Sunday, November 28, 2010

Courage's what it takes. Are you game?



28th Nov, 2010
Mumbai.


Courage.
That's what it takes.

You jump down a cliff. Slit your wrist. Take pills. Hang yourself from the fan.
You choose to close the book. End all your troubles. Say goodbye to them forever. And the biggest reward you get is that it can't be undone. You win. You've won over them all - the pain, the emptiness, the rejection, the neglect, the deception or whatever it was that drove you to these extremes.
You smile at the ease of all of it. You smile at death and welcome it with open arms. You smile during your last breath knowing that the next second gives you freedom. You smile through it all.
It's not cowardice. Not in the true sense. I understand, totally, that committing suicide is no child's play. There's courage involved of a completely different level. There's commitment and there's pain. But there's also determination which drives all the other emotions away.
I don't underestimate suicide. I don't not understand the need to close the book.
I don't underestimate the courage invested.
I don't.

And then there's a completely different type of courage. 
The courage to turn the page and move on to the next chapter. The courage to embrace the unexpected and sometimes, uninvited. The courage to take a turn towards an unknown alley not knowing what's awaiting at the end of it. The courage to turn your back on life, not in a way where you end it all, but in a way where you choose a different path knowing that the life you're leaving behind are the memories which will haunt you until you rest you head on the death bed.
It is the prospect of starting a completely new life, but with the past memories and mistakes for company, and knowing you're never going back, back to the cozy shelter of the house which saw you grow, to the lap of the mother who loved you selflessly and will always do, to the father who had great aspirations from you, whose chest swelled with pride whenever he saw you, to the brothers and sisters who looked up to you, who fought with you, shared secrets with you, to the life which you know will be easier than the one you're heading towards which needs courage of a caliber even greater then when you thought of suicide. Coz it becomes the hardest when you know you can always turn back towards the house, the mother, the father and all and have the confidence that they'll accept you without a second thought but you promise yourself that you're never turning back. That's where you courage is tested the most. 

I'm not courageous enough. To start a new life with the video of the past life always ready to start playing in my head. I'm just not. And I don't have a valid reason for what I'm doing today or why I'm doing it. I'm just doing it. 

All my life I lived for others. Today, I want to die for myself.

Never again,
B.

She closes her diary and stares at it. For a long time. 
She's dead nervous. She's still not sure whether she's courageous enough to do it. The face of her 6-year self is smiling back at her. She stares at her photo and tries to remember the girl she was 16 years ago. 


"Dad, can I go the party? Pleeeeaase?"
"No. You're a girl. And the party is going to start very late. I'll not allow it."

She looks at her room. For the very last time, she realizes. She's waiting, almost hoping for the nostalgia and guilt to stop her. But truth be told, she already knew she's gonna go through what she decided the moment she wrote it in her diary. There's just nothing to stop her now.


"We're planning to go for a vacation"
"Wow, where to?"
"Kashmir, maybe."
"Awesome, it'll be fun."
"you're not coming, ofcourse."
"Why not?"
"You've got exams to study for remember?"
"But if all of you are going, that means I'll stay alone at home?"
"Noway. You're staying at your aunt's place"
"But I'm big enough to stay alone."
"You're not staying alone. That's final."


Its funny how the time is moving so fast. Like always, time always had the unobliging tendency to double its speed whenever she was looking forward to something unpleasant. She decides to go through her photos. The last thing, she promises herself.

"You know, I was thinking of maybe taking up journalism"
"I think you should do C.A. Everyone's doing that and it's much more respectable."

She lets her tears flow as she saw herself age on paper. Each photo made a different memory pop into her head making her get lost in its oblivion for some time. Wonder was what she felt as she realized how fast time flew by. How fast she matured. How fast she became old enough to make her own decisions. The biggest decision of her life.


"Whom are you texting to?"
"It's just a college friend"
"Which friend?"
"A GIRL. For heavens sake, people. Can't you trust me?"
"It's not the question of trust"
"It's only the question of trust"

She just can't delay any longer. She's getting a feeling that if she couldn't do it now, she won't be able to do it ever. She looks at her house for one last time and moves towards the destiny she wrote for herself.

"I don't want to get married."
"You're 21. It's time. You have to."
"But there's so much more left to do. I've hardly lived my life."
"You can live your life, honey. With your husband this time."

Fear grips her as she looks down at the tiny ant-like cars parked on the ground. She straightens up and stares straight ahead. Tiny sparkles of lights draw a pretty picture on the black canvas that is the sky. She sighs, takes a deep breath, and prepares herself for the fall.

"You've been the best daughter ever, B. I'll miss you very much."
"I'll miss you too, Dad."
"I love you... Will it be too girlie if I cry now?"
"Is you loving me such a horrible thing that it makes you cry?"[Jokingly]
---Laughs---
"I love you too, Dad. I do."

With one foot dangling mid-air, she freezes. The memory of her and dad hits her with a huge wave of guilt. What the hell is she doing? Whatever her life has been, it shouldn't end that way. It'll be poor repayment for the 22 years of life that her parents gave her.

But she can't go back. Not to the place where she feels smothered each and every moment of her existence. She can't bear to handle that anymore. She is just not ready to go back to  the life where her dreams were always mocked, her aspirations stifled. Whatever she does, she's not going back.
And that's when she realizes what she has to do.

She readies herself to turn to the next chapter. I'll close the book, she thinks, when the story gets over.

"Where do you wish to go, Ma'am?"
"Sikkim... I'll go to Sikkim."

Friday, November 19, 2010

Dandelion Diaries


She loves tangled web of emotions and thoughts.
 Even though she likes things to be sorted, 
she loves seeing that her life is complicated, too.
She gets excited by the fact that her life is interesting enough 
to be recapped and sorted.
She accepts that she had a major ego problem in the past.
She does now too. But believe it or not, she's losing some of that now. 
If her everyday rising Facebook friend list is any indication. 
Most of which is due to her sending the friend requests. :]
She's revealed in her previous post 
that she doesn't like surprises or new things. 
But things for her are changing. Slowly. But still, changing.
She's started reading new authors. 
She is now a part of the worlds of Sarah Dessen, 
Maureen Johnson and so many others.
She suggests you to read Sarah Dessen. She insists actually.
Her music list is not just the same old 
Green Day and Rihanna anymore. 
She thanks You Tube 
and her own ability to stay glued to computer 
for countless hours for making her friends with "The Script", 
"Secondhand Serenade", "Duffy" and "Daft Punk".  
She's inviting friends into her tiny little shell. 
And she realized she's liking it. 
Instead of having the option of being alone 
- which she always preferred - 
she now finds herself craving other's company. 
Well, not so much. But still.
She doesn't know how many friends she has exactly now. 
And where exactly they stand in her life. 
And for the first time in life, she doesn't give a damn. 
She's letting the headache get to her. 
She wants to see its breaking point. 
She wants to know how it all unfolds. 
For the first time in her life, she doesn't know the climax. 
And she simply can't stop grinning.
She wants you all to know that she's seen the Harry Potter movie 
and says that the HP-movies furore is born again in her 
after the Half-blood Prince let down.
She shrugs in a so-what kinda way after reading everything she just typed down.
She's tired now. 
She's gonna go scan her refrigerator for some food.
She signs off.

Dandelion: "Ek ticket dena" 
Bus Conductor: "Yep. Where to?"
Dandelion: *Stares at him blankly.*
Bus Conductor: What? Surprised that a Bus Conductor knows English? 
Dandelion: *Shifts guiltily in her seat, gives money and 
determinedly avoids his gaze for the rest of the journey*


She loves life and its complications.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Beyond? Or dangling in between?


Sometimes...
 its only about you...

Sometimes...
you let it be that way,
you let it be about you...

Sometimes...
I don't give a shit,
Infact I'm comfortable that way...

Coz,
Sometimes...
I was a coward, 
a prisoner of my own fears,
with shackles of complicated emotions around my wrist...

Sometimes...
I was just too afraid 
to strip myself down...
to be like you,
to pour my heart out

But now,
Its just not the same as it used to be

Now, 
Unlike the former me,
I want to be  you,
I want to experience narcissism...

I want it to be about me,
I want to be self-obsessed...
I want to be ego-centric.

And now the game starts,
of trust and understanding...
of friendship...
and loyalty...
and now, we'll witness, along with the countless others,
what exactly our thing was.

Were you the damsel in distress
and me your agony aunt?
Was our relationship merely that...
or was it just me who was holding back?

Is this change gonna be worthwhile?
Or I'm I going to learn the biggest lesson of my life?

Sometimes...
it doesn't have to be about you.
Sometimes...
and this is the time,
when I get to be you...
and you choose:
whether to step in my shoes...
or leave the path we chose together,
forever!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The fucking whore


My heart was racing faster than ever. I feared what would happen if it crossed a certain speed limit. Right here, lost in this moment, yet completely aware of every infinitesimal detail, I feared the time, not when my racing heart would push the limit and burst out of my chest, but when it would stop running wildly, stop desiring and most of all, stop fearing. I feared the time when this moment would come to an end. And now that I can see the end looming closer with every beat of my heart, I'm angry on myself for wasting my time in fear of things which are and have never been in my control at all.
Desperation overpowered me. I put everything of myself into this moment to make it memorable and strong enough to make it difficult to move on from, with a flickering light of hope still burning, somewhere...
I had closed the window to all my senses. What was truly alive for me was his hands cupping my cheeks, his tongue moving with mine, his body pressed against mine and his uncontrolled enthusiasm which was driving me crazy, making me want too.
I pushed him onto the wall and pressed my body urgently into his, curving one of my legs over his waist. I moved my hands towards his sweaty neck and to his hair. I bit his ear and then moved on to licking his lips with my tongue. Sensing my desperation, he pressed his body even closer to mine, holding my waist, moving his mouth rhythmically against mine. I could see all the barriers breaking down, the protective shell around me disappearing into the air, the line of limits blurring away. I could see me crossing all the borders today.
We kissed. Deeply. Passionately. Our bodies intertwined, it felt like one body and two souls. It felt like heaven.
Slowly, he started moving his hands upwards, under my t-shirt. I hesitated, pulling my mouth back from his and place my hands on his stopping him from moving any further. He looked at my hand and then at my face. He raised on eyebrow at me and I bit my lip.
Why was I holding back now, I thought. This is stupid. I love him. I want him. He wants me too.
He pulled his hand back and started to retreat. No, that wasn't happening. I panicked. And without thinking twice I grabbed his hand and pushed him on the bed. I started undoing the buttons of his shirt and then the night flew by in darkness, the sound of our breaths and moans punctuating our bliss and togetherness.
Morning came so suddenly, last night felt like a vivid dream. Sunlight was warming my naked back. A stream of emotions were coursing through me - happiness, dizziness, a sense of freedom, a little embarrassment and a silly happy grin which was stuck on my face stubbornly. After half an hour in bed, reliving, savoring and fixing to memory each and every moment of last night, I started to search for my clothes. They were strewn everywhere. Oh. My. God. Thank God he wasn't in the room.
Just when I was collecting my clothes, a glint of silver caught my eye. A silver photo frame was poking out from beneath his cupboard. I picked it up and what I saw finally switched the silly grin off from my face.
It was him, standing hand in hand with a pretty, unknown girl. Their eyes locked on each other, their smiles reflecting their happiness. My face heated up, tears clouded my vision and my hand started trembling. I knew a big flood was on its way and started to dress hastily, wanting nothing else but to leave this place this instance. I picked up all my things and ran towards the exit. Just when I was passing the kitchen, his voice echoed, "Good morning, babe!"
A wave of fury ran through me and before I could help it I was walking towards him, my body shaking with anger and balling up my fist, I gave him a neat punch on his face once, twice, thrice. Satisfied, I turned my back on him, for forever. But he grabbed my wrist and shouted in my ears, "What the fuck, bitch?"
I yanked my hand from his grasp and bellowed back, "Shut the fuck up, you dog... you two-timing asshole!" and stalked off leaving him gob-smacked, cupping his cheeks in pain.
Just when I was entering the lift, I saw her - Her eyes shocked, barely concealing excitement behind them, her lips red, so were her eyes, her hair were messy and impossible. It might have been any other girl he used for benefits, using thoroughly and throwing away once she had served his purpose. It might have been the girl in the photo, smitten by the womanizing bastard. It might have been the same girl from last night; desperate, horny, trying to prove how awesome she could be in bed. It could be the girl who lost her virginity to the fucker whom she would never see again. Or it could be the slut who knew the guy was no good but still gave in. I felt tainted, contaminated. I fixed the girl who was looking back at her from the mirror into my memory - "the fucking whore" and walked towards the staircase away from the lift, the bitch and the creepy claustrophobia.