The HEAD-HEART Conflict.......

It was past midnight when he caught the flicker on his mobile screen. A call from a number which was glimmering boldly across the screen. A number he once had deleted with a crushed heart and salty eyes. A number which he had tried hard to forget just like the person to whom it belonged, but all in vain. A faint smile escaped his lips as he gently ran his finger across the screen as if touching the woman who had burnt his heart. It’s funny when you cannot hate someone who left you shattered, he thought. He picked up the call after a few rings and decided not to make the first move. Never again, he promised.

She waited for his voice to calm her racing heart but was invited by a deadly silence. Her heart was the reason behind the call while her mind had been voting against it. But the heart was a little child who fell into temptations while the mind like a mature man could do nothing but watch. She decided to make the first move. For the first and the last time, she promised. Her voice broke as she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and softly said ‘Hello’.

He let her voice pinch his heart, as thousands of memories started reeling right in front of his eyes. He decided to remain silent and let her voice tingle his senses. She was in his town for a few days and wanted to meet him before she left. She continued speaking, while he pictured her face and the myriad expressions that touched her features as she spoke. He heard her asking him if 4’o clock in the evening was perfect for the meet. His mind like a prudent soul told him to bluntly reject her plan to suddenly meet him but before he could give it a second thought, his heart did the ominous work and said ‘Perfect’.

She was used to waiting for him and she remembered how his crooked smile would melt away her anger. He would blow her a kiss and wink foxily while taking a seat facing her. She had always wondered why he never sat beside her like the other couples did. The same café, the same time, every Saturday in the 4 years of their relationship. A ritual they followed until she decided to crush his heart and live according to the rules framed by the society and for the honour of her family. 3 years later, she was now sitting at the same café, at the same time waiting for the man she had tried to unlove. It pricked her that she couldn’t. 

He made his way and took a seat facing her, a place he preferred. This way none of her expressions would escape his gaze and her smile would forever be his to cherish. She was still the same for him, deep in his heart, but he realized that even with the sadness in her eyes she still was the most beautiful thing he had ever known. Silence prevailed and he decided to break the ice by asking her to place the order. He liked her to make the decisions and crushing his heart was one of them. He heard her telling the waiter “One classic burger without cheese or mayonnaise for me and Tuna sandwich with french fries and tomatoes on the side for him." He looked at her and smiled knowingly, for she was still the same woman he fell in love with. The fact that after 3 years, she still remembered the little things he liked, interested him but his heart continued pricking him moment after moment. 

She looked at him and couldn’t suppress the warm smile that glowed across her face just at the sight of him. She realised that happiness was stored in moments like these. A smile from him and her heart throbbed with the boundless love she had for this very man. A feeling she had tried to corner and subsequently erase but couldn’t. She let him speak and heard him telling her how his work gave him peace through the tough times. She couldn’t help but ask him to define the word ‘Peace’ and got lost in the philosophies he tried to put across to her. She smiled as she remembered the late night calls where he would talk to her about subjects so random and philosophical that she would unknowingly fall asleep. He would always apologize to her the next day and promise never to bore her again. She jolted back to reality as he said “So this is what Peace means to me. My work brings peace to me”

It was dusk when they decided to part ways, again. She left for her hotel and he started walking back home. He wondered why she had wanted to meet him. It never occurred to him to ask her, for he was busy getting to know the things that happened in the three years they were not in touch. He decided to send her a message but then opted against it. His heart was cherishing the memories of this final meeting and he just didn’t want to ruin it. 

Lying on her hotel bed, she knew exactly why she had wanted to meet him. This time her mind and her heart were in symphony for they knew the purity of the emotion and the strength of the bond he and she shared. They knew time was just an excuse and that something with such depth could never be erased. She now felt calm as life finally started to solve the puzzle and she slept with a blank mind after a very long time.

A day after the meet and he still couldn’t erase her face from his mind. He had decided not to work today and spend the day alone at home just reliving the moment. Insanity that what this is, his mind reminded. A knock on the door and he opened it blaming the world for coming between him and his solitude. A familiar figure with the familiar smile he had worshipped for years stood in front of him.

She pushed him away and hurriedly closed the door. A tear made its way down her cheek as she hugged him. His mind asked a zillion questions while his heart knew all the answers. One look in her eyes and he knew she was here to stay. As they lay on bed, she basked in the smell of the only man she had ever loved. His arms around her, his stubs rubbing her cheeks and his warmth soothing her soul. She caught him sleeping while his arms were still wrapped around her as if he was afraid of losing her again. She nudged him till he finally woke up with a childish grunt and looked her straight in her eyes only to glow up realizing he still had her. 

She finally decided to ask him. “So define the word ‘Peace’ for me again” she said. He smiled and pulled her closer, kissed her gently on the lips and then closed his eyes to sleep with her still in his arms. He now knew what ‘Peace’ was. “I am now at peace”, he softly said and went back to sleep.

P.S- Not the usual dose of humour right and bloody long right? Well I am in an Emo mood right now, hence this post. Fictitious writeup only.

P.P.S- It’s funny how priorities change with time. The people remain the same but the feelings disappear. Strange!

P.P.P.S- Been busy with life and tired of making every post my come back post. I don’t know when I will post next. Soon or never. Battling a screwed up mind.

GUILTY MEMORIES

They say you should not talk about dead people, especially bad things about them. There have been times when I wanted to write about my Grandfather, but never could. 

He was a good man, someone who was known for his dominant nature, temper, love for music and certain other qualities. Now that the good part is said, he had an ugly side too, something which overshadowed his good side. Not a good Father, not a great Husband, not a wonderful Grandfather.  

I remember him hitting my Grandmother to the point that she fainted. The reason was too illogical to even disclose. I remember him cursing my Mother. I remember him forcing me to eat spoilt mangoes because he did not like food wasted. I remember being hit by a one inch thick wooden stick for accidently spilling milk and not sharing chocolates with him. I remember him flaunting me as his Grandchild each time I won a competition and I remember him forgetting me when my brother was born. Jealousy? Maybe.

I remember him exchanging words with my Father with a dagger in his hands and I remember him calling me names for the little mistakes I made. I never loved him but neither did I hate. I was taught never to hate anyone.

Once he had a minor heart attack and he called onto my brother’s name semi consciously. The hate started burning in my heart. On his second heart attack, he thought he wouldn’t survive and he called for a personal chit chat with each and every member in the family. When my turn came, he apologised for everything he did and I realised that this man actually knew that what he did to us wasn’t right. I forgot the hate as I hugged him and cried. I forgave him absolutely. 

But the man survived and his old self came back in business. My Grandfather was getting really old and believed in spending half of his day on bed. But his tongue never rested and the cursing continued. My hate reached a brand new height. I remember being on bed beside my mother, weeping and cursing him all night long. I wanted him dead. I wanted him to die and leave our lives to ourselves. I wanted him gone forever. My mother did not stop me from cursing. She understood the pain I was going through and she did not try to wipe my tears off. I felt relieved. I prayed for his death.

Entrance exams were on their way and so, I along with my mother and brother went to Kerala. My father was posted somewhere else for his work. May 20^th the entrance exams got over and we boarded the train on May 21^st back to our place. My Grandfather gave me a call before I left Kerala and told me he wished to see me. I gave a ‘SURE’ and rolled my eyes. I never could be rude to him on his face. As I boarded the train, half of me was rejoicing and the other half was depressed for I was going back to a place with Him in it. I hated him or better still LOATHED him.

Reached the destination and my Father was there to pick us up. We got in the car and absolute silence prevailed. My Dad declared with a crack in his voice that my Grandfather had died yesterday. He did not want to tell us while we were in train. Noone was there except my Grandmother when he died. No children, grandchildren, no well wishers. Just him and his wife. Just the way I cursed. Silence continued in the car. My mother silently wept while my brother sat still looking at the crayons in his hands. My Father did not shed a tear. He was a strong man. 

As I sat in the car, I remember blaming myself for killing him. For taking a father away from my Dad, for taking a doting Grandfather away from my brother, for taking a father-in-law away from my Mother, for taking a Husband away from my Grandmother. I remember the warm tear flowing across my cheeks and I remember realising that underneath all that hate, there was a child who craved for his love and a child who loved her Grandfather.

Guilt is what I started living with. He was the reason I sang. He was behind the music classes I joined. He was the person who used to sit on the front seat as I sang. I blamed myself for his death.

Recently did I get over it and I thank a very special person for it. I could never write this down until today. Good things have been happening with me and life has been beautiful. I think he is watching over me and I think he always will. Beneath all that hate, love truly existed.

P.S- If Only i could call this a fiction and save myself from your judging eyes. Sorry for writing this. Had to get it off my chest.

Image Courtesy-999images.com

THE NUDE VIDEO

Oh my poor readers!! I am so going to break the bubbles of your expectation. I have been nostalgic lately and have been constantly basking in the ambience of my cherished memories. Two years back I turned twenty and my doting Father gifted me the best gift I could ever dream of. He had managed to keep safely, my almost destroyed 1^st Birthday Video Cassette with him and spent quite a fortune to make it viewable enough and gifted it to me. It also had my very first UNATTENDED and ON-MY-OWN walk. When I say ‘unattended’, I choose to ignore the constant watch of my Father and the saving grasp of my tiny hands on my underwear. Yes!! That helps a lot in the balancing act I swear!

So here it is! A minute long video of my first ever walk. I have spent  a considerable amount of time trying to cut this special part out for you and bigger chunk to upload it. So you better watch it. And Yes it’s a NUDE VIDEO too :P

P.S- The Grandfather reading the paper behind and the House are no more a part of my quintessential life. But  the moments and the memories live forever in the heart. I am blessed! GOD I WINK AT YOU :)

And the Award goes to

And so I have been thinking. This is my blog and I haven’t been writing much about myself and what else provides me a better excuse than WRITER'S BLOCK. So I am just going to scan the 22yrs I have lived so far and present awards to certain incidents in my life in the following categories.

The “Gulp me Oh Mother Earth Moment” Award- Age 17- Our miss RED HANDED never had stage fear. She has learnt Carnatic Sangeet (which she remembers no more) for 9 never-ending years. Our Red used to perform every year at a cultural meet in her town where around 1500 people used to squeeze in the auditorium to witness the show. Clearing her throat she makes her way gallantly to the stage and starts singing a famous Lord Krishna keertan. Halfway through it, there is a pause and some nincompoops think that the music show is done and start clapping violently. To their dismay the music continues and Miss Red Handed has to sing the next para. But you know her. She is born with an extra tickle bone and so she laughs into the three microphones fixed in front of her. So loud that I am sure our own KUMBHAKARNA would have been awake hearing that. The laugh continued as long as the song was meant to last and once the time was over she gave a giggle and left the stage. What happened at home is still a blur.

The “Forrest Gump is a genius before you” Award- Age 18- Miss Red Handed sees a parrot being sold on her way back from the Parents teacher meet and forces her Dad to buy it for her. “Rs 20/- what the heck?” her Dad thinks. The parrot is bought and so are some chillies and mangoes and guava for the parrot. Red loved her bird and feeds it all day long to the point that the bird started acting like a ZOMBIE. It would remain at the same place without moving a muscle. The troubled Red contacted her ‘I hate birds trapped in cage’ Dad who told her that the bird had diarrhea or constipation and should be allowed to step out of the cage. The trusting daughter opened the cage and allowed the parrot out to catch some fresh air and stretch its muscles. The bird gave her a 'You are the dumbest human i have ever come across' look, danced around the cage for some time and flew away.

The “Aww I am so loved” Award- Age 18- She had her 12^th pre-board exams in the month of December and you all should know that our Miss Red loves to attend marriage receptions in the month of December since the hot and butter loaded MOONG KA HALWA is the love of her life. A family friend living some blocks away was getting married and it was a huge thing but sadly Red couldn’t be a part of it. Her Dad bought a Sexy Grey Raymond’s suit for himself and the entire family went for the reception while Red stayed back. Some hours later her family returns and her lil brother enters the room with a paper bowl filled with moong ka halwa saying that Dad couldn’t eat it thinking about her, so he hid it and brought it. Red ran to her Dad to ask why he did so and the answer was “Anything to make you happy” .She didn’t ask him how he brought it since it was evident. There was a big oil stain on his Brand new coat pocket.

Well I don’t think anyone would read a longer post than this and so the award ceremony has an abrupt end.

P.S- More awards to be given and thanks to some very special people in my life for making everything so beautiful! My family, the three best friends who have been with me since the age of 4 and a Ghost who makes my life cuter as the days pass by. 

Image Courtesy- poorjokes.in

THE TWEEZER

There are so many moments in your life which you treasure. Some you sadly drag along as you move and some you happily remember. Then there are some memories which where painful then, but when you look back at it, its not tormenting anymore but actually make you laugh.

But I have one such incident which still gives me a “PAIN ON MY ANKLE” (literally). You remember the teenage days, where you just want them to let you out and give you the grown up treatment which you think you deserve.

So this happened around five years back. It’s been 2 yrs since I bid adieu to my teeny years. After stepping out of my school I was feeling grown up and mature (it’s a whole different topic if I really was. Even now it’s my 12 yr old brother who is more matured than me). I wanted to take my two-wheeler for a long distance trip, chalked out by the girls. I pouted, made some puppy faces, gave some dimpled smiles and some cute words and my dad fell for it. Mom yet again blamed dad for falling for it. I took the Activa, put on the gloves, summer coat ( mommy doesn’t want tan to touch me you see ) helmet and started on with the journey. Two other friends driving just behind me. Back in those days all you want to do is prove to your dad that you’re an adult now. So for the first time in my life I drove below 40 km/hr and was enjoying the city passing behind me. Suddenly this monkey of a person decides to take a left turn and without any indicator he just took the turn and crashed into me. I tried my level best to avoid the scene.

He crashed, I fell, and I dint feel any pain. The only pain that I felt was in my head. The anger bubbling within. The thought of how to tell my parents that I had an accident. They would never believe it when I say that it wasn’t my fault. I pulled my leg out from under the vehicle and marched towards him and started screaming at him from under my helmet. I was looking like an astronaut. My friends just gawked at me. The rear view mirror was broken and I wanted it mended. The police came and I wanted no scene, so I grabbed some money from that monkey to repair my Activa and fled from the spot. Again I started driving the beaten up bike. The wind was cooling me down but something warm was flowing down my ankle. I was hurt and suddenly it started burning. We stopped at the petrol station and I looked at my ankle. While I had pulled out my leg from under my bike to go and scream at the guy I had hurt myself. There was a deep cut and no skin left on the side of my right ankle. I washed my leg and I laughed because it pained (I laugh when it’s paining and people are around). All I was thinking about was repairing the bike. We again drove and finally got the active back in position.

We dropped the trip and headed back home. The news was given to my mom who started looking all over my body for bruises with award winning words coming from her mouth. Dad was silent. My brother least bothered went to look for scratches on the bike. Granny went to make Ayurvedic coffee for me. So much drama !!

Now I am a girl who hates injections and I did not find a need for tetanus. I am the most stubborn girl you would ever come across. I bandaged myself and continued to be myself. After about four days I felt an itchy and tingly feeling inside my bandage. I decide to open it up. After all it was just a deep scratch. The vision was just AMAZING. The wound was looking bigger and a white scum like thing was on it. I freaked out and passed the freaking out to mom who further freaked dad out too. All the freaking out came back to me in terms of words of mouth. We visited the doctor and he told me that I need to be operated. So I gave him a smile and a “fuck off” stare and limped out. Doctor number two said it just needs cleaning and fresh bandage and some medicine to go with it. I was happy with the option and went back home.

Ten days passed and I got twice cleaned and bandaged. Now I was sure that the next time I go I be back to the pavilion. So I am all happy and limp back to the doctor for the last time as he promised me. I sit on the hospital bed and mommy the sweetest stands beside me and my brother the smartass stands outside the door. The nurse opens the bandage and takes a good look at it and smiles at me. He tells me that I am recovering well. I am all smiling and happy baby. I look at mom and wink and turn my glance back at the doctor. And this was the moment I froze to my seat!!

I see him moving towards my wound with the tweezers. I inch back and demand an explanation. The nurse tells me that he needs to scrap the white scum like skin out of my wound because it’s infectious. I stare at him and my tongue goes dry and I want to pee. My mother looks sad but tells me that I have to allow them do their work. I give in and close my eyes. How painful can it be? Not that much. It’s just some dead skin. I will laugh if it pains and I be fine.

OUCHHHHHH..it hurts. I open my eyes and I wince. I pull my hair, I curse the bastard of a nurse. ‘’You swine!!!! Get away’’. To help me where some popular hindi insults. “Saalaaaaa maar dale ga kya be…abe gadheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”. I bite my lips and tears roll down. I scream at him “Gadheee doctor ko bula…saaale ulluuuuu.. mooooooooooooooooooom”. I look at mom and she is actually laughing at me. I scream at her to which she replies “If you where me looking at the way you are cursing the poor guy, you would laugh”. Lovely!!!! I look for some pity in the eyes of my brother and I see him dragging my driver near the door to see the performance I am giving. They all look amused!!!

Bloody fucking hell! The world is full of mean people!

Finally the ordeal is over and I am bandaged again. The doctor comes and smiles at me and I gift him a cold stare and a biiiiiiiiiig “DHANYAVAAD JEE”. I took an oath never to see his face ever again. Later on my way back mommy the ‘not so sweet anymore’ buys me ice-cream and holds my hand. I ask her again why she laughed, to which she answered

“All this is nothing when compared to the pain I got while delivering you. You would know when you go through it”

What an answer!!!!