Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Of New Beginnings and Ends...

It's that time of the year again when everyone is talking about new beginnings. But how do you begin a new chapter when you haven't ended the previous one? Can you just skip ahead without any real closure? I know I can't.

I find it very difficult to say good-byes. I wonder what I would tell you before we parted again. Would I just shake your hand and watch you walk away, without looking back even once at me as I stand seething in pits of bitter unrequited love, or would I actually open my mouth and let those years of bottled up feelings flow?

Some partings are well-made but one reason why I have never learned to say good-bye to you is because you seem to hang on in almost all of my moments. Even if we don't speak for weeks, each morning when I open my eyes, I feel your presence - or rather it is the awareness of your absence that stirs me from my slumber. Even at night, while I am asleep, you do not leave me alone; you creep into the crevices of my dreams. It's been so long; yet I don't know why you still hold such a special place in my heart.
There was a point in time when I finally decided it was time to forget you. I had to let you go. That pursuit made me search for fragments of your being in the people around me. When I realized it was impossible to recreate something that had felt so perfect, I tried redefining perfection. Alas, I horribly failed! I tried again, and then again, but each time, I failed even more.

Everyone's life has a story but you were the first person who was actually interested in reading my tale. You helped me discover myself; and, in your own simple way, showed me what it truly meant to feel cared for. You helped me become a better person. No matter how corny it sounds, you are the reason why I smile, laugh and believe in unconditional love.

Every lovely thing has an ugly side and, unfortunately, things were no different in our case. You shattered me. I single-handedly picked up the shards of my broken self and tried to fix myself. With a little help, I was restored to my previous state; but now that I had experienced what it felt like to be loved and looked after, it became difficult for me to cope. I became distrustful and swore that I would never rely on one person again. You taught me a valuable lesson on the importance of self-reliance but I still haven't mastered the lesson completely. One day, however, I hope to get to a place where I will not depend on anyone but myself for my happiness. Someday, I hope to emerge a stronger and more independent version of me.

But does that mean that I should just say good-bye and let you slip from my hands? Each time this question pops in my head, my inner voice screams "NO" because you felt (and still feel) like you're the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

It's the end of this year but I know I am still holding on to you. The next time we meet and it's time for us to say good-bye, I shall do so - I do not know yet if it will be a permanent one or temporary but I shall hold on to the illusion that our next meeting is just around the corner; and comfort myself with the belief that our story will never really have to come to a real ending.

Monday, 15 December 2014

Hanging By A Thread

"If you were watching a movie and found that it was utterly ridiculous, would you judge someone for leaving the theatre in the middle?" she asked.
"Of course not," he replied. "In fact if the movie was really bad, I'd walk out myself and judge those people who remained inside!"
"Then, why do we judge those who choose to commit suicide because they find life unbearable?"

At that time, he had not answered her question. But today, as he stared at the lifeless body in front of him, he thought about all the conversations they had had. And about the ones they hadn't.

Days passed and turned into months. But he was still woken up every night by her dreams. It didn't matter whether they were good or bad, because they hurt all the same. People still asked him about her. Few asked him what it was like without her. He never knew how to respond to those questions. Going through life without her was not something he had wanted to do. He had never wanted to live without her. And without her, he wasn't really living...

She was the person who'd made his life wonderful. The guilt that he had failed to do the same for her plagued him mentally and emotionally. When someone leaves the way she did, everyone wants to point a finger. Everyone wants to know why. And she didn't leave a "why" because she left behind no note. It was in her nature to leave things unsaid.

He often blamed himself for her death. Well-wishers told him that it wasn't his fault but he knew it was. He knew he could have told her to hang in there but he didn't. He wished he could apologize to her - tell her that he was sorry for not being able to help her. Perhaps, that would take the guilt away. But she was not in front of him and he was tired of speaking to her imaginary spirit.

He felt that his life had lost all meaning and purpose. He was doing nothing constructive. Sometimes, while driving his car, he wondered how easy it would be to just lose control. He stared at the sleeping-pills his father took every night and wondered how many it would take. It would be so easy for him to end things the way she had. But then, he wouldn't want to make anyone in the world feel the way he had felt after her untimely death. He realized that he needed to hold on just to make life bearable for himself and for those around him. She was gone and while he would never forget her, he realized he would also have to remember his old self that he had forgotten, somewhere along the way. Even though he felt dead, in actuality, he was not. He would have to move on because life (with or without her) was all about learning, loving and being alive.

Sunday, 2 November 2014

Our Math

We live in a world where figures are given a lot of importance. We need to keep count of everything - time, money, odds, gifts, pros and cons, and so on...We are even instructed to count our blessings!

I love that between us, there are no ledgers to be maintained. There are people in this world who can love and calculate simultaneously but I am glad of our mutual incapacity to do so. I love that you allow me to shut my mental calculator because yours does not function either. Or maybe, we do count but in a rather twisted way.

"You called me only once today while I called you four times." - In the way we count, it only means that we spoke to each other five times. I am glad we do not count and settle on the numbers of things we love and hate about each other, or check on which outweighs which. It's relieving to see that instead, we choose to dwell in the depths of knowing each other's best and worst, and in loving each other because of and in spite of everything.

I could say I love you with all of myself, as fully, as wholly as I can, but I cannot measure the love, because there is no measurement scale that I know of for spaces beyond the infinite. Just like a count of the visits one makes to the temple or the formal prayers one recites is not even the slightest measure of one's degree of faith, how often we acknowledge our love for each other, how many gifts we give and receive between us, how many common friends we have - nothing really is a yardstick to measure our equation of love.

And despite all of this, when one of us fails to fail at relationship math, and either of us says anything that sounds like "you never do this right" or "you are always wrong", I love how the other can usually see through the mindlessly uttered blanket statement, and understand the creases.
Sometimes, we both fail. We make mistakes, and when we do, we count what we learnt, and we count the opportunities we have to make those wrongs right.

So, I figure our relationship does have math but, thankfully, not the kind of complexities that require a mental calculator. It is just basic math that the heart does of its own accord. And even if we try, there is no denying that we do, in fact, count. We count on each other; and the best part of such a calculation is that neither of us is ever let down. 

Tuesday, 28 October 2014

Old Conversations

I like going back to old conversations.

Letter-writing went out of fashion a generation or two before us. Today, we neither have the perfume nor the handwriting. We have nothing to touch, nothing to hold. I would rather keep turning pages and pages of long, long letters but I try to make do with what we've got.  

I scroll up our chat-archive; up, up and up until I find conversations garnished generously with " :P ". Then, I scroll down slowly to find more " :) ". It may mean nothing but to me it marks an important transition. It's when the need to pretend you were just kidding when you said something nice gave way to saying it, and letting me know that you really meant it.

The conversation never ends. I know when you woke up and what you did all day. I know where you went, with whom you were, what you ate, what made you angry and when you slept. It really isn't a lot of important information but it made me feel really special knowing the ordinary things about somebody.

I like going back to old conversations especially those that we pretend never happened; those that we will never have again. I go back to them to find some lost happiness; and I do, but now it is tinged with pain. Not intense; but chronic.

So much has changed. It is awkward to even say "hi" anymore. Wouldn't it be better if we pretended to not know each other when we meet now? It feels worse to just shake hands and meet like acquaintances. But it doesn't matter. You and I will just be a fraction of all the letting go we will have to do in our respective lives.

Have I let go? I like to think that I most certainly have. It isn't really about  reminiscing anymore or even regretting. It is more about acceptance that all this is a part and parcel of life. Some stories find their conclusions while others just meander their way into oblivion.

If I have let go, why do I still go back to our old conversations? It is a tough one to explain, but I think I go back to feel sane. It would drive you crazy to feel a great pain in your shoulders for no reason, but if you saw your dismembered arms, it'd make sense that it hurts. The old conversations will always bear testimony to the fact that there was something we let go of.

An evening by myself usually leads my thoughts to strange places. I'd much rather step out, get a good cup of coffee, and find someone to have new conversations.

Wednesday, 15 October 2014

Sweet Vengeance

"What are you doing here?" she stared in astonishment at the man standing in front of her, outside the entrance of the airport.
"You really thought I would let you go without saying a good-bye?" he exclaimed with an expression of fake horror.
"You do know I am not going forever, right?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow. "I will be back."
"I know," he replied nonchalantly. "That doesn't mean I can't come to the airport and see you off."
"Fine," she sighed. "Let's not argue. Say your good-byes, give me a hug and let me go. I don't want to be late - I want a window seat!"
He chuckled. "I wish you would pre-book your seats."
"No more lectures," she groaned and put her arms around him.
"Take care," he said. "I hate it when you go away - even though I  know it's only for a few weeks."
"Really?" she said with a look of disbelief though she could not stop a smile from escaping her lips.
"Of course," he said. "Every time you leave, I feel you take with you a piece of my heart. Thankfully, you come back and the piece gets restored again to its rightful owner."
"Ha! Ha! Very funny," she laughed. "Since when did you start sounding so cheesy?"
He suddenly pulled her closer to him, "You  know I love you, right?"
Startled at his sudden declaration, she just brushed him aside, "Sure, if you say so." She wasn't sure if she really believed him.
As if he had read her mind, he continued, "I know there are times when you think I do not care. The truth is..." he paused. She stared at him as he nervously looked down at the ground whilst shuffling his feet. He continued, "The truth is that I care a lot about you. I may not express it and I know that hurts you but I do love you." He looked at her. There seemed to be no visible reaction on her face. "What's wrong? Don't tell me that you had no clue about the way I felt about you!"
A sad smile appeared on her face. "There was a time when I thought I would die of ecstasy if you ever came and told me that you love me."
"But now, you feel differently?" he asked with a somewhat hurt look on his face.
"I love you," she said. "I always have; and I don't think I know how to re-program my system to stop loving you. Believe me for I have tried! But I cannot be with you."
"What do you mean?" he asked. "We both love each other. What's the problem?"
"Love," she replied.
"I don't understand," he said perplexed.
"You don't have to," she reassured him. "I need to go now. I cannot afford to miss this plane!"

She walked straight inside the airport successfully fighting all temptation to turn back and look at him one last time. He was still standing there, looking at her until he could see her no more. Nothing had gone according to plan. He found her behaviour confusing. Why had she said she could not be with him if she loved him? He could feel the anger welling up inside him as he realized how he could never get a grip on what was happening inside her head.
She knew she had walked off without explaining herself. She knew he was bound to be very puzzled by her behaviour. She felt a sense of guilt surging up her chest but she buried it inside as immediately as it had surfaced. She would not justify herself to him or anyone. She had spent many a night waiting to accept the love that she thought she deserved. Each moment of disappointment killed a part of her until she was in so much pain that she started hating the person who had made her experience the hurt in the first place. That started a new cycle of hate where she started despising herself for being incapable of 'unconditional love'.
His confession had surprised her but she, herself, was stunned at her indifference to his  words. Although she hated to admit it, she actually felt a part of her smiling wickedly for turning him down. He would now get a taste of his own medicine and learn what it felt like to have your love ignored or rejected. Vengeance was, indeed, sweet. She smiled to herself as she sat on the window-seat of the flight.

Unknowingly, his profession of love had helped her reconnect with the most important person in her life - her. Her feeling of self-loathe seemed to have evaporated and re-instilled in her a new sense of adoration for herself. She knew she still cared about him and she'd be there for him when he needed her but she no more worshipped him the way she used to before. She had gone back to her old affair of loving herself more than anyone.

Sunday, 5 October 2014


Her head was spinning with endless questions. She wished she could stop the destructive thoughts flooding her head but she wasn't powerful enough. Never in her life had she felt more alone than she did at that particular moment.
She wished she had someone to tell her that they cared. She wanted someone around because she needed a friend; someone who would have the sense to tell her that she was not alone...Someone who would tell her that they knew how it felt to be lonely in a crowd. There was more to life than living, there was beauty and real joy and she wished there were people around to protect her from the hurt that she experienced...
The pain was too much to bear. As she dug the blade of the knife on to her skin, she kept wishing till that very moment when she breathed her last that someone would call her, just say "hello", laugh with her and share those things with her that she had been forced to face alone all this while. She wished she had been brave enough to talk about the way things were - and she ardently wished someone would have told her to take things easy, how close they had come themselves and how lovingly they had been sheltered...
Things could have been alright. But it was too late now. Unable to seek help and unable to endure her suffering, she murdered herself with the hope that it would take her to a better place.

He was home when he received the phone call informing him that she had ended things...The news shocked him beyond belief. She had not left any note - this bit of information did not surprise him. She had a habit of leaving things unsaid. He couldn't really blame her. This was something she had picked up from him - but at that moment, he couldn't help repenting the fact that she was not in front of him for him to say the things he wanted to say to her.
He wished he could have talked to her about the seriousness of her problems. He knew she rarely opened up to people but perhaps if he had persisted, she would have told him what she was going through. He wished she would have let him have a bigger role in the story of her life. He wished he could tell her that he knew what it was like to wake up in the morning and feel that life is completely meaningless. Even if she wasn't in a mood to listen, he wished they could have sat together in silence until that insight dawned on both of them that life wasn't so bad after all...
He wished he could tell her all the things he had kept away from her...She would scold him for keeping secrets but maybe then they could get to talk about things she had kept away from him, like the fact that she was dying on the inside the whole time.
He wished he could tell her all the wonderful things he loved about her. With no care of the world, he loved the way she always spoke her mind and did what she wanted to do. Always caring more about others than herself, he knew she had not shared her problems with anyone because she would not have wanted to burden them with her troubles. Now the only burden people carried was the knowledge that she had suffered so much, until she could take it no more.
He wished he could tell her that he loved her and that he would always love  her. He knew that without her, his life would never be the same. But it was too late now to do anything...All he could do was live with the regret that he could not save her...

Suicide is a dark word. It stole her from him. They could have grown close, helped each other...But just because he did not realize that he could make a difference, he actually didn't.

Saturday, 4 October 2014

Message In A Bottle

They sat at the sea-shore knowing that the time to bid farewell had arrived.
"Each time you leave me with more questions than answers," he complained.
"You, no more, sort things out for me," she retorted. "No longer do you iron out my doubts, fold neatly my dilemmas and no more do you leave me well-stocked on enough clarity to face life."
"You will need a housekeeper for that, my love," he teased her in reply. "Not me."

"Time flies when we are together," she pondered.
"I wonder if time flies," he replied, "Or if it is feelings which have flown?"
With a heavy heart she sighed, "What can I say? I know I have to let go of you as we depart to distant shores. I know a part of me aches when there seems no ache of parting in yours."
He simply smiled, "I have witnessed many more partings than you; yet in each parting, I experience an ache anew. If  you were to move from your head to your heart, you would feel it too."

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes and poured out all that she had stored in her heart, "There used to be a time when we would exchange messages in bottles made of sighs. I would float my feelings on a thought and you would catch and expand them on your island. Thus, we were tied across the waves of life...But these days, why do I feel as if we are caught up in separating tides?"
His voice remained calm as his eyes shifted in a thoughtful gaze, "Yes, there was a time when you floated your feelings of heart-felt desire. But these days, you have started building a ship to endure doubts within those very sighs. You guard the bottle of doubts, not allowing the contents to float away. There's only so much a bottle can hold - doubts or desires - choose one to drop away."
"Would you rather I allow my desires to find their own way?" she quizzed.
He replied, "How does one sail through life without a compass of security to show the way?"

She stayed silent, settled in her bottle. He stared silent, at the lap of the waves. In the absence of intent, the currents of life drifted them away to where stories without ends somehow find their place.

Friday, 12 September 2014

Being Your Own Best Friend

After finishing twelfth grade, I left the comforts of home and began a new chapter of my life. It has been more than seven years since I've been living alone. The experience has been exciting, empowering and also quite daunting at the same time.

Moving away from home is not easy. Forcing oneself out of one's comfort zone and barging into the world of the unknown is difficult. Despite some lows, I would say that my experience has been pretty good and I do not have much to complain about. However, there are times when stress and anxieties creep in and try breaking me down. "It's alright," I say to myself. "This too shall pass. It is only a minor setback in the grand scheme of things. In the end, all this just won't matter," I continue to rationalize. There are days, however, when such reassurances do not work. In those moments, I find myself tossing and turning, thinking and re-thinking things over and over again. Sometimes, I feel that my head will explode because of the never-ending eruptions of my thoughts. In those moments, I wish I could just hit my mind's 'pause' button and decide to run the world later but, unfortunately, not all wishes come true.

It is in such moments of insecurity that I actually feel the pinch of being alone. Not having a support system is hard because it means I have no one to lift my spirits when I am down. It means that I have no one to remind me that I am capable of handling whatever craziness is tossed my way.

Being independent has its perks but it also has its fair share of disadvantages. Nowadays, I feel that I am so used to doing things on my own that I find it almost impossible to admit before another person that I need help. It is becoming progressively more difficult for me to even talk to people about what is going on in my life. Still, there are days when I brave an attempt and actually ask a friend to meet. But meeting impromptu in a city where everyone has so many priorities isn't a piece of cake. Most of the time, these sudden plans never work out and I find myself sinking deeper and deeper into the marsh of insecurities. These days, I feel I am stuck so deep inside that I don't think I can be pulled out. I am not sure if I even want to pull myself out. The marsh of insecurities, which earlier felt so uncomfortable, gradually ceases to bother me. It now feels so familiar that I embrace these insecurities as if they had always been a part of me. Sometimes, I realize that I am being unreasonable but I feel it is alright - sometimes, one can be allowed to be unreasonable.

At one point of time, I needed encouragement. I needed someone to tell me that I am a wonderful person. I needed to be believed in - to be told that I am brave, smart and capable of accomplishing all the dreams that I dare to dream and much more. I no longer need these reminders because I am no more the person I used to be.

Things that earlier meant the world to me, today, don't really mean much. People who I was, once, very close to now feel as good as strangers. I still have a perpetual smile on my face but it does not reach the eyes. Today, I am in better control of my emotions and, unlike before, I do not allow feelings of anger, exasperation or despair to show on my face. 

Perhaps, this is what it means to be truly on one's own - when you have no one to fall back on but yourself. You can be your harshest critic but you can also be your best friend. After all, no one can really know you better than you know yourself. We always find it easy to notice our shortcomings, but how many of us actually pat ourselves on the back when we feel we have done a good job? People can't be around all the time but you can always be there for yourself. It is tough but I believe it is possible. I have now embarked on the journey of becoming my own best friend.  When are you taking the step towards becoming friends with your own self?

Tuesday, 9 September 2014

What The Little Prince Taught Me...

I have always believed that learning knows no age. Every person who crosses our path has the power to teach us a valuable lesson or two if only we remain receptive and open to the learning process. A lot of adults around give me a quizzical expression when I tell them that grownups can learn so many things from children. Their sense of disbelief transports me to the pages of a book titled The Little Prince which charmingly illuminates the gap between children and grownups. It was quite by chance that I happened to stumble upon this particular book but it is one that I would recommend everyone to read.

Written by Antoine De Saint-Exupery (originally in French), the deceptively simple story of a pilot's encounter with a small boy from another planet actually offers a wealth of insight to an adult who chooses to pay attention to the hidden meanings behind the written text.

 The narrator mentions how, with age, we seem to lose interest in what is really important in life. We are only interested in how things appear at the surface-level without bothering to dig beneath.

Recently, a friend and I were discussing how, as we grow old, we lose our sense of wonder. A friend of mine keeps getting exasperated at my childlike exclamations of "Wow!" each time I find something that fascinates me. I do not blame her. As we start ageing, the way in which we see the world changes. According to me, as we grow up, we stop engaging with the world. It's not that we cannot do it. We just choose not to.Not every individual is able to uphold the sense of amazement or of the sheer enjoyment of life. As we grow up, we lose sight of the endless possibilities that life has to offer which was so apparent to our younger selves. Wisdom may involve being more in command of our thoughts, faculties and desires but I believe that the very experience which helps us become successful threatens to limit our imagination and our sense of the possible.

As a child, it is acceptable to believe that anything and everything is possible. Setbacks in life make us more aware of our limitations. But what is wrong in being a dreamer? In The Little Prince, the author mentions how grownups are only interested in figures when, in fact, for those "who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference". He goes on to explain how grownups are never interested in asking "questions about essential matters" - for example, when their child makes a new friend, instead of wanting to know about his hobbies and interests, they are more interested in knowing his age and his father's income. I couldn't help but chuckle while reading that part - it reminded me of the time when I had been given the responsibility of selecting candidates for an interview based on the resumes they had mailed. I had found myself wondering, "How in the world can I possibly select five from this lot which appears to have the same amount of qualifications and experience?"

I love the way in which Saint-Exupery turns the tables in his book and actually makes the adults appear as the absurd ones instead of the children. Some may argue that my appreciation for this book stems from the self-satisfaction gained from the reasoning that I am not one of the unimaginative grownups scorned in the story but I firmly believe that The Little Prince will inspire people to shift their attention from pointless or self-centered ambitions to things that make our life more meaningful and worthwhile.

Below are some lines from the book that struck a chord. I hope they inspire you enough to read the book, The Little Prince:
  • Only with the heart can one see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.
  • "What makes the desert beautiful," says the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well."
  • "Then you shall judge yourself," the king answered. "That is the most difficult thing of all. It is much more difficult to judge oneself than to judge others. If you succeed in judging yourself rightly, then you are indeed a man of true wisdom."
  • Language is the source of misunderstandings.
  • I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says over and over again, "I am busy with matters of consequence!
  • One only understands the things that one tames. Men have no more time to understanding anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship.
  • It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

Monday, 18 August 2014

The Desert

Her crest-fallen face was enough to tell people that things had not ended well. They kept their curiosity in check, respecting her silence over that matter. Several nights passed and she still wore that same dejected expression.

Days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months. They declared that the time had come for her to move on but how could she when she did not know how to? She was so different from her favourite poet, Neruda, who grandly proclaimed "if little by little you stop loving me/I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me/do not look for me/for I shall already have forgotten you."

She did not want to move on from him because she still loved him and she did not know how not to.
 When she had met him the very first time, she had felt that she ought to keep a safe distance from him. He was very different from the rest of the people around her. He accepted her just the way she was finding perfection in all her imperfections and he forced her to observe everything, within and without, in a new light. She had thought that she would be able to navigate her way through this beautiful storm but, only now, she realized that it was too late.

Even when there had been people surrounding her, she had always felt lonely. Like a barren desert, she remained not inviting another soul into her world. He had come into her life like a ravenous sandstorm and swept her away from her barren existence into the comforts of civilization. She started opening up to people, not even hesitating before interacting with strangers. Life had never been more beautiful.

But now he was gone and no matter how hard she tried, she just could not forget him. Honestly, she wasn't even sure if she was trying hard enough. Forgetting him would mean forgetting her own self for she never saw herself separate from him. And even if she got rid of all those memories, could she really go back to being her old self? What was her old self like? She had no recollection of it. That part of her was lost forever...
She felt empty. Her soul was barren again. The vastness of the desert scared her. Everything looked too far away, even the cloudless sky. She could hide nowhere in such emptiness. She kept hoping to see a falling star - it was her one chance of making her wish come true.

Alas! There were no stars in the clear sky save one and that star twinkled brightly in the sky, indicating it had no intention of falling.

He was like that stubborn star in the sky, always gleaming even when she had no desire to see the path that lay ahead. His absence in her life was as powerful as his presence. Just like the light from a scorching sun that burns the sandy desert, his absence fuelled her to move ahead to newer roads, newer avenues. Unfortunately, no matter where she went, she still remained the way she was. What was missing never changed. She knew she was still beautiful but she was empty. No one could die for her. All the places she went to were different but she was still the same, incomplete soul. She was still the parched, arid desert that craved for rain to fall.

Saturday, 26 July 2014

Voids And Discoveries

He turned around to look at her one last time before he proceeded through the departure gates to board his flight. He wished she had accompanied him on his journey but their paths were completely divergent. He was travelling to his future - a land of many promises. Even though he had never gone there before, he was sure everything would be bright and beautiful for he was going to a place that had infinite potential.

She had chosen to stay behind. She considered the past to be a shrine that needed to be preserved. Reliable and unchanging, it provided her with an insight  to the beginning of everything as it gave her a sense of centre and stability.

As she watched him go, she had a sudden urge to leave her familiar path, catch his hand and travel his journey. It was not as if the thought hadn't occurred to her before. But each time she pondered over the matter, she realized that it wasn't the right thing to do for it would forever create a dent in her soul.
He had left his lover behind to completely submit himself to the quest of self-discovery even if it meant conversing with every piece of stone and pebble that created a dent under his sole.

As she walked back home, she hated to admit to herself that she was actually not feeling miserable. Even though he was gone, she did not really feel that she was missing anything in her life.

He cared for her a lot but he knew he could not be in love always. His life had always felt complete until she came along and made him realize what he had been missing all this time. Like a mirror, she reflected what was absent rather than what was present and helped him see the void in his soul -a void he had always resisted seeing. It was ironic that the one who had shown him the mirror of his soul and motivated him to step out of his zone of comfort could not leave her stability-zone behind and venture out to search for her missing pieces.

She stopped at a fountain and sat looking at the flow of water, coming from within and flowing outward. She felt it was metaphorical. By choosing to not walk the same path as he, she was kind of going through the same process of going within, digging inside so much that she ended up drooling out the same things repeatedly; only sometimes discovering some wisdom that kept her in the space of a momentary euphoric moment. She had no control over it and it always left her in a void; making her wonder what just happened and what was all that wisdom about. So far, the only discovery she had made was that she needed to feel someone caressing her body so that her soul would feel that it was alright to find nothing on the path that she had chosen to walk.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she, once again, felt she should have travelled with him. It would help her overcome her grief of not finding any wisdom and the joy of the many voids which were present on her journey.

He knew she would not have regretted her decision of walking down his road. He would have taken her to the beach where they would have sat together and watched the sea move. The waves that were unnoticeable from a distance would slowly appear as a slight bump until they got bigger and bigger as they came closer. When almost at the shore, the wave would look gigantic and crash with enormous power, and then soothe. He was sure that she would have liked watching this sight - it represented both of them going in and out of each other's heart, sometimes discovering something profound and sometimes just encountering a void. He felt, almost relieved, that he had left his old ways - somehow love felt like a drug that made one enjoy experiencing the same thing over and over again - he was glad he had overcome this addiction and discovered his zeal to travel on a path to a new existence.

No matter which path each had chosen, deep inside, both felt somewhat incomplete. Both had lost something which they wished they could get back. Both of them still continued to walk down their different paths, experiencing the same alternating incidents of voids and discoveries on their respective journeys. Hopefully, they would meet at a water-body someday.

Tuesday, 15 July 2014


It was late evening when she returned home from work. There were a few messages on her answering machine - some feeble attempts on the part of her handful of friends to get her to socialize. The truth was, more and more so lately, she found herself looking for excuses to be alone. She had dreaded the dull feeling of loneliness almost all her life but now it seemed to penetrate through every tissue, every cell in her body. Strangely, she did not find it that bad.

However, on this particular night, she felt extremely abandoned. Alone in her room, she kept feeling that the whole universe existed someplace else. She looked around and felt the emptiness of her space. It felt as if she was digging her own grave inside her and would die before she finished the process of burying herself. Desperate to catch a whiff of fresh air, she went to the terrace and stared at the sky.

There was a star right in front of her; twinkling yet alone. Slowly, as she continued staring into the night sky, several other stars showed up, far away from each other.
"Though apart, we are all stars belonging to the same sky," she thought, silently thanking the stars for the message they had unknowingly conveyed.

She allowed her mind to journey to the last time they had met. "When you travel, what is it that you seek?" she had asked him.
"I don't know," he said.
"Then how will you find it?" she questioned.
"Piece by piece," he replied matter-of-factly.
"How will you know that you have found all the pieces?" she teased. "The world is quite big, you know."
He appeared unperturbed. "I will know when I feel like the way I feel around you," came his reply.
"Which is," she urged him to continue though she could already feel both a flutter as well as a knot in her stomach.
"Complete," he said and then became suddenly silent.
"And what if I am what you are looking for?" she asked though she knew that now she was beginning to tread on broken glass pieces.
"Then I'll come back to you and never leave," he replied.
She should have been ecstatic on hearing his response yet she felt her shoulders tightening. She found herself saying, "Well then, I hope you never find me again."
"Why's that?" he asked, in a somewhat surprised tone.
"Because we both know that the day you stop exploring is the day you die. And with you, I."
He suddenly broke into one of his rare smiles. He pulled her cheeks fondly and remarked, "Since when did you start sounding all grown-up?"
"I travel with you too, you know...even if in spirit," she chirped. "Now go, I can hear the highways calling out your name. Ride safe!"
"I will," he promised.

Good-byes had never been easy for her but somehow letting him go hadn't been as difficult as she had imagined. Perhaps, it was because she still felt connected to him at soul-level. He was probably miles away from her but she still felt that her heart beat to the rhythm of his tunes.

But these days, she felt that she was gradually falling off from love. She wasn't moving away from it, of that she was sure, but lately, she missed being loved by him and felt no one loved her as much as he had. There were days when this feeling was so intense that she almost convinced herself to seek love from anywhere because she foolishly believed, in those moments, that everyone apart from her had so much love in their lives. Even though that feeling lasted only a few seconds, its residue continued to persist between her chest making her jump to the false conclusion that she was having a heart attack.

All of a sudden, she stumbled into a zone where she found herself untouched by the very existence of love. She felt irritated by this feeling because she knew that love flowed through every creation, through every damn molecule on this planet. Then, why was she so out of touch with this feeling? Why was she in this zone? Whatever the reason, she fervently wished she could get out of it. She did not feel unloved - she just missed being loved. Why had the rains stopped abruptly leaving her to muddle with the heat because of their absence when they should have been ruling the ground and making the mud feel orgasmic?

She really missed him and she wished he was there by her side, stroking her hair, watching her as she fell asleep. Thankfully, his thoughts had not left her presence. With thoughts of him, she entered into a world of slumber hoping to run into him in her dreams. Indeed, in the land of dreams, he awaited her arrival.
"I miss you," she complained to him. "I can't deal with this any longer. I am going to go away soon, far away, in the land where nothing exists."
He laughed, "Then, my love, your path to it is through the lanes of my heart. Believe me, without you, nothing exists."
"Do you miss me?" she asked.
"You're not really away," he said, caressing her. "When everything is silent inside me, I find Gods singing hymns through my breaths. And, my love; in my breaths, I find your music."
She smiled at him.
"If you loved me so much, why did you let me go?" he asked. "If you had asked me to stay, you knew I would."
"The most beautiful thing is when love gives you freedom," she replied.
"And when is that?" he asked.
"When you give yourself freedom to love," she said.
"Don't worry, my love," he said. "I think it is time for me to continue my journeys with you. I'll be coming soon. I hope you will wait for me."
"I will," she promised. "Come soon."

It was still dark outside but he decided that he had had enough rest for the night. In fact, he felt that he had had enough of everything. Earlier, he found it easy to simply wander for days without reaching any destination but these days, he felt as if the destination he was going to never existed. He had, in fact, left his destination behind. As this realization dawned, he felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from his heart. The journey had been eventful and he had no regrets but it was now time to return to the path from which he had digressed. Returning was not going to be an easy step but the thought of her filled him with feelings of calmness, tranquility and peace and he was determined to walk steadfastly ahead in the direction of his new-chosen path.

At the crack of dawn, he marched forward, fully awakened by the shining sun. In her sleep, she turned, with a big smile pasted on her face.

Morning would soon arrive, fulfilling its promise of a chance for new beginnings.

Friday, 11 July 2014


Alina rose out of bed to a glorious, bright, sunny morning. Her chirpy voice wonderfully complemented the free-spiritedness of the fresh summer breeze.
Adriana squeezed her eyes shut and crawled back into her sheets to stop the rays of light from blinding her. Dragging herself out of bed was always a task. What would she not give for an extra five minutes of precious sleep!

Every morning was an opportunity to embrace all the new things the Almighty bestowed upon her, according to Alina. She happily cinched through the day, trying to learn as much as she could, generously sparing smiles to all those who passed her way. "Life is beautiful! There are so many things to be thankful for!" reflected Alina as she looked at her world in wonder. At a distance, she noticed an old woman standing at the railway platform, looking for assistance to board the train. People were in a hurry to get to work but Alina was glad to see the lady getting the help she needed from quite a few kind souls. "It's good to see that the world is still filled with helpful people," she thought.
The morning was rough for Adriana. She struggled through the day, wishing fervently for it to end as soon as possible. She was irked at how slowly time passed by as she kept looking at her watch every few minutes. As soon as her shift ended, Adriana ran out of office in the same way as a trapped bird flies out of its cage at the slightest opportunity it gets. She noticed that her colleague had dropped some of his files but she decided to ignore him and walk past instead of staying behind to help.

Suddenly, without any warning, it started pouring cats and dogs. Alina stared at the street-children sailing paper-boats in the rain and dancing joyously. She stopped work for the day and joined them in their merry-making. The rains made her feel alive! It made everything even more wonderful! After a little bit of fun, she made her way back home, oblivious to the hardships that the rain caused many people to face. After all, a wet person is not afraid of rains.
Adriana frowned at the rain.  It was such a hassle! Roads were blocked and the cars were just dirtying her clothes by splashing muddy water all over when they passed by. "How can any sensible person enjoy the rains!"she wondered. The flooded roads made it impossible for her to walk home and there was no cab in sight. Untrusting by nature, she contemplated whether she should ask for a lift from one of the vehicles that rushed past and finally decided against it. "These days, no one helps anyone. I'll just be wasting my time," she speculated and sat at a deserted bus-stop praying for the rains to stop. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, it stopped pouring and tired and exhausted, Adriana returned to her abode.

"Today was so much fun!" marvelled Alina as she tucked herself in bed. Before falling off to sleep, she said a small prayer and thanked the Universe for all the blessings it had showered her way. Her eyes shut the moment her head hit the pillow. Alina never had any trouble falling asleep just like she had no issues getting up in the morning. According to her, the faster she slept, the sooner morning would arrive and present before her fresh opportunities for new beginnings.
"What an awful day!" thought Adriana as she climbed back to bed. Her body ached and she let out a groan. "I should be glad it's over but what's the point? Tomorrow, it will be a new battle all over again!" With these thoughts, she finally drifted off to sleep, hoping the few hours of slumber would be enough to help her survive yet another day of her cursed existence.

Both did not realize that life was neither a blessing nor a curse. Life was just mirroring them. Everyone they met and everything they experienced were simply mirrors that reflected parts of their own consciousness back to them, giving them a chance to really see themselves and to, ultimately, help them grow. The qualities they most admired in others were actually their own and the same could be said for the qualities of others that they disliked.
Life looked at itself through Alina's mirror and felt peaceful and content.
It then took a peek at itself through Adriana's mirror and looked disdained and lost.
What would Life look like if it looked at your mirror?

Thursday, 3 July 2014


She wasn't a sloppy person by nature yet it would be safe to assume that her house wasn't the tidiest place on earth. Stacks of newspaper lay forgotten in a corner until they transformed into a mountain-pile ready to topple. Her bedroom, more often than not, accommodated washed, creased clothes in dire need of being ironed and placed back in overflowing cupboards. She had never really been a hoarder but suddenly it seemed that her home was crammed with stuff she did not need; and for some strange reason, she did not have the heart to discard so many things at one go!

Messy places had never really bothered her so she settled quite happily amidst the clutter. She was so engrossed in sorting out the jumbled pieces of other people's lives that she had no time to clean her physical space.

The morning started like any other morning. She woke up, dragged herself out of bed, got ready, boarded the train to work and spent the train-journey chatting on the phone with her friend. There was nothing extraordinary about this day - at least not until she finally arrived at work and sat at her desk. She dove into her bag to fish out her locker-key when the horrible realization dawned on her that it wasn't there! Not one to easily panic, she found herself frantically emptying out the contents of her bag, desperate to find it. It did not take her long to realize that it wasn't there. She calmed herself down, took a few deep breaths and told herself to relax. "I must have left it at home," she thought and resumed work. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not ignore the deep sinking feeling that had set in her heart. Something told her that she wouldn't find it but, as was her norm, she neglected that tiny voice and went about her day as if nothing had happened.

When she returned home, her worst fear had come true - the key was indeed missing. She looked in every possible place but it just could not be found. She was quite a scatter-brain from time to time but her things had a habit of turning up every now and then. Not usually a worrier, she was rather surprised to find tears filling her eyes. It was just a key! Why was she so distressed?

She thought about distracting herself by going out for a drink and immediately made plans with a friend she hadn't caught up with in a really long time. However, as the time for her to venture out of her house dawned near, she felt her feet getting heavy as if indicating that they just did not want to move. Not one to ever back out last minute of a plan she had herself made, she surprised herself by cancelling on her friend and staying indoors. Finally, home alone, she sat down and decided to spend an evening catching up with the most important person in her life - her own self.

It had been ages since she had even thought about herself. Her life had become a mundane routine as she busied herself with work. She had never been such a person! She loved her job but for the first time she wondered if work was just a diversion to distract herself from the painful memories of tomorrows that never came. Even though she hated admitting it, she knew she wasn't really upset about losing the key - true, she was always a perfectionist when it came to work and while she did have a reputation to maintain of never misplacing her things at work, she knew what truly bothered her was losing the key-chain to which the key had been attached...

She had no idea of the significance of that particular, inexpensive key-chain until she had lost it...That particular key-chain stood as a symbol of simpler times in her life, of a time when she had felt blessed with happiness and abundance. Not having it suddenly made her conscious of the emptiness that had engulfed her world. She suddenly started howling and shedding a flood of tears. For some reason, the tears kept coming and would not stop. She had never felt more aware of her robotic existence than at that very moment. After a while, her tears dried. She calmed herself and realized that despite the disconcert she actually was relieved - she had finally experienced an emotion so deeply after a really long time. She had been so busy protecting herself from feelings of hurt that, in the process, without realizing, she had invariably ended up shutting herself from feeling any emotion at all.

She looked at her house and felt disgusted, almost repulsed. She finally understood what she had been doing in the past few months. Not one to dawdle, she immediately set to work. She opened her cupboard and donated her discarded clothes to a homeless shelter in order to make room for the pile of clothes that lay on her bed. She cleaned the floors, sweeping away even the dust that lay forgotten beneath the carpets. She recycled and disposed all the old things for which she had no use. She did not need clutter in her physical space to compensate for the void that was present in her mental state.

Her house was not spic and span but it was definitely tidier than before. The key was yet to turn up and while she hoped with all her heart that it would, she knew she would be alright even if it didn't. While precious, old memories are always fun to cherish, it is more important to make room for building new ones that we may want to treasure.

Tuesday, 24 June 2014

A Letter To My Girl-Friend

Friendship is a story that chances a beginning each time two strangers interact and click with each other. Our tale is not like those. We started chatting, we met, but we never really ended up becoming "good friends". You were busy with whatever was happening in your life and I had different priorities in mine. And then, on that fated night, you called. I don't think even you knew back then that that phone conversation would change a lot of equations in our life! We were up the whole night, talking on the phone, and since then - we haven't stopped!

You are the one person who knows most of my secrets - the only one who knows all my fears, my desires, the one I trust to keep all my secrets safe - and I know all my secrets are safe with you. I have no inhibitions even sharing those thoughts with you that might make others label me as, perhaps, weird. You may not be non-judgmental at all times but it's alright - sometimes, I need to hear the truth, no matter how hard it may seem. You are someone with whom I can gossip for hours and I love the fact that you listen to me even when I am telling you about people who you do not know at all.

Life is not a bed of roses and our relationship has never been free of thorns. There are times when I have felt that we are growing apart. I have rationalized that it isn't anybody's fault and we are just different people headed in different directions.  But then something happens at work and I start to laugh. My colleagues look at me and wonder what's wrong. At that time, I miss you because I know you would know why I was laughing and join me! With the passage of time, we have so many inside jokes that our friendship has developed a secret code of its own - sometimes we can simply look at each other, not say a word, and just start cracking up leaving those watching us perplexed and miffed. Even when I am not with you, there are times when I see something and immediately think of you. It is a reflex action to just dial your name on my phone and tell you all about my day - not many things register as actual experiences unless I have shared them with you.

Changes can be rough. With you by my side, I believe I might be able to survive all the major changes that life will throw my way and I promise to always hold your hand and walk by  your side when life is being a rocky ride for you. After all, friendship is all about being there for your friend - so whether you need my help while you are nursing a broken heart or whether you need me to take care of you while you've returned home drunk, I shall do the needful because I know you would do the same for me.

I have always been a social butterfly but there are very few people who are included in my innermost circle of friends. You are, probably, the only girl in that intimate circle - If today I believe that every girl needs a girl-friend by her side, it is only because of your presence in my life. I love the way we finish each other's sentences and know how the other one is feeling by a simple glance at her face. Our friendship has been put to test quite a few times but each time, it has survived because neither of us is ready to give up on the other person and on the bond that we share.  Thank you for being such an integral part of my life. I genuinely hope that we shall be friends till the end!

Tuesday, 17 June 2014

The End

Every night, I dream of being awoken drowsy on a late night call from you, buzzing just to say, "I miss you." Each day passes by with me hoping to receive a text from you, simply asking, "How are you?" Getting over you is going to be harder than I thought because I never laugh the way I laughed with you. There is nowhere for me to completely surrender myself into a crazy serenity. Surprisingly, no pain has made me cry more than the pain I felt when I took a step back and you just allowed me to walk away. Earlier, I used to cry thinking only about the precious time we spent together which will never return. These days, I feel that time itself has gone.

What do I miss more? The drowning sun, to a sultry night, where you were the moon to light? Or the crowning glory of a failed cause where you were my pillar to lean? You were always there when I was in a bad mood. I have nowhere to go now.

Sometimes, I blame myself. I should never have let my fingers let go of yours! I wish I still had the right to call  you mine. These days, I feel like a criminal each time your name tries to surface on my lips. It's a pity that while fingers are allowed to lose their grip, memories continue to live till time and beyond.

People say that broken hearts are often mended while there are others that remain bruised. I am not sure if the shattered pieces of my broken heart can ever be recovered. If by chance, someone does collect those wrecked pieces, what will happen if my heart is broken again? It is extremely hard for me to tolerate the pain now; will I ever be able to bear it again should similar circumstances repeat themselves?

I wonder for quite some time about what I should do. Finally, I have the solution! I am going to rip my heart out. Then, I shall shut it in a little black box and lock it with a key. I will bury the box in the ground and then row a boat to the deepest point of the ocean. There, I will throw the key and never look back. Someday, the key may wash ashore and someone might find it. But there is no way the key will find its way back to me! Even if it does come back, it shall not matter. The key will be useless by then as the little box which contained my heart would have powdered into five elements and perished. I will walk around with a big hole in my chest but I will never be in pain. I will be a coward but I will be okay.

Monday, 16 June 2014

For Suns That Never Set

The moon, no longer, looks beautiful. Tonight, it just seems to leave a mark on the clear, sunken sky. The rustling leaves which earlier whispered sweet melodies now give forlorn tunes. I continue to walk down the familiar path but it seems to take me longer than usual. Am I walking in circles?

I try chasing the shadows. Amidst the hazy labyrinth, one image stands clear - an echo of laughter tears my misty eyes. The sound of a delightful cry draws up a smile on my lips. My flailing hands try to trap the figure but it just disappears;  yet another failed attempt by rusted strings to savour a blistered song.

I decide to take a walk on the beach. I pick a handful of sand and hope that one grain will be you. The grains of sand are simply misbehaving! Perhaps you are here, slipping through my fingers, yet again.

It starts to rain. I watch the drops fall down on me, slithering through the branches of the tree under which I stand. The droplets entice me into remembering you when you tickled and teased me, to finally dry into oblivion, yet again.

You loved collecting rocks and stones. As the rain stops, almost as suddenly as it had begun, I pick up an interesting looking pebble. You cannot escape me now! But my embrace is not returned. Happiness can indeed be unfair! I can see the creases, smiling faintly, not responding to me, yet again.

Floundering around the muddy road, I find myself in a maze of roses. No matter how hard I try, it isn't easy getting rid of the scent of our memories. Roses were my favourite flowers; and each time you got me a red rose, with the fragrance of the flower, I somehow associated your smell. I stare at the loveliest rose in the garden. It looks so inviting! I don't need to be gifted roses when I can pick them up  for myself! But alas! The pricking thorns of the flower just force me out, yet again.

Finally admitting defeat, I storm back home. But this time, I meet a gush of breeze, tripping over, resisting to smile. The freshness reeks of you! You have come here as well! I just grasp the air and inhale. With each deep breath, I place you in me, and fall in love with you, yet again.

Tuesday, 6 May 2014

To Mummy, With Love

I don't have particularly vivid memories of my childhood but as far as the classic game of Good Cop, Bad Cop is concerned, in my eyes, my father always played the role of the 'Good Cop' while my mother was invariably viewed as the 'Bad Cop'. After all, my father used to bring us toys and chocolates from his tours abroad. My mother used to ensure we eat healthy home-cooked food. My father used to take us on outings every Sunday. My mother would return home every evening and check our school-work. While both parents insisted on me getting good grades, it was my mother who used to force me to finish my homework and scold me if I did not score very well. Moreover, she would wake me up every morning so that I did not get late for school - unfortunately, being rudely awakened from my beauty sleep because of my mother's incessant screaming was not exactly my idea of a "good" morning. I remember commenting as a child that I hated my mother's shouting - I think, as a child, it was something that I feared.

As I blossomed into a teenager, gone were my shy, well-behaved mannerisms. Suddenly in school, teachers started telling my mother that I had transformed from being "the quietest in class" to one of the most talkative persons. It was in sixth grade that I actually started interacting more with my peers and got a closer peek into their worlds. It was in sixth standard that I realized, for the very first time in my life, that my mom was cool! It was a very random incident but it is one that I remember clearly even to this date - our class got a couple of free passes to the local amusement park and my friends and I wanted to go on our own. Each one of my circle of friends rehearsed a speech to present before our respective mothers in order to get permission. I too did the same. When my mother returned home in the evening, I was a little anxious. I waited for her to settle down and then brought up the topic precariously. To my utmost surprise, I did not even need to finish before she said 'yes' and gave me permission (though she insisted on some form of adult supervision). When I called my friends, I found that a lot of my friends who had boasted in class about how getting permission was not at all an issue for them were having trouble convincing their parents. That was the first time I realized my mother is actually not as scary as I think of her to be - she may scream and shout but if I am being reasonable, she will support me. She managed to even convince my friends' parents to give permission after assuring them that we wouldn't be left completely alone and by ourselves.

When I was in twelfth grade, I remember getting on the wrong side of one of the teachers in school. It did not bother me because my entire gang of friends were eye-sores for her and we landed in trouble almost every day. Never in my life had I ever served detentions until then. Unfortunately, my mother did not find this whole affair funny - it did not matter to her that I had partners in crime. According to her, I should have remained in the good books of the teacher and I remember fighting with her over this innumerable times. Even though I don't agree with this view-point even today, this was one incident where my mother taught me to respect the position of authority irrespective of the person occupying it.

When I moved out of my home-town and started living on my own, I realized my mother's importance. For the first time, I was responsible for my own self. There was no one to wake me up on time for my classes. There was no one to make my bed. No one was there to force me to eat something before leaving the house. Little things that my mother used to do over the years for which I never thanked her even once...Even today, though I have been living away from home for almost seven years now, whenever she is visiting, she will still go out and buy me necessities that I will never think of getting for myself; and though I hate it when she cleans, I really appreciate how nice and organized my place looks for the next couple of days.

Over the years, my mother has become my friend. I find a lot of people around me complaining about how they need to hide some things from their mother because "no matter how cool parents say they are, they are only fine with things if they are happening to other children and not their own" - it is difficult for me to relate to such statements. While I may not tell my mother every single detail of what's going on in my life, I do not think I would ever lie to her if she asked me specific questions. We may not have long, thoughtful conversations but her smart, witty comments have always lightened my mood and also made her an instant hit among my friends! Recently a friend of mine asked if I would ever marry a guy who my mother doesn't approve. My first response to her was "Yes, why not? I have to live with him, not she." However, as I thought about what I had just said, I added, "I don't think my mother would ever have issues with a guy I really like - if she does, there is probably something wrong with him that has caught her attention and not mine. If she brings it to my notice and that 'fault' or 'shortcoming' is not an issue for me, I will go ahead with my decision otherwise I will have to think about it." My friend was a little taken-aback at my answer, and to be honest, even I was surprised at what I had just uttered. All these years I have adored my mother for the immense amount of trust she has had in me without realizing that I have the same amount of faith in her.

My mother has taught me to always stand up for what I believe in. She has taught me to endlessly support my near and dear ones especially before outsiders (it does not matter if our internal equations are jarred at that present moment). She has also taught me to be accountable for my own self and not rely on others to get my work done. I will not say I have mastered each lesson that she has bestowed my way - my mother and I are very different persons with a lot of dissimilar perspectives, attitudes and mannerisms but while we may have our share of conflicts, I can only see my relationship with her strengthening with each passing day for the amount of love and respect I have for her makes it impossible for me to imagine my life without her in it. 

Wednesday, 23 April 2014

An Ode To Best Friends

"My best friend is the one who brings out the best in me."
- Henry Ford

We all need friends to get on with life. So, if you are among the fortunate few who have been blessed with a special friend, hold on to that person and do not let them go. Love your best friend more than you love a lazy Sunday morning with breakfast in bed. Love them the way you love yourself and even more than your current romantic interest.

Love your best friend because they know everything about you and love you nonetheless. They know when you've had a lousy day judging by just your monosyllabic responses to text messages and they know how to put you in a better mood. They know what you really mean when you say "I'm fine" and they have their ways of actually getting the truth out of you. Love your best friend because they know all your secrets. They know the number of beats your heart is skipping despite your so-called successful attempt at maintaining a straight face and calm demeanor.

Love your best friend because without them, you probably wouldn't be the person you are. Life has its knack of giving you bad times mixed with the good and you and your best friend would have been through a lot together. Your best friend cheered louder than you when you got your first job. Every time your heart broke, they were there to glue the shattered pieces back together.

Love your best friend even when you are mad at them. Love them even if you want to hate them for cancelling plans last minute or for not spending enough time with you. Instead of cheering you up, even if they made you more miserable, love them anyway for you cannot imagine your life without them. After all, they are also human and they can be allowed to make some mistakes. And if they are your best friend, they will obviously fix their goof-up later.

It's not enough to just love them. You must tell them that you love them! Even when the two of you have had a fight, tell them you love them so that they know the extent to which they are valued in your life. It isn't easy but sometimes the relationship is more important than what's right and wrong. Love them even if they never say it back to you. Expression is not always their strongest cup of tea.

Thank your best friend. Thank them for tolerating you despite your extreme mood-swings. Thank them for bearing with you when you've been exceptionally quiet and distracted. Thank them for supporting you and abiding by your rules even when you have been unreasonable. Thank them for being themselves around you and thank them for believing in the best of you. It is because of them that you have learnt so much about  yourself. Thank them not just for being there for you but for also loving you just as much.

Sunday, 20 April 2014


Waking up early has never been my cup of tea yet I look forward to mornings because they remind me that darkness never remains forever; ultimately, new opportunities will present themselves for us to rectify our mistakes, learn from our experiences, and move forward in life. You make me feel like I have endless mornings. Even if I have messed up real bad the previous day, with you in my life, I feel I still have a chance to set things right when I wake up the next morning.

None of us are perfect and we are all eternally struggling to ensure our virtues outweigh our flaws; but with you in my world, I feel as if I am already a very good person; all I need to do is strive to get better.

We all have our moments of doubt. At some point or the other, we've all felt that our lives are getting destroyed beyond recognition and there is nothing we can do about it. With you in my life, things seem more tolerable than they actually might be. I feel that even if my life crumpled to bits, I can stay strong knowing that I have it in me to fix what's broken. Your belief in me makes me feel invincible even in my weak moments.

Sometimes I wish I could find that special someone for you who would be your perfect match and complete you. I often find myself pondering that there must be someone out there who deserves you more than I do and who can give you all that I cannot. The pure love you exude often makes me question things around me. All my life, I have been conditioned to believe that good things do not fall out of thin air and if you want something, be it affection, care, money, or any material good, you need to work for it. Every day I wonder what is the reason behind the presence of your love in my life? What have I done to deserve it?

You make me so happy that it's almost frightening! Your love makes me want to be a more radiant version of me. It inspires me to look and think and act as best as I can. You make me feel secure enough to try new things without worrying about failure. I know you will love me anyway. With you in my life, I am not scared of spreading my wings and attempting a flight. Even if I fall, I know you will be there to catch me. I want to make you proud. I want to be worth all the trust and faith you have placed in me.

Gradually, with the passage of time, you have taught me how to accept things without thinking that I will have to pay for them. You have taught me that sometimes love can just arrive without any warning and even if you demand explanations, all questions you ask are irrelevant and, possibly, even unanswerable. Maybe love is just something that simply has to be received, embraced and accepted. There is really nothing else that a person can do about love once it has arrived at their door-step. Love is a privilege and what more can we do besides being grateful for its presence in our universe? 

I do not believe in a happily ever after. In future, our paths may drift or we could simply outgrow each other. There is also a chance that our love could just survive the test of time. I may not know whether our story has a fairy-tale ending or not but, just for today, I feel humbled to have known reality as wonderful as this and I shall eternally be thankful to you for this gratifying experience.