family

Soulmates?? Nah.

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I am lost for words currently. I want to shriek out about how I feel and yet I have nothing of how to put it in words. I am trying, I am trying to talk to you. But mostly I feel very weird and uncertain about stuff. I feel stupid how you know nothing about me because you never ask and yet the word love springs out multiple times in each encounter. We are supposedly people who are very close and yet when I need you to understand stuff, I feel you act selfish and think only about yourself. I want to tell you about bruises and wounds and I don’t want you to make a fuss about it. Why are we so different, why? There is so much, and yet its like there is nothing.

I read a post that we shouldn’t feel the need to be fulfilled by another entity and I have grown out of that phase to a great extend , I know I am complete. But what about all that value addition I thought was possible? I see myself utterly confused.

What am I doing? Some days it feel I am pretending a whole circus out of my life with you.

Annoyance and hurt…… annoyance or hurt? lol

Too much inconvenience in life.

Open letters- I wish someone would write this for me

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Dear Sara,
I am sitting here with my coffee tumbler (as you aptly call it)  in front of me and I feel no need to drink this elixir of hope we call coffee. I miss you. I can almost imagine your beautiful face beyond the steam of freshly brewed coffee and your barely contained excitement and I can hardly make my way through these words you say, they puzzle me. I see this dancing spirit in your eyes and I am already in another time, another landscape. Perhaps we are old and with our weak knees and bones grumble about youths or we are dancing down a slope in a frenzy of expert moves and maneuvers. You scold me later but darling, how do I turn down these invitations of ecstatic promises. Hold my hand and make me stay in now.
Yours forever,
Rhett

In great disbelieve!

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Perfection was nothing
But a great deception
Because with all my vision
I couldn’t see.
Expectations, thus I bred daily
(a set of disaster),
with distorted reality of things.
But fate like a grandmaster
With its intrusion, timely,
Taught me lessons with great wisdom,
But Oh Lord, does it stings!

The child in me

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More than anything in the world
I would simply love to be hugged
Letting all the pleasant emotions of happiness unfurl
Escaping all the dense layers of negativity, with a simple shrug

I want to be embraced without awkwardness
In a spur of moment, with no hesitation
It would be good to lean into someone with the intent to express
The deep crushing desire for comfort; for consolation.

The era of intoxication by music- A tale of old days

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I consider myself to have a great understanding of music and can feel the various ebb and flow of it. I have been a reticent amateur beat box-er(ess) for past few years of my life and feel a certain pride in the ability to do so.  I have no idea when exactly was the first time that I heard music or how did I took that glorious moment/ turning point in my life, but I do have certain vague memories. I am one of those few people that come in the very very uncommon subset of those who came to know music due to the corrupt company (just kidding).

My siblings are the first people I blame who actually introduced me to music because both of them were music junkies. My sister was more into English music due to the influence of my cousins and my brother was into Indian and Pakistani music. Despite their differences, they would both co-operate with each other and contribute pocket money for buying music cassettes (some audio story cassettes for me if I was lucky enough because I loved them). TDK cassettes were bought so that music could be taken from others and saved and various playlists were created according to choices. The whole process used to take so long and no one was allowed near the recording device near which my sister sat like a much experienced mouse trap, and one move of the lips could cause caustic burns (she always had long nails).

At this point in time, I think Michael Jackson can be said to bring siblings and families all around the world together, to very sociable and bearable courteous behavior or maybe it was just at my home. Both my elder siblings were a huge fan of him and loved his music. My father’s eldest brother was requested again and again for bringing the newest and the best walkman, which was second only to chocolates, so that my siblings could listen to music without judgments and obstructions. My sister got her first true taste of heartache when she lost her much beloved walkman while we were traveling and it slipped through the window and embraced death under the cruel wheels of the fast paced train, with a tiny parting yelp. Many of my favorite songs are the ones from the old tapes of my sister which include:

  1. Last Christmas by WHAM!
  2. Careless whisper by George Michael
  3. You look wonderful tonight by Eric Clapton
  4. Say a little prayer for you by Aretha Franklin
  5. One way ticket (which I used to sing as one way ticket to the Zoo ooo ooo o o)

Our first real breakthrough in listening to music without interruptions (since the only music player in the home belonged to my parents so there were always problems) came when my youngest paternal uncle decided to pass on his DVD player to us. It meant hours and hours of uninterrupted music for my siblings.

When I was young, I was clever enough and knew that certain songs were only for certain situations or ambiances. For example it was common knowledge that Sha la la la la la by VengaBoys was only for a rainy day and had to be listened to and sung while walking in the rain. My era of listening to music due to corrupt influence took it downturn when my sister got married. Before getting married, she destroyed huge bags upon bags of cassettes (in which I took part because it was so much fun) because she has to start a new life in a very pious monk like way (do monks give up music?) My brother listened much of the music in washroom while bathing, which tooks hours and hours because it was so therapeutic, a habit he picked up from my paternal aunt’s husband much to my mom’s chagrin.

I was brought back to listening to music in high school whereby it was one of the frequently discussed topics and I listened to few tapes lent to me by my best friend. Later I almost renounced music when I came to college however I discovered some great songs till then, so I can say that I wasn’t totally a follower, Hey there Delilah by Plain white t’s is one of them.

These days my connection is only to natural or binaural sounds from the time I discovered them on soundcloud and they are so peaceful and help as much as ice cream or coffee, leaving you unruffled and in your best zone.

The strange star-crossed lovers

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He holds onto her hand, either out of the fear of losing her or maybe that is what he has seen so often, and this last fleeting gesture of seeking comfort in the nearness of beloved, repeated countless times, is etched in his mind. He doesn’t know how much more time he has and it is impossible not to think of the looming doom upon his head. He looks at her and tries to keep his composure, so as not to hurt her any further and rather calm her down. ‘I want to be your strength, my love’ he thinks and traces his thumb gently over her delicate face.

She lies on the bed, pale, shrunken and like a ghost of the past already. Every breath she takes, make it sound like an effort pulling at the very core of her heart. The only part of her which still feels alive is her eyes. The deep blue of her eyes seems restless, as if a fish after being caught in a net. The very last of her strength is draining slowly and she opens her mouth to whisper some inaudible words.

He comes closer to her and puts his ears near to her mouth. She sighs ever so slightly, so patient even in her last moments. “Take care of Amile and …” she pauses and rests her hand on his head, “gain strength and grow well for the both of us, while….” He couldn’t hear the rest of it because he felt a sensation like an electrical shock crushing his very soul and he slips away from her.

He couldn’t stand the misery and disbelieve her words causes him, and does she not know? “Gain strength?” he sputters and looks at her incredulously, “How could you even ask that of me?”He stands rigid and decides that he can’t face her anymore; it’s too much to ask of any mortal.

He feels angry beyond comprehension and realizes that lava of burning hot fire is seething inside him. Something shifts inside the room, a very imperceptible turn but they both feel it because he hears her pleading for him to come to her and hold her. He doesn’t hesitate for a second and she is in his arms in a swift movement and he can feel strange wetness on his face. He feels silent tremors and is not sure which of them is shaking. “Sing me our song”, she says.

In a scratchy voice barely audible to anyone he starts to sing tonelessly but starts to make his way into the soft melody:

‘A thousand miles seems pretty far

But they’ve got planes and trains and cars

I’d walk to you if I had no other way

Our friends would all make fun of us

and we’ll just laugh along because we know

That none of them have felt this way

Delilah I can promise you

That by the time we get through

The world will never ever be the same

And you’re to blame’

He can see she is smiling that warm loving smile that made him mad the very first time he saw her and he was besotted from the word go. His family thought she was very plain and his friends, who knew the mystery behind her presence in the lands, openly condemned it as illegal and thought that he was a fool for following an ‘emagrati’ (a common word for immigrant in our part) and that they were destined to be star crossed lovers, and nothing more from the start.

He never cared much for her status as an immigrant or considered her plain because he was in love for the first time and whenever she was around he felt a strong magical pull towards her. A long forgotten elaborate poem by Yeats came to his mind whenever she was around and he still remembered the glimmer in her shining eyes the first time he recited it to her:

To Ada, my love:

‘Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Inwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams’.

They had danced all night long and the poem in itself has been a way to ask her to marry him and thus as was the cosmic plan, they eloped within a month of meeting each other, quietly with attendance of few close friends. They never even consider the danger that her illegal immigrant status might pose to their relationship or the terrible circumstances that now inflicted themselves upon them. They were young and naïve and thought that nothing could stand in the way of their eternal love, which obviously was foolish of them and he is amazed at how long they still got to be together without any suspicions from authorities. However, it ended one fateful day and all the others like her, who were considered nothing more than mere filth crowding this sacred land, were suddenly being specially sought after, so that they could be removed. He remembers how for months they felt a tight scrutiny around themselves and felt a paralyzing fear whenever anyone in official looking attire stared at them for a tad too long.

He feels a pressure on his shoulder and it’s Amile. They stare at each other and then he feels her shifting in his arms, fluttering like a bird, to hold her baby. She hugs him tightly and I can see fear and confusion in his eyes.

He feels as if his insides have turned to ice and the very prospect of Amile growing up without Ada is pure heart wrenching to him. Kevin, his brother, enters the room and nod slightly towards him and then says softly that it is time to let go. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out and he feels weak and thinks his legs will not support him to the place of execution. However, he puts up a last brave attempt and moves her bed slowly until they reach the place of execution. He can hear faint screams and sobs, while a strong smell of dying souls emanate from the place. From here on the moments stretching beyond take a dreamy or more like nightmarish quality and he loses count of time and remembers only faintly the dark reaching out and sucking his beloved Ada forever into an abyss, from where no living soul ever escaped.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Samuel can feel a hollow feeling as he comes around and looks at the doctor worriedly. The doctor, however, smiles kindly at him and says that his liposuction procedure has been done safely and he can now live a more fit and happy life.

Samuel had gained a lot of fat over years of eating greasy food and living a stagnant life, leading to a massive weight gain. He tried to lose as much as he could but then the stubborn fat cells in his body refused to budge and a liposuction was suggested. He feels a calm settle over him and a drunken sense of optimism swell inside him with the idea of beginning a new, improved life from right this moment.

The spoiled youngest child do care about what you say, y’know!!

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Some days I wake up
to my mom rushing around
or my dad at his office table
or sometimes with both of them with a frown

And just while I am having
a lazy moment of haze
They throw something angry at me
and it will force me in this faze

It would be something like “You don’t care for me”
or ” You will only wake up when I am dead”
but these phrases instantly go all the way to my brain
and I leave my state of dreamy happiness in vain

I know that they might not mean it really
or have said it in a burst of temporary exasperation
But even for the most disobedient careless child
they could pierce all the way to the heart; these crazy suggestions

At night these thoughts and remarks make me uneasy
and I check up on them while they sleep
I squint my eyes and see their bellies rising and falling in the dark
and only with this daily ritual can I fall back asleep