He was temperamental, strangely fussy and barely easy if ever. She was patient, understanding and efficient. Theirs was an unusual association. She knew at the end of the day that he means well and he knew at some level that she understood that. Often she discounted his raving and ranting on account of him being older and more experienced. She was always able to see beyond his eccentric exterior and she knew that inside he was just a perfectionist waiting for his perfect world. They had their moments of elation when things went well and when things were more stressful than ever, they pulled together and brought everyone else around as well. More often than not they saw eye to eye on situations and events that really mattered and together they made a great team.
Then one day, she had to leave. She said to him that this was what she had to do, that she had given it a great amount of thought and it was a hard decision for her to make. She explained that it was the right thing for her to do as she had to move on in life. His face fell. Suddenly he seemed twenty years younger. He refused to see why she had to go and was surprised that she was leaving earlier than expected. He behaved like he was being deceived. She was taken aback by his denial of things and his near childish reaction to the situation. She knew he would not be as understanding as the others, but this she didn’t expect.
She was all set to leave. She spent the last day making sure that the wheels were well oiled before she left. Friends shared lighter moments remembering old times whilst wishing her well and hugging her every five minutes. He left unusually early that day without saying goodbye. When she realized he was gone, it was too late. She was hoping he’d at least say goodbye and good luck. She certainly didn’t expect him to be gushing with emotion but this disappearance was totally uncalled for. She expected him to be more mature about the situation. Once again knowing him for what he is, she sent him a text later to say goodbye and how much she would miss everyone. There was no reply. She was appalled by his complete denial of things. She realized though that this was his loss and not hers. She had to move on and she did.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The last ride...
He woke up that morning eager, excited and happy. It was a Sunday. It was his day to do exactly what he wanted and with whom he wanted. He decided to take his new bike out on a longer ride than usual. Out of the city to a nearby resort town to catch up with a few fun friends and lots of interesting conversation. This was the order of the day. Soon, he was on the main link highway going out of the city. His friends had gone ahead of him, two days ago. So on this ride he was all by himself. He quite enjoyed this though, with the wind on his face and cool drops of an impending shower making this journey a lot more romantic. After a week of long hours and stressful chaos, this was exhilerating. He was listening to Maroon 5, to the song his girlfriend used to like. He smiled just thinking of her and remembering some of the great times they'd had together. He was just 6 miles away from the first checkpoint when it happened. There was a sudden turn of scenery. Skin and muscle were ravaged between metal weight and concrete. The last thing he remembered was letting out a desperate screeching cry. He didn't make it past that checkpoint that morning. And he didn't make it to the resort that day....
It was 8 a.m. the next morning. An unforgiving Monday morning, as usual, where getting out of bed feels like you're being sent to the gallows. She was in the shower when she heard a message received on her cell phone. Drying herself a few minutes later, she came to her phone to check the message. They said he was gone. At 25, he was gone, a bike accident on a Sunday morning. He was deeply mourned, they said. She could not believe what she had just read. Her legs felt weak and she had to sit down. He was always this gentle, helpful, smart and happy boy. She had worked with him on numerous occasions. He was loved by his team mates and doted on by his family. And to her, he was always the pleasant face she loved to see. Surely and strongly, it hit her again, the transience and futility of it all. As she sat there contemplating and trying to digest the news that Monday morning, it was time to get ready for work. It was another seemingly normal day with people to meet and things to be done. Life had to go on, as it always does.
It was 8 a.m. the next morning. An unforgiving Monday morning, as usual, where getting out of bed feels like you're being sent to the gallows. She was in the shower when she heard a message received on her cell phone. Drying herself a few minutes later, she came to her phone to check the message. They said he was gone. At 25, he was gone, a bike accident on a Sunday morning. He was deeply mourned, they said. She could not believe what she had just read. Her legs felt weak and she had to sit down. He was always this gentle, helpful, smart and happy boy. She had worked with him on numerous occasions. He was loved by his team mates and doted on by his family. And to her, he was always the pleasant face she loved to see. Surely and strongly, it hit her again, the transience and futility of it all. As she sat there contemplating and trying to digest the news that Monday morning, it was time to get ready for work. It was another seemingly normal day with people to meet and things to be done. Life had to go on, as it always does.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Washed away...
It had been a long and tiring day, not very different from a lot of other days in the past few months. She walked through the usual route, probably crossing paths with the usual people that she saw every other day. Mothers with their young children in tow, eighteen year olds with other eighteen year olds, old men returning from their day's work and even older women taking their late evening strolls while their younger family members walk ahead of them.
She gazed up at the sky to check for the moon. It was probably the romantic idealist in her that made her look up every once in a while. It was there, nearly round, bright and getting brighter as the sky was turning darker. A gentle smile spread across her face whenever she saw that white circle of borrowed light in the sky.
She got home and sat down in the couch for a while, just catching her breath as she slowly sipped on a glass of orange juice. She was still thinking of the same thing, the same thing she thought of every day. The same thing that was at the back of her mind, no matter what she did or where she went. She decided that a shower would be a good idea, to kill the day's stress and hopefully buy her mind some peace. She took her clothes off hastily, went in and turned on the shower. The water was strong, warm and steady. She turned around to let the warm stream caress the nape of her neck. It was exactly how she always liked it. And then suddenly, all at once, it came from within. As the water smothered her from behind, a warm stream came gushing out of her tired eyes. She couldn't stop and she worried that she may never be able to completely let go. Her heart was wanting what strangely time had decided she could not have. She was battling what she knew at some level to be inevitable and yet, it was a battle she wanted to win. There was however, a strange sense of comfort as she was engulfed by the warmth. The water came down, consistently strong and steady and did well to conceal her tearful sorrow. As the water washed her tears away, she hoped that her pain could be washed away just as quickly.
She gazed up at the sky to check for the moon. It was probably the romantic idealist in her that made her look up every once in a while. It was there, nearly round, bright and getting brighter as the sky was turning darker. A gentle smile spread across her face whenever she saw that white circle of borrowed light in the sky.
She got home and sat down in the couch for a while, just catching her breath as she slowly sipped on a glass of orange juice. She was still thinking of the same thing, the same thing she thought of every day. The same thing that was at the back of her mind, no matter what she did or where she went. She decided that a shower would be a good idea, to kill the day's stress and hopefully buy her mind some peace. She took her clothes off hastily, went in and turned on the shower. The water was strong, warm and steady. She turned around to let the warm stream caress the nape of her neck. It was exactly how she always liked it. And then suddenly, all at once, it came from within. As the water smothered her from behind, a warm stream came gushing out of her tired eyes. She couldn't stop and she worried that she may never be able to completely let go. Her heart was wanting what strangely time had decided she could not have. She was battling what she knew at some level to be inevitable and yet, it was a battle she wanted to win. There was however, a strange sense of comfort as she was engulfed by the warmth. The water came down, consistently strong and steady and did well to conceal her tearful sorrow. As the water washed her tears away, she hoped that her pain could be washed away just as quickly.
Monday, January 28, 2008
If only they understood...
He looked at them quietly, listening to them from behind the trees. These were two of the most wonderful people he knew, both generous, loving, funny and adorable. Yet to each other they showed none of those virtues. He always wondered what changed between them. How did they come to hate each other so much.
The conversation that morning was about who gets to keep the bedroom furniture. Suddenly objects had become objects again. Everything that meant anything at all was desecrated and torn to shreds. All that was left was a fierce need to take possession of the inanimate. And each was desperately trying to do so. They were so consumed by frustration and hatred that they completely forgot he was standing right there, listening to every word. And this was not the first time.
It began eight months ago, the yelling, the bickering and the frequent display of contempt and rage. At first he tried to stop at least one of them. Eventually he realized that they were equally stubborn and that neither person would ever listen to reason. He cried himself to sleep on many nights, when neither came down to tuck him into bed, since they were so busy fighting.
But he still loved them both so very much. Why should he have to choose between two people who loved him so dearly. Although he knew in his heart that they adored him, their lack of showing this affection worried him immensely. His greatest fear had become the fact that they would hate him as much as they hate each other.
At this point they started arguing about who gets to keep him and who can take better care of him. He was on the table now, just like the wardrobe, the bed and the refridgerator. He was being commoditized and they were haggling over him. He couldn't stand there and listen any longer, so he ran up to her and held her hand, tugging at it. In a quick sweep she drew him close, as if to say he now belonged to her and her only. She quickly decided to push the haggling to another day and whisked him away as she began walking. After they walked a considerable distance from the trees and came near the bridge, she decided he needed to be treated to an ice cream. Another commodity to make up for commoditising him. If only ice creams could take care of everything...sigh!
The conversation that morning was about who gets to keep the bedroom furniture. Suddenly objects had become objects again. Everything that meant anything at all was desecrated and torn to shreds. All that was left was a fierce need to take possession of the inanimate. And each was desperately trying to do so. They were so consumed by frustration and hatred that they completely forgot he was standing right there, listening to every word. And this was not the first time.
It began eight months ago, the yelling, the bickering and the frequent display of contempt and rage. At first he tried to stop at least one of them. Eventually he realized that they were equally stubborn and that neither person would ever listen to reason. He cried himself to sleep on many nights, when neither came down to tuck him into bed, since they were so busy fighting.
But he still loved them both so very much. Why should he have to choose between two people who loved him so dearly. Although he knew in his heart that they adored him, their lack of showing this affection worried him immensely. His greatest fear had become the fact that they would hate him as much as they hate each other.
At this point they started arguing about who gets to keep him and who can take better care of him. He was on the table now, just like the wardrobe, the bed and the refridgerator. He was being commoditized and they were haggling over him. He couldn't stand there and listen any longer, so he ran up to her and held her hand, tugging at it. In a quick sweep she drew him close, as if to say he now belonged to her and her only. She quickly decided to push the haggling to another day and whisked him away as she began walking. After they walked a considerable distance from the trees and came near the bridge, she decided he needed to be treated to an ice cream. Another commodity to make up for commoditising him. If only ice creams could take care of everything...sigh!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Here today...gone tomorrow.
He approached the form that was a life not so long ago, that now lay still and no longer called out to him. He would never hear the loving call of his son again, the most precious part of his life as he knew it. He was gone. All those times that he had chided him and not reached out to hold him close, just so he could teach him discipline, now seemed so very futile and he desperately craved for just one breathing moment with a child he loved more than life itself.
As he washed the body of a life that had lived barely ten years in this world, he asked himself and his Creator, "Why him? You could have taken me. He was only ten!" As he anointed the boy and prayers were recited, he tried hard to fight back the deluge that emerged from within. Life as he knew it seemed like a wasted effort. What was he living for? Why should he even go on? He slowly rubbed handfuls of earth onto the blessed boy and piled on the logs that caged him. Alas! He wouldn't fight to come out. No, not this time. Unlike every other time he was caged in his room for misbehaving, where he would somehow manage to crawl out of the window and get away. Why can't he find a way out this time? Why won't he just wake up and escape...escape the burning pyre that will cage him forever.
As he set the pyre alight, his heart cried out in desperation and agony. He knew not a pain such as this before and life as he knew it would never be the same again. It was then that he realized how rarely, if ever, he told his son how much he actually loved him. Chiding him and punishing him were regular features but letting him know that he was loved infinitely was something that never materialized. It was always taken for granted. And now he was gone.
The unalterable truth of losing someone we love is that they will never speak to us in the flesh again. We can never hear them again. We will never know them in quite the same way. They will no longer be there to listen, to scold, to love, to protect, to fight with and to just hold your hand. That is a whole being that just ceases to be. What do you do? You talk to the wind...fight with yourself, scold the world and cry when you want to love them. How do you handle losing someone you cherish so deeply? And yet...death as we all know it is the only certainty of life itself. Why then is it so difficult to deal with an absolute certainty when we battle uncertainties every day of our lives? Why is it so incredibly difficult to accept the inevitable?
As he washed the body of a life that had lived barely ten years in this world, he asked himself and his Creator, "Why him? You could have taken me. He was only ten!" As he anointed the boy and prayers were recited, he tried hard to fight back the deluge that emerged from within. Life as he knew it seemed like a wasted effort. What was he living for? Why should he even go on? He slowly rubbed handfuls of earth onto the blessed boy and piled on the logs that caged him. Alas! He wouldn't fight to come out. No, not this time. Unlike every other time he was caged in his room for misbehaving, where he would somehow manage to crawl out of the window and get away. Why can't he find a way out this time? Why won't he just wake up and escape...escape the burning pyre that will cage him forever.
As he set the pyre alight, his heart cried out in desperation and agony. He knew not a pain such as this before and life as he knew it would never be the same again. It was then that he realized how rarely, if ever, he told his son how much he actually loved him. Chiding him and punishing him were regular features but letting him know that he was loved infinitely was something that never materialized. It was always taken for granted. And now he was gone.
The unalterable truth of losing someone we love is that they will never speak to us in the flesh again. We can never hear them again. We will never know them in quite the same way. They will no longer be there to listen, to scold, to love, to protect, to fight with and to just hold your hand. That is a whole being that just ceases to be. What do you do? You talk to the wind...fight with yourself, scold the world and cry when you want to love them. How do you handle losing someone you cherish so deeply? And yet...death as we all know it is the only certainty of life itself. Why then is it so difficult to deal with an absolute certainty when we battle uncertainties every day of our lives? Why is it so incredibly difficult to accept the inevitable?
Monday, January 7, 2008
The Ultimate Gamble
Hand in hand they walk in, he holding a camera and she wearing her 'laal chooda', with mehndi reaching up her calves and sindoor as bright as ever. Each pair that you come across is shockingly similar to the one you saw before. Essentially they are all couples of strangers that are on a mission to find love. So little they know of each other and yet tradition makes them wake up beside each other one morning with the realization that they will be waking up together for the rest of their lives, or atleast as long as they choose to or can humanly survive with each other.
Close to home, with Little India round the corner and low air fares every now and then, the land of the Mer Lion has become a popular destination with Desi couples. A four hour flight with a stamp on their passports makes them feel kicked about having their honeymoon on foreign soil. As they sit around eating their dosas and picking at their pappadoms, she makes every effort to understand the brut sitting in front of her while he's probably wondering if his life will ever be the same again. Men for some reason have an inherent fear of being shackled, even though more often than not, their wives are living lives that they dictate and spend every waking minute trying to please their hubbies.
Marriage as we know it is a whole lot more than a 'sacred institution' as it was always referred to by past generations. Today its become the most questioned phenomenon on the planet. How do they do it? Especially when they know zilch about each other. Our grandparents would disagree. Well theirs was another life altogether. Today marrying a stranger is the ultimate gamble 'cause you're gambling with your life. Now gambling is hardly 'sacred' or an 'institution'. Where is all this going, I wonder!
Close to home, with Little India round the corner and low air fares every now and then, the land of the Mer Lion has become a popular destination with Desi couples. A four hour flight with a stamp on their passports makes them feel kicked about having their honeymoon on foreign soil. As they sit around eating their dosas and picking at their pappadoms, she makes every effort to understand the brut sitting in front of her while he's probably wondering if his life will ever be the same again. Men for some reason have an inherent fear of being shackled, even though more often than not, their wives are living lives that they dictate and spend every waking minute trying to please their hubbies.
Marriage as we know it is a whole lot more than a 'sacred institution' as it was always referred to by past generations. Today its become the most questioned phenomenon on the planet. How do they do it? Especially when they know zilch about each other. Our grandparents would disagree. Well theirs was another life altogether. Today marrying a stranger is the ultimate gamble 'cause you're gambling with your life. Now gambling is hardly 'sacred' or an 'institution'. Where is all this going, I wonder!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Lost
The iced coffee was smooth, mildly sweet and subtly refreshing. The pizza was warm and did well to support the stimulating caffeine. There she was, seated in what was objectively an impeccable surrounding, in a strange land none the less, not far from home, but a land that puzzled, thrilled and comforted her in the days that passed. Beyond the glass was a vast expanse of concrete space where man and machine made contact with earth from time to time.
As she sat staring out at everything and nothing in particular, it came to her that this seems a lot more familiar than she'd like to accept it is. There was everything around her and yet there was nothing with her or within her. Life has the uncanny ability to hold your hand and lead you on, nudging you to move forward by blowing your sails in what seems to be the right direction. This, only before a seething storm that leaves you completely unsettled, exhausted and lost. Sitting there, pensive and seemingly nonchalant, there was a battle going on inside her with no casualty except her soul.
Reflecting none of this in her face that faced the world, she was displeased by her emotional response to life's disquitening surprises. She expected herself to handle everything with the poise and strength that the world so generously associated her with, almost forgetting that she was but human and a very sensitive one at that.
She continued to read, page 29 and the book was discussing the cosmic truth of the universe and its inception. She felt a huge void within her, almost as infinite as the space that made up our universe. It was then that she caught herself break into a smile as it was largely amusing how the human soul can so easily feel empty despite everything that makes it whole.
As she sat staring out at everything and nothing in particular, it came to her that this seems a lot more familiar than she'd like to accept it is. There was everything around her and yet there was nothing with her or within her. Life has the uncanny ability to hold your hand and lead you on, nudging you to move forward by blowing your sails in what seems to be the right direction. This, only before a seething storm that leaves you completely unsettled, exhausted and lost. Sitting there, pensive and seemingly nonchalant, there was a battle going on inside her with no casualty except her soul.
Reflecting none of this in her face that faced the world, she was displeased by her emotional response to life's disquitening surprises. She expected herself to handle everything with the poise and strength that the world so generously associated her with, almost forgetting that she was but human and a very sensitive one at that.
She continued to read, page 29 and the book was discussing the cosmic truth of the universe and its inception. She felt a huge void within her, almost as infinite as the space that made up our universe. It was then that she caught herself break into a smile as it was largely amusing how the human soul can so easily feel empty despite everything that makes it whole.
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