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.

Denial.

I like Denial.

I have been told I am in the denial mode perpetually. And there is a reason why I like it.

I was watching this episode of house the other day. It said that following are the five stages of death: Anger, denial, bargain, depression, acceptance. Pretty much applied to anything in life in general, I'd say.

Hey! Don't judge me, not yet, not just for this. There is a reason why I like denial. And obviously, I'll explain here why..

I've been told that anger doesn't particularly help. Though, I'd beg to differ most often, but for the purpose of proving this point, let's say it doesn't. Me getting angry at others won't help me, neither would it change others. So I try not to get angry. Though, like a lot of other things, I do fail miserably at that attempt.
(If I might add, I do find anger therapeutic. It may not change the circumstances, events, environment or the perpetrator of misfortune. But it does help cleanse the frustration. Which, in a way, does help. However, I get too attached to thing, people, or my impression of these things, and people. And I do have a terribly hard time letting go. When I am angry, it is a sign of hope. Hope that things would change eventually or rather the imminent change is undone. The times that I don't get angry, well, that's when I pretend that I have given up. That, my friend, is me being a hypocrite. Trust me, every time I say that I have given up, I am only looking for a reassurance that I need not. I don't like being a hypocrite, so I attach insane amount of worldly logic to it; which, basically, is me trying to con myself into believing something that I don't intend to. Ever.)

Sigh! Random rants! Guess I am in that zone again.

Where were we?
Yeah, I try not to get angry, but I do. But it is pointless. Ergo, not helpful. Therefore, not the state one would want to be in. Not me, at least.

Stage 2: Since this is the conclusion (in a weird way, funny even). Let's park that for the last.

Stage 3: Bargain.
Ok. Here's the deal. Humans, whatever number of them that I do know, bargaining is lying. To who, is a matter of perspective. For instance, the subject of a few of my prose, was in love. Man! Was it adorable! He wrote letters, he did all the stupid things one wouldn't admit to doing otherwise. But then when it all went south, we would spend hours talking where I'd convince him that it still remains to be the best thing that ever happened to him and then there were times when I told him to let go and he'd convince himself and me that if this won't work, nothing ever shall. We were both right in our days. But the bargain, not only was it highly annoying, it was also wrong.
Primarily because we were both trying to accommodate the facts of the circumstances into the brackets of truth and myth alike. Both were trying to pretend to be wise. Both were trying to solve a situation, initially, but thereafter, both were only trying to prove oneself right. A petty thing called logic ceased to matter after a point of time.
To an extent bargaining may be constructive. But beyond a point, bargaining is an act of lying to oneself that what is not particularly your own can be clung to. It is, if nothing else, a way of pretending that if you scream something loudly enough and frequently enough, it'll become true.

Unfortunately enough, I have a pretty black - and - white impression of truth. If you need to convince anyone of your version of truth, it ain't worth it. Hence, not my favorite stage.

Stage 4: Depression

Though I keep saying things to the contrary pretty often, I am not particularly a depressing person. I listen to sad / painful music. Albeit some would even consider it soulful. I notice the sad in a situation before the glad. I, do, hold grudges against myself for trusting a few people, loving a few people and not letting go of things. Yes. Despite all of that. I am not a depressing person. When i come to think of it, I am but a child who's been forced to grow up in a world of haughty people who may not be grown up themselves, but insist that I should be. And naive that I am, under the peer pressure of needing to fit in and under the intense desire for acceptance / approval, I caved.
You know, I don't really expect much of people. I only need petty things to be happy. But I tell people that I am depressed, only so as to set the expectations low. Because, if they know that I can be happy, they will expect me to be the face of sunshine happy people are. And given the fact that I can get hurt just as easily as I can be happy, it becomes increasingly difficult to be what they expect you to be. (Yes! A lesson I learnt the hard way. You don't get it, eh? I am happy for you).
If you ask me, it is not fair to be depressed over anything. If it was to happen, it'd have. Such is life. But I guess, it'd be easier to sulk over something than it would be to get over it. So, let's just say it is a little pointless, shall we?

Stage 5: Acceptance.
Isn't this stage tantamount to conceding defeat? Accepting what you did not want to in the first place. How I can let myself stoop to this level! I am but a free spirit.
What I believe stands out about me or segregates me from the ordinary is that in a world of stones, I know that I am the glass. I tricked people for a while by being a mirror, but I guess that was such preposterous a try that I fell flat, probably even cracked myself a bit. But now, that I have resorted to being the glass, I am not allowing myself to accept anything. So this stage was never an option anyway.


There. We have dealt with all stages. All but one.

There was a movie I once saw. The girl said that she was lying to herself when she said that she had a happy life. But she was certain that she wanted to continue lying. Because that is the only way she can be happy. I was dumb at first. But when you think of it, it is deep.
I like that. I probably live a dream. But I'd rather not be woken up. I choose to live in the manner which pleases me the most. Not you, not anyone else. Me.
It is a little surprising how I can be that narcissistic. But that is something all humans are, at some level. So I am allowing myself this one little vice. It may be a lie. But I will cling to it if that is what it takes to be happy. A part of me tells me that it is unlike me. But there is this other part of me, that screams, why not!

Though one would wonder, if it really is happiness if you know it won't last for long. In my defense, one could also put forth an argument that no form of happiness, or even love, has - thus far - known to last long.
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One of those that I found unraveling when I ransacked my bag.

See you around!

Poison

It was Pranjal's birthday. She couldn't wait to see what gift had Priyanshu bought for her. She slept at night expecting to be woken up with a huge surprise in the middle of the night. She did wake up with a surprise (it was morning, almost), Priyanshu couldn't find his tie and he was running way too late for his meeting. He almost shook her..

"Pran, wake up! Please wake up!"
"What is it?", said she, with a wicked grin.
"I seem to have misplaced my tie. I know you slept late, could you please just check up my tie. I really need to rush."
"Did you check the third drawer in the cabinet, you always keep all random stuff there."
"I did. I wouldn't wake you up unless I had run out of ideas"
"Oh, c'mon", she dragged herself out of the bed, ransacked his wardrobe, and lo! the tie was there, beneath all the clothes.
"God! You're a darling!", he said as he grabbed the tie, knotted it perfectly well and rushed.
"I made you some breakfast, it's not much, though." He screamed from near the living room. And finally, "I'll probably be late from this meeting, don't wait for dinner" he screamed again as he grabbed the door.

There was acute silence. Pranjal couldn't believe this happened. She knew he wouldn't forget her birthday. He was the one to create a ruckus every year for the last 5 years. He always wanted to make it special. This time around, however, she was left stunned.
She thought the breakfast would probably be the surprise (it did not seem though, from the dry voice she had heard declare the existence of breakfast). So she struggled to walk downstairs. And there it was! Brown bread and milk. Brown bread an milk! BROWN BREAD AND MILK!!
She was angry, well, sort of. This was almost disheartening. She heard footsteps. "Oh! so this is it", she thought. Priyanshu walked back in.
"Hey there, beautiful"
"Ah! what did you forget now", she said with a tired voice, but was bubbling with excitement within.
"I forgot to tell you that you are the most adorable person I know and I will always love you."
"Aw! I think I will always love myself too."
"Yeah, Very funny. You look tired. Did you see the doctor last night?"
"Not really. I got late from work."
"Seriously! You work too much. Had I not this meeting, I'd have abducted you from work to take you to the doc. Please meet a doc today."
"This new project is keeping you busy as well, you seem to forget things these days."
"Hey hey hey, you can't say that. I came back to tell you that I love you"
"That's all that you came back for?"
"Of course, and also to tell you to eat something before you get back to your work"
"Aw! You are a sweet sweet man."
"I know. Anyway, I got to rush. See you later at night. We'll probably go for dinner this weekend."
"Sure. It's a date."

Pranjal was disappointed. She was certain it's the work that has occupied Priyanshu's mind enough. He's not the kinds to miss her birthday. She couldn't complain really. 5 years of a married life and it had been beautiful. They had met through friends of friends and "clicked" instantly. They were both insanely romantic people. Flowers, letters, movies, balloons and the works! Married life did not feel like responsibility. It was more of an elongated picnic. She had all that she could ask for. She would generally over-work at office. Priyanshu did not complain; on the contrary, he'd make her dinner and coffee and do all that he could to help her.

Their's was a pleasant life. With the exception of this day, of course. Not that it was something that would change anything between them. Pranjal knew that no matter what Priyanshu did, nothing would change. But it was a little uncomfortable for her. She was expecting quite a lot. But then she told herself, "It's nothing. He's got a lot of work."

She went to work, tiring as it was. She knew she was sleepier than usual. Surprisingly, though everyone wished her for her birthday, there was no cake, no celebration, no nothing. She quite liked it though. She liked her workplace and the people there, but was happy if it did not get personal. Since her evening meeting got cancelled, she could make the appointment with the doctor. She gave blood samples, et al. The doc did ask about her family planning: Pranjal was certain she wasn't pregnant. So, the doctor confirmed that she'll get her reports the next day.

Tired as she was, Pranjal really felt she could ask Priyanshu to come pick her up. But then, she realized, he had left early in the morning. He must have gotten really worked up. So she drove her way through. Once she reached home, she could hear people talking.
"Oh great! He's got friends over! They'll watch some ridiculous sport and I'll be serving popcorn all night. His friends aren't bad people, but not today!!!"

So she went in, and her cousin opened the door. That was a surprise! A lot of people were at home. Most of them she adored. Her friends, cousins who she really loved, everyone!
She came in, and they yelled in unison' "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
So that was why Priyanshu ran off in the morning. He was rushing to the airport to pick people up. All her close friends from office were there too, apparently, they were all instructed to do nothing at work.

They had a great time together. At about 10 o'clock, Pranjal got a call. It was the doc. She was stunned for a minute. Everyone saw her change. Priyanshu took her in a corner and inquired.
"It was the doc."
"What did she say?"
"I've something. it's serious."
"What?"
"I've a kind of a tumor in my stomach."
"God! But tumors are operable, these days, I know they are. You'll be alright"
"No No, I can't operate the tumor now"
"Then what do we do?"
"I'll have to keep the tumor in me for now. It'll come out, later."
"Is she insane! I don't think she is a good doctor. How can you keep a tumor in you."
"Everyone does."
"Are you nuts? I don't care, we're taking you tomorrow to meet Shyam uncle. He had a tumor, somewhere. He's gotten it removed. It'll all be alright. he's doing fine now.It'll be ok. I'll take you to all the doctors that there are."
"Ok. Ok. Calm down. This is that other kind of tumor."
"What is an other kind of tumor?"
"The kind that grows a heart and limbs and all the organs in my stomach. Then it'll come out for us to play with.We'll name the tumor, and buy dresses and toys. You know what it means, don't you?"
"Yeah, right. That means something. Lady! go to bed. We're meeting doctors tomorrow." (He was a little angry now)
"Priyanshu, that is no way to talk to a pregnant woman."
"You don't tell me how to talk to a pregnant woman."
There was silence.

Priyanshu yelled the loudest cry he could.
"You mad woman! If you weren't pregnant, I'd have murdered you right now."
They laughed together.
All the family was told.
Later at night, Priyanshu held Pranjal close and thanked her immensely.
"Pran, you have no idea how happy I am."
"Oh shut up already! I am happier than you, I think."
"It's not possible"
"Are you sure about this?"
"What do you mean, there is no way anyone can be happier than what I am right now"
"No, no, nonono.. I mean, are you sure we are ready to be parents?"
"Of course we are. We have enough savings. You probably will need to take some time off your office, but financially that won't be a problem. And I'll take the best care of you and your child. Our child."
"Yes yes. No one doubts that. But I don't know."
"You don't want to have a baby now?"
"It's not that."
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I guess the mood swings thing has begun."
They laughed it off again and slept.

Priyanshu was over excited from then on. He always bought munchies for his Pran, saying she'll need to eat stuff in the midnight. Their mothers took turns at staying over at their house to give Pranjal company and to take care. But more often than not, Pranjal wasn't around to be taken care of. She did not start her maternity leaves. Pranjal had had this discussion with Priyanshu earlier.
"Why do you still work?"
"Because I don't have to be at home. I'm pregnant, not handicapped."
"I know what you are. But you need to rest."
" I don't have to rest. I think I will once this project is completed."
"You always have projects! Have you even spoken at office about leaves?"
"I have, just not seriously"
"God! Pran, are you even serious about this? If you don't get a start date to your leaves, I will personally talk to your boss."
"Oh, shut up, will you? That won't be necessary. I'll start on the maternity leaves the day the 5th month begins."

The moms stopped coming over. It was just Pranjal and Priyanshu. He took great care of her, whenever she was at home. Other than her not resting enough, they really enjoyed this wait to parenthood.

Priyanshu painted a spare section of the house. He added a lot of photo frames, with pictures of various members of the family. He even bought the toys and a cradle. It was bad omen, his mom told him. But his excitement knew no bounds. He would chide his Pran some days, "I feel only I'm going to be the parent." She would smile back.

They thought of names. Pran suggested that the kid's initials will also be with a "P", since both of their names started with the same letter, but they wanted a simple name. Thus they spoke of it forever, Priya, Prachi, Panchi, et al for a girl and Piyush, Pancham, Puneet, Pranav and the likes. Sometimes, Priyanshu, the funny man that he is, used to say that they should name the kid Poison. It was a unisex name, after al; Priyanshu would say.
There was this one day Priyanshu was annoyed, "Pran, I cannot think a name. And you don't really seem to be helping."
"What is the hurry? The baby won't need a name for months now."
"But we need to think of one, what would you call the baby when you see your child the first time? I don't want the kid to be called by a million stupid names till we can find a good name!!"
"Why, we'd call the baby Poison, won't we?"
They burst out laughing.

Priyanshu was elated for months. He had already bought everything that the kid and Pranjal would need. IIt was the first childbirth for both the families. The mothers would keep worrying about how Pranjal was not really resting / exercising like she should. Priyanshu was equally worried, but he would act like it was nothing. He could not get them worried after all.

It was the eighth month of her pregnancy. Pranjal was running late for her meeting. She thought, she'd rather climb up the stairs instead of waiting for the lift. It was the 3rd floor and everybody kept saying that she needed exercise. She had a lot of papers in her hands and was literally running. And there! She felt like her water broke. In the adrenalin rush, she missed a step and fell. A lot of people heard he scream and came to aid.

The people in the office knew her, quite well. They called Priyanshu and an ambulance. Priyanshu got so worried, he could not breathe for a minute.
Priyanshu felt the time couldn't pass outside the opertaion theater. His mother came, "It'll all be ok." He burst into tears. He knew it'll be fine. He wanted it to be fine. He was scared.
Pranjal's mother, a pessimist, was muttering all throughout. "She never sits at a place. She is so restless. What if something happens to the baby!"
"Nothing will happen," he said (almost screamed), "everything will be fine."
The doc came out. The look on her face spoke dismal tidings. Priyanshu wished, for a minute, that the doc never reaches him.
But she did.
"Pranjal is alright," she said, "but I'm really sorry, we could do nothing for the kid."
"No!!!"
"The kid was too weak from the stress. We could have done nothing that would have saved him."
"It was a boy,  eh?"
"Yes, it was."
Priyanshu ran towards Pranjal. She must have been devastated. He did hear the ladies talk behind him, something that meant that Pranjal's irresponsibility killed the baby. But he did not care. He knew her Pran had lost what she prized most. He knew she must be crying a river.

He knocked on the door. there wasn't a response.
He opened the door.There she was, still as a statue, quite to his surprise. He walked right in. He thought he'll have to console her. He held her hand.
"It's ok," said she, "We'll be fine. It all is destiny, after all. We'll have another kid, soon enough."
Priyanshu could not speak a word. He was not just heart-broken with it all, he was also aghast. He could not  believe she was so calm. He was rather unhappy to see her this composed.

"How could she!" He wondered, "as if it meant nothing to her. Everybody else is so hurt. But her. could it be..."

Days passed. Things were never the same for Priyanshu. He did not go to work. Quite frankly, he did not leave the apartment. He was sit for hours together with the toys he had bought for the kid.
"You should move away from these. Lets go somewhere pleasant." Pranjal said.
"Yes, we probably should."
"I'll plan something, then? Let us make it a surprise"
"You know, Pran, I wonder, I have bought so many things I want to cling to, even after so many weeks, why don't you cling to  something, anything, anything at all?"
"You need to move on, Priyanshu. It has been 3 weeks. You would not be able to move your mind off your baby unless you try and get busy elsewhere."
"Yes, Pran, it was my baby. Clearly. Because, you seem to have had no trouble moving on. Yes, I am sulking, and that is because my baby died. How do you cope up with it? How is it so easy for you? I don't think I will be able to move on any time soon. And guess what, I notice you don't really have anything to cling to because you did not get a thing. I don't even remember seeing you excited about the baby. Our baby."
"How could you!"
"Oh! So there, at least now I can see you cry. I almost wondered if you have been so stunned by it all that your tears dried up. Apparently not. you can cry if someone hurts your ego. But somehow, your baby dies and you become the statue of ice. Oh wait, I'll correct myself. I think it was my baby that we are talking about."
"Really, that would have made you feel better, seeing me cry?"
"I am not sure, Pranjal, but I was really hoping for some emotion. I don't remember seeing any."
"Priyanshu, you cannot blame it on me for not crying."
"Oh yes. Oh yes. I would definitely not blame it on you because you did not cry. But how did my baby die, might you explain? You know normal women take maternity leaves when they are due. Normal women take care of their children. Normal women do not run on stairs. Might I add, normal women, DO NOT KILL THEIR BABIES"
"You cannot do this. I did not kill the baby. It was an accident."
"Of course it was an accident. But it was not supposed to happen, you were not supposed to be at office on the day your water broke."
"For the love of God! Say no more. Say no more."
"Why, you can  run around as much as you want, and I cannot even talk. Sounds a little unfair to me."
"Priyanshu, please, listen to me. This is all this moment. I know you are hurt. But you do not have to do this."
"Oh I do not have to. But guess what! I will. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you for murdering my son."
"You know that is not true, don't you? You know I would do nothing to hurt you. I was going to be the mother of the child. I loved the child too."
"I would not be too sure of that. You did tell me once, remember, you were not sure if you wanted to have the baby, you thought you were not ready."
"That was just me thinking out aloud."
"Tell me this one thing Pran, did you really really ever want the baby?"
"Why would you ask that?"
"That is not an answer Pran. I swear I do not want to talk badly to you. You know that too. But I can't help it anymore. If you could convince me once, just once that you loved the baby as much as I did, I would be able to move on. I do not want this, but I hate you every time I think of the baby. It has been 3 weeks. I have, for the first time in my life, hated you. Please tell me you wanted to have the baby, for me to get back my peace of mind, if nothing else."
"Priyanshu, I .."
"Say it. Please. I beg of you, lie if you have to." He was almost about to explode.
" I love you Priyanshu. I would do anything for you."
"Did you want the baby? It's an objective question, dear."
One could hear nothing in the silence, but if one heard carefully enough, there was noise. Something broke.
"There, so when you say that you could do anything for me, you forgot to add conditions apply."
"Priyanshu, don't. Please."
"Pranjal, I suggest you visit your parents for a few days. I don't think I want to see you right now."
"I think it is best for the two of us to spend some time together. Just us. Let us hold ourselves together"
"Pranjal, I love you. I swear I do. But I cannot stand you anymore. Not right now, at least. Please go. Else, I will."
The conversation was over. She left.

Few months later...

Pranjal was in the train with her colleague, Neerja. They were travelling back from an official assignment, which ended successfully. Neerja was ecstatic. Pranjal, however, seemed lost most of the times that she wasn't working. No one really knew what happened with her, she wasn't really someone to talk much, and they all thought that the baby's death took a toll on her.
Pranjal was staring out the window aimlessly. Neerja, in a surprised note, "Pranjal ma'm, I am sorry for intruiding in your personal life but I think I just saw your husband, Priyanshu sir."
"You did!"
"Yes ma'm, he's sitting in the next coach. You did not know he was travelling with?"
"No I did not. Did he look ok?"
"As in..."
"Did he look ok?"
"I guess, why would you ask so?"
"I haven't seen him in months, that's why."
"I'm sorry. I did not know. I am so very sorry."
"It's ok. I haven't really told anyone about it."
"I don't want to really breach your personal space, but the two of you were so much in love and so good together. May I ask what happened?"
"Poison." and she spoke no more.

Sisters

Narayani was having a difficult time walking up those stairs. It was the 17th floor that she had to reach. Hated those days when the lift was "Out of order", which was quite often. She had reached the 15th floor and trying to motivate herself by saying, "Oh C'mon, just 32 more to go!"

She reached the flat and looked around to confirm no one was looking and keyed her way in. Manav sir would never like anyone knowing who frequents the place. He wouldn't want to keep a key either. Kanika ma'm notices everything, from what she had heard. Kanika ma'm would have seen the keys and would ask Manav sir of them. He wouldn't want that. Which is why, every Thursday, for the last 5 years, Narayani would come to the flat at 5:00 pm, after office that is, and Manav Sir come by at around 5:10. He wouldn't ring the bell, as he did not want to attract attention. Narayani had to listen to his footsteps and open the door, right in time. Earlier, she used to spray some room freshner, tidy up the room or something, but that meant he might have to wait outside and Manav Sir never liked it. So she would wait until he comes and then clean up the place a bit and then, errrrrmm, well.

Manav Sir had asked her to move in to the house a lot of times, earlier. She would have too, had it not been for her sister, Nirmayee, who lived with her.

The sisters were orphaned about 6 years ago. Narayani had just graduated and her little one was in the 9th standard. Narayani got a job at her uncle's office as an accounts assistant, but she was terrible at it. She had to cling on to the job anyway, as that was the only way to support their livelihood. There was this office across the road which once flashed an A4 size printout at the entrance saying, "Secretary required, female"
Narayani went in and was interviewed by the most impressive man she'd met, Manav Sir. At the interview, she was asked, "what all can you do?" and she thought he was asking about shorthand / typing and the likes. Narayani was selected anyway and she got a better salary to support her sister's college education. As times went by, Narayani felt that Manav Sir would make advances on her and she'd like it. Once, after an office dinner when Manav Sir was dropping her home, he confessed that he liked her a lot. She was ecstatic. She said that she liked him too. The next morning, Kanika ma'm came to office and Narayani understood that she was a little too snooty and dominating for Manav Sir, which is why their marriage can never bring bliss to him. One thing led to another, gradually time went by, and Manav Sir got a "guest-house" for the company's guests. Every Thursday since, Narayani would come to this house and they would have a pleasant time.

Earlier, it used to be highly physical. Sharma Aunty, the neighbor, once saw her come back from office late a thursday night and told her, "It is so much that you do for your sister. Your parents would have been proud of you." Narayani nodded with a tired smile. She was partially sorry about how her parents would have not been proud of her, but the "tiredness" of her smile stemmed from the throes of passion subjected towards her about half an hour ago. The passion reduced, gradually, she became more of his caretaker. She would come, massage his hair, make him tea with saccharin, sometimes, they would just wait by, listen to some of his favorite songs or watch a cricket match. She would see how Manav Sir's otherwise grim face would light up on these days. She loved to make him smile. There wasn't much pleasure to her other than that. Manav Sir, in return, would take care of her financial needs. As Nirmayee was progressing at her college, she'd need a lot more money that Narayani could budget or squeeze in for her from her monthly salary. All she needed to do was ask. Manav Sir never denied any favor.

Manav Sir was late today. Narayani sat on the couch waiting for him. She started thinking of him and the times they have faced. Manav Sir, earlier had this weird habit of hiding his shoes beneath the bed, as though someone would come and steal it while he's caressing her hair. She had to buy a small shoe cabinet for the living room just to do away with those shoes. And then there was this other time, when they'd gone to a coffee shop and his wife's cousin bumped into them. Manav Sir had to make up this story of how a colleague has quit his job and they were there to get him a surprise farewell present. There was once a wedding in his family. Manav Sir's cousin was getting married. He used to be extremely busy; did not meet Narayani for about 4 weeks. To compensate that, he got her a saaree. Narayani almost felt like his wife then. That day, by far, was the most important she had felt in a while. However, things hadn't been the same. Manav Sir had a lot of work these days and was also setting up a new branch in Delhi. He was getting annoyed way too easily of late and was spending lesser time with her. There had been a few weeks that Manav Sir would text her in the morning saying, "Cant make it tday, Sry". Narayani did not like it, but she would not want to be bothering him. She knew that absolutely nothing would change his feelings for her. She knew it was just the work. But, of late, a little fear had gripped her. Nirmayee needed to submit her project and the last date of fee submission was Monday next. She had to speak to Manav Sir. Hence, this Wednesday, she texted him saying, "Tomorrow, please, it's important." Manav Sir did not reply but she'd checked his appointment calendar. Green check at 5:00 on Thursday was a good sign.

The clock struck 5:30 and she heard footsteps. She peeped out the door-lens only to find out it was the neighboring flat. She was getting worried. Nirmayee was  an outstanding student at her college. She was also a part of the College's Drama Society. She'd gotten a job in a reputed MNC through the placement cell and was sure of getting good grades at graduation. However, non-submission of the project would mean that her results would be withheld and she'd not be able to join the office on the given reporting date. Narayani was getting nervous by the passage of every minute. At 5:45, though, her fear was put to rest. She heard familiar footsteps and it was him this time.

She opened the door, let him in and shut it really quick, lest anyone see them. She then hugged him really tight and was about to cry. He saw it, he held her close and tapped her back. In his usual caring voice, he comforted her and sat her down. She really felt he understood her. He'd gotten some chocolates and cold coffee. Before she could even ask, Manav Sir apologized for not giving her enough time these days. He also told her that he'd transferred some money to her this morning. Narayani tried to hide her relief at hearing those words, but was pretty sure that Manav Sir would have noticed.

They sat and small-talked about things, weather; indulged in a bit of office gossip. A pretty good time, one would say. Just as they rose to leave, Manav Sir remembered something. He said, "I almost forgot, we've hired a new architect. She's from another city, so I offered her to stay in this house for a while, I hope you don't mind. You'll meet her in office next week. She's a a very nice person. I really like her sense of humor and dressing. She reminds me of you, though. I mean, what you were a few years ago. I think you'll like her. She's a lot like you. You  know, you could be sisters."

And he left. For good, one would guess.

And such is love!

I love you.

There, I said it.

I love you a lot. A lot more than I can imagine. Lot more than I can tolerate, I should tolerate rather.

I saw you walk past. I saw you go away. I saw that never even turned back to see.I noticed every bit. I comforted myself saying not all people are the same; I like to see him go, he doesn't want to check if I am still there.

I even saw you fall in love. I saw you turn into a totally different person. Things that were insane and stupid with me, suddenly became cute. Things which you would find lame when I did them, you did all of those and more. I saw in you for her what I always wanted for me. I wasn't even jealous, most times. I was only glad that it happened to you.

I saw when your love fell apart. I saw when you were desperately clinging for hope onto what was a lost cause. Ironically, you chided at me for doing the same. I'm glad you finally understood what love was about. Not so glad, though, as you chose which lost cause to fight and that wasn't me.

Sigh! I still love you a lot. A lot more than I can imagine. Lot more than I can believe.

There I sat, trying to understand what went wrong with us. I tried to make all wrongs go away. Figured it was never meant to be anyways. I tried not talking to you for long. Did not work. Tried to talk to you about it. Did not work. I tried to talk to you about everything but it. Did not work. Nothing ever did. Nothing changed the way I feel about you. Like I once said, nothing ever shall change my love for you. I was only romancing you then. Ah! Little did I know.

There I sat, once I told you to cling to the girl. You listened. Next time you fought, I told you to end it with her. You did not listen. Never was I ever sure of what did I want. Never was I ever sure of what did you want. Never could I surmise why would you ask my opinion. I was difficult. Each time, was it not? For me, it was, to listen to you tell me how you loved her so. How you would by all means leave no stone unturned, which wasn't even worth the effort or a try once, earlier.

There I sat, when you wronged her. You were on the verge of doing the same to her, that you did to me. I saw, told you to not do so. I wasn't sure if you'd listen. But you did. I still am not sure if I should feel good or not.

Alas! I still love you a lot. A lot more than I can imagine. Lot more than I ever thought I could or would.

Do you even realize? You make a hell lot of difference to me. You mean a lot. If only half the feelings were reciprocated, I'd be happier than I have ever been. But it was not to be. Ironically, I guess you feel that way about your girl. I wish, for your sake, that she could see you through my eyes. But hey! That is not to be. I don't think anyone has loved anyone as insanely as this. Ever. I guess no one should.

I know it hurts. I know it is not worth it. I know it's pointless. And I know it is. And it shall always be.

Ironically though, I'd once wished for you to fall in love. Guess I should have been more specific about who with. Guess I should have known better. Guess I should have believed in my own wishes.

And yet, I love you. A lot more than I can imagine. Lot more than anyone would. Lot more than I can.



Read a lot of stuff of late. It's sort of a combination of stuff. Probably makes sense. Probably doesn't. There are quite a few unpublished pieces here. I'll clean them up and start publishing more frequently. I swear.

Anyways,
See ya around.

About a boy

From the eyes of a silent, invisible spectator, brushing through the pages in the Book of Time:

There he is!

Oh! Look at the bundle of joy. Look at the blessedness he brings to the family. Did the father want a girl-child, I know not. Did the elder child frown at him, I know not. What I look at is the glow in the parental eyes. What I look at is the world of good he does, henceforth. What I wish is that the world be at his feet, if he so desires. What I see is the tiny fingers and toes, the glow that he brings with himself, the way he looks at the world and the way the world looks at him, as the years pass by.

There he is! That’s him!

How adorable has he become. Don’t you just love the way time has left his innocence unscathed? Wretched are the souls that bully him. “You are too fat”, they said. “You’re funny”, they said. Oh! Leave him alone, will you? He’s just a boy. He’s just in school. What difference does it make? His first tryst with the world, and what did it do to him? They bullied him much. They made him pity. He did not want it. He did not deserve it. What am I to do now?
I see him make the face, each time. I see him fight back, each time. I know he can, I know he will. But why? He’s not to change himself for those wretches, is he? Ah! What do you know? He was hurt. He behaved otherwise. He gave away the fat, and a bit of his soul – the part which could interact, forgive. Neat barter, eh?
Before I know it, he was struck. Before he knew it, it left him with a mark.

There he is! I think.

There is a faint change though. He’s an adolescent, mind you. He interprets the world in his own eyes. Just like cattle that strays and grazes throughout, but finds its way home every evening to seek peace, so does he. Something’s wrong, I sense it.He lacks trust, whatever was left of it.Things have left him scarred. I sense betrayal. I sense disguise.I can see that his folks feel he’s astray. He doesn’t. Nor do I.

I can see people judge him. He can see it too.
It did not happen in a day. It’s been over a course of time. I don’t even know what happened. He’s seen death, maybe. He’s seen the ugly faces of people, has he? The murk that the world brings along. He’s seen it all. He’s judged it all. All figured in his head. He knows. He’s gotten sharper by the day. He seems to have seen evil in all that he has come across. He knows. How I wish he did not, but he does. It has been for good, one may reckon. It may be thought of as a part of growing old, eh. But I have seen the innocence. I have seen the unblemished trust, the faith, that I shall see no more. It feels different to see him now. He’s a better, smarter person, most definitely. He’s grown taller. Do I hear a sigh as the
curious eyes scan living objects. But something’s amiss. For the good. I guess, I hope. Yet, there shall be various times in future when I’d wish I could have protected him from this good.

There he is! That should be him.

But what do I see? He was believed astray. He proves them wrong. He attempted to align himself with the norms of the society. He’s attempting. Success played hard-to-get. He drew imaginary walls around him, all around him, in defense. He disguised himself as the guy who can manage, even when he was about to crack out open. “I’m not here,” he said, “this ain’t happening,” he said. I could hear him. I got worried. But I knew, he’ll do good. He worked his way towards it. And good he did. He managed to be the one who scaled equal, if not better, amongst the rest. From the evil that he had seen, he learnt to compete, he learnt logic, he learnt it all the hard way, but he did. When I look at him now, I feel, he’s seen good and evil: in proportions that he could handle, most times.

But look at him! He’s humble, intelligent and shall be successful too. He’s been rebuked so much that he thinks it’s no problem when others laugh at him anymore. He’s been scared and scarred by people much, he needs no one. The mistakes that he made have made him a planner. He knows what can go wrong, prepares for the worst and handles it with such ease. And that’s not even the best part. He’s been hurt so much, that nothing hurts anymore. He’s so controlled that he can tackle emotions and yet, he can communicate his mind. There are times I get a doubt that he knows what he wants. That be a
gift, mind you!

I can’t not feel proud when I see him thus. Was I a fool to worry? All virtues came to him, dabbed in vices. The boyhood was a steep price to pay. Yet, it was worth it. Partially, I don’t know him anymore.
But, well, it’s all good at the end, so they say.

There he is! Wait, is that him?

Is he even the boy I saw once? I can see the occasional twinkle, the rare spark of joy, beneath the solid crust of flesh and bones. Why, life gave him battles. Little did I know, he’d martyred a little bit of himself at each battle. I figure it’s pointless trying to find in the next pages. I wonder if I’d even be able to recognize him.


My heart beguiles, I know not why. And yet! I love him till I die.