And Then There Were None...

Last Sunday was a perfectly happy day for me. Literally one of those days in the pink of health. I had been happy revising some Poirot stuff, and in the afternoon, went to Crossword and got a new stock of books. I'd spread them on my bed and proudly observe my collection, in a much similar way as I used to observe new shoes in my childhood. Then, curiously enough, out of the entire collection, I had picked up a Mary Westmacott, something I haven't read before. I openly admit my awe for Agatha Christie. Especially her skills at analyzing human nature. I always felt she could write wonderful novels on human relationships, had she not entirely concentrated on crime thrillers. Well, wanted to examine whatever little she did manage to write out of her genre.

So thus the week began. Monday was a holiday, alone in the flat, I lazed and read the book. But then, even when you are apparently happy with this zombie existence, in the back of mind perhaps you still look for a change, a so called normal life. That led to the quarrel with dad - I have never flinched in pointing out errors in anybody, and for most of them I have told in the face. Loneliness doesn't bother me. I am ok with a lonely world, where I have severed ties with everyone with my outspoken and frank words.

But then, in the three days that followed, why couldn't I speak to him? Why couldn't I tell him that he's the greatest alive brute on earth? He is a creep, a person without backbone, he has every right to do whatever he wants with his life, but he should never have taken the liberty to do what he did to me, when he was never sure of himself. I have to live with this maimed soul for the rest of my life, he will happily move on - and that's not fair, not at all fair. But I couldn't tell a word, oh I couldn't tell a word. There was only love, love that needs no word for expression, and hatred, pure solid hatred beyond all words, which gleam in your eyes like scorching fire.

And then yesterday, things went even worse. All of a sudden there was a mandate to go to Ghana for some telecom requirement gathering. Not my domain, not a proper time and mental state to take up an onsite assignment. And the entire thing is happening, because the person who was supposed to go for it is having a marriage in early March, so he has refused to go. No prize for guessing which person. How long should I keep salvaging him at my cost? There was a mutinous NO - which kind of hampered all prospects of at least the apparent stability I was trying to bring in my professional life. What I hated most was the way I had to say, in a pleading tone, to my manager - you have no idea how much I am trying to simply make ends meet. I have never had to speak so publicly of my woes till now - the fact that I am suffering, at least never before in my workplace. I remember choking once during an appraisal discussion, trying to tell Vipul, that this work is everything I have, to get me going through the day, else I won't know how to spend my time. That did show a lot of helplessness, but not to this extent.

All this while, there was only one vague dream that kept me going. I won't give up my everything only because this relationship has failed, I shall at least keep working till August and celebrate 10 years of my career. At least something that has been right in life. Right and good. But I guess even that is not on the cards anymore.

Oh how thrilling life must be, when you are on a rocking boat amid the storm. And what peak the thrill reaches, when the boat is about to sink. Ever since the mishap in 2006, I am living in chunks. And I told myself, how I deserve it completely, every time I lost my willingness to live. After all I killed someone to have a life for myself. In God's world of justice, this is the life I should deserve. The life Voldemort or Lady Macbeth had. But then, what about people who have killed me? Won't they ever be punished? Or are they supposed to be angels who were only carrying out God's diktat? On these pages only, I had once written, there should be more people like Karthik. I wonder what the world would be like if there are actually more people like Karthik...I am horrified even to think about that...

But then, he is but a human being. He has both a God and a demon in him. If I love him, I can't only love the God part of him, na? I have to love the demon as well, give it so much love that it realizes, that it is better to give way to the God part. I wonder if that will ever happen. Because you see, there are some races who worship the demon and are very happy with the demoniacal way of things.

Tell you what, conscience is the rarest and most non existent thing on earth as on today. for the third time God, I am telling you, reason I never retaliate to the human beings who hurt me, is, they won't understand. You will understand, so I hope...and we really need to talk things out.

Untitled thoughts - once again...

Today's one of those strange days when I don't like anything. Nothing. A time when one is splurged with colors yet looks drained. It had all began from a certain moment yesterday evening. The work was finally over. He came, and for one tiny while I had this premonition, that may be something is going to happen. Some words...some actions...but alas...he just gathered his things and left, without saying bye.

I felt weary. Wrapping up my work, I too left. And then all the dreariness returned. For a couple of days, I never felt that pain of a mundane aimless existence. There was a lot of hurt, sudden pangs of emotion, I had to adapt a lot, but then, above all else, there was "YOU" to look forward to. YOU - sitting near me, talking to me, your perfume, the same familiar expressions, the once so dear and now so rare "you know what", and the detachment as well - the detachment in things which were un thought of earlier - us eating lunch separately, us flinching at a single accidental touch, you offering to drop me home and me denying - thus we going home separately. At times I'd be stricken with violent anger, at times a flood of pity and a surge of love...MY Boo Boo after all...after everything....MY Boo Boo...

Today, it is all over. I had been stopping myself from wearing the dresses I had been thinking of wearing, till yesterday...would put on jeans and trousers and tops in a vow not to get decked up - I don't want to look good for him - for a man who has abandoned me. My mind would pine away to put some kajal in my eyes, wear some salwar suit he liked, some bangles he once said...looks good on me. And I'd come in the plainest of clothing, in protest to my heart's desires. Idiot girl, don't you have some dignity? Today, I dressed up the tired me in the brightness of what I had worn on our first so-called anniversary day. Today it had no meaning. Today he came in the t-shirt that was once so so dear to him, the one gifted by me, the one, I'd thought he'd never wear again. I guess, that too doesn't have any meaning...

As I said, dear God, I won't complain about anything now. When we meet, we shall talk this over...and till then, thanks for this time I had...beggars cannot be choosers, right?

Well timed silence...well healed pain?

These are rare rare days. When I get to touch my ipod. Feel it, as if a baby is feeling the first warmth of wool in his first winter - may be, smilingly, he thinks, wow! is there something as warm as mom?
Then? Then hold it a bit in my palms...caress it with my eyes, ask silently, sweetheart, how have you been?

And it would sing to me...Mathura Nagarpati kahe tum Gokul jao?
or perhaps...Aap kahe to...marjaye hum...aap kahe to...jee lete hain...

It has always been my friend. Always given me music, just the right music, whenever I needed. Thing is, I seldom seem to need music these days. Similarly, tears too, don't seem a necessity. So they have got detached from me over the time. My two dearest friends...

As my bestest friend has...gone far far away from me...

Still God plays crooked, obstinate jokes, and things come together. Who am I? Just a lifeless being? Do I have feelings? Am I supposed to have them? And if I don't feel anything, then what to protest against? And what to be happy about?

So I just silently watch, as tears come back, songs flood me, and my lifeless love story is forced into a zombie like drama enactment of material existence...oh the heroine is not dead yet, and she is on speaking terms with the hero...they work together. Oh she's trying to find a parallel life, yes she does get a bit wild when nobody else helps her in that...but yes that too makes her more of a laughing stock only. Oh she's very much trying to live, brave girl, very brave girl...scaling up professionally, making new friends, forming new ideas of a forced survival...some girl she is...

Bravery my foot. How does my bravery count when the man I loved with all my heart turned out a coward? Mistake? You know what would kill the girl, she trusts you and tells it all to you, and you chose to hit her at that very spot and call it a mistake? It is COWARDICE.

I remember the first day at TKML. He trying to behave professional with me. Being almost equally obstinate, as God was today, and perhaps will be tomorrow. And then giving in. To my anger, to my hands clasped in prayer - in begging mercy from him. Did I know the mercy won't last a year? Did I know I shall have to behave as professionally with him, willingly, without flinching? As we sat on the bike, looking at the full moon in the Holi night, did I know, next March, there won't be any color left for me? Or perhaps red, the red I always see on my parting as the sun sets, will mingle up with the blood of my heart?

Yes dear God, it pains. PAINS. But You want to play this game, bring it on. What is left of destroying me? But still if You are not satisfied, keep doing it. Unaccustomed Earth, where all known faces become unknown. Let alone faces, feelings too. In this era where there is no value to human life itself, no respect for humanity as well...who cares for romance? Who cares when a miracle turns into misgiving. Not now God, not now. But when I meet You up there, You will have questions to answer. Lot many questions.

KBC - Sunmeet Kaur and the tears of joy she brought us...

And why on earth am I crying? I didn't know. All I know is, I hid my face behind the frying pan, and while stirring the food, I kept rubbing off my tears. And I suddenly saw, the expert adviser, who also happened to be a lady, reflected my emotions. It indeed is such a proud proud moment for an Indian girl. It is not only about winning 5 crores, it is a slap on all those faces who feel a girl means nothing. Those who kill her in the womb, hit her, hurt her, abuse her, and feel that they have every right to do that, for what value does a girl have? She is but a commodity to so many - but this lady proved how a girl can flourish if she gets the right treatment. From being a much loved grandchild, to being the perfect wife, loving mother, a teacher, a contributor in every respect to the family in particular and society at large. I congratulate you ma'am, your confidence has been so so inspiring...wish you all the best...