Wishing upon a broken star

Before, before teaching myself to forget your voice, I wanted to believe in its power again, like I used to; but I have seen how hollow promises can be, how cruel mere sounds can be.

I want to ask you, who you are to me with all the sincerity in the world. I want to listen to you and trust you as though you and I are still in love and unbreakable. As though trust is the most precious pearl and you are the strongest oyster in the world and you are carrying it for me and you have gifted it to me. I want to hear from you, Girl you are the most valuable gift that I ever had.

You know, when I wake up each morning I think of you, but I am still strong and I am standing in front of you with that adamant faith that I’m doing everything right. I once believed, I’m unbreakable only because you are protecting me, but no dear, you have never held me close... You had your own inhibitions and in all those slips you made me stand alone. You have taught me that I don’t need you in my life to sustain.

I always had dreams about us. We will go and sit in the beach after work, watching the great evening sea... I will run to the waves and back... My feet will sink deep into the sand as the water speeds past me and back, you will come near me holding me tight as if no tide can touch your girl when you are around... You will pull me further and further into you- with your touch, you will give me that stolen kiss in the beach, you will love me as if you don’t need the strength of those four walls around to love you girl... You will dive deep inside me. We will melt together in so many ways that I forget to concentrate on the world around...

You will put your arms around my shoulders and I feel I am yours. I’m standing on the top of that golden castle which has only a door that only opens to your whistle.  My heart will write fairy tales in the air in which you are the prince and I am the princess...

We will make this world of ours beautiful. And looking into your eyes I will say with the innocence of a three year old girl- “I love you.” Then, you- my reflection- would smile at me with all the same sincerity and will give me the world’s warmest hug ever. You will hold my shoulders tightly and will take my chin up with your right hand. You will wipe my tear with your hand saying, never cry again for me my dear...That’s when I’d realize that you have loved me, and always will...

But fairy tales are never true; they will always remain as dreams of that small girl who wishes upon a broken star that once a handsome prince will come riding a unicorn to give her a kiss and she will become the princess of his province. 

Thoughts!!

Last day I was watching the movie, 500 days of summer!! This being the 3^rd time in this week I am watching it… I think about those days we started dating, when we sat at the marry brown chicken restaurant, The all lit up beautiful Kanakakunnu Palace, the beautifully paved walk ways of summer palace.. I have always wished for a position, your knees behind my back, your fingers running through my curls and my fingers caressing your ankles, smiling innocently, that no one noticed. (Sad that it never happened). I have always longed for that sms saying, I miss you, which never came.. I used to check my phone every now and then to see if there is something of yours.. 

I think about checking my phone during my lunches, and seeing a surprise message, saying, "Dear come out, V will lunch together." And I'd run as soon as I see this, rush to the bathroom, set my hair, and you'd be waiting out at the Technopark gate, waiting impatiently with your gaming iPod and as soon as you see me you'd take my bag and drive us to the best restaurant nearby to have the ‘Dish of the day’.  And sad, it had never happened…

I remember about you, waking up earlier than me and watching me sleep and when I woke up and asked, "What?" you said nothing ‘sleep’. I wished you ever told me ‘I love you’. I know you have loved me…. But I was not sure you did it... Or I always had a feeling you never did it properly.

But I don’t know, if I could ever dare to settle for anything less than what you gave me. Because I can’t still believe you haven’t cared for me properly!!

Paranoia...

          

            The voice over the phone was getting louder. She remembered that day when he had told her to not fear and that nothing would happen. He would take care of her. No, the words dint sound hollow to her ears, already deafening by the noises outside. In her mind, she couldn’t feel the falsity of those words; but now his tone seemed to tease her. Trap, a clever cornering. She knew and did not understand. Saw and did not look. This was normalcy. Her head began to spin.

            His voice was getting even louder. He was screaming beyond control. She shrunk below her blanket and with shivering hands, opened her wooden wardrobe. In the dark corner of the room, there were stripes of fluorescence. There was anger in his words and a quest for revenge. “Burn her!” She dropped her phone. The walls of the room seemed to collapse on her; the weight of the ceiling was on her shoulders and the edges of her bed encircled her- another layer of traps. With a trembling hand, she reached for the blade. Night fell and rose. The Sun’s yellow rays sparkled on the white walls, a few fell on her face and the others seemed to wipe the shining cover of the dark night scare. As the chilling breeze swept into the room, the pages of her yellow diary slowly flipped. His words on the gifted photo frame hanged on the wall were written in bright ink- “for the girl who never stops fighting.” The pool of blood beneath her wrist reflected the light most.

              “It was a case of the nerves,” the old bearded man in a white coat was telling her parents. Her mother’s tears ran down to her lips and made designs with the edges of her dry lips. The girl wanted to laugh but couldn’t open her mouth. Her father remained silent, lost, as though he doesn’t know exactly what to do. His trembling hand on her arm gave him away. She closed her eyes. That was all she could move.

               The boy came with a bunch of red flowers to visit her at the hospital. She could see the evil smile on his sad seemed face. “What did I do to you?” she screamed. “What did I do to you?” She felt like the red flowers in his arms were poisoned… She was afraid he came to bury her alive.

              ”What should we do now, doctor?” her mother’s voice seemed dry and cracked.  ”Take her to a good psychiatrist. I have a few hospitals to recommend. And I’d suggest taking her back home and get her some rest.” the doctor’s voice filled the room.  The words bounced hitting the wall performing acrobatics in the air… Psychiatric evaluation, brain therapy, paranoia…

Misplaced!!!

I never ever thought I’d have to be up here, in just my final laps of my quarter life - having to be grown up, speaking adult thoughts from an adult head with a child’s heart in tow. But then again, this isn’t something that can be thought about or be prepared for. The sun still rises and sets, leaves continue to fall, the winds get stronger, daylight is saved tonight and the traffic on the Airport junction round is probably just the same, and things... Keep going- in this circle. Nothing stops to let us catch our breath and decide who is what and what is meant to be right and what is meant to be wrong or how things would have been.

But I know this simply isn’t the time for regret, it’s the time for merriment of a girl’s maximum life. (Hhuhh… I actually don’t know what does a girl’s maximum life means… But I believe I have lived it. ) It is the time to exploit the life left over. Just a few months ago, I came across a book, called the Joy of Cancer by Anup Kumar. At first, I was why would there be any joy in cancer? But soon, as I started to read the book I saw the reason. Because if you actually look, there is always joy in everything and there is always light.

I’d like to leave with a few thoughts that I’m sure none wanted or showed no interest to know. Of course, I’ll miss me, my life and especially as my living on earth continues on, there’ll be giant hole in everything that I do. But I will try not to be sorry for my loss. I will not simply mourn about my loss because I am absolutely certain that I have lived a life worth celebrating. I can pen down the RIP note on the last page of my hand made papers diary:

‘Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. 

(Christina Rossetti)

 I haven’t ever lost a book or misplaced a pen in my entire life. I was very careful that I haven’t lost a thing, in the past 20 years. But I don’t know why I misplaced my life!!!

The immoral night

I may sound crazy. But, all I’m trying to say is that I’ve never been filled with so much love before. Even sleep is filled with lucid dreams, love and lust and sweat and you and more of you and words.

I think I will recite the entire story of the night with so much excitement. But I don’t think I will. No one has the guts. There’s something in our culture that forbids it. There’s something in our roots that makes us ignore our own flaws. Well, let me write it down anyway.

The terrace is dark but comfortable— I wouldn’t mind living there. I don’t need a roof. Walls suffocate me round the building, there are temples to keep me awake, and a mosque to tell me the time. I haven’t yet found the star I’m looking for; there are way too many to keep track of. His arms lay crossed the entire night, his hands clenching around my shapeless belly— even the strongest force couldn’t have torn them apart. I could have, but didn’t. I just laid back staring at the sky of the small terrace, as if it held the answers to all my troubles. . A scratch here, a pull there, a tear here, a block there, I could feel all of him slowly syncing with every organ in my body.....Maybe....

He stared at me from the minute I sat down to the minute I got off at my destination. The attraction in his piercing eyes shone so much that I could see all of me in them. What was it about you that made me crazy?

He hasn’t taken his eyes of me. My tears stayed rigid around my eyes as if they are too afraid to fall. I want to press my hands into his and tell him, to hold me even more closely. But instead, I squirm and look away, as if I am counting those stars. I have no regrets. Fire births fire, they teach. So be it. Here’s all I have.

When we finally stood up, I looked at him again. His eyes are still on me but they’re milder now. Not quite calm, but resigned. I want to tell him, thanks for the hug, I know but, I don’t. From the safety of the morality platform, I watched the tear fall just as though a train rushed past. It didn’t explode.

Tell me a story

"Tell me a story" speak loud enough that I can hear you over the noises around. The story may be old and boring but please start over, speak Louder, make me remember. Tell me the story of us;. Something so exciting that it sparks me to move on! Let me rest this night in your lap, to wake up to my fifties. I am bored of my twenties. I want to grow old.

I am fed up with the sparkle in my eyes; it is fake, created with just the dark lines of an eye artist kit, it never adds to my youthfulness or optimism.

Tell me the story of a heaven, where I can sit with you for ages, laugh, and cry and do whatever I feel like without solid reasons. Tell me a romantic story so charming and full of life; that I can dream; I exist, that I am not a rock.

Tell me a story, just speak dear, I want to hear your voice, stories of child hood. Tell me the fairy tales, where the stories always had a happy ending, where they ended with the clause “and they lived happily ever after”. Tell me that we are also living in one such fairy tale.

Tell me that we have already past 15 years of living together and we are at our 40’s. Tell me we have nothing to worry about anymore and we are for each other. Tell me that our lives are fully in our control and nobody including god can get nothing done with it.

Tell me a story dear, The story of a girl, who loves fairy tales, who still runs behind dragon flies, who still cries for getting things done, who still begs for that piece of chocolate. Speak loud enough, that I can hear you over the noises around!!!

What would have been…

She removed the sparkling wedding ring off her finger… The token of love!! She felt the ring is too heavy for her... Staring at the ring she could barely see the face of that girl, whom she’d almost forgotten, very cheerful and talkative Renu… the one who dreamt about “true love”, and adventurous life ahead!!Somewhere inside her locked up  heart, a spirit turned in its sleep and pried out a single tear from an unsuspecting gland. What would have been… 

Autism, Oh That's Great!! BTW what is that?

Other side: Hi, How are you?

Me: I am good, thanks

Other side: You are from Ernakulam rite?

Me: yes, muvatupuzha

OS: ohh.. okey... studied?

Me: yes I did study..

Os: No no.... i mean where did you do your graduation?

Me: MGU.

OS: Nice.. I did it from XXXXX and then PG from XXXXX

Me: k (Why the heck you are telling me all these.. can’t you see I am not interested??)

OS: Who all are there in your home?

Me: Dad, Mom, Bro and Grandma

OS: Nice.. Bro... What he is doing?

Me: Nothing.. He is autistic

OS: Great!! BTW whats that?

Me: He has autism... not well...

OS: Autism means what?

ME: Please Google it...

Silence for long 2, 3 minutes...

OS: err...mm... so sorry ... I dint know it..

Me: Its fine.. no need to feel sorry about.. he is well and good.. The best man in the world I have ever seen.. 

The other side guy will no longer come for a chit chat in usual case..

But I have also seen guys coming with offers of pure love and all (not only for me but for ma bro too ... Effect of Cliché Malayalam movies.. Hero offering life to heroine and her family suffering from disease( poverty comes along).. hmm.... hehee)... Sorry people I don’t want it.. Not because you are bad, but there are needy people who wants your sympathy than me.. Please please.. Give it to them.. 

Worldwide, April 2 is celebrated as the World Autistic Awareness Day to highlight the need to help improve the lives of children and adults with Autism so that they can lead full and meaningful lives.

"Autism is an invisible condition, that is, an autistic person may not necessarily be on a wheel chair or on crutches, so people don't accommodate for the person," Merry Barua, founder of NGO Action for Autism (AFA) said.