Translucent solitude

The quiet. It soothed her and comforted her. It made her ruminate. It made her feel alive. It made her forget all the trivial noises of the humdrum- the kids, the sounds of the metropolitan traffic, the radio, the hiss of the cooker, the blaring calls of the street vendors and innumerable ringtones.

The gloomy night sky hazily diffused the milky white translucence.  She could feel the night sinking, the dark intensifying, one minute after another, making the stars shine brighter. Gazing into the atmospheric infinity, sipping the cool of the night breeze and cuddling into her own blanket, she closed her eyes for a while and sighed in tranquility.

He faced the sky with her, holding her in a light embrace. They were lying down on the terrace on the same bed, under the same blanket, but didn’t face each other. It was what she wanted- for them both to gaze at the sky. Together. Quietly. 

                                               

He enjoyed the subtle warmth of the places where her skin touched his. He felt it bizarre how the sensation of her breath on his arm made him so calmly erotic. His mind started to cherry-pick the moments of their courtship that eventually deepened into their moments of marriage. Dizzy smiles came and went.

He had sensed that she felt inexplicably lost lately. The routine had dulled her. She’d started to feel fatigued even after sleeping a good ten hours. She’d lose her way into an abyss, in the middle of a conversation. She’d burn the rice. She’d forget to put things in the refrigerator. She’d sometimes sit up in the middle of the night, just to check on the lights and locks. And the week before, she made him coffee, twice in ten minutes. He didn’t say a word but sipped it down. She cleared the cups and took them to the sink and she knew. She closed her eyes in disbelief. He notified at work about his absence.

“I need a break”, she said.

“I know.”

They were almost at sunrise now, without a word uttered. The bluish hue of the dawn and the hovering songs of early birds. He remembered the time when he’d asked her out of curiosity, why she’d chosen him.

“You’re good company. And you’re a quiet guy”, she’d said.

Back then, he thought it was just an explanation, but it wasn’t long before he’d realized she was a quiet one too. There were times when they were up talking all night. And there were times that they drove together in the car with hardly any words throughout. Except a brief period in courtship, he had never felt the urgency to talk to her. She inherently beamed an easy sense of reassurance. He smiled at the queer difference in who she was from every other woman he ever knew, and dozed into sleep.

She’d slept briefly. It felt good to wake up to the mild rays of the sun. She stretched heartily and turned to look at him, finding him in a deep sleep. She freshened up, grabbed a piece of paper, wrote a note and tiptoed out.

He woke up to the emptiness beside him, only to find a note tucked beside the bed.

Hey,

I made coffee.

It feels amazing to realize that I don’t have to get away from you to be alone.

Thank you.

PS: The sun was good, and I sneaked out for a quick run. Can’t wait to see you!

He blushed and sat up to the shining sun, liberally gulping the aromatic coffee happiness.   

All those little things..!

Do yourself a favor,

with a few little things.

Collect a little flavor,

That'll never cost you shillings.

Giggle away with your best mates,

Run out of those closed gates,

Give yourself that fresh air,

That swing, that shower, and that relaxing chair.

Do yourself a favor,

And sit down for a while.

Let your lips play the trick

and curve that joyful smile.

Look at those clouds and daydream.

Blush away with a bright beam.

Sing to yourself that happy song,

You always wanted to sing.

Stare at the moon on those lonely nights,

Humming those tunes of the retro.

Look down from those stunning heights,

Into lights of the gloomy metro.

Spread your hands to the rain,

Do that silly dance.

Open up with those groovy moves,

Like there's never a second chance.

Do yourself that favor,

with all those little things,

Grab every one of those little joys,

That life so luckily brings.

                                            

Void

The evening sunshine seemed to play a bizarre game of light and shadows. She gazed at it uncomprehendingly. She felt she could do it forever. Gaze!

What did it all mean anyway?

Now, now! Don’t get too philosophical about it, her mind warned. She didn't have too many thoughts about the death of her brother. She didn't feel the need to. Three months had been enough to pull her out of her liquid tears, into a solid reality. Be patient, she reiterated. She could not believe that it was herself who had hurled and tossed all her things here and there, turning the house upside down, two days after.

You can cope. Everybody does! He used to say.

She heard it from him the first time when their first dog, Snuffy died. She was eight. And later, ‘You can cope’ became her dose of strength. His words never made her feel like she was extraordinary. He always said she was normal, like the uncle next door, like their grandmother, and  the little boy who played in the sand, on the next street.

“Nothing about us is so extraordinary. Everyone has one’s own struggles. We have, too. They cope, and we can cope too.”

Difficulties were that simple to him. She had stared at his picture and had uttered, “I should have died first. Just to teach you, struggles are not so easy to fight!”

They had their own fights. They talked them out, privately. But rarely, when parents were around, they played the typical blame game.  

“I didn’t touch a thing. It was all her!” he used to say, shrugging with a non-committal attitude.

“He pushed me. It’s him!”

“It’s her!”

“It’s him!”

“It’s her!”

That’s how their fights started. They once fought about who should read The Da Vinci Code, first. She’d asked for the book for her Raksha bandhan gift.

“For you. I know you love it. But it’s true that I bought it for you, right? So, I’ll read first. Eligibility two, I’m elder to you!” he said.

“What has older and younger got to do with reading a book? Don’t be silly!  My gift, I read it first!” she countered.

She let him read it first anyway, in exchange for a hug and a little kiss on her forehead.

She walked over to her nightstand and held the book in her hand. Running her finger over those tiny alphabets of her brother’s handwriting, she closed her eyes and sighed with numbness. Over a past few days, she had really come to understand what ‘feeling nothing’ seems like. She knew she was becoming cold, and she knew she had to do something about it. She remembered that she would turn twenty in three months. She wasn't concerned about not having boyfriend, but about not having anyone to lean on in times like these. That’s when she realized how much she depended on her brother.

He is gone now, and he is never coming back, she tried to tell herself. It was time for acceptance and it was time to move on. She had to do something to get over him, for her own good. And now was the time, she thought, and retreated to her all-time savior- a pen and a paper.

She couldn’t start for a whole hour. And then she started scribbling random thoughts about him. Word after word, she started to realize it was actually helping. She shared a very special relationship with him, and she shared every bit of it, sincerely with that piece of paper. She knew she was too attached to him to pour out whatever she felt on a paper, fold it and hide it away for ever after. But she had to try. And this seemed the only way.

You were always my wings,

When I craved to fly.

Without you by my side,

I look anxiously at the sky.

You were always my hug of relief,

Always my feel of home.

Always my back-up plan,

My brother, my friend, my Superman!

You were my bond, you were my freedom,

You were my hero, you were my phantom.

I always needed that little push you gave,

 To get ahead.

You stirred me with joy,

With the million smiles you spread.

There were ties, there were fights,

There were tears, there were lights,

Hundreds of secrets and sleepless nights.

Shouts of spite and silence of love,

And comfort that reached stunning heights.

Pulling my leg and making me smile,

That fretful search when I was gone for a while,

I remember those triggering words you said,

Always making me go that extra mile.

Those protective hands that also tickled me,

Those wrestling shoulders that also cuddled me,

Are gone.

Forever.

It’s tough to take, but I’ll survive,

I know you will always be my drive.

There is a part of you in me, that can never be killed,

And now, there is a huge void that can never be filled.

Marriage? Please fill this questionnaire!

My fiftyish aunt asks my mom “Your daughter isn't getting married any soon? I have someone in mind for her. I’m sure they’ll make a perfect couple!” As soon as I turn 22, you can find a minimum of fifteen guys in the family circle with whom I make a perfect match! Fifteen.

I keep wondering how that number came up so suddenly. Every uncle and aunt, with whom I’ve barely even spoken, suddenly knows what’s my type, what’s best for me, and who would be my perfect match!

 They hug me and tell me to check out that prince-on-white-horse they have in mind. I manage to go with them and introduce myself to the guy. 

He says, “I am an Engineer from NITK. I topped my batch. I worked for XYZ Company for about two years, and I plan to fly abroad to do my Masters. It’s so really tough to survive in the Corporate without a Masters Degree. You cannot really say what it expects from you, you know… And so much so….” .

“Err… Sorry, I didn’t get your name..”  I interrupt.

Really!? You don’t tell me your name, you don’t tell me where you live, and you don’t tell me what you like doing. You are in love with your certificates and the whitewashed walls, glass doors and AC in your cabin!?

Yeah. May be I seem a little judgmental here. But what else do I think? I am entitled to a first impression. Guys who purely intend on a temporary romantic expedition and start out with that’s-a-nice-weather are far better than guys who intend on a lifetime bonding and start out with I-earn-this-much.

First question- How does anybody know what I want?

This list of ‘anybody’ surprisingly, includes parents too. They once tried to convince me that all my relatives who boast about prospective bridegrooms for me, wish for my own happiness.

“They just want to get you married to a family that will keep you happy!” they said.

“Not really. They just want a wedding. I want a marriage! There is a difference.” I said.  

It’s true what people say. Parents know best. Parents know what’s good for us and what’s not. Mine bear with me day in and day out, and they are pretty sure that it’s what the groom has to do too, more or less. But that’s just theory!

Practically, what I am depends on whom I’m with.The person I’m going to be, with my future husband, is so clearly different from what I am with my parents now. Ask different people to describe me. They have hundred different adjectives and hundred more versions of those adjectives. So, back in square one, how is that going to work, really?

Second question- Don’t you think I should decide for myself?

Of course you do. You just don’t say it aloud! But you know 

what? You are forgiven!

So, now comes the list of all other questions that I ask myself about my marriage.

What if we turn out to be two really different people who cannot bear with each other?

What if we want different things from life and from each other?

What if we misunderstand and assume each other’s words and silence?

What if we cannot get each other’s sense of humor?

What if we cannot picture and make sense out of each other’s dreams?

What if love means different things to us?

What if we get bored with each other?

So many questions rain down on me. Well, I wouldn’t know the answers right away, would I?

Questions like these get stronger when people start saying it’s time, and specially when I have never been involved with anyone romantically. Never being in a relationship gives me the pinch sometimes, it would be better if I had some prior experience or at least familiarity.

 I shrug with tight lips, fixed eyes, raised eyebrows, and then get into a deep philosophical thought of what marriage is!

Gambling- my mind says!

“What!? Is this the same girl who wrote a hundred hopelessly romantic poems!?” my best friend yells at me when I say so.

“That’s hormones! Let’s get real!” I say.

“Ugh! You and your reality, logic and practicality! Shut up now!” she says and picks up the nearest pillow.

We start a pillow-fight and giggle at each other’s fighting skills.  

Let go. But, gently!

I’m happy that it lasted so long,

It made me rich and made me strong.

It brought me back my long lost dreams,

It brought me back my ardor.

It got my life back on track,

It brought me fragrance and flavor.

I gave in to the avalanche of being swept away,

Mulling over the new tunes of lure that made me sway.

I suddenly fell in love with poetry, flowers and church bells.

Every little song I heard suddenly made sense.
Now I know how it feels to lose myself to someone,

To feel the joy, to feel the shame,

When my emotions come undone!

That’s when words like logic and realism hide away,

And that’s when my actions go out of my way.

I smiled, I laughed, I blushed, I cried,

I gave my best to keep us tied.

But yes, it can’t be a never-ending spree,

Of tying up each other when we want to be free.

                                                                                     

It takes a lot of rumination, it takes a lot of time,

And a lot of patience to get over something so sublime.

I sometimes still sit here counting your dreams from the past,

Musing over the splendor that was never meant to last.

Lust is not forever, and neither were you.

It’s almost always the same if it’s too perfect to be true.

Time has come for the last good-byes, take my last embrace.

Smile at me for one last time, for that will forever be your face.

It’s time to put things behind and it’s time let you go,

It’s time for me to shine in new lights and put on a brand new show!

Charmed!

Love is too clichéd to talk about. Too poetic, too abstract and too vividly opined about. So, I dedicate this post to that mystifying, inexplicable emotion that creates a strong tempest in your heart and goes away leaving you in a surprising tranquil!

Call it whatever you want- crush, infatuation, attraction, craze, fascination, fondness, liking, lust, allure, magnetism, so much and so forth!

It is purely physical almost always, when I am totally charmed by the handsomeness of the guy or the confidence with which he presents himself. Hormones take their toll. I am not serious and I know it’s a quick sexual reflex! I like to keep an eye on him when I am around, and I sneak a stealthy quick peek and feel my heart beating faster.

                         

                        

Other times it’s not as simple as that. Specially, when the person turns a friend and his looks is not the only admiration factor. I see something so interesting in him that I start feeling; I would have admired the very quality very much, even if he wasn't that good looking, after all. Then grows an irrepressible interest and curiosity.  I am deeply driven to know him better and not be prying at the same time! 

We do start talking. Nothing is too personal. But a few things are of such a kind that they are meant for the two of us only! That’s the time when my emotions refuse to be obedient to me. That’s the time when words fall short to explain what I am going through.

Complicated? Wait till that gets worse. I confess what I’m going through, and he understands! The fact that he takes everything exactly the way they are to be taken, makes me admire him even more!

It’s a very special excitement- the anticipation of meeting him everyday, the very evident high spirits, the purely intellectual talks, the pink blushes all day, the little comical questions, the strange little thrill in stealthily exchanging texts sitting three feet away, having tiny secrets from the rest of the group, pestering each other in a hundred cute ways, and the silliness of it all!

It’s something that brings out the sixteen-year-old inside me, all over again!

Now, that’s not love! That’s not infatuation as well. It’s a little thrill, a little excitement, a little adventure of its own kind. It’s a very refreshing possessive state in which I totally enjoy being charmed! 

It’s something very close to how a child feels when it stealthily eats a cookie without the mom knowing, how a wife feels when she talks for hours with her childhood sweetheart without the husband knowing, how a teenager feels when he hides his love letters from his parents, and how a con man feels when he wins and walks out with grace!

It is short-lived, temporary, silly, stupid, impractical, juvenile and ridiculous! It dies with time. But still, it recharges me with the spark I badly need for me to move on. Among all the other boring mediocre things in life, this qualifies for an oasis.

                       

Even if not tomorrow or day after, a few years down the lane, we will part ways and there will be a day when we almost forget about each other. There will be a day when I laugh at the stupidity of it all! 

But for now, I’m still on the roller-coaster of being charmed, and I’m crazy about the ride!