Euphoria III

Read Euphoria II here.

They had come quite some way from the grand entrance; leaving the city capital behind, seemingly walking together now along the lush border. His pace was fast but firm, hers had substantially increased but cautious still. Anybody watching them from a distance would have noticed how she’d been trying to keep up with him. Step by step. Stealing blushful glances on him. Curling her fingers firm around his hand every time they’d slip lose. She was unaware of where they were heading, and unaware she chose to remain. Her heart had found a genuine guide, directions concerned her no more. She had handed her trust, the only possession that ever belonged with her, to him. She was convinced he’d keep it safe. She was sure, he’d not let go of her hand that he had bravely held. Despite them being unusually similar, there were differences that both were aware of. To him, they secretly mattered. But on her part, she was confident.

***

He weighs everything that comes his way, she takes as it is offered. He believes she expects him to be like that huge mountain range of red sand that protects the city of Euphoria, taking the changing weathers and unpleasant raids of time all on itself; hard and still. She on the other hand maintains him like a thick bank of cloud, which is soft and moving, sheltering her from the ruthless sun; and when it’s grey and heavy with gloom, it trusts her enough to pour down all its pain upon her. She rather conceives him that way, than to be unmoving and lifeless like a mountain that lacks the ability to trust and in its sheer arrogance idealizes itself to be self sufficient. She wants him to be like that flexible cloud which knows moving in isolation wouldn’t take it nowhere; which knows how its existence would plainly evaporate in the hollow wind should it hold on within itself. That free spirited bank of cloud which will top all the mountains and cross all the valleys, together with her. That is how she wants him to be. He is, however, far from knowing. And she is yet to tell.

She still gets intrigued by the sight of young pollens twirling with the wind. She still catches the flying feather between her fingers. She solemnly holds her breath if ever a fallen star shoots by. She still collects the beach leaves and looks up to him to complete the wish spell, like he used to. But he correctly remembers that no more. She would throw tiny red hollies playfully at him. He would seldom respond. She would heartily pluck and toss lavender alyssums to him, he would only smile. It secretly surprises her how little things as these no more appear meaningful to him. And how that which she doesn’t quite approve of, charms him. She brings herself to terms with this anyhow, remembering the vow she had made that evening: a little sacrifice for each others’ happiness, a little patience through a time tough and a time unfavorable.

The weather has changed pretty much ever since the city capital has been crossed. The sky is no more blue. The crispy winter hail keeps blowing, with a rough shower every now and then. Her satin gown is soaked and her henna painted feet are now covered in mud. The kohl has washed out, leaving uneven black smudges below her eyes. Her hair that was made beautifully adorned with pink jasmines and white lilies, is now damp and flowing loose. To him, she looks ethereal all the same. Or so she believes. Nothing matters to her as long as she has him next with her. Neither the rain, nor the wind. Neither her kohl smudged eyes, nor her messed up hair. Neither his forgetfulness, nor his sudden soberness. She had left all the strings behind that ever tied him. Or so she thought. For her, nothing had changed much. She was still completely in the state of Euphoria, still rejoicing the festivity of their togetherness. For her, the magic had remained.

For him, however, the change in weather brought a change in design. The river fell into stillness. He came to a sudden halt. His face was clouded. What it meant, she couldn’t fathom. But soon enough, she learned what would follow. He looked deep into her eyes, touched her soul, and breaking a vow of never leaving, he vowed to return. Stunned and numb, all she managed to muster up was a faint smile.

Why she made no attempt to stop him, because he had already warned her. She was, yet again, proven wrong for thinking he acknowledges her little authority that she believes to have developed on him over this journey. With every step that he made away, she was driven deeper into a shell. Receiving the meaningful blows of pouring rain, she collapsed down at a fallen log and fixated her eyes at his shrinking image. He glanced back at her for one last time –something broke inside her –and without a word, without a sign, in the middle of an unknown journey, leaving her all on her own –he disappeared around the corner…

From now onwards, she will no more delight in slumber. She will now wait. Wait for the sky to turn blue again. Wait, for him to return.

Read Euphoria IV here

You.

I wonder, if anybody has ever told you, how lovely you look with that broad upward curve that plays around your lips. I wonder, if you’re ever told about your ethereal beauty whenever you wear red, or that when you apply kohl around your shiny black eyes it enhances their beauty. Tell me, has anybody ever told you that?

 

It is the spark in your eyes, the blush in your smile, and your careless laughter that has won my heart.

Rediscovering

The story of my life can be told as simple. Not much crossroads or anything spectacular; a bundle of mistakes, a bunch of special events and a chain of memories. Everything simple and ordinary, yet cherishable –probably because I take life as it is offered. Everyday.

I remember things quite well. All the people I’ve met all this way are stored in that specific corner of my mind. I relish all the activities and moments that I’ve shared with them. There are people who have stained the canvas of my life with some dull gloomy shades, but the multiple strokes of unique shades are brighter to outshine them. I had, however, forgotten the little details that I had then noticed but somehow slipped away.

Then, a few fine days ago, when clearing my closet, I found some old journals. Or should I say a collection of journals and what I used to call “slam diaries.” The multi colored slam diaries that I had created almost a decade ago. And I (almost) jumped and (almost) danced in the rain (if it were raining) like Anjali Sharma (if only I were)! The shackles holding nostalgia were loosened and memories came about gushing! It suddenly occurred to be for how I used to make such journals recording each day’s episode and diaries having questions, demanding autograph and a ‘signature’ in the end. But, what brought a smile to my face is that it provided me a sketch; a chance to revisit the lane that I had crossed ages ago and recollect the details that had slipped away.

Leaving the closet unclear, I sat at the messy maroon marble floor with colorful diaries scattered around, laughing at my own ‘creativity’. The vague handwriting, the irregular patterns at the bottom of almost every page, the extra-long signature and some hilarious questions that were asked with the sense of great intellect. Like, “what is your favorite vacation spot?” “If you get a chance to go to Sindbad and get a free ticket for the whole day for that one ride, which one would it be?” (And almost everybody answered ‘the crazy bus’, including myself). Or questions like, “if you were an alien, which planet would you be from?” “Which are your favorite color, drink, dessert, and flower?”  And the winning question: “how do you like to dress for occasions? A) Simple. B) Decent. C) Too fancy. D) Accordingly.” WHAT EXACTLY WAS I THINKING! LOL! 

The journals contained series of random events that meant so much, back then. I recorded in July 2003, for how amazing and ‘exciting’ my day had been since we went out for dinner at Usmania Restaurant and later had “four scoops” of chocolate crunch ice-cream from “another” restaurant. (Yes, I had emphasized on ‘another’). In October 2003 I recorded how much I love doodling with crayons and that putting random strokes using bright paints make me happy. Another journal contained all my 'sad' thoughts and rambling that my parents don't love me and stuff like, I think I'm an adopted child (the reason being the arrival of my twins brothers and attention being diverted from me being the only child to the additional troublesome two).
In February 2004 I confessed how much I love the people who are in my life and the friends who make my world so beautiful. December 2004 I had expressed my grief for this year that has gone too soon. There were various recordings of such ordinary things from the year 2002-2005 in different journals which are irregular and incoherent.

But then again, it was not just a handful things, it was an entire portray of somebody that I used to be, that was washed out with time. Probably that was why I always felt like I lost certain parts of myself and bits of my life. Probably that was why if somebody asked my favorite color or zodiac sign it would feel weird and ‘childish’. Probably that was why having a cup of coffee or ‘four scoops’ of ice-cream seemed usual and ordinary. Probably that was why somebody’s departure would trigger an unknown feeling. Perhaps that was why paints and crayons were used rarely without a spark of joy. In short, probably this was the answer to that knowingly unknown question that kept hitting but never really came to me, and that was why I didn’t ask.
The portfolio containing one major era of my life that was covered in dust, hidden under piles of other note books and journals was found once again, at the right time. Rereading them somehow helped me retain the purpose. It also mirrored the contrast between who I used to be and who I’ve become.

 The reason I sat down to shape this ordinary (as it may seem) incident to words is pretty simple. There is always a way to find yourself back again. Go back and indulge yourself back again into whatever that stirs your curiosity and brings you joy. You might uncover the brilliant you or rediscover what has long been lost. Or maybe able to undust what used to be the better-you. It is never too late for anything.

Airport

Faces. Happy faces and sad faces. Anxious faces and worried faces. Faces glowing with excitement, faces dimmed with despair. Hundreds of faces and hundreds of lives; hundreds of stories, hundreds of emotions, and hundreds of light bulbs. Yes, light bulbs. It was around 8:30 in the evening and here I was, standing in bright light, totally exposed, among hundreds of strangers at the airport arrival lounge.

As much as airports fascinate me, equally, I find them confusing. They make me wonder. Like, where to go? Where’s the washroom? Where am I supposed to wait? What do those big black screens flashing numbers indicate?

 Or, why is coke’s disposable and club sandwiches so expensive than usual here at the airport? And that one particular fear that always get to me: How am I going to find my person that I’ve come for? Or how are they going to know where I am? What if I am waiting in the wrong lounge? What if they never found me? What if I got lost somewhere here? –Pure paranoia. Childish paranoia.

So yeah, here I was, with that particular fear, standing consciously in the middle. Her flight’s time was 8:45, so I decided to take a seat at the waiting instead of making a fool of myself. So, very carefully I walked to the series of jet blue seats that were fixed to the ground –smart, I complimented –and joined other people who were already seated there. Just as I sat down, I secretly expressed my dismay at the plastic seats. Couldn’t they have kept foamy couches instead? That would’ve been more comfortable. Totally inconsiderate management. I took my compliment back. And probably I wasn’t the only one who found those plastic seats uncomfortable. The uncle sitting next to me had the same annoyed expression. Or maybe, I was over-thinking, just so I may not feel alone.

Actually, airport is the only place where you can never be alone. People are continuously coming and going, arriving and departing; personifying our world, our lives. Smiles exchanged at the arrival, tears shed at the departure; like happiness is shared when a new member is born, and despair is absorbed when a dear one dies. From one destination to another; lives in constant motion…

My thought processes were interrupted by the loud cries of a kid –such a shrill irritating voice it was! I couldn’t help but turn around to see what’s wrong with her. Dressed in a light blue printed frock, she had tears rolling down here plump cheeks. Her hair which was a mixture of golden and copper color was tied neatly in two ponies. I would’ve called her cute had she not been crying like this. I saw her mother and immediately realized from where the girl has inherited such beautiful hair. She called a boy who was playing at the elevators; he was most definitely her elder brother. The mother asked him to take his little sister to the elevators. And I already guessed the reason for why she must be crying. He held her tiny pink hand in his with affection, and walked her to the elevators. For some unknown reason, I followed them with my gaze. They stepped on the elevator together with a bunch of other crazy children. I watched in amusement, how her tears vanished, her lips twitched and curved up into a smile –the smile was distracted when for a second she lost her balance, her brother quickly took her hand again– the smile returned, and I smiled with her. It’s true; sometimes all we need is that one hand to hold –that one hand, which could save us from falling. Sometimes all we need is that assurance that at least somebody’s there to watch over us. A little assurance, that no matter what, that one hand will always be there, to guide us out of dark, to help us walk through the foggy lanes, to mend us and help us run in one piece all over again. It’s true, that one hand can really save us from falling…

They came running and screaming in joy from the other elevator, debating over who will push the luggage trolley when grandfather would arrive. I smiled again. Those kids over there represented a part of my childhood that is long lost…

Hundreds of shades of life; all exhibited together at one place.

My eyes were moist, because when I looked up to see who it was, the picture was blurry. It took me a little time to realize that she had finally arrived, and had found me.

Over A Hot Cup Of Coffee

I sit here with a mug of coffee in my hand, digging my freezing toes deep in the blanket to make them warm. As I listen to the mysterious sound of winter wind at this hour of the night; there are some strange thoughts running in my mind. Concentrating on the steam of my coffee dissolving in the cold air, I realized how the wheel of time once again completed its number of revolutions and yet another year came to an end. 2012, ended. The year, which was prophesied to bring massive changes to the entire world. About the world, I'm not sure; but for me, 2012 indeed has been a year of massive destruction. Some insane blunders and terrible mistakes. Some intentional ruins and some unanticipated consequences. Some unnecessary revelations and some needed revivals.
You know, when you earnestly ask them, who are sitting above the seven skies, to answer you a question that you are so depending upon; they ultimately respond. I wanted to know where this story would end, and I got my answer. Not only did I get my answer, I also learned to move on. I realized, that sometimes letting go and moving on is the best cure against all those shadows that keep hovering over you.
Its 7th of January, 2013; and the story has concluded. So this is how the story was supposed to end. A good ending, I suppose. No remorse, no blames, even no pain. Because this is what I had asked for. I rather feel sick thinking how disgusting certain people are. Neither do I regret anything, because I did no wrong. I hadn't lied, I hadn't played, I hadn't rushed. I had believed, and believing is no wrong. And surprisingly, I'm doing so much better. So much better than I had thought. I am feeling normal, which I had not felt for a long time. My life couldn't be more good than it is right now. I feel peaceful. I have my people around, my family, my good old friends. I couldn't feel more normal.
The past year was awful in every possible way. It turned me into somebody I was sure I'd never be. It made me somebody I never wanted to be.
Now, If you really ask me, deep down, I know that New Year does not mean life-would-change-and-things-will-fall-back-to-normal; but I still make myself believe that New Year calls for a new start; hence, here I am, thankful to them who are the owners of this universe for showing me my way just at the right time. The story that wasn't meant to be has ended, and new year has just began; what could be a better time than this for a new and a better start? Now is the time, to start collecting pieces of myself that I had let go for a cause that wasn't even there. Now is the time, to get back to be myself.
A little break, some all-time-favorite movies, a happy time with my family and some healthy laughter with good old friends is all I need to prepare myself. I'm not looking forward to make no mistakes, I'm looking forward to make better memories.

And wait, I just realized I wasted my coffee in writing this reflection without ever taking a single sip! I hate cold coffee! Damn. Is this how you head towards a positive start? With a cold coffee? No. Something always has to go wrong. Story of my life.

Bizarre

....Because I was caught talking to myself aloud, like a complete retard...

If there was a trend in Pakistan of seeing a psychiatrist, my parents wouldn't have wasted time in giving a second thought to the idea! They strongly believe that I’m in severe need of counseling; 5 sittings, minimum.

---And I wouldn't say no if they really take me. Like seriously.

Things are bizarre. -Again; And I'm a total fool. ---I guess we all are; at some time in our life, we all are.

I Have A Wish. :)

"Because there's no wrong in wishing upon a star."

The Unseen Didn't Miss It

It was an overcast day at university; I was walking down the block towards the parking. Too occupied, wandering into the shell of my own with an internal debate going on about the various sorts of battles I am into. Maybe I’m not happy. Dizziness would seldom leave me these days, and it was just back! Despair started to settle down.

This didn’t happen! No no no! This didn’t happen! Even when you’ve learned to have it right, to move on, to look over –why would you feel this way now? Are you not at the extreme of inconsistency?! Think again. Think again. This can’t be. Enough weird happenings! It’s not in my hands! It’s absolutely not! Oh, so you won.

I was finally numb, my legs refused to take me any further, I thought I'd collapse. There was nobody around and I was thankful. I didn't want any stranger to come and ask me what's wrong, didn't want to start crying and look like a total fool in front somebody and then spend rest of my university years hiding from that person. The road was littered with dead leaves and feathers and dispersed pollens. If this was an ordinary situation and I were in my normal senses, I would've started designing patterns with those. But it wasn't an ordinary situation and my senses were stiff. To avoid falling down, I finally sat at the footpath facing the road, with my right hand against my chest (cause when anything would go wrong, an unidentified feeling would boil up into my chest, my heart would start to sink and instinctively my hand would reach up there to calm it). My hand was shaking, and it was then when I realized I haven't eaten anything since almost two days now. Sigh. I felt unusually weak. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally weak. Pathetically weak. I was dragged into another twister of thoughts. What have I become? A total emotional disaster! I sat there with my head resting at my knees; my right hand never moving from my chest. My breathing was still shallow. How long will all this go on? How am I ever going to be the way I was? Wish there was an escape... Life is weird. Life is unfair. I hate this.

I was running lethargically in vague circles in my mind, complaining and sulking. My traitor tears didn't miss a chance to betray me like everybody, they came out rolling. My knees were soon wet with my tears.
I felt a sudden change in the wind. It was soft and cool now. I looked up and saw that the clouds were ready to pour down. The breeze became a bit fierce, making the pollens on the road twirl. And soon enough, there was a number of pollen twisters twirling and whirling on the road. My thoughts were gone, I was now staring absently at the twirling pollens and dead leaves. Round and round they went, weightless and free. I started twirling and whirling with them in my imagination. It started to drizzle. Soft and buoyant drops, each making me feel a little more alive. Each slowly dodging away the dizziness. I wish it may start raining hard. I wish it may start raining heavy. The more hard would be the blow of rain, the more alive will I feel, and feeling alive was everything I wished for that instance. I was going round and round in my imagination, moving slowly slowly in the spray of water coming from heaven, the world fading behind, my eyes closed...
Every drop falling on me would generate a whole new image in my mind, I was retaining consciousness. The numbness was leaving, the dizziness was fading and my senses were active now. I was breathing normally now. I opened my eyes, and slowly moved my hand from my chest; yes, its okay now. My watch showed me its 2:30, time I get going for my van. I stood up trusting my legs, and continued walking towards the parking area.

Nature came to gather me up again. I was smiling now, thinking that the Unseen didn't miss it. The curtain of breeze passed over me, whispering gently, 'You could go on like this for few more days..'

Untitled

I look around and see different people, having different stories.

Stories happen. Every day comes with a whole new story. Your own story; and the people you see, their story. The more you'll try relating yourself with their story, the better will you understand.

However, the reason why I’m writing this post is really vague. Ever came across that urge to write, even though you’re totally out of thoughts –proper sensible thoughts –yet still, you want to sit and pen down every single chunk that’s coming into your head and its hell frustrating when you try to digest back those random circling thoughts!

Circling thoughts remind me, of how utterly tired have I become! Tired of so-many-things; tired, of everything.

The judgmental-heads would come to comment  criticize this ‘negative approach’ of mine. So to tell them, I’m not being a pessimist or some sort of looser; but the walls that I have around which I’ve built just cause of people like you out there, they happen to collapse and the concealed spills out..

What exactly am I tired of, you cannot know now, since I’m not particular about it either.

Yes, the particularities are yet to hit my head; and when they will, I won’t miss to mention them. But just to provide you with a little hint and intimate epilogue; there has been a lot happening –with me, and around me –which has again brought me to the verge of nothingness!

And again, those who’ll take the gist that I am considering my unidentifiable conflicts as world’s biggest issues, and that I’m just too insensitive to others’ problems and troubles –well, how much I wish to rip their head off just with my words and loud expression for their lame and pathetic judgment! However though, I would do no such thing but tell them enough that since they do-NOT know me; Yes, YOU donot know me, hence, you should avoid judging me just on the basis of what I appear to be!!!

This triggers a whole new topic on which I could write and write and write. I’m surely coming back on this, for how much I hate this society which I’m a part of. The mindless trends they’ve bred, and I am being victimized!

Sadly, I have no escape. Like always, I’ve ended up in this battle with a thrashing defeat on myself before society and religion.

Sighhh.

Fiction: I'd Like To See Her Again

On the far side of the park in the pouring rain, she sat at the vacant bench.

See her face, what do you see?

She fell in love; in the wrong time, in the wrong place, with the wrong person.

But could she be blamed? Since love is inevitable. It just happens; in the oddest time, with an extremely wrong person. And fate is always there to make you realize that.

She wouldn’t wince, no matter how sharp is the blow of this heavy rain falling upon her. It was like, the sharper was the blow; the more unreal would she take the pain to be. The more drenched she’d be, the more real will she find her own existence. It was like, she’s trying to make sure if she is alive or not. She was trying to put the fallen things together; herself.

Even in this dim light, I managed to see those bruises of despair on her face being dissolved into smooth lines of resignation and acceptance.

That moment, she seemed totally drowned in desolation, absolutely lifeless and dejected; puzzled and lost. And this moment, her anguish was transformed into ease. It was obvious, that she has finally submitted to her ironical fate. She has successfully put the fallen together –herself; leave alone the uncertain duration; because sooner or later, she was going to fall apart, again.

Was she crying? Or were they sigh of submission? I know not. I wanted to go up and tell her how courageous she is, to sit by her side and tap her shoulder for her braveness and endurance. I wanted to tell her how proud I am of her; of course I didn’t know here, but I felt this unknown connection between her and myself. A very powerful connection for that profound instance; because her story, was pretty much my story.

I looked up, and she was gone. When did she go, I don’t know. Where did she go, this I don’t know either; but she wasn’t there anymore.

I was left alone, with a feeling of regret to have missed a chance of talking with somebody whose story was in union with mine.

Her face revealed a story, a heart wrenching story; story of love, story of pain, story of despair, story of loss, story of separation, story of dejection –story of contentment.

I wish to God, to see her again. Yes, I’d like to see her again.

 

You know, fate could be really brutal at times. For some, it begins with misery and ends in happiness; but for some, the misery gets worst towards the end.

See

She was telling him the concept she carry about love and falling in love.

Uh, you see, I don’t understand any point when all of a sudden you state to have found some undefined feelings for a total stranger –stranger in a sense; you haven’t known him since always, right?

My idea of love comes from tragedy though. I like the concept of death in romance or some tragic reason. I know that’s weird, but the more tragic is the story the more true I perceive the love to be. Oh-kay well right, not really death; say, delay in union? Right.

Oh me? Well, that’s never happening, you see. I can’t make myself even think of it. I'm more than just sure.
Oh I don't know why is it 'not' possible.. I just think it isn't.

Though I think I would like to believe that I’m in love. Charming as it seems to be. I mean who doesn’t idealize about having an extremely super duper love story? With lots of drama, lots of romance and her very own Mr. Perfect! Since I think and idealize a lot, so I’m more likely to believe that I’m in love when probably I wouldn’t be.

The thought which sometimes trouble me is how am I going to know that if it’s really love or just my idealization? And what if it turned out to be really love which it most definitely wouldn’t, like of course; but just in case.. And and, what am I gonna do in such a situation? I mean, many social hurdles would definitely color my decision; and choices and options are something I hate! Like really hate. And what about the person who I'll fall in love with? What if he'd be just flirting and I got serious? I'm not sure if I'll even survive a heart break! I'm likely to get serious, you see. Not even knowing if this is what I want or not. Sadly somewhere I do identify with that particular school of thought which naturalize love. Pure impact of this mindless society!

Oh well, that bothers me too much at times. So yeah, my love story –if I get any –it should be just awesome! I just don't know how am I going to know? I just hope everything happens like it does in fairy tales. I am much in love with the idea of falling in love.

All this while when she was talking, he had his eyes on her. Now that she stopped talking; he didn't know what to say, just too amused as he was. Though coming from the beginning towards the end, he didn't miss the gradual contradiction of views she had.
He was smiling now, at his own certainty which was proportional to her uncertainty. He knew exactly what it was.

This Is Not My Story

The trails and hues I talked of;

The shades of grey and the tinges of gold –no more do I see any.

The charm encircling me no more; no more should I search for it either.

The magic is there, better I conceal it; and crush the aureole –for that’s not supposed to happen.

And that shouldn’t happen; for this isn’t my story.

Change the track and switch the path;

However though, neither would help.

Remember I will, always; somewhere on this way, I got lost –and never was found.

So much of mist, so much of haze;

–So much of uncertainty, so much of nothing.

In the wrong time, in the wrong circle; I stand, in the middle of nowhere.

Step back and retrieve, I should; for this is not my story.

Fiction: Wish Fulfilled

......... "Hahah! Oh theres no way I'm ever falling in love!"
 -"Well, when did I say 'falling in love'? I'm talking about experiencing a heart break."
 "There isn't much of a difference to it, or is there?"
 -"Well.. There is."
"Fine then, I want to experience a heart break."
-"No, you don't. Trust me."
"Really? Why not?"
-"Its the most painful experience."
"How much painful?"
-"Beyond your imagination."
"Really?"
-"Really."
"Cool. I still want to experience a heart break."
-"Think before you make a wish, silly!"
"Haha, Oh come on! I'm gonna experience a heart break only when I'll be in a relationship, and theres no way I'm ever going in a relationship."
-"Its not about being in a relationship, its about being in love."
"And I'm never falling in love, like I said."
-"You never know. You can't be sure."
"Haha, nah. I'm more than just sure. Thats never happening.."

And here I am. My wish fulfilled.

Fiction: Deceptive She Is

I was sitting in the pleasant lobby, which didn’t seem pleasant to me –not now anyway. The internal dilemma was never ceased, continuously poking my tear glands; tough battle was going on when she came up to me. That typical mocking smile of hers,
 'So the coward is sitting here. Hiding herself! You are such a perfect epitome of good-for-nothing.' 

Criticism and mockery is what I’ve got always, and honestly, I've become immune to many things but this! Everytime I get criticized or mocked, it hurts more than ever.

'You are demoralizing me!' My voice shaking, 'I can't.. I just can't..' The battle came to an end and I broke down sobbing.

‘See see! This is what I call a perfect coward! Afraid-of-everything. What are you afraid of I don’t even know!’

'Them! Its them I’m afraid of! What will they say? What will he think? How is she gonna react? No, I’m better off a coward!'  My sobbing fastened. As gradually as I was realizing every word to be absolutely true –my heart was sinking deeper, the pain was getting intense. I was flooded with tears, and my breathing was getting shallow; shallower.

‘Oh ofcourse! Haha, your they are just amazing. See, baby you are! You started with minor deception and look here, how brutally self deceptive you have become!’

'Whats wrong in that? Not knowing is better than –'

‘Are you serious? You don’t know? You really don’t know?! Hahah! Deceptive! This is what I call deceptive. Could you do anything? Anything? I doubt that honey. You just sit here, make your own philosophical theories and weep.’

I got control. A little. Every word of her was hardening me in a soft way, because I was realizing. Realization with a soothing pain. I knew I was being deceptive, and I had my reasons. But here, to this person, I didn’t want to explain anything. All this while, whenever I opened up to people, they failed to understand. They failed to figure out. And theres noway she could understand. The feeling was piercing enough to provoke a whole new tsunami of tears. I sighed, and the tears went back to where they came from.

 'Absolutely.' I answered with severe tolerance.

No more I had the strength to take any more mockery. I was fine with my decision. Never walking up, never accepting. This wasn’t my time, and for the first time in my life, I knew right. For the first time in my life, I was right; or sort of right.

*   *   *   *   *
And standing here, under the open sky, sea before me, the despair crawled up and again occupied my chest..

Sometimes, its better to keep it to yourself, better to hide. Its better to close your eyes.. I know that I should know, but then could I un-know? -No. 

The pain of not knowing is tenderly better than the pain of knowing. Deception is my way of living.

I see nothing before me now and I feel nothing within me now; except the thorny feeling that nobody, nobody could ever know....

The retreating waves in their thrilling voice, whispered to me ‘think no more; just dream, dreamer.’

I sighed.

Bliss

"The glow less eyes, the vacant heart, the world magic less;
My sun trapped behind the dreary clouds, leaving me hopeless!
I was sure but no I was wrong; patient I wasn't and patient I should have been.
It was time!
The light did come;
Straight from heaven –straight to me; to guide me through, to lead me free!
Yes, I feel alive.
Now, I'm alive."

Weather on 24th of Jan, 2012.

I wouldn't know

In life, we come across many different people. But not necessarily do they stay with us.

Believer of unseen as I am, I hereby believe, that all those people with whom I came across in my entire life, does have a relation with me. No matter even if for the tiniest second we met, since we did come across, our lives did interfere. I may not remember them and they might not remember me, But He who is almighty, does know it all. And since He knows it all, we know it all. Even if I wouldn’t know, and even if I couldn’t see it happening, Somewhere, I would know still.

I see a man, and I might not ever see him again, and one day when he’ll be dying, I wouldn’t know.

I see a baby girl smiling to me, and I might not ever see her again, and one day when she’ll be getting married, I wouldn’t know.

Some friends I have, we might not stay in touch forever, and one day when they’ll miss me somewhere, I wouldn’t know.

One day, like this, it would be I who would die unlearned, unknown. And people wouldn’t know who I was really, what were my thoughts really. I would be gone, forgotten. But they wouldn’t know ever..

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