Perhaps, writing will make it better. My mouth is burnt from holding this fire inside. I wish to relieve myself. How will anyone ever understand that explosion that happened inside me? How will anyone ever see the secret that I have been guarding? I guess it doesn’t matter. I have to accept the fact that no one can ever feel what I feel. So for all the possible selfish reasons, I am here to say what I have to say. I live in your world. You live in my world. I am a universe, and so are you. This universe is full of itself. It was born to infinity. I have loved. But .So strange, but that ‘but’ is the black hole of all black holes. What is this? An autobiography? A biography? Fiction ? Why should there be a label? This is fire, straight from my belly.
A perfect little girl. Restless as ever, though people described her as calm, composed and very kind. She grew up to be a very good girl. She knew how to buy that tag. Good grades, and a promising personality. The more she was praised, the more she hid away from this world. She was living parallel lives. She loved to sing. It was breathing to her. Soon she developed a rather romantic relationship with music. And soon it grew to be her deep love for the stage. With a loud thumping heart, her desperate soul would find itself in the empty large hall which made her smile so wide. She sang a sigh of relief. She was rejuvenated and ready to pretend again. She held herself tightly, and the only time she let loose was when she was on stage when she was singing, dancing, acting and debating.
She knew that she cannot hold herself forever. One day she found her lips wet with desire. It was so sweet, it made her stomach churn. She knew this was to be the end of the silly game she had been playing. This is where she starts living. Carefully first, then all the pretense wears out. Like a rusted coat of paint. It was peeling off. It left her feeling naked. She was a very dear friend to many young people. She brought light in her dainty hands, enough for everyone. She was a beautiful secret. She was born through a happy family. They are proud of the darling they have raised. That dear darling had wild hair which she managed to hide in a neat looking bun. Darling was hiding.
Her eyes spoke softly. Her mouth took advantage of that. It was easy-peasy to play pretend. Oh, that effortless smile was simply delightful! She was a friend but had none for herself. Trust was never a choice until her lips were wet. For a long time after, she could not believe that her walls had betrayed her. After all these years of training to be tough and ruthless, it gave away so easily to this silly humming in her heart? Did it give away to that skin that touched her? It gave away to that universe that fell on her so cleverly. “Breathe…”, she told herself. She did, only to be consumed completely.
Well, this is now and later. I should be clear about the silence that lead to this massive storm. This perfect girl had a few dear friends. She trusted them the way a rabbit would trust a snake. ‘Dear friends’ would change with each passing day. She would love them when they needed it. That is how it was for all of them. Befriended and left with their hearts filled.I think I forgot to mention that the few to whom her love was clear was her family. She truly loved them.
As I told you before, her family was proud of her. They were a very happy family. They had adorable little fights and arguments. This was before they knew that their ‘darling’ had loved someone who happened to be a girl. So clear in her heart. No one cared as to how she came to love those lips. No one cared how much she craved for that heart that was beating beside hers that night. No one else cared.
It will teach her to live, I guess. I hope I am right.
2. A Bud
“We should be careful”, you said. Why ? You know what we have got ourselves into. I can’t resist you. I can never. It is beyond us. I remember how we spoke of always being friends, no matter what happens. We are teaching each other to lie. We are letting them teach us to lie! No. I can’t be careful. We won’t be careful. I know. You know. Your eyes save me from burning myself. How do you manage to look so wise, my dear? I am fired up by that serenity that I find in us. Does it make sense to you when I say that the collision is over and that we can never breathe alone again? You talk about the “What if…….”, but I can never get myself to do that. Does that make me weak? Does that make me a fool? Not being able to imagine the dark possibilities of our end. Can I blame you for this weakness? Can I? I guess things could change. Maybe this will end. Will we ever forget that whispering at night? ( You got me, my dear, you got me).
When she was just a child, she could never sit still. Those dark patches under her mother’s eyes said it all. The doctor explained to her mother that nothing was wrong with the child, she was simply hyperactive, the one who needed medication was herself. “Sleeping pills, to make you sleep I suppose”, he said. She was so fussy about food. Who knew back then, that she would grow up to be an aurora. Like a meaningful idea, she would dawn upon them.
She had a sister. A quite puzzling human being. Her younger sister was her amulet. She was daring when it was needed. That was something she herself could never do. She was a rose and her sister was an army of thorns on its stem.
Like a wax model, she was modeled to perfection. “what went wrong ?”, her parents asked each other that night, while she lay awake breaking in the other room. To run away from her tears she would remember the times when she was relaxed and lost in that moment that seemed so distant now. How she would creep into her bed and lie next to her, while her heart tried to demand her attention. She loved her. What went wrong?
Everybody was always saying the same thing, “When you grow up you can do anything. But until then your studies are the only thing that matters”. Apparently, the key to a happy life was getting good grades and being the teacher’s pet, and then you would read articles about ‘the lack of innovation that is generated because of our education system’ in the papers. This earth is nothing but chaos. All you find is people blaming one another for how things happen to be. “We are all victims of the same massacre”, she whispered wisely to herself.
Maybe it was her anger that made everything look so red. She knew somewhere in the future she would find peace. There was hope. And I hope that it remains. She enjoyed the fact that she was a mystery. She found pleasure in living a life full of secrets. It was exciting. Whatever that was, it was pain too. A truckload of pain disguised as adventure. What a sight she was!
She was born in a land which in its past was called the ‘golden bird’. She was an Indian. A very colorful sight her land was. It was always buzzing with that acclaimed golden zeal. It matters where you come from. “It always will”, she would say to herself.
This was inevitable. ( well, surely that explains everything!) All this rubbish about growing up and seeing things differently was not making sense to her. Those who had silently carved themselves from this earth were still lying about being ‘wiser’. It was all so obvious to her. She was sweating from feeling too much. At times like this, all her feelings would do a full circle and come back to the starting line. Even imagining breathing next to her calmed her senses. So that’s what she would do.
She would never reveal everything. What was in her mind belonged to her. She would rewind, forward and replay those memories again and again.
He isn’t talking much. He looks so hurt. He isn’t a person who shares himself and lives for his own. I have never felt this silence before. He is shooting me with it. “Please papa, don’t do this to me. Tell me that I am a demon, but don’t condemn me to this deafening silence. It hurts so much. I am sorry. I am sorry.” How do I make you see me you thought you saw? What is bothering you so much? Papa doesn’t you worry about my studies, I promise. If that’s my way back into your heart I will do it at any cost. Those marks hold so much meaning to me suddenly. That’s good, isn’t it? Maybe you need time. I can wait. “Papa ? …. PAPA !”.
She could breathe again, her father was no longer punishing her with his straight face. “Studying when I am supposed to be the key, I think he understands now that I know my priorities”, she said to herself. She had accomplished so much in her father’s eyes, but to herself it was clear. She was pretending to be smart, to know things that she did not. To herself, she was very small. Unlike what people said, she was not a sharp girl. She needed time to think, to understand, to believe and to reveal. But she managed to show them what they wanted to see. It was exhausting to go on this way. Someday she wished to be free from these expectations. She knew it’s only a thought, a dreamlike thought, expectations seem to be the governing body of ‘human relations’. Even then, someday,… someday.
For her lover there should be no pretense, that’s what she thought. One day she will understand that we are secrets unto ourselves, and there can never be a complete nakedness. We are governed by these expectations wherever we go. Love demands more I suppose, to be admired, to be happy, to be perfect for the other, but there is an easiness; you can still break and be fixed again, you can still cry when it pains and will smile again, the rules are relaxed here.
I can see you and I can hear you, but I can’t smell you and I can’t touch you. How can I fool my senses into believing that you are here? Do I feel you in my dreams? Please touch me! I am burning myself up, like a Frankenstein I am killing my brave consciousness. I am sorry I don’t say it so often, but I love you. I am not able to say it all the time because it burns, I have a scar from each time I told you that. I am so weak. One day I will scream it out. I am fighting myself. It’s true that if I could touch you, you will know, I smell of it too. In dreams, we believe. What is insane sanity this? Being naked is not weak! It takes so much, of love, to shed all that garb. I am yelling now, but what good does that do!
Yes, it is beautiful.The most beautiful feeling she had ever felt. She wants to appreciate every moment spent with her. It contained a wide spectrum of emotions. It somehow kept her heart healthy even in the most painful of times, perhaps a reason behind writing all this is so that she knows. This is to tell her how intertwined their lives had become. Desire, lust, passion, love; people were constantly in search of a definition. Their explanations on behalf of ‘nature’, deciding who should love who seemed absurd to her. She could understand all this better now.
Her love was a year older, whatever philosophy that should hold. Life on earth was controlled by new curious demands that the 21st century brought with itself. She did think about the future too. What would change? Will she regret not being enough or will she regret being what she was in her arms? The easiest way to cut out one of those regrets was to live and love what she had in front of her. Looking at her were two eyes that saw her through.
What now? I did the best I could. I pushed my insides into that rabbit hole and lost myself for a while. I am out again now but not completely and hopefully, I never will be. My head still rests on her shoulders but I have grown a little wiser since the first time. I have been living, finally. I let those walls fall and I crushed them with my feet. Since then, it has been so easy for me to use the word ‘Love’. Who knew that loving her was a way of loving myself which was a way of loving the world. I can’t be happier. In the midst of my growing happiness, there is still a little chaos that my heart has let live, out of sheer habit. That irritates me at times but reminds me of where I come from and where I am going. Now about that,.I don’t really know where I am going and yet I know exactly where I am. It’s quite something, isn’t it? I’ll be alright, though, I’m sure.
What now? That’s all that lingers through my mind these days. I thought that things were only getting better from here now because why not, haven’t I been waiting for this sort of independence? Yet, a dangerous carelessness has taken over me. I have somehow reached here at this place where I maybe belong. Only yesterday I was falling into this deep whirlpool of utter chaos when my 12th class board exams were right around the corner. My mind had lost its urge to succeed and studying all that felt like a waste of time but now I am here, or maybe ‘wow’ I’m here. I somehow made it to this fresh new college and things seemed very promising from the outside. Two months into it and I have now realized that not much has changed.
I have walls built high as the sky and I have barely let a hand few of them inside. I am definitely an anomaly to the introverts and extroverts out there because for reasons that never cease to baffle me I am an extreme version of both.
Where is this going?
It has been very difficult for her. I still love her, even after I told her that maybe we should let it go. I haven’t spoken to her in days. I only digitally wished her on her birthday, which I don’t even think counts. I am a terrible person. But I am.
I suddenly don’t care about the multitude of classes that I am missing. I have no motivation to attend those classes though I really like them. I don’t know if I will fail my first semester here. I am taking everything for granted.I don’t know. Anything. Is this how things work? Just when you think you know where you’re headed a wall comes crashing down on you. Is this growing up? The pressure of all the responsibilities you didn’t think you had.
In this haphazard tale of love and life, the order is difficult to find. I wish I had a perfect beginning -at least a beginning- to start with, but there is none.
Nevertheless, I like to believe that it began when I joined Lawrence. The first day of school was terrifying. All those looks of pure seduction, trying to strip me off my protective ideas dressed as morals and what not. I had just been freed from a Christian school.
I thought I would faint and cried myself to sleep when I saw two people kissing each other on the lips. What treachery? In a letter that I later wrote to my parents, I made sure to tell them that this incidence was making me question my being here. I said I wanted to leave for it was far too scandalous to see things of the kind.
If only I knew how quickly things change. How quickly things collapse and the whole time you can’t help but burden yourself with this one single question: will things ever be the same? Will it change for the better or worse, who is to know?