I was taken by him from the moment I saw him. He stood out from the crowd. Tall, dark, very broad shoulders, solemn but bright aura, VERY handsome. My heart was set but I teased him A LOT. I worked the room, looked around, but it was decided who I was going home with.
Before we could be together, I always had my reservations about sharing my life like this. Making myself so vulnerable to his constant use, being available to him 24/7. But I was hooked from the moment go. He was amazing, very efficient, very dependable. He woke me up in the morning, kept me company at breakfast, managed my schedule, reminded me of my commitments, took messages from people when I was busy. Not only that he became my mentor in many ways. He was a bank of information. He would coach me on the things I didn't know. During the days he was my business associate, and he was a comforting companion in the evenings. He would call upon my friends to make plans, or have a little chat. He would read me stories in bed, he would serenade me when I wanted. He even slept by my side whenever I was too tired.
Not only he became my window to the world but also a trustworthy companion. I became totally dependent on him. He became an extension of my own self.
It has been two years since then and he has become weary of me. He seems to be losing interest and the ability to keep up with me. I can clearly see that his handsome looks have deteriorated so much. He has been obstinate to my touch even. He takes long breaks still seems tired. He takes long pauses before he answers any of my queries. Sometimes he looks at me in a way as though I have been his abuser. I know I should have been a little bit more sensitive to his needs. I never bought him a gift, not even a small accessory. I never said thank you BUT I have been faithful, what else does he expect of me?? He shouldn't have given up on me so soon. He knows I always had 'options'. I am VERY disappointed.
I have enjoyed his company, but he has let me down. And I am afraid its time to move on.
I bid you farewell my dear old blackberry handset.. Axiom, here I come ;)
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The Color of Her Veil
Standing in the window of her room, she was staring into the sky with hurried, searching stares as though her life was scattered out there in bits and pieces. She was flicking through them randomly; piece by piece she was trying to connect the dots of herself.
Today when she woke up in the morning, her PDA was on her chest, she had fallen asleep while reading through her emails. She would do that every night; she would exhaust herself to the point that she would lose control. Her brain would plead with her to pay attention to what it was contemplating. She let the blinking light on her PDA distract her without much effort, one of her friends had left her an IM “you have become so cold, I can barely recognize you.” She looked at the message with apathy, and then got out of the bed. She had a packed schedule.
She sipped her hot coffee, and remembered when she was a little girl, when she lost her mother and how her father had conveniently shifted the burden of her upbringing to her little shoulders. “You are a very brave girl, I know.” he said. And she locked the little girl somewhere inside. She was no longer daddy’s little girl.
And last night on the dining table when her brother was ranting about her “need” to get married he shouted from across the table “Why have you become so difficult to talk to? When did you become so cynical?” He was so mad at her. She looked at her father with a glimmer of hope and saw nothing but indifference on his face. These were the men she grew up with; she had become a perfect stranger for them. “Beta, why are you so distant? When did you change so much?”
“When you were busy presuming something else of me dad, when you were not looking.” She murmured under her lips, but didn’t say anything out loud.
Her coffee was still warm like all her thoughts, she flicked.
There was a time when she suffered silently inside with existential angst; her losses had lead her to believe that there has to be a higher compensation than her material achievements. She tripped on the path of finding a balance between within and outside.
Her PDA was ringing, it was a business call, she muted the call and put it on silent. A gust of wind blew into her face and played with her hair, breathing in the freshness she remembered when she fell in love. It was euphoria, she was happy; he was all what she had wanted in a man, may be in life. But that was the time when she became completely oblivious of herself. It ended faster than it started leaving her in tiny irreparable pieces. All the hard work of her life was in shambles. It took the life out of her to get herself in one piece again. To make herself worthy of her own respect again.
The process of finding the beginning and the end was becoming tedious for her, she was smiling at her own life, she knew that she had come a long way from herself… and going back was no more an option. It was too late. She was responsible for her own death and revival was not possible.
Life was now just a veil over the death of herself.
She switched on her CD player to Lionel Richie’s song “Three times a lady” and stared into the hollow of her future.
Today when she woke up in the morning, her PDA was on her chest, she had fallen asleep while reading through her emails. She would do that every night; she would exhaust herself to the point that she would lose control. Her brain would plead with her to pay attention to what it was contemplating. She let the blinking light on her PDA distract her without much effort, one of her friends had left her an IM “you have become so cold, I can barely recognize you.” She looked at the message with apathy, and then got out of the bed. She had a packed schedule.
She sipped her hot coffee, and remembered when she was a little girl, when she lost her mother and how her father had conveniently shifted the burden of her upbringing to her little shoulders. “You are a very brave girl, I know.” he said. And she locked the little girl somewhere inside. She was no longer daddy’s little girl.
And last night on the dining table when her brother was ranting about her “need” to get married he shouted from across the table “Why have you become so difficult to talk to? When did you become so cynical?” He was so mad at her. She looked at her father with a glimmer of hope and saw nothing but indifference on his face. These were the men she grew up with; she had become a perfect stranger for them. “Beta, why are you so distant? When did you change so much?”
“When you were busy presuming something else of me dad, when you were not looking.” She murmured under her lips, but didn’t say anything out loud.
Her coffee was still warm like all her thoughts, she flicked.
There was a time when she suffered silently inside with existential angst; her losses had lead her to believe that there has to be a higher compensation than her material achievements. She tripped on the path of finding a balance between within and outside.
Her PDA was ringing, it was a business call, she muted the call and put it on silent. A gust of wind blew into her face and played with her hair, breathing in the freshness she remembered when she fell in love. It was euphoria, she was happy; he was all what she had wanted in a man, may be in life. But that was the time when she became completely oblivious of herself. It ended faster than it started leaving her in tiny irreparable pieces. All the hard work of her life was in shambles. It took the life out of her to get herself in one piece again. To make herself worthy of her own respect again.
The process of finding the beginning and the end was becoming tedious for her, she was smiling at her own life, she knew that she had come a long way from herself… and going back was no more an option. It was too late. She was responsible for her own death and revival was not possible.
Life was now just a veil over the death of herself.
She switched on her CD player to Lionel Richie’s song “Three times a lady” and stared into the hollow of her future.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Right 'Wrong" Side
The week flew by in work, long tiring days, and finally Thursday was here... Gawwd I love Thursdays. The feeling of freedom that comes with breaking out of any routine is very sweet. That mixed with a rhapsodic laziness of the Thursday evenings at home, the bliss is so delicious you can almost taste it.
I ditched a friend as I wasn't ready to sacrifice the precious evening over plastic conversations and pretentious food..
I reached home and was barely comfortable when a friend rang the bell, it was a quick surprise visit as she was leaving for vacations. We shared quick gossips over chai and biscuits. During her non-stop banter about her inlaws and parents and husband, she told me how envious she was of my freedom and how sometimes she regretted getting married right after college.
That got me to thinking, as to how right she was. Being girls in our culture, we barely get to have any real freedom till the time we are studying. Parents have certain expectation, vividly laid out plans and rules that we have to follow by hook or by crook. Even the rebels succumb to the emotional blackmail if not to the psychological exploitation of power. (To be fair this doesn't only apply to girls)
Not stepping on toes here, all parents love their children. But its more of an incessant need to fit in mixed with an amalgamation of love and care that they start forcing their kids to get 'settled' in life right after college. Girls come under this radar right after they hit twenty (again many boys can't survive past 26 too). In my own group there is barely anyone who isn't married. (More than half of them are miserable) The last ones standing are lined up for this year. It is tragic when shaadis are carried out as a chore or a social duty and in some cases a business deal. And this goes for all types of shaadis; Love, Arranged or Blind.
So I was saying that till we are studying we barely know what we want. Who we are. The process of self discovery starts when one discovers the world on their own. After we open our eyes in the real world, after the teething period of settling in, we accidentally trip on ourselves. The individual in us is shaped. The reactions, the likes, the tastes and the habits, all of them take a solid form when we are able to afford our own vices along with our cars.
At least this has been my own experience, I did not meet myself until I entered the wrong side of 20's. And it has never felt so right!!
I ditched a friend as I wasn't ready to sacrifice the precious evening over plastic conversations and pretentious food..
I reached home and was barely comfortable when a friend rang the bell, it was a quick surprise visit as she was leaving for vacations. We shared quick gossips over chai and biscuits. During her non-stop banter about her inlaws and parents and husband, she told me how envious she was of my freedom and how sometimes she regretted getting married right after college.
That got me to thinking, as to how right she was. Being girls in our culture, we barely get to have any real freedom till the time we are studying. Parents have certain expectation, vividly laid out plans and rules that we have to follow by hook or by crook. Even the rebels succumb to the emotional blackmail if not to the psychological exploitation of power. (To be fair this doesn't only apply to girls)
Not stepping on toes here, all parents love their children. But its more of an incessant need to fit in mixed with an amalgamation of love and care that they start forcing their kids to get 'settled' in life right after college. Girls come under this radar right after they hit twenty (again many boys can't survive past 26 too). In my own group there is barely anyone who isn't married. (More than half of them are miserable) The last ones standing are lined up for this year. It is tragic when shaadis are carried out as a chore or a social duty and in some cases a business deal. And this goes for all types of shaadis; Love, Arranged or Blind.
So I was saying that till we are studying we barely know what we want. Who we are. The process of self discovery starts when one discovers the world on their own. After we open our eyes in the real world, after the teething period of settling in, we accidentally trip on ourselves. The individual in us is shaped. The reactions, the likes, the tastes and the habits, all of them take a solid form when we are able to afford our own vices along with our cars.
At least this has been my own experience, I did not meet myself until I entered the wrong side of 20's. And it has never felt so right!!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
War Takes a Holiday
Just for one day, war took a holiday.
He walked the places that were virgin to its touch.
He was captivated by the smiles and the freedom of laughter.
He was soaking in the smells of the baking breads, and he giggled with the girls having tea.
He blushed to see the daring of two lover’s passion.
He cried when he touched the rosy cheeks of a new born.
He met the day under a shining sun, and in the night he slept under the naked sky laden with stars.
He dreamt of hope and home and love, where he flew with birds, took a dip in the ocean, kissed a young woman, and held a newborn close on his chest…
He dreamt human!
WAKE UP
It was time to go back.
Where, he’d walk through the valley of shadow of death
Looking at invaded plateau of innocent childhoods
Where fear is a neighbor
Where fathers have said their goodbyes to the young thriving youths
Where mothers have made peace with the decapitation of hope
Where reason has packed its bags and left
Wading through the rivers of blood, gritting his eyes not wanting to ask himself….
Oh, what have I done? Or Have I done this?
I was USED
ABUSED
My codes where Violated
Who served what purpose?
When did I become vanity?
Why did it have to come to this?
Who planned me?
What happened to the dignity of fighting for a higher purpose?
When was I sold?
Who bought me?
How did this happen?
If there was just one thing I could do to…
But No, I have to go back
And now, everything would bleed again, and the only creed would be death
The waves,
The playgrounds,
The peaks
The clouds
The laughter
The warmth
The Hope
The homes
The LIFE…!
Back where everything will die in my arms,
And still, I will have to carry on.
Without shedding a single tear down the brazen face of complacence!
The show MUST go on……..
He walked the places that were virgin to its touch.
He was captivated by the smiles and the freedom of laughter.
He was soaking in the smells of the baking breads, and he giggled with the girls having tea.
He blushed to see the daring of two lover’s passion.
He cried when he touched the rosy cheeks of a new born.
He met the day under a shining sun, and in the night he slept under the naked sky laden with stars.
He dreamt of hope and home and love, where he flew with birds, took a dip in the ocean, kissed a young woman, and held a newborn close on his chest…
He dreamt human!
WAKE UP
It was time to go back.
Where, he’d walk through the valley of shadow of death
Looking at invaded plateau of innocent childhoods
Where fear is a neighbor
Where fathers have said their goodbyes to the young thriving youths
Where mothers have made peace with the decapitation of hope
Where reason has packed its bags and left
Wading through the rivers of blood, gritting his eyes not wanting to ask himself….
Oh, what have I done? Or Have I done this?
I was USED
ABUSED
My codes where Violated
Who served what purpose?
When did I become vanity?
Why did it have to come to this?
Who planned me?
What happened to the dignity of fighting for a higher purpose?
When was I sold?
Who bought me?
How did this happen?
If there was just one thing I could do to…
But No, I have to go back
And now, everything would bleed again, and the only creed would be death
The waves,
The playgrounds,
The peaks
The clouds
The laughter
The warmth
The Hope
The homes
The LIFE…!
Back where everything will die in my arms,
And still, I will have to carry on.
Without shedding a single tear down the brazen face of complacence!
The show MUST go on……..
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