Plan F

Almost based on 28 Apr 19. All the fiction I write is based on something or the other I so completely have encountered either personally or in a dream. This one, I shall keep as close to the truth as possible. I want to be able to look at this some days / weeks / months later and know why events turned out the way they did.

And yes, here it is, my dear diary moment!

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This is the story of a day, rather half of an evening in the life of Tamanna. A story-teller. An outlier for the world, often misunderstood. She was scared of getting to know people far up close, assuming all people who got closer to her would have the potential to hurt her. And boy! Had she been hurt previously! 

Well, once bitten, twice shy. 

The person that she was, the perfect recipe for Tamanna would be a spoonful of judgements, 2 tablespoons pessimism, a faint hint of masochism, a large bowl of unvented anger, and a whole lot of fear. She would no longer approach people to make friends or to just engage in small talk. Someone once got to know her a little better than the rest (unwillingly, of course) and scolded her that she treated all people like subjects of research, instead of people. That, probably was the reason why she would never be capable of any form of proximity.

On a fine evening, Tamanna waited at the coffee shop and her irritation was increasing in geometric progression with every passing minute. She wasn't even sure why was she meeting him. He was but a random stranger she had met at the movies once. They spoke a bit about Iron Man and she found him to be an interesting guy. She did not even realise why they had exchanged numbers, but they did. She thought it was just harmless banter and had no idea what he thought. 

And yet, a few days later, there she sat, waiting for him. He had asked her for some help and asked her to meet him at the coffee shop down the road. The help needed seemed like a fair request and she was certain that the place and time at which he asked for the same wasn't inappropriate. She, therefore, did not find any reason to decline his request. 

Make no mistake, she knew he was married and only thought of him as a funny man. She had convinced herself that funny men are generally honest. So she waited for him. When he finally did arrive, about twenty minutes late, she was a little vexed and wondering why was she even willing to assist a random stranger. He needed some help with some mundane chore, very generic and basic questions. Tamanna answered them all and then they proceeded to coffee and small-talk, which wasn't enough for her. In her head, she wanted to know more, she wanted to judge the person that he was and identify the fallacies in his character. She always wanted to know how this human would make to be the absolute worst of his kind. 

So she went forth to play a little game she always played with all people she ever met, i.e. put them in a spot, ask them uncomfortable questions and see how they react. This harmless game, to an un-suspicious mind, but it generally instigated people to say the wrong things. And, since people don't like being wrong, they would then explain the rationale behind what they said or did. She hated these explanations, a lot. But this would show her how people felt about things, their hesitations, the strength of their belief in anything, the works!

She would form her judgement way before anyone would even realise they gave up things non-vocally. On majority of the times, she believed that her read on the person in question was correct. And that, was satisfying.

As she did not know the person well and did not want to ask something that would be too controversial (not at first at least), she began asking the stranger questions about his marriage: How and why did he get married, was he happy being married, did he still like his wife after so many years of being married, and she just kept going on. She loved his answers though. Generally, she would just ask people questions and hear answers that would amuse her in a way that she'd find solace in the knowledge that it is not just her that makes the wrong choices. But here he was, not that he did not make the wrong choices, but he allowed himself to be wrong occasionally. He would try and find logical ways out of all the mess that he'd gladly walk into. He even explained the nuances of his married life and had no qualms in acknowledging that he did not understand his wife and she was a completely different person. More importantly, the fact that they were such different people did not matter. He was certain that no one else would or rather should spend her entire life with him. He was happy the way things shaped up. He actually explained the chain of events that led to their marriage and what makes him believe in marriage. It was no till death do us part story. It was practical, comprehensive and extremely well said.

For all she knew, this could have been a fake story. But Tamanna was impressed by the sheer simplicity of the story. It was too ordiniary to be fake. For the first time in many many months, she did not want to judge this person. She was happy to know him just at face value. Aside of the simplicity, it seemed liberating even. For some reason unknown to her, she asked him if he'd be willing to give her some advice. He was more than willing to do so.

So she told stranger that she had met a guy, (she did not name Prabhu) a little while ago and had fallen in love. She clarified that she did not know what or how had made her stay in love with this person, he who was perfectly clear that he wasn't ever going to be able to feel any emotion (for her) that even remotely resembled love. He had said that multiple times, to her dismay. She thought that it was because he was incapable of love altogether, which hurt a bit, but not too much. But a while ago, she realised that he had fallen in love with someone else much after he met her and he did not tell her about it, because she did not seem relevant enough. She was made a party to the information only after she mercilessly dumped him. Tamanna was aghast at that knowledge because he was capable of falling in love, just not with her. She couldn't  decide on what to do about it as she wasn't willing to move on, even though she did not seem to have much choice in that department.

Tamanna couldn't stand the sight of the stranger anymore, when she heard what he had to say. She bid farewell and vowed to herself that Prabhu would be a distant memory and so would the learned stranger. She walked away, never to look back.

It is this that is utmost weird about truth. However, blatant or helpful it may be, the bearer of the truth is always hated the most. Tamanna was probably living in a dream. She lived with the hope that there may be a certain something that may eventually lead to a fairy-tale ending where Prabhu would realise that he could love her even a fraction of how much she loved him and they could have their own version of a almost happily ever after. She wasn't an optimist, mind you. And yet, she wanted to cling to this little piece of hope that never should have existed in the first place. When this stranger presented his version of reality to her, she wasn't particularly surprised. It is believed that you do not resent what you already know. Tamanna did not resent the reality here, she utterly resented the stranger. She probably would never be able to justify that to anyone, not that she would try to.

"Girl, do you even realise what you're doing? You give some sort of support to this person. It may be emotional, or for that matter, it may just be the tiny morale boost that there is this someone who is interested in spending all of her time and emotions on him. In his world, you're probably not the Plan B, like the second choice. You're probably Plan F, where Plan D is to turn gay or to spend the entire life loveless. You know when a girl is that available to a guy, who doesn't care for her in a similar fashion, irrespective of how smart, beautiful, or headstrong she is, she loses respect. That is how all men function. And the more you prolong it, the lesser you shall be respected. For all you know, he sits with his gang, a beer in hand and cracks jokes about you, reads your texts to others. Trust me, it happens. Men are insensitive.

Yes, it probably was a mistake to fall for him in the first place. But is the crime grave enough for you to punish yourself by staying in love with him. He's never coming for you. If he had to, he would have by now. 

It tends to be difficult to let go of a relationship that never existed in the first place. But, if it did not exist, wouldn't you even want to consider that it was for a reason. Would you really want to nurture it to an even larger entity and then realise that it needs to be shredded? 

I do not know much about you, and you probably think I am just being a wiseass. But from whatever conversation I've had with you so far, I believe you're getting what I said. Don't do this to yourself. I won't say that you deserve better because I do not know you or the guy in question. But you definitely deserve closure. Heck, everyone deserves closure. Don't you do this to yourself. Let go. It's better for you."

Shadow

Apeksha would wake up in the middle of several nights with a startled expression. She could not get over her parents' divorce. Apeksha always knew that her parents had a troubled marriage. But she thought that her parents would stay together, only for her, if nothing else.

She loved her father more than her mother. And she would publicly accept that. But her father lost his job during recent bulk lay-offs at his company and he was a little "different". He wasn't fond of people and socializing. Post loss of employment, he lost the Apeksha's custody as well. Apeksha wasn't very happy with the way things turned out; but she had a very practical outlook in life and was content with living with her mother. Ironically, her mother would always say that Apeksha inherited her way of thinking from her father. She was practical, stout-mouthed and yet, very caring.

When she would think of it now, all that she could remember of her parents' married life was the fights. There were so many of them. The two of them did not have common working days. Since mother worked in hotels, she had even more work than normal on weekends and holidays. She always remembered father scorn once, "Only whores work on sundays." It wasn't just the odd working days. Her father would see her mother coming home very late nights with different people (men and women). He would always see her smile when she would get indoors. But the minute she would step foot in the house, the smile would disappear. Apeksha guessed that he would be infuriated by the fact that her mother could not be happy in the house as well; whereas her mother believed that he wanted her to not be happy anywhere. Now that she was on her summer vacation (about 3 months since the divorce), she had all the time in the world to act grown-up and think about the reasons why their marriage failed. But she would throw her hands in the air and almost convincingly tell herself that it wasn't her fault and no matter how much she thought of it, she won't be able to change a thing.

So she would go about her mundane life waiting for mother to come home, which would generally be very late in the night. During the days, she would clean the house of the all tens of ciggarette butts that her mother would have thrown all over the house during the previous night. Ketaki Amma, the maid would come for about an hour every day and they would eat lunch together while watching the television. She would have several conversations with Ketaki Amma, about how the younger generations do not understand the hardships that parents have to go through, or that her mother should get married to someone rich and famous, or that black makes women look thin, or anything else that caught their fancy at the minute. Though these conversations weren't fruitful, these were the only human touch in her life for days to come. She was 16, and yet she had managed to alienate all her friends. Her mother thought that it was a result of being the product of a failed marriage, but Apeksha knew that she wasn't fond of any of her friends anyway. She never told her mother so, as she was certain that someday, she would be able to use the guilt well.

After Ketaki Amma would have left during the day, Apeksha would be alone; but there would be times she felt a shadow, or something staring at her from outside the house. She was sure there wasn't anyone, but somehow, she wasn't able to convince herself. There would be days she would hear a faint cough or a clap as if the "shadow" wanted her to know that there was someone out there, staring at her. She wouldn't even dare to see in the direction. Having recently moved to the house, she did not know anyone in the vicinity. She did not want to scare her mother with vague fears, since her mother already had a lot of things to take care of. So she did not tell her anything. She did ask Ketaki Amma to check once. But she saw nothing / no one. Apeksha wasn't too sure of it, as Ketaki Amma would not even notice the spider webs on the ceiling, even when Apeksha would point in the direction. Ketaki Amma said, "Stop mocking me, you see for yourself if you want." But Ketaki Amma also reassured her that there haven't been any robberies in the neighborhood any time recently. She chuckled a bit after, reminding Apeksha that her grandfather's gun was placed in the Rack on the Drawing Room display and it may be of use someday. Apparently, Ketaki Amma helped mother renew the licence for the gun as well.

A few days later, Apeksha saw something she hadn't seen in a really long time. Her mother was in the kitchen, cooking. Before she could take a jibe at it, mother told her that Ketaki Amma wasn't coming over that day. Mother told her, almost disapprovingly, "Ketaki has fallen ill again, God knows what is it this time." During the day, Apeksha was watching the television alone like any other day. Suddenly, she heard something that seemed like footsteps. She told herself it was nothing, and that she was only creating things in her head because she had nothing else to do. She wanted to look in the direction of the noise, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to see someone there or not. She was afraid, obviously, but she was also amused by the idea that she had made up a fake stalker in her head. On a normal day, the "shadow" would disappear when Ketaki Amma would come; probably because she would then start to have something to do with her time. Today, however, much after the time that Ketaki Amma would generally come, she felt that the "shadow" did not leave. She tried to look in the direction, she did not do so fully, but she did get a feeling that she saw someone there. She was afraid that if she looked in the direction, and there was someone there, he may get courageous and approach her. But somehow, she still believed that it was just her imagination. She almost convinved herself to that effect.

As it started to get darker, she wasn't sure of what would she do. The noise of footsteps would appear from various places around the house. It seemed like the "shadow" was trying to see if someone else was at home. She wasn't sure of what would she do if some stranger did walk in to the house. She was just a little girl. But she thought of it a little more, and the fear reminded her of what her father. She knew that if he were around, everything will be alright. He would always provoke things which seemed insane, adventurous at best, but would always solve every problem. She knew her daddy wasn't nearby and she was scared of her mother more than the shadow. She dared not call her father to help. Tears rolled down her pale pink cheeks. It reminded her of the day when she first cried from the way to school because her parents would fight incessantly through the nights; though she told her father that she saw a ghost in her dream the previous night. Her father told her that he'll always be with her and around to scare all the ghosts away. His voice seemed so comforting, she was convinced that he'll take care of it all. It was a false assurance, when she thought of it now, but it did her a world of good. Her shadow took a step towards her house, she could see it move from afar. She was sure that her imagination was playing tricks with her and the only way she could calm her senses was the gun. She took the gun and she shot in the direction of the shadow. She never thought it would really fire a bullet, but it did. The sound of the bullet fire was deafening to her, her fingers trembled for a bit and she felt that her temples burst out of her head and move along with the bullet. She fell, nearly fainted for a few minutes. But then she rose and looked in the direction. She saw no one. The shadow was gone. 

She felt proud. She knew that her imagination had been cured. "Obvioulsy, gun shot triumps fear," she thought to herself. But she wouldn't stop grinning out of pride. It was a happy moment for her. Instead of crawling with the fear of the invalid, she solved her problem. She won't be able to tell this to her mother. But the next time she would meet her father, she decided to tell him. She could imagine his eyes glistening with awe over the fact that his little girl shot a bullet in air. Would he be proud more of the fact that she did it or would it be for the fact that she did it with her grandfather's gun, he who never believed that women were meant to be anything. She played some music and decided that she was hungry. Her mother was a terrible cook, so she decided to make herself some french fries. Her mother would pick some ketchup sachets from her hotel almost daily. They had a jar in which they would empty those sachets almost every weekend. No body ate ketchup in the house. But mother got those sachets with her nonetheless. Today, she decided she'll use some of them. The house filled itself with the smell of hot oil and a while after, she had freshly fried potato slices garnished with finely chopped spring oninon, a huge dollop of mayonnaise, strangely cut pieces of tomato and a lot of ketchup. She did feel the occassional fear of the unknown, but now she knew what she was capable of. She cleaned the house, watched a movie and waited for her mother. When she got bored, she changed the curtains in the house, ran the current ones in the washing machine, combed her hair and brushed every corner of the house to extract all signs of burnt tobacco, hair, dead insects and what not. Mother wasn't home even then. She was tired, but she did not want to sleep tonight without meeting mother.

It was almost 3:00 am, when finally, mother came home. She was a little drunk and her lipstick was smeared almost all across her face. She was very happy. She was amazed when she saw Apeksha was still awake. Apeksha ran into her arms the minute she stepped in, only to notice mother wasn't dressed in the same clothes that she was when she left home in the morning. Mother looked beautiful, except, of course, the smeared lipstick, the ruffled hair, the red eyes, the crumpled dress and the abominable smell of cigarrettes. Mother told her to stay away but, she soon realized, she won't be able to get Apeksha to go away without a bear hug. She gave her that and they went to sleep.

The next morning, by the time Apesha woke, mother had already left for her day. Ketaki Amma did not come to work for almost an entire week, but Apeksha did not have any trouble in the house. She was happy, she was confident and she was proud. Mother had started to come home early and she would bring along a colleague. He would have dinner with them almost every day and them both would smoke a lot of cigarrettes together. Apeksha did not like him. Mother knew that she did not. Mother told her that she did not have to like him as he would soon be gone. Apeksha did not understand what that meant. But as long as she knew she did not have to tolerate the person for a long time, she could bear it.

One day, mother came back home early, much earlier than her recent timings. She came back alone and her face looked like she had seen a ghost. She ran into the house held Apeksha very tight and cried her eyes out. Apeksha couldn't understand a thing of what she said, but she her mother mention father's name a lot.After mother was somewhat done crying, Apeksha asked her what happened.

"Your father is dead. His body was found rotting not far from here, this very room. He was shot in his heart by a single bullet. They say he's been dead for days. He was probably coming to meet you and he lost his way."

Chalk line

It was 2007, Kaayra was in love with Anay. In a lot of ways Anay was too. But he was reluctant to be in a relationship with her, given his past. Anay had had his previous "one true love" leave him; without a notice, a reason, a lie, anything. Anay was probably not ready and despite everything, he was not completely out of love with her. And then, one fine day, Kaayra couldn't stand it anymore and told him that she wasn't leaving him, no matter what. She told him that the only way she would leave is when all that is left of him is a chalk line drawn in his shape on any floor. Guess Anay got swept off his feet by that statement.


Today, after years of a some-what happy marriage and 2 beautiful children, her words came true. All that was left of Anay was a chalk line on the floor in his shape. They couldn't find who did this to him. As she was already aware, the house was swept clean and absolutely no evidences were found of anyone else being there. She had just returned from the girls' boarding school. He had some work which wouldn't let him come along. She vaguely remembered the argument. She was complaining that he wasn't highly dedicated to the family. His work, his friends, everything else always got priority over the family. He did not deny that. But he just made his face, the one that he always made that made Kaayra feel that it was really her fault, because she was the one who wanted this family. This had happened several times before as well. Anay never really said these words. But Kaayra knew that he thought it and he did so each time the famiy unit hit a blotch. But was that really the thing to think about, the people said that Anay had been dead for all the days that Kaayra wasn't even there at home. She was left wishing she had pressed a little more instead of just giving up. Anay always agreed to everything she said, once she pestered enough.


She started to think of all the history that they had shared together. How they started as friends and how she saw him fall for that girl. He never really told Kaayra her name. But he was the happiest in days and each day that passed with him in love, she couldn't stop wishing that it was her who could make Anay even half as happy as this other girl. And then she left. Whence Kaayra thought it was a good thing, one look at Anay was enough to make her feel that nothing else could have been more devastating. But things seemigly got better with time. It took 3 years to get partially better, but they did get better afterall. Anay always knew what Kaayra felt for him, but he refused to acknowledge it, just to avoid the conflict. But Kayra did what she did and they decided to get together. A lot of times then (and also during the several years that they lived together), Kaayra felt the shadow of his past hovering his thoughts. She felt that though he was with her, he never really was with her. That girl took a significant part of Anay with her. Kaayra found it to be silly. How a single person could effect Anay so much, she often wondered. But then she saw herself and realized that Anay had the same effect on her.


She tried to ignore it, the alleged effect, initially. But it was something she couldn't ignore after a point in time. It was almost as if he was never really dedicated to her. He was a good husband. But as a companion, it never seemed like he was interested in how her days were, what made her glow with happiness or the petty things that infuriated her. Long before she happened, Kaayra thought that it was probably how he was. He wouldn't be able to make himself care for another person the way she cared for him. But then, she did happen. Kaayra noticed the difference. Anay was intereseted in petty details, just not Kaayra's. There were a lot of time Kaayra found herself pining to be a person who she hadn't met, not even knew the name of. Anay, to her, was everything Kaayra wanted him to be for herself. And suddenly, Anay wasn't there at all. For anyone.


Kaayra suddenly noticed that she was still at the same main door that she opened once she reached home. She had landed from the flight and tried calling Anay for about 15 minutes before boarding a cab of her own. She was already a little angry that the girls did not get to see their father. What's more, he did not even call them for the three days that she was there. And then, he did not show up to pick her up either. And his phone was switched off. By the time she reached home, she was certain she'll address "the elephant in the room", as Anay would mockingly call all everything. She opened the door and saw him drawn on the floor, as a chalk line. There were several people as well. Neighbors told her that they called the authorities when a dog kept barking at the house (a day after she had gone). The people came and opened the door and had been trying to reach her for the past two days. No one had seen anything or even heard noises. Kaayra was motionless for a really long time.


She then ran out of the house, in the middle of the road, tears exploded with wails and cries. A moment later, she realized that she had been such a terrible mother all this while. The girls did not cross her mind thus far. How will she tell them that he was gone! It was their father. What will they do now? How will this change the family? Will they be able to tell the difference?


She also wondered if they will ever be able to understand why she did it. But she thought it best not to tell anyone, not even them.

It and the other

Janaki had a life many would envy, or so they thought. She was thirty-eight years old, but a look at her and you wouldn't believe she is a day older than twenty-five. She did not have any children, none her own anyway, but a fulfilled and prosperous married life. Apoorv and she still had the spark, every time they looked into each others' eyes, even after so many many years of being married.

"He's very successful," they said, "too successful to stay loyal to one". "He's already been in many relationships, he wouldn't know how to handle just one." They said. But Janaki was too smitten to hear any of it. She still was.


Their's was a story right out of a fairy tale. Apoorv was struggling through a bad divorce. He had a son. Ironically, neither the ex-wife nor he wanted custody of the child. It was a complicated story.There were times, several of them, when Janaki and Apoorv would sit over coffee and have a hearty laugh over it all. It was during this time that Janaki had met Apoorv; his book had just been published. She had read his works and went to one of those book signing events that the publishers had organised. The first time they saw each other, Janaki knew that she will melt in his arms, and Apoorv found what he was always looking for, all these days.


They met several times thereafter and enjoyed every moment spent together. Getting married seemed like the obvious progression. But Janaki's parents weren't very happy about this alliance. No set of parents would welcome their daughter getting married to a divorced father of one, more than a decade older than her. But Janaki was in love. She tried to explain at first, not too hard, though. To her, her father wasn't the best husband and her step-mother never fit into her mother's shoes. To her, Apoorv was the solace she needed, the only missing puzzle piece. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. SO she walked out of her house. And thus, they were married. Janaki never reconciled with her parents, did not even make a frail attempt. If she ever listed the things that she would have done differently, this wouldn't even make it to the list. Yes. She was that happy, at least until a little while ago.
It was not just the fact that they loved each other. They understood, shared the same sense of wicked humour, saw everything in multiple lights, liked the same misadventures, movies, songs, the works! Every day became more comfortable than the last. There would be days when they would escape the grotesque mansion and go miles away into the wild; just to stare at stars in the night, hold hands, rejuvenate the undying love.


It wasn't very long ago that they started having his ex-wife and son visit them. Apoorv wasn't very fond of either. But Janaki wanted to have their company. She knew that she probably would never want to have her own children. But she wanted to be around Apoorv's son. "It is one of those ageing woman things," she told Apoorv. Guess that was all that she could think of. And Apoorv would never deny her anything. More so, of late, he would agree with anything Janaki ever asked for. It wasn't much of a debate, one would think.


So there they were, one fine day, Apoorv wasn't at home, but Vaidehi and Kannan were. Every day that they would come over, Apoorv wouldn't be at home. Janaki would have begun to feel that he was avoiding them on purpose; but she knew that work had kept Apoorv away from home a little too frequently in the near past. She wasn't really the one to complain.


"Why isn't he at home ever?" Vaidehi asked, "Why do I not get to see him unless he wants something of me? Oh! This reminds me of good old times." She laughed hysterically.
Janaki tried to cut her laugh short; half out of the courtesy of conversation, but primarily because her laugh was scary, "He's out for work, he should be back soon."
Vaidehi wasn't even convinced, "What work, don't you wonder? He is supposed to be a writer. Can't he write anywhere? He hasn't published anything in what 6 years now! Trust my word honey, he's not the one you trust this blindly. I did it once. Look where it got me."


Kannan interrupted the conversation (much to Janaki's relief), he wanted to play on Daddy's laptop. Though Janaki believed that she would enjoy Kannan's company, he wasn't really an ideal son. She dismissed it with a thought that probably all kids this age would be similar. But the more she got exposed to the pleasure of the company of Apoorv's ex-family, the more she understood why Apoorv couldn't live with them. She laughed a little within, as she realised how amused would Apoorv be if she told him thusly. While Janaki was rummaging through these thoughts, Kannan had already unlocked his father's laptop and was ransacking each and every possible nook to find something that could entertain him. The laptop chimed. It was an email. Kannan ran to his mother. "Maa, is it spelt t o n i te or t o n i g h t?", he asked. "Why do I pay your school if I have to answer these questions? Why are you asking anyway?" she wasn't pleased.


Kannan screamed "But this e-mail daddy got reads "tonight" and it is not even a full sentence." Janaki became a little curious. She went over to the laptop to see what was it that drew a smirk on Vaidehi's face. Apoorv's publisher (who had last published for him about 7 years ago) had messaged him "Tonight". It was almost the same time that Apoorv called Janaki to tell her that he shall not be home for the night. Janaki wasn't too sure if this was a cause for an alarm, but she remembered the publisher. She was one of the most beautiful women Janaki had ever met and she also remembered her flirting a little with Apoorv the last time they saw her.


Janaki sat there, maintaining her calm and poise, apparently dismissing all of Vaidehi's unsaid allegations. But, the smirk on Vaidehi's face just won't dissolve. Janaki always believed that she wasn't a very violent person. But the smirk was making her tempestuous. She secretly and violently killed Vaidehi in her head multiple times. Nothing would taint her trust in Apoorv. She she full well knew. But the smirk was making it difficult every passing minute. When they rose to leave, Janaki was a little satifsfied.

She knew all of Apoorv's passwords. But she never used them to check up on him. She was curious today, though. So she went through his emails. Apparently, Apoorv was having an affair with the publisher since even before they met. Janaki did not even want to figure out why Apoorv married her. There was a silver lining, amidst all this. Apoorv ended things with her not very long ago. He even wrote to her in one of the mails, "Janaki can't make me half as happy as you do, but I owe her some loyalty." She couldn't believe her eyes. All of these years, while she thought that Apoorv was at peace with her, he was only too bored to talk. From what little she could gather, her love to him was just a nest to get back to after all the soaring of the daylight. Because, he always knew that it is not going anywhere.


She couldn't figure what should she be more furious about, the fact that she was cheated on, or that Apoorv made it so easy for her to find out, or that she did not find it out despite the former, or that he just assumed that Janaki won't go anywhere. It all made sense to her. Apoorv was a little too happy of late. It did seem fake to her earlier. But, she never worried herself. Apoorv always let Janaki have her way with everything these days. She should have known that he was compensating for something. But, she never worried herself. Apoorv never seemed to get bored even of the most mundane things. But she never worried herself.


Everything happened right before her blind eyes. Yet, she never worried herself. That was probably the reason. She never worried herself. She never thought that there can be another side to this fairy tale-sort of a life. For more than a minute, she had no idea of what to do. In a sudden fit of anger, she wrote a nasty email to Apoorv. She wrote how she read about the affair and that she could never make him happy, not enough anyway. She also ranted a bit about how he broke up with the mistress but he was reuniting with her today because Janaki wasn't enough for him. She was a little glad when she finished writing the email. A sense of satisfaction overwhelmed her when she hit "Send", she knew she had done the right thing.


The next moment, she stormed out of what once was her home. She has decided on never coming back.With nowhere else to go, she sat by the edge of the bridge, by the sea. The sudden wind made her forget everything in a moment. She was back to being calm and decided to not think of Apoorv at all. Obviously, in a matter of minutes she started to think of what went wrong. While connecting the dots, as she was accumulating all her anger within herself; her phone rang. It was Apoorv. She thought she would give him a mindful and answered the phone, but words couldn't find a way out of her. Actually, Apoorv did not give her time to speak. He was a little excited, happy rather. He quickly blabberred that he was in love with Janaki and would give the world for her. He said that all his plans were cancelled and he'd spend the night at home. For some reason, he also told her that he'd spend his entire life with her, without regret. Janaki could not comprehend. To an astonished "What!" Apoorv replied that he was sorry for not being himself for the past few days. Things had gone wrong. He had made some poor decisions. But he had now decided to make every wrong right and correct everything that needs correction. And then some.


Janaki paused a little before finally summoning the courage to ask him if he had had the time to check his emails. Apoorv replied in the negative with a tone of surprise. But he cut her through. He asked her if she was home; without waiting for a reply told her to get dressed and they'd go out to a candle-light dinner and he'd play her violin at night. He also told her that he loved her and only her and she made him feel like himself. He hung up abruptly, but not without telling her that he will get her some lillies.


Janaki was aghast. Obviously he hadn't gotten to know what she had discovered. Clearly, he had decided against going back to the other. For a minute she thought it would have been so wonderful had she not found out. He'd have gotten back to being his normal self, the one that she never could have believed to have had any reason to mistrust. That is when it struck her.
She had nowhere to go now.

Obviously she couldn't go back to her parents and she was too old to start life afresh. She could go back "home". But to what end? Apoorv would now know what she found and he'd never be the same again, even if he wanted to. For some reason, her entire life was surrounded by a lie, but it was convenient. Today was probably the first day that she had done something impulsive in a really long time and yet she was regretting it in no time.


A lot of her life had suddenly fallen apart. Janaki wasn't very sure of what to do, she wasnt used to being thus. She rose, after what seemed like forever, to get back. Having known fully well, that she had ruined her family unit beyond repairs, each step foward seemed to get heavier. Unable to do it, she started walking backwards, which was so much more convenient, that she paced a lot more than she was comfortable with. Before she could realize, she had walked beyond the edge.


What she had on her face while she fell in the water was a smile of an escapist.

Dumped!

Mandira had a habit of recording her own voice. People maintain diaries, she maintained an audio log. She was, although, well aware that she (rather anyone) would never hear what happened with her on that particular day. “It’s fun,” she’d tell mother, “someday, if I get famous, you could sell these for millions.”

She had been maintaining a happy log for a while; particularly since she met Abhijit. He was everything she could have expected in a guy. She also knew that she wasn’t anything he wanted in a girl. They had a passing affair. She knew it wouldn’t last. On this particular evening, she came home and started her recorder. Sniffing and sobbing, she barely muttered the voice to say the following..

So, it has happened. He’s dumped me. It’s not a surprise and I knew it was to happen sooner or later. But I’d rather it happened later than sooner. I’ve a strange feeling waiting to get out of me, it almost feels like I’ve been cheated. If he knew this wasn’t his thing, which he did, by the way, why did he even play along!

Why cheated, did you ask?
Mostly, I think it is not the part where he just told me that it is not going to work out between us. It’s the part where he said that he’d have given me the elaborate it’s not you, it’s me speech, but I’m better than that. Because in his world, I don’t even deserve an elaborate lie to cling on to. Anything that could give me a moderate reassurance that I wasn’t a complete fool in getting dreamy-eyed every time I saw him. I put in so much of myself into this thing. Since the moment I heard his voice the first time, since the first time he laid eyes on me, he was all that I thought of. It is true that what I feel is none of his business, but he’s the one who led me on, right? I mean, yes, I fell for him, multiple times at that. It is, however, a little strange if you tell me that he for once did not have the slightest idea! He knew everything about me, even though he volunteered no personal information at all. I was a little stupid, I guess. Well, as they say, I’m a smart person only till I fall in love, as after, I’m infinitely stupid.

You remember how I once said that despise the word sorry? It’s the one word concocted to rid people of the guilt of anything that they may have done. I mean, I could stamp on a foot, intentionally or otherwise, say “ sorry”  and presume that I’ve done my bit. It’s a little too easy, don’t you think?

Well, surprisingly I’ve come to realise that there’s a phrase that hurts more than a sorry. It goes “did I hurt you?”. Abhijit said these exact words! I’ve no idea what was he expecting as an answer to this one. He cannot be naive enough to not know that he has caused hurt that will take forever to heal. But the usage of these words exonerates him from whatever he did. Trust me, every nerve in my brain was itching to yell that it aches more than anything ever can. But what could I tell him? I did ask him how does it matter. But he said that it just does, because he apparently cares for me. If it were to happen ever again I’d tell him that if he really did care for me, he could have at least given me a chance. A lie, if nothing else. Or if I’m asking for too much by asking him to notice on his own accord that it hurts, could he at least get me a closure!

This is karma, I guess. All those guys who allegedly pined for me, but I thought of them to be too childish; I guess Abhijit thinks I’m too childish too. Though he may not realise that it is him, his presence that makes me glee like a little girl.

If one were to look at it from afar, this shouldn’t matter much. He made the last 2 years the most pleasant by just being himself. He gave me dreams that I’d never forget. He made me believe that good things can happen; that being optimistic isn’t so bad after all. Wait, it does sound a little oxymoronic now, now that I’ll never be able to believe good things can happen. I’m sure this is premature, but I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to love again. And if I ever do, I’m sure I’ll never be able to love anyone the way I did him. For he did not complete me, in the quintessential sense of speaking. He came and saw that I was broken, he helped me in putting it together, and he walked out, moments before gluing it all together.
I’m sure I’ll heal. I’ve healed through much worse. But I never wanted to heal through this.

She sobbed a lot, throughout this log. She had developed this habit of dreaming that he’s around her, this would bring her to smile even when she did not want to. At least till now. In half a hope that he’d actually regret saying those things and he’d come to her and hug her so tight that she’d forget anything ever happened, she ran her eyes around the room. He wasn’t there.
Mandira did not save the tape. She did not want to retain this memory. She knew she won’t ever forget him, or the way he just cut her off, but putting that on the tape would imply sealing the memory and framing it, then allowing the memory to nurture and eventually consume her. She never wanted to have one person have so much control over her. She felt helpless. And every atom of this helplessness made her angry. Angry because she knew she couldn’t blame Abhijit, but she couldn’t blame herself either.
She barely managed to erase the tape and lock the room and walk out.

There she sat, edge of a park bench. Sore eyes, quivering lips and a face so pale, it would put mannequins to shame. A lot of footsteps walked past her, some even ran. To her face, all of these were mere invalid noises and motions. She sat there for eternity, until it seemed like she was just an extension to the bench itself. Had she not gravity pull her into the ground and cried her eyes out, the people may have actually believed the extension theory.

I was there that day. The day it all happened. Even today, when I go to the park sometimes, I believe I still see that haggard look on an imaginary figure sitting quietly; albeit ready to explode any moment.

A subtle addiction (water)

I judge people a lot. Quite often, I believe that these judgements are more a work of fiction than that of philosophy. It is a little more satisfying that way. There is a person I can't stop thinking about. I tell myself a lot that I do not want to write about him. There are various reasons for it, but I assume that should be reserved for another day.

For now, I just think I would let myself bask in the satisfaction of wording the thoughts I have collated. A part of me still can't believe I am grinning this minute. Another part of me says, "give it time".
I've allowed myself indulge in a variety of vices. Far too many and far too often. Quite often the reason for the same has been the quest for my share of sanity / peace. However, this little vice, is way more addictive than I would have ever thought.

He's a lot like water, I believe. I'd like to call him so. He is just as basic and transparent; just as calm and yet, just as unforgiving. He could be passionate, he could be fierce, he could be all that I wish he were. There are moments one can feel that he shows you the glimpse of what it could be, only to tarnish (read: destroy beyond recognition) your borders of content. And once the placid reality seems but an illusion, he resorts to being a live display of all that once was.
His absence would take a lot time to get used to; not that it matters, but to me it doesn't even seem practical to be able to get used to it.

He could soothe me or drown me, the poise would not have to be tampered with. There was a time he revealed that he could eliminate people from memory, only the ones that rightly deserve so. I could see a part of me running to each corner of the planet and hopping with the joy of being a confidant, the one to who he spoke his heart and his salient quirks, his fond memories and scariest fears. If one was around, one would notice the imaginary fireworks.
..... Yet, there was this other and the larger part of me (a.k.a. the wimpy little kid), who was running to every corner of the planet to find a nook where she could hide from the fear of being the eliminated.

He's a one that is essential, often dismissed as something ordinary. If you ask me, I cannot fathom how all humans pass by him everyday, living their mundane chores and not be astonished by all that is him.
If them all could see what I do right now, you'd realize his relevance that is par ordinaire. I don't think he realizes how relevant he can be. I don't think anyone does. The art of making sense out of chaos, a feat that not many people could notice (only because they could not believe it existed, ah! little did they know!), a feat that he has remarkably mastered but is only put to display at will.. it makes him a vice that I wish I was never acquainted to; given the fact that now that I know him, the days I've spent not knowing him only seem partially sensible.

He, often, makes you feel at ease. Pours himself into your stream of thought and identifies the segment that needed it the most. Before you even realize, he would have helped you sustain and he'd be gone. One could guess that he did not do it intentionally. Probably to him, he just did what he is innately meant to.

He'd easily be my kryptonite without me wishing for it. (Well, kryptonite is an over-statement. But what do you call the element that you love to belong to, but want to stay away from and yet, you can't do either). When you categorize him as one, you'd notice that he is just a basic element. It is only ironical that the very "basic-ness" of him is empowering. To add to the metaphor, if you've ever seen anything on fire, you'd know that it is the initial droplets of water that combust into it, but in a very subtle manner, eat into its ferociousness. Add a little more water, the fire would succumb to the force of the calm. All surplus of water, poured thereafter, is but unnecessary and exists only for the sake of it. To derive an adequate simile, he is just as much water that was ever needed to put the fire to shame.

He, who one would not dream to emulate; for he flows to the past most driven by what he calls passion but seems gravity to most. He cares for the invalids, he notices what one believes to be petty. He has an eye for detail that most chose to avoid. In ways more than one, he is around everything he would wish to be, as well as everything he could live without. He intends to devote his might to correct all that is inappropriate. But time and tide aren't allowed to wait, are they?

In the essence of it, he is very simple. One wouldn't need a manual to know how to work with him. Just like he wouldn't need a manual / guideline to see anyone like he knows their most deepest fears, desires, and everything else that defines. Every time I see him, I do not know if I should notice the depth (and the dark) in his eyes or the smile that could light the town. It is just as paradoxical as it is calming.

I have never struggled for words as much as I do to conclude this. I would want to conclude this piece with a genuine equivalent of him (obviously, tantamount to water). But he is all that water can be - a drizzle, a rain or a hurricane. It will only depend on how scorched one is as a landscape.

When I think of it, believe the only apt way to conclude this would be to leave it without an end, just like unrequited love, with the possibility of an endless potential. In a lot of ways, I believe this is it.

Random rants

I'd read a poem once, long long ago. Don't really remember it all; but what it said could be loosely translated to mean that until the lions learn how to write, the hunter shall always be glorified, braver and also triumphant. In other words, when we hear / read something we know of only one side of the story. More often than not, the truth escapes our attention solely because we did not try too hard to validate facts.

The above snippet of information was (as is fondly called of late) a disclaimer to the fact that all of what you read below is my version of truth.

So here goes nothing..

I don't publish all of what I write. That's because I'm scared of people judging me. I know everyone judges anyway; but I'd rather not fuel the fire. There are times I think of things and then just cap them out because I'm too scared of putting that thought out in writing, out there just public and at times even my own scrutiny.

There's this person (about whom there would be more to come subsequently) who keeps telling me that I should write more. I'm not sure if he's only being nice or he really likes my writing or he enjoys the subtlest of signs of masochism in what I write. But he does say it well. I guess that's my motivation to write more often of late.
I know one thing for sure, though. I cannot be just writing. I need to do something more rewarding. I'm probably using a loose term here. When I say rewarding, I mean something with a timeline. Unless I've a timeline for something I tend to re-visit my work or lay it off until the last minute.

However there is this other reason why I will be terrible at writing. People.

The point is that the people wish to be able to understand what they read. When I write, I connect with me, my thoughts or views so much that I (with a reasonable logic) can decipher what I mean. I do proof read my pieces a few days later (except this one), just to confirm that my piece would make sense to any independent person. However, I miss one point. Reason is not automatic. There are individuals who don't see my point of view even after explicitly mentioning it. I've been through this multiple times.

For instance, what I was trying to say in "the victim" was that love is a luxury that one tends to get used to (I do not agree to it anymore, however .. till I hadn't really seen love in such close proximity, that's what I thought and if one looks around this fact remains true for most people). When people are in love they start accepting the significant other with all their flaws and even if flaws are all that remain at their disposal, they cannot feel any emotion other than love. Yes, it's complicated. Sometimes I don't realise which version of love do I feel is true. And then there are other times when I don't even know if I realise what being in love means. Recently, I was on the edge of falling in love. I contained myself. But wouldn't they say that if you could contain yourself, it never was love in the first place. Wait, I'm not sure if I've contained myself at all. Guess this is something I should think of maybe a few months hence. The topic at hand though .. back to the victim. It was amazing how people never viewed it as a complicated version of love. In honesty, other than the invalids, no one could proceed beyond the emotions that flew into them when they read about Maya. On the face of it, it is depressing (I get that, duh). But why wouldn't anyone appreciate the eccentricity of the emotion so widely known as love. It is wrong to love the person who brings you nothing but tears. But it's a choice she's entitled to make. Don't we all do things that don't make sense in the true sense of the term to people in general but probably is a source of peace otherwise, even if so just to one person!

I think I was a little hurt how not one person could see how attached I was to her. The problem remains that no one can see that. And in my head, I still think it's explicitly there.
Here comes a theory a cousin once explained to me (oh! The amount of distasteful memories I have of the individual. Just for the record, he's one of the top 5 reasons why I cannot trust good things can happen).
Anywho. The theory says that if someone is asleep you can wake him / her up. If someone, however, is pretending to sleep, you can't. In other words, when one denies reason, one can disprove gravity. It is that simple.

Oh yes! However, I do overcome my cowardice and publish a lot of stuff because sometimes, it's a good idea to gain perspective on the words I choose to express my point of view. Thus far, I've sucked. But, hey! It's worth trying.