“I am a lost soul” – I say
“I will hold your hand” – you say
“I am all heart broken” – I say
“I will let you heal” – you say
“I need time” – I say
“I will just wait here” – you say
“I am really confused” – I say
“I will help you find clues” – you say
“I am hopeless” – I say
“I will love you” – you say
“I am so amazingly insane” – I say
“I will love you more” – you say
“I am scared” – I say
“I am not him” – you say!
The wrong feelings that always seem right and the right ones that always (always) seem wrong. It is because of this concluding statement in which my life is based on that my life is one hell of a mess right now. It is so freaking messy (messier than a kid trying to eat a plate full of red saucy spaghetti- strands of noodle hanging from the rim of the plate and all around the plate… red tomato gravy making stubborn stains all over the clean white table cloth). After explaining this I pretty much explained all I am right now and how I feel.
I was watching this movie and the girl says – “Life is a mess and that is what’s beautiful about it.” This particular line just grabs my wandering attention (I cant even concentrate while watching a movie these days) and i replay the line again and listen again so that i can memorize the line.I feel “connected” and then feel “WOW” , its OK to have a messy life! Now that i am quoting a stupid line (that often feels enlightening to me somehow) from some actor in a movie i feel pathetic. Yes! I feel how sad my life is. Every now and then people around me quotes famous important people such as Gandhi, Steve Jobs, Martin Luther King (Oh wait, even i quote Martin; if using the line “I have a dream.” counts). Sometimes, no actually every time they quote those lines I wonder how they manage to memorize word by words and also remember the quotes just to match the context at the right time. (At the back of my head I then tell myself I will as well read few quotes).
See, this is what i was talking about. I was telling you how messy my life is then i get tangled with the quotes and important people. The spaghetti noodles must be less tangled than I am.Those creamy white strands must be easy to untangle but my messy life is so beautifully tangled that i don’t know from where do i begin to solve it. The noodley mess is easy and tasty to clean- you take a big pointy fork, shove it into the plate, twist it and then eat it! your plate is clean. But the messy life i created is so not disappearing with an ordinary metal fork; I will be needing a magical fork!!!
There in a closet, in the darkest corner I hid the box. I hid it proper so that even I would forget about the box. “The box”! Yes, the box with all your pictures – you smiling, your side face, you with your favorite glasses, you with that funny disgusting hat (sorry I said I lost it but I dumped it for your good :P), you with your face covered with your hand, you enjoying the majestic view at Mustang, you with your mouth stuffed with chicken, you drinking tea in that mug I love so much, you this and you that!
If only I had loved you slow, I wouldn’t have to hide that box in the dark. I loved you more than much all at once, scared there would be no next minute with you. I loved you in hurry, missed you even when I was with you , staring at your eyes, I missed you more when you were right in front of me. Even when you would be sitting right in front of me, I could see you slowly disappearing, slowly but disappearing. I felt you and I disappearing in the pitch darkness, the blackness of that lovely evening finally hid us both like I hid that box.
“The box”! Do you know what is strange? The box! The box with your pictures captured in it. I guess that box is haunted by your memories. Sometimes, only sometimes the soul of those pictures rises from rest, passes through the thick walls of the box and sneaks out of the closet; it dances in my room, those picture souls… like they are moving to the slow song we used to dance together. Then they find me, circling me round and round singing in the voice only I can hear. Those picture souls then stop right in front of my eyes; they make me see you – you smiling, your side face, you with your favourite glasses, you with that funny disgusting hat(sorry again for that), you with your face covered with your hand, you enjoying the majestic view at Mustang, you with your mouth stuffed with chicken, you drinking tea in that mug I love so much, you this and you that.
My eyes sees nothing but my heart remembers them all, each picture souls grip my heart tight and my eyes cry instead.
The first poem I wrote!
I wrote them words in middle pages of my chemistry note book
I passed the notebook while the lousy class was running like a snail
I let him read the poem, my first poem
It tasted horrible I knew,
Like a bitter taste of bad coffee,
Rubbing permanent bitterness to your tongue
The words were like scrambled egg in a sticky pan
All messy and confused
The words made no sense,
they did not belong together in a sentence
nor they looked good together side by side
Bottom line- “ The poem was horrible!”
Yet, he read the poem, line by line
Didn’t try to escape a single word on his way to nonsense
He finished reading my poem
And then he “SSSSmiled”
He didn’t protest, he didn’t say it was bad
He just “SSSmiled”
From that day I stopped writing poems,
I would never write again nor let him read them again
Cause I knew I would love that guy
For life…
Cause I knew he would never Say “My poem sucks!!!”
When you first said hello,
I didn’t hear your hello, instead
I ate your hello, I swallowed the word without breaking up the syllable, I engulfed the whole word. It should have reached my stomach to complete the normal process but instead it skipped the food pipe and reached my heart. On touching the muscles of my heart, it made my heart beat twice as much as it should have.
When you first rest your head on my shoulder,
I didn’t feel your touch, instead
I took a long breathe in, and collected all the air at that time. I memorized how you smelt, that right amount of faint hypnotizing scent of your cologne. Then I remembered the temperature of that warm sunrays falling on us. Ah! And that fruity scent of your shampoo, remember how you were nervous and were blushing when I mentioned it was a bit girly for a man.
When you smiled at me,
I didn’t see your lips, instead
My eyes were drawn to your eyes, those heavenly pair of eyes. You must think I am crazy when I say I felt the urge to kiss your eyes without you blinking and letting your eyelids get between. I wanted to freeze your smile, let your muscles hurt a bit longer just to hear that loud laughs your eyes were making; they were laughing so much I could clearly see tears already glistening in them.
I don’t like the stars anymore! They look ridiculous in the sky, disturbing the pitch darkness of night sky. Ah and about the moon! I find it more disturbing, it changes its shape every night, darn the moon! Not knowing which shape it wants to be in (just like your heart I guess, changing constantly; in a pattern I can trace). You know how much I fancied the permanent white twinkly dots spread all over the black blanket like white pearls (I know pearls don’t shine as much as diamonds do but I like pearls, they are pure white all the time. Diamonds! They change colors; sometimes they are full of so many colors at once, it confuses me just like you do.)
I force myself to look at the stars (I cannot stare at them anymore, it makes me nauseous) just to try and find the peace I felt when I looked at them before. I see the stars, shining silly and less bright; same like my heart, weak and less red! Just as I get done with trying myself to love the stars again, I press my eyelids so as to get over that sight of silly night sky. Every time I see the moon I hear you say “Look at the moon. It’s beautiful.” How I wish I would forget that.
Shooting stars! I can relate them to you just perfectly. One moment I can see you (or think I saw you) and the other moment you are gone in a blink of an eye. One more, wishing on shooting stars and wishing on you is same! Both never comes true.
I am being unreasonable I know, tainting everything and every place with your memory and then cursing them now. I am sorry but I promise you that I will find the moon and the stars beautiful someday again. Someday! I will be able to whisper and smile softly at them just like I used to.
I so remember me turning all red when I accidentally met my aunt and cousins at New Road gate when I was with my boyfriend (it was when I was studying in grade 12). I still can imagine how I felt at that moment, like I was caught in a crime. I was so so nervous to answer when my aunt asked whom I was with. I was like “Ah, sathi sanga.” I was burning like wildfire, her wicked teasing smile and gleamy eyes made it worse. Lucky I was that she was sweet enough to not report that event to my parents though she did question me a great deal about him and his whereabouts then. I asked her not to tell that to my mom (I am sure though she promised she wouldn’t she did tell my mom, though mom never questioned me anything).Well, this is the scenario four five years back!
It was mush worse when I was in school. My school days were deprived of mobile facility, there was only landlines (tyo pani with mom dad ko supervision ma). All my kta sathi haru were afraid to call me at home cause dad was like “HELLO???” (In his meanest tone) and then when my friends gutsily asked “Nija cha?”, he be like “Ko boleko ? Chaina Nija!!!” If he were to find me hanging in phone for more than two minutes he would question “phone ma bhaneko chainey kura matra garna lai ho… k nachahiney guff gardai bascha”. “kati ghanta bho school bata farkeko? Eti chadai kura garney kaam parcha?” blah blah blah… (haha…samjhera ni hasuthcha ahile)
To be talking about the present stage of my life; my same aunt be like “jo bhaye ni ramro kta khojera boyfriend bana. Ali huney khaney khalko, gyani kta, intercaste bhaye ni kei chaina ailey ko jamana ma chalcha.” Just to get into her nerves I answer “koi chaina, khojdinu na ek jana kta… dui tin barsa ko lagi boyfriend ek jana khojdinu, man paryo bhaney chai pachi tei sanga bihey garamla.” Or if I really am in mood to eat her brain out, I answer “ma ta bihey nai nagarney bhaneko. kasto cha bichar? Euta flat kinney pachi, ani timi haru pani auu kailey kai ani party garnu parcha” Then she looks scarily (not really).
Even today, I asked my mama “mama malai gaadi chalauna sikaidinu na” and he goes “kina siknu paryo, gaadi bhako kta sanga love gar”… then he sees a sajha bus and he be like “sajha bus ko driver bihey gaar” (ah! I want to mention a deal we have with our mama, he has promised us to gift a house to whoever marries a guy from another caste and ghar ma mom dad le bhitrayena bhaney.). My mama was so mean from the beginning, as a kid I loved panipuri ani jailey ni Mangal Bazaar gayera pani puri khanthye and he used to say “yelai tei pani puri ko madhisey sanga bihey garidinu parcha… timi haru pani puri khana jau, paisa ni tirnu pardaina, timiharu ko jwai ta ho ni”
Well, I am sharing my personal events with you guys just to tell you how time and everyrthing changes as you grow. Pahila kta sathi haru sanga hidna pani dar hunthyo, had to be real careful about people seeing us together and dar of koi manchey le kura katla bhanney ani that resulting to mom ko etro lamo lecture on behaving like a proper lady. And look now! They are sad that I don’t have a boyfriend. Oh how they wish I was in a relation with a good guy proper to be their jwai!!!
I am surprised how the way my family treats(talks) me now and then contrasts so much.
I bet you know “that” feeling when you enter the wrong exam hall; you walk through all those benches to search your seat, your eyes fixed on those 3 / 4 digits of roll numbers with your mind set on your own roll number. You start worrying and get restless not to find your place. (You must be wondering where I am going to with these entire exam rooms n roll numbers. Well, I will tell you about it shortly.) Alright! Without further ado I will get to the point. This morning while I was playing with Shel , suddenly a thought crossed my mind. All these times i have had so many heartbreaks and complicated relationships, I did the same mistakes again n again never amending my ways (You know that story of spider right? Bachha bela padhya thyou ni, the spider who tries again and again to climb the wall even though he falls numerous times. Well, I took that lesson a bit too seriously hola, that’s why I never give up hope of finding my happy ending whether that guy be my mr.right or mr.left :P).
I reached to a conclusion on what I have been doing wrong; all I did was search my seat at the wrong exam hall and blamed myself for not finding my seat! Need I explain more??? 😛 Its like i have been searching Rapunzel in Cinderella ko story… Amir Khan in Dabang… all in all, the moral of the story is i have been searching my place in a wrong story where the cast has already been decided and there is no extra character, not even a guest appearance! Can you believe that?
My side of the story… I am well aware about the fact that there are always two sides(or may be more) of the story, I ve been told about this a million and gazillion times (the words don’t happen to pierce my thick ear :P). Call me stubborn or crazy, I always liked and believed in my side of story. Well, that’s what I am going to say… “my side of the story”, cause that is only what I know and you can believe is true as I narrate you the lines.
(I so want to start the story with “Once upon a time…” it has always been my dream to start my story with that plain classic line. I hope you bear my madness in which I find wee happiness hidden behind those plenty folds of my crazy country. And I am about to begin my story with once upon a time… I would like to end it in same manner, just to stick with the format 😛 )
Once upon a time there lived a fair maiden in a far away land. She had this pure heart dipped in all hues of love- RED, when she blushed; CRIMSON when she was in love; MAROON when she missed her love. She was the happiest soul though she had her heart patched into places to hide the hideous scars from the previous heart breaks. All day she spent singing songs of joy and dancing to its tunes, swinging her long lush raven black braids in the air. She was loud and she was clear; she talked to every stranger that she passed and spilled her stories; she didn’t notice she met the stranger twice and yet again recited the same story with same wideness in her smile, just the right amount of blush in her cheeks! She just loved saying stories.
Not far from where the girl lived, there was a kingdom separated by a river so wide, there was bridge built with the tallest tree of the forest by the ogres. In that kingdom, there was a busy marketplace which was never left alone; people from all land visited there. Right in the centre of the market place, there was a merchant. How was he? He was a man with polished heart, glittering in the midday bright sun. His heart was so bright no one knew the color of his heart, or what he held in it. Despite of this, everyone loved him; he was a kind and good man. Baggage of pain and secrets he held in that tiny heart of his, never did he let anyone move the curtains of smile from his face. His huge loud laughter tickled the ear drums making everyone laugh along with him.
Neither of these two souls were aware about one another. Days passed by and nights fell asleep, one after another… it was just that one touch of the cupid that both would see each other. The whole universe were waiting silently to hear that first words they said to each other. Not so long, one day when the girl was on her way to marketplace, crossing the bridge, the sound of horse galloping drew her attention. She just waited until that……….haha thank you for reading this incomplete story.I am so sorry.Dont hate me! 😛
I won’t give up on us !!! that’s what I have been screaming like a crazy old woman with that torn up straw hat. I have been listening to that song of Jason Mraz like there is no other song ever recorded.I repeat it words after words so as to make my heart and mind memorize it… May be its only because I want myself to believe in what no one else believes to be true, not even you. Sometimes even I lose my tightly held hope, the words sometimes slip and I fail to say them properly ;so I guess I can’t possibly blame anyone or you for not believing in what I treasure the most when even I doubt myself now and then.