arms of another. There is no room for sadness, regret or hate. Lives have moved on as I stand still. Watch all the ghosts of past swish by me. The wind of changes has blown, faster than I could handle. I sway with that force. And I’m perched above that mango tree, watching you hold her hand, and slip a diamond ring on her finger. Claiming her to be yours. Forever. There still is no room for sadness, regret or hate. But for indifference. Plain, numbing indifference bringing in that calming silence. That’s when you know, the wind of changes has blown, yet again.

Story of Hope

It can be triggered by the smallest of the smallest things. Maybe because of an old diary page that you came across or because of looking at a picture of something you were trying to let go and forget. It bubbles up half forgotten feelings in your heart forgetting all the reasons you had sternly latched on to let go and move on. It is like the unpleasant memories never existed and the only things you can remember are laughter and happiness. Slowly building a strong foundation of emotions based on these happy memories until the reality slowly starts distorting and your mind and heart get tormented by your own wishful feelings. This is how slowly hope builds in.

Hopes that, that something will be rekindled again. In that dream of rekindled hopes, you would start building castle of stories in your head of how it would be rekindled and be alive again. The stories then would sound so real and strong that you would start mistaking it for “intuition” or “gut feeling” that this would happen.

Hope. 🙂

The kinds that would destruct you, mind and soul, those are the irresistible ones. You would hide it, harbour and nurture it and let it grow, so much that you start growing fond of it. So fond that you are scared of sharing it with your closest friends. Because, somewhere in your suppressed rational and logical mind, you know that they will break the reality to you, make you face it and ask you to move on from the comfort of a feeling you were so used to bask in. So, it stays with you. All the dreams built on hopes. Hoping that all the old things will remain the same, yet hoping that all the things would now be different. The irony. Hope makes us want the old things, just as the way they are with another hope of it might have changed, which is what we would actually want.

Complicated. So complicated. Once you understand this, the rational mind would take over and it would desperately try to break the cycle you been stuck in. It will speak to you that voice in your head, the rational voice, and make you come to your senses and remind you why it had broken you in the first place and why you need to move on. Move on to a dream or even a hope that would nurture you and build you. Not the toxic hope that will break you and walk all over you till you are left unrecognizable to yourself.

Maybe, it is ok to toy with old hopes that builds stories of what could or would have been. Maybe. Who does not like the idea of a fantasy coming true? So maybe, toy with it, fantasize and bask in the tingling feeling of happiness that you get in your tummy. Maybe you can let yourself indulge in it for a bit. Maybe you can do all of this as long as you know how to pull yourself out of it and detach from it when you see it is becoming addictive. Because though fantasies are wonderful, reality is what that is going to stick with you forever, just like your shadow.
—..

C’est la vie…

You know its finally over when you miss the memories of the moments spent with the person more than the person himself/herself. You finally part and move on with a bittersweet feeling in the pit of your stomach with all the what ifs and what could have been with the person if things were just right.
But then, c’est la vie. What is, is.
The past cannot be touched. But the future can be shaped. 🙂