Love hurts...like a bitch!

‘Loving my parents hurts because I can't be what they would have me be’.

I read this one liner by one of my favourite bloggers and it struck right home. I don’t think anyone but a rebel would understand this kind of pain. There are times I have bowed to down to my family’s wishes, but never have I come out successful. Oh! It has nothing to do with their decision or wish, but with me. I have never been completely happy till I have felt that what I am doing is right for me. That’s the strong headed, stubborn, mulish person I am.

One of the biggest decisions in my life has hurt my mother, to an extent that I can never forgive myself for. As I see her suffering, as she has through the past two years, especially the past few months, all I feel is profound sadness, guilt at the impact that this decision has had on her. The kind when the loss of someone or something envelopes you like a fog that simply gives you blinders.

Yes, I am marrying a Muslim. He’s a Dawoodi Bohra, the community known for its forward thinking, yet conservative in its own way. And the thought, the very idea, of me becoming part of this community, this religion, from one where I have never had to bind to the rules of my religion or community, where I have been my own free bird, scares the shit out of everyone. But, on my good days, I must confess, I feel, freedom is a state of mind, no? Love, too, is a state of mind. A common saying is when love flies out the window, reality comes in. But what if that love is strong, stronger than anything else? What if it is that love that has borne the understanding, the respect, the emotions that two people share? Why would it fly out of the window, unless we let it loose?

I have hurt my mother more than I can ever imagine to have hurt her. But I have faith – faith that it will all be fine. Through every step, every obstacle, every single barrier that has been put in our way, although I have cried, pulled my hair out, screamed, begged, grieved, gone temporarily insane, that faith, that strength to bear this all has remained. We have both endured everything we can of each other, we have been rude, we have fought, we have blamed and hardly left each other with options. He too shares what I feel, the pain, the emotions, the hurt, the guilt of hurting his family.

Yet, somewhere through all this crazy thick fog, we are merely two people walking towards each other, blind, yet aware that we are all we want, stretching out our arms, yearning for that one touch, that one magnetic field that constantly brings us closer and closer, till we meet as one soul, one being, one entity.

And, that is when the compromises (each of us has made and will make) fall off, that is when the sacrifices seem but like miniscule decisions, and the bigger picture, the wholeness of our love, our unity and our strength rises like the phoenix from the ashes, again and again!

death...

A close friend passed away today...well he wasnt that close to me, but he was I's very close friend. We would go out for dinners, and movies and lunches and have so much fun all in all. He was just 26...merely a young man who had his whole life ahead of him. He recently had a baby boy and was loved by all his friends and family.
At times, one wonders what life is all about...such incidents make me wonder why we worry about the slightest things in life. That we dont have a job, that things arent going the way we want them to...Not once, in our blind greed, do we realise that death is above all. And when man proposes, God disposes.
Today, this friend has left behind a young wife and baby and an army of friends and family who were passionately devioted to him, yet feel helpless and so out of control that something so sudden and so devastating could happen to someone they know and love, and someone who didnt deserve to die so young...
I tribute this post to Rohit...an exemplary friend and husband and im sure would have been an excellent doting father... RIP

gone....

Gone are the days when dreams were just a passing breeze
when the only trouble was avoiding branches as we flew our independent ways
beating wings, beating hearts, building castles building kingdoms.

helpless...

a myriad colours burst in her face
a myriad emotions cloud her mind.

as the world spins around,
she flails her arms

searching for someone,
something, to hold on to

failure

I've had my share of failure. Not one but many. And as i failed each time, i would withdraw further, cringe and give up. Life had become a constant...my thoughts justified each other. Id lay in bed at night, thinking, wondering, cursing myself for not having the guts to face failure, for not having the guts to be who i was, to be ME.

For me, escapism was the way out...
the door was open, the feet ready to walk out. but the mind was fickle, diffident, changing the moment it was made up....

those days were agony, that time was tortuous and not because of my experiences--those paled in comparison to my thoughts.
I was faithless. I dint have faith in God, in my family, in myself...

The mind is a funny entity. it can torture u no end, but can fool u into believing that all is well....

slowly and steadily i picked up the pieces, learnt from my mistakes, reined my mind in.
gradually i grew out of the shell i had hidden inside, broke open barriers and as i lifted my face up to the sky and the sun's rays shone down on me...i was a new person

I cant say that i left that failure behind, but i kept it in mind, it was always my driving force...to succeed to not be who i used to be. to remain ME.

trapped

The view was obscured by bars
His little fists held on for dear life
The free bird was caged again

As he looked out, he could hear the laughter and sound of children playing
Tears streaming down his cheeks, he wondered why he was here,
Why was he trapped again?
All he wanted was to go, fly away
Away from the life he was born with

Tear-streaked, his sobs were relentless
He trudged slowly back to his iron bed,
Head bowed, feet dragging, a look of defeat
The very image of hopelessness

full circle

she was alone, side tracked...

they were at it like cats and dogs...

always shouting, crying, being stubborn

all of them.

things changed, they washed their hands off each other

she grew up, apparently the "angel"

timid, restrained, subdued...

refused to come out of her shell,

never knowing there was one!

time passed, the hatred, the anger increased.

the few moments of peace and love gave her relief.

sometimes reality was too hard to digest

so she stayed away.

somewhere inside she believed that only one was right...

time passed, she changed, became a person of her own

formed her own identity, carved her own niche

away from them, she saw them for who they were

just wounded human beings, having gotten into something vicious,

being unable to get out of it.

and all she could be was a silent spectator

accepting that it was all she could do...

watch them....tears dropping silently

onto her folded hands

in a prayer for peace, normalcy...

a tribute to home...

What is it about this place we call home? What is it that a mere slur against the very name makes our blood boil… The place where many of us were born and many of us spent more than half our lives….what is it that a mere song or a tale brings back rushing moments of the joys and sorrows we felt?

Our escapades, our near scrapes with the authorities…the overnights, the walks along the airport road…the memories of meeting in Lulu centre…Annual day and Khareef festival—the highlights of the year…the numerous picnics, the field trips….the Jabals, the camels…bus rides…sports day… the choir!!

Yet, we yearned for our freedom, from the oppressive environment, and yet the heart craves to go back to the place where we once “were.”

A photograph, a place, a person brings back so many memories that tears well up and we ache to return home, return to the place where we first learnt to walk, where we made our first friends, where we made our best friends, where we discovered our talents, a place where we lost the people dearest to us, where we found the people dearest to us….

The bonds we created there were the strongest ever…people who dint matter then have become so much more important to us today…a random person from school adds us on FB and we immediately accept, an attempt to move closer to where our heart is…

Salalah, the heart of Oman, the oasis in the desert, our home… has become our haven, a place to heal, to recuperate, to bask in the memories of our childhood, to go back to the time when life was innocent and childlike, when we dreamt of bigger things, bigger places….we’ve reached where we wanted to…but our heart is still stuck where it was…

Some may call it a fool’s paradise, which practically speaking, it may be, but I’d (and many of us) rather be a fool than let go of my home…

sacrifice...

She walked with a quiet determination

Her fair feet kicking up the dust

The golden bells at her ankles tinkling cheerfully

Reverberating in the silence surrounding her

Slowly, she stepped on to the hot embers

Her soft flesh burning

Not once did she wince

Not once did she cry out

Her silent spectator—a mere distance away—looked on

And she looked at him, a fire in her eyes

A triumphant look

Quickly replaced by profound sadness

The fire licked at her body

But not one inch of her burned

She was a flaming goddess

Enveloped in the golden red flames

The time was up

Slowly and steadily, with an unwavering look

She stepped down and walked towards him

Her blistered feet silently sifting the dust

He held out his hand, she walked past him

Her agnipariksha—symbol of love and devotion

was over

Her sacrifice was made….

feelings....

I’m struggling with my feelings,

I don’t know what it is… a desperate melancholy, emptiness, maybe hope??

There’s the rock and the hard place, and then there’s me, stuck in between

And no matter how much I try, I’m probably going to die of claustrophobia…

So many feelings, so many thoughts, so many memories surround me,

The ink on the paper spreads, creating a pattern of swirling emotions,

I wanna laugh, I wanna cry, I wanna feel like never before,

I wanna dance, swirl in his arms, where there is just me and him…

There is so much I want, yet so much that comes with it that I don’t…

What is higher? My identity, my pride, the perceptions I have created through these years?? Or is all that matters just me and him??

But then, just me and him, is not all that matters to him…is it??

Is this even about us?? Is this just a fantasy of being in love, sharing intimate moments?

Or is it true love?? The thing that people live their entire lives to search for…

That movies and novels describe,

But these past 4 years have taught me so much more…

i can love, i have found love, and i believe in it... but is it enough??

Where does it all end? Where do I come to a standstill and choose?

A choice that will affect us all, whether it’s for the good or the bad…

But the emotions remain, my feelings still swirling in the pit of my stomach,

And I can’t think, I can only feel…

Maybe ill wish on a shooting star or ill kneel down and bend my head in penance at the altar

Or ill talk to God one on one

Till then, I can only feel…

these are places, familiar places...my dearest memories were made here.

the rain is lashing at the pavement, the wind creating havoc with the trees...

people hurrying past to escape the stinging water drops and rickshaws spraying them with the mucky Mumbai rain...

and I, a mere spectator, look back...to another day, another time, another moment...

when the air resounded with our playful banter, gleeful laughter, us taking delight in each other's presence... a mere look, a touch...

the pavements are still there, so are the trees...the people are still rushing by.

yet i stand still, a solitary figure, a victim of time, in the torrential rain--alone and incomplete.

Empty...

An empty room, a bookshelf filled with dust

Billowing curtains, crumpled sheets, a slept-in-bed

A breeze rustling dead leaves on the floor, the dust swirling

The sunlight streaming through the cracked glass

Old love letters—tear streaked and well-worn

Dried rose petals, cracked photo frames

A chair rocking alone in the breeze

A shattered mirror, a book--its yellowed pages fluttering

Wisps of memories surrounding the room

Footprints in the dust, walking out the door....

A letter...

I look at you from across the room and see you gazing at me with intensity. And I wonder what’s going on in your mind. I ask you with my eyes and you reply “nothing.” But I know that there is something— maybe it’s love, maybe even hope, or perhaps regret at losing what we had. Or maybe just freedom from having to make any more decisions or compromises. I know the whirling emotions, the complex mess— I feel them too. I look at our friends, dating, married. And I feel sad, sad that we had the chance and we lost it. For whatever reason...I used to believe that we shared something special, something cherishable, but maybe I’m not wrong and its just not meant to be…

I try to detach, but I just come closer; I try to be indifferent, but become all the more involved. But maybe that’s the way it’s got to be—complex, crazy, and something of a nameless friendship…..

I’m clinging on to the last invisible thread of hope.
Hanging on for life, not wanting to fall down into the depths of nowhere.
In limbo.
Trying. Trying to hold on, pull myself together.
I know that the moment the thread slips out of my hands, I'm a changed person.
Trying to hold on to the person I was.
But I have already lost her...
to a love long lost...

excerpt from Linkin Park's "In the End." So totally what i feel, broken, failed, lost.
………………
What it meant to me
Will eventually
Be a memory
Of a time when

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter

I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There’s only one thing you should know
I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There’s only one thing you should know

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter
I had to fall
And lose it all
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter

broken...

I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the images. A lone tear escapes from under my lashes, tracing a warm path down my cold cheeks. I open my eyes and I’m blinded by tears, threatening to turn into a deluge. How do I wipe five years from my life, dust away the intricate cob webs that I had woven then? How do I cover up the footprints left behind? I watch my pyramid of dreams crashing down, the furthest one placed most precariously on the top; my hopes spiral away, away from my reach, leaving me all alone. As I try to touch them for the last time, the flood gates open, destroying every inch of will power in their wake. Will I ever dream again, give my self again?

I remember...

I remember his last words to me; they were uttered in a state of complete disorientation. It was something to do with my hair or some light—I can’t remember precisely. I wanted to ask him to stay, to always be there, wanted to tell him that I love him—despite the painful fights, angry tears, slamming doors and volley of arguments.
I remember the pride in his voice when I would sing—the only time I gave him that chance. I can still recall the first time I’d hugged him and the last time I didn’t. The last time I touched his feet, they were cold. I wish he were here to see me today; somewhere the “me” today is a result of his legacy.
I remember hating him with the same intensity with which I loved him. Even his last conscious words to me were to get out of the room. Yet his excitement at receiving me at the airport, his fierce protection, his generosity, and his stupid jokes are all I can remember.
It’s taken me more than a year to get this out. Yet, “Annu, I miss u more than you’ll ever know. I love you. I wish u were here to see me today. But, I’m sure you’re somewhere above looking down with pride—and smiling.”