The End (of Wordful Soul)

His laptop is broken and he needs to drop an urgent e-mail. He picks up her laptop and starts it. Password! He calls her up , tells her that he really needs to use a computer and she tells him the password. He is in the habit of using Internet Explorer. He types 'Internet Explorer' in the search bar and runs the browser. He types the url to his office mail and hits enter. IE crashes. Damn! Now what? He notices Chrome and runs it. He types the url and the site opens. He sends the urgent mail. Sent! He feels relieved. Now, he might as well, check out the notifications on his FB and browse the net a little. He runs Chrome again. "Most visited", it shows, and colourful thumbnails below it. He clicks on the first link it shows. He hasn't seen many websites with such colour scheme. (That's because he has only visited professional websites till date. He is not too much of an explorer.) He is not so interested to know about the website, as he is to know about what kind of websites his wife visits. (Plain curiosity. He trusts her more than anything in the World!) There is some kind of a story on the first page. He starts reading. Wow! That's a cute little story. Fiction! He smiles. He has a lot of time to kill, so, he might go through other stories as well. He starts reading the next. It is a sad story. Could it be real, or has the writer published it for the sake of getting popularity? Well, who knows? He goes onto the next post. Why is there some strangeness in these words? Why does he feel uncomfortable reading some of them? It is because these are those very things that he blatantly disagrees to discuss with his wife when she comes to talk to him about them. Is this where she is learning all this from? These so called "broad minded" philosophies, and silly aspirations! Who is this person who writes all this crap? Who is this person who thinks it is okay for 50 year olds to marry if they are in 'love' and being a homosexual is not a sin? He goes through another post. And yet another. Another, and another. She has fell for uncountable men at unrealistic situations, has been tried to be raped, has tasted vodka, wine, whiskey. She has been to discos, pubs and bars, danced with strangers. God! She has had so many boyfriends and has a husband she claims to 'love' and 'respect'. Total crap! Her husband doesn't know that she writes all this (and pollutes the minds of thousand other wives). She writes stuff that she can't share with her husband. She writes because she doesn't want to simply die with the experiences of her life. She writes because she can't tell her husband that she still feels uncomfortable having intercourse with him because of the ugly past she has had. She writes as anonymous because she doesn't want to hurt him. She writes because "To let go, she has to let know". Who is this girl? He knows who. His face is wet with tears. He is so angry and so hurt, that he can't think of anything that would ever reduce this pain. He feels like ripping his skin apart by digging his nails deep into it because he has been living with a stranger for so long!

This little piece of fiction is dedicated to the unending war between a part of me that feels the unquenchable thirst to tell my story, and a part of me that is extremely scared to do it 

Little Love

I look at him through the mirror. I look at his eyes, sharp and focussed. I watch him move from my left to my right, moving his hands artfully, as if he is playing a violin. He glances at me to see how I look. Quickly, I move my eyes off him. Definitely, he thinks I am pretty. Only, he can't show it. He gently moves his finger along the side of my face to push back a fringe of hair falling over my face. He has felt the softness of my cheeks, and surely, in his mind, he marvels at the radiance of my skin. He is trying his best to hide his admiration for me, but his second quick glance at my face reveals it. His hands move fast, but my eyes move slow. To someone who looks at us, it might seem to be a matter of few minutes that would be over in a gulp, but I am savouring it, drinking in each little moment, real slow. I take delight in the moment when a lock of hair curls up and rests over my lips and he moves it off with the back of his finger. He couldn't have helped notice the contrast of dark black hair against bright pink lips. I wonder if he is falling in love with me. It intoxicates me, when he runs his fingers through my hair. I can smell him. He smells of skill, and mystery, and  experience. He has seen many a women, beautiful, ugly, ordinary, charming; And has mastered the art of indifference. And attention from such a man will make a woman feel special, superior over all the female-kind he has ever met, seen or touched. He gives me another glance. This time, he smiles. "There!", he says. I look at myself into the mirror. What has this man done to me? I look even more beautiful!

I get up and walk out, loving the way my heart creates little love stories for me all the time, and thinking about showing off my new haircut!

♥  There is a little love in every moment  ♥

I was only nine

The door bell rang. It was the plumber. I was all alone at home and so I hesitated to let him in. But then I knew how tough it is to get a plumber to visit and fix the pipes, and I wanted to make things easy for my parents, so I opened the door for him. I didn't shut it though, so that I could run away if he tried to kill me or something. He was older than my daddy and seemed to be a nice man but he was still a stranger.

In the meanwhile, my uncle (my dad's sister's husband) came, the door was open, he stepped inside without even knocking. He was a big man (by size of his body, his car and his accomplishments), but I wonder why no one taught him to ask before stepping into someone else's house. I didn't like this uncle for a lot of reasons, but I felt relieved because someone I knew was there to save me if at all the kind looking plumber wanted to kill me. I went into the living room, where he had already made himself comfortable, to offer him a glass of water. I wanted to do that quickly because I had to return to the basin area to keep an eye on the plumber, or he might pick up anything and leave. But my uncle held my hand. He used to come to our house often to collect some papers and always did that to me. I never liked it. No matter how hard I tried, I could not make him loosen his grip. But then, my little brother would try to help me out. He would pull my other hand to pull me away from him, till uncle released my hand. I don't know if he understood how I felt, but I felt safe when he would be there. But he wasn't home that day. Uncle pulled me by my hand towards himself and used force, that I could not counter, to make me sit me over his lap. His hold was very firm. I was too shocked to utter a word. That's my usual reaction to trouble. His one hand was inside my shirt, and other inside my skirt. I was confused and terrified. The plumber called out "It's done". He released me, and I ran away from him. Just when the plumber was leaving, my parents stepped in. 

I don't know if my parents saw it but they taught me not to open doors even for people who are relatives, if I am alone at home. That incident has left a big, dark, permanent spot on my mind. I was introduced to the horror of unpleasant sexual experience at a very delicate age. It gave me a whole new view of the World. I don't know if it was the beginning, but I don't like anybody touching me now. Blessed is my boyfriend for not letting it affect his love for me. That uncle still comes to our house sometimes, and thinks I was too young to have remembered it till now.  I try to behave normally when he comes home. His daughter is now older than I was at that time. I wonder if he has ever prayed to God for forgiveness.

And I love my brother...

Brothers and sisters are born with connected hearts.

You have to take care not to break the link.

SAVE YOUR LOVED ONES FROM SUCH HORRIFYING EXPERIENCES THAT CAN DAMAGE THEIR HEARTS AND SOULS FOREVER. 

STAND AGAINST SEXUAL ABUSE. SPREAD THE MESSAGE.

Magical Drops

Moist breeze glides  through the dimness of a mid-July monsoon day. Couples walk, holding hands, talking about the beauty of the weather, and of their togetherness. But Tarun and Auraya don't seem to have noticed any of it.

"Do you have any idea about how I felt while I waited for you, sitting alone like an idiot for hours, ordering beverage after beverage? "

" I thought  I would make it Auraya...I tried hard but a new assignment came in and I had to cancel..."

" Cancel? After I had already waited for two hours? "

" I tried not to cancel it...till the moment it became inevitable. I tried real hard...trust me "

" Well...you think I should?...'cause where there is a will, there is a way...Haven't you heard?"

"Oh God Auraya...It's impossible to make you understand. I can't take it anymore. Now, stop overreacting!",Tarun screams.

The argument gets too ugly for Auraya to handle and she turns away. Tarun holds her by her shoulders and turns her around so that she faces him. A tear rolls down Auraya's cheek and falls upon the Earth.  A drop from the sky falls and rests over Tarun's cheek. Another tear from her eyes touches the soil, and another drop from the sky wets his lashes.

" Please baby, don't cry....I am sorry. I really am....I can't believe I screamed at you...."

The rain has drowned her tears, melted his heart and drenched the two in love.

" I love you Auraya. I won't do it ever again, I promise."

 Auraya hugs him tight.

" I love you Tarun."

And as they hug and kiss each other, Nausheen watches. The rain wets every leaf on every tree and fills every grain of soil with water. But Nausheen burns and twists in pain. "Why is it", she thinks, " that for some, even a lifetime is too short to get the love they desire?  Why is it that it hurts so much to watch the one you love kiss someone else....Why is it that you have no courage to keep looking, but you have no power to turn away... Why is it that I have never been loved?"

She feels the pain of stings by a thousand scorpions. She feels severely wounded.

But suddenly, she feels the fire of jealousy and pain being put out. She notices herself getting wet by drops that ease the pain wherever they touch. She is being healed by magical drops that make her feel loved. All wounds evaporate. All jealousy fades away. She is liberated.

Armaan is on his knees, crying his heart out... his tears blending into the rain drops, falling onto the soil, seeping into the Earth and wetting Nausheen's grave with his untold love.

P.S. This post was written for The Writers' Lounge

A Couple of Orchids

The hall was dimly lit with little lights floating around the room, like fireflies. Little chits were being picked up and opened, and stared at. There were two chits of a kind. The two persons who would get the same kind of chit would dance together. It was a dream party for dance lovers. Wine lovers too had their private corners. Now, fate has chosen the dance partners. "Who has a sunflower?", the coordinator asked. Two hands flew up. Two people moved to the centre of the hall. They smiled at each other and announced their names to the audience. The lady was playing with her hair and the gentleman gave a series of shy expressions. It is almost impossible to be comfortable dancing for the very first time with a person chosen entirely by fate. Music started playing, and they decided to do some jazz moves for the audience. The audience clapped, hooted and encouraged them.

Then, the couple with rose chits were called out. They shook a little leg and waved their hands a bit and went. And so came the daffodils, marigolds and tulips.

"Orchids!", the coordinator called out.

A lady stepped forward and a gentleman raised his hand. When the lady saw her dance partner, she turned around, perhaps with the aim of cancelling her turn. But suddenly, she turned around facing her partner and started moving towards the centre. He moved too, with his eyes fixed on her face. This couple was definitely different. They were not strangers. As she walked closer to him, her heart thumped faster inside her heart. All her blood had flowed to her cheeks. They were close now. She looked into his eyes. He smiled and offered his hand for dance. She gently placed her hands over his. 

The light became dimmer. The music began. She forgot all her apprehensions. She was reminded of the time when they had danced together at a cruise. She placed her hands slowly over his shoulders, just like she had done it then. He held her by her waist and pulled her towards himself. The couple swayed from left to right, creating magic. The audience was too mesmerized to hoot, or whistle, or say anything. But they didn't care, because they were no longer in a random couple dance party. They were on a cruise, swinging around each other. The music reached it's climax. And so did the nostalgia. A hairpin fell and a fringe of hair fell over her face. He couldn't help noticing how black and silky her hair were. But the hair that fell over her eyes were distracting her. He moved his hands towards her face to move her hair back. The music stopped. The audience clapped and applauded like crazy. They woke up from their shared dream. She immediately stepped back. Water inside her eyes shone, and a drop hung on to the eyelash. 

"Amazing performance! Superb!....And now, the lilies please..."

While the audience waited for the next couple to step in, she slid into a corner. He followed.

"So", he said ," the cruise wan't the last time after all Mrs. Khanna." He smiled.

She looked him in his eyes and said, "No. It wasn't, Mr. Kumar.But 'this' is!" 

She turned around, walked away, and disappeared.

Seat-less-ness

I feel like narrating a little incident that happened while I was in a crowded bus this morning. So, here it goes!

All seats were occupied in an extremely crowded bus and I was standing. Then a person's bus stop came and he vacated the seat. I was the only female standing there, so the guy in the seat next to the vacant seat asked me to take it. Just then a man started struggling to clear the crowd around the vacant seat so that he could sit there. Also, a female who just boarded the bus started fighting with the man for the seat, and obviously, won. The man who had asked me to sit gave me a sympathetic look, but I gave him a superhero look that said "I can let a train pass over me and not feel a thing".

So now, a man is standing and a woman is sitting. I ofcourse, am still seat-less.

Then, another man who saw all this offered me his seat. I said I'm okay, and he can keep sitting (I'm a superhero!) But he got up. So, I took the seat and thanked him.

Now, the moral of the story:

Two men are standing, but guess which one can feel proud...

Two women are sitting, and guess whose day was made!

PS:

1) Sexists, no! the moral of the story is not what you think it is

2) Chivalry and good manners (read superhero-ness) are not outdated. I don't think they should ever be.

3) Sometimes, little things matter much.

The Lost Charm

"Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find the 'fiction' section?"

"yes, it is the fourth rack from front on the left side."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

These are the only few words that Nina speaks. Rest of the time, she is painfully still and silent.Working at the local library is therefore, an easy task for her. All she has to do is remain silent and arrange books. Her expressions resemble those of the sages whose lives are blessed with ultimate content and tranquility. But those are her expressions. What lies inside, nobody can tell.

Everyday, a lot of readers come to the library, read books, get them issued, return the ones they have read or found unable to read, and at the end of the day, there books are placed in wrong sections or simply left on the table. It's closing time. Nina starts picking up books and placing them in racks where they belong. This is, perhaps, the only time when she has nothing, except books, in mind.

She bends down and places a book. Then she climbs up ladder to place another. But something has caught her eye and she drops the book in hand. It is a rose with a tag that says "To Nina". She stares at it. Her expressions are unchanged, but her thoughts are not. She quickly picks up the flower, climbs down and throws it into the dustbin, as if it was going to explode.

Today is another usual day. The same things to be done, the same words to be spoken. But something has changed. The thought of a rose makes her heart thump within her chest. "Poor joke", she tells herself and dumps the thought the same way she had dumped the flower.

The library closes and she gets up to arrange books. Subconsciously, she decides to arrange books in the rack, where she had found a flower yesterday, first. She finds nothing, says "poor joke" with a sigh, and returns to her task. Just when she takes a last round, she notices a paper sticking out of a book. She hurries towards the book to fix it. But it is no paper. It is a card that says "Your smile is beautiful". This reminds her she hasn't smiled for months. Again, a "poor joke" and she tears it into four pieces, looks at it one last time and throws it into the dustbin.

"Where can I find Mario Puzo?"

"I'll show you. Come with me."

Today, she walks to racks to show readers the books they are looking for. Some of the readers look at her amazed when she offers to help them this way. But her expressions remain unchanged. 

Today she finds a chocolate bar that she gives to the little boy who begs at the traffic light and a bunch of lilies, the next day, that she places in her drawer and leaves.

Her expressions remain unchanged, but people have started noticing changes. Suddenly, her vocabulary seems to have increased.

"Do you have Jeffrey Archer?"

"Of course, we do....come I'll show you."

"Thanks"

"No problem. I'm glad I could help."

She finds a little pendant that she wears to work the next day.

"This is the first time I am seeing you wearing a piece of jewel. You look pretty.", some tell her.

She feels like a teenage girl, enjoying compliments. She doesn't remember the last time she wanted to look good. But now she does. She takes more time to get ready for work now. People can't help telling her how prettier she looks now.

Today she finds a CD of songs that she had long forgotten that she loved so much. She went home and played them on her music player. Her teenage days are back. She can't help dancing to some of the tunes, just like she used to do in happier times. She looks at herself in the mirror and is amazed to notice that she is prettier than she thought she is. She notices her long neck, a beauty mark to the left of her mouth, the fullness of her lips, the curls of her hair. She notices what's lacking. She smiles, and surprises herself.

Today, a man brings her a parcel. She signs, and quickly opens it up. It's a beautiful red dress. She is startled. How could she wear something that bright! She stares at it, confused, terrified. She looks at the dustbin. She looks at the dress she is wearing, dull, dark, gloomy. She imagines how beautiful she would look when she wears it. She would buy a set of red earrings that go with it. When she would go out wearing the dress, people would look at her, and look at her twice. And while she is lost in her open-eyed dreams, her lips curve into a smile. 

"Excuse me.", someone says, and she is  stirred out of her dream. 

She giggles like a little girl and blushes.

A man takes a deep breath of relief as he secretly watches his friend's widow rediscovering her charm.

Bound

" You are the most beautiful girl in the World ", he said.

She knew what he was going to say next. She closed her eyes.

" I love you so much ", he said and kissed over her eyelids.

" You know something...", he said, "...sometimes, I feel, if you leave me, I wouldn't even breathe enough to say 'wait. don't go'....but every time I think about it, I want to kill myself for letting the thought of us falling apart enter my head...."

He held her hand.

" How strange it is...I don't want you to leave me because it would kill me....and I want to kill myself at the thought of you leaving me...Who do I love more? You? or my life? "

 She blinked.

"I don't know if there is afterlife. I can never be sure. So, I need you, and my life, to be with you.....to hold your hand...to hold your face between my palms...", he placed his hands over her soft cheeks, "...to kiss your lips...", he gently caressed her lips with his, "...to hold you tight...", he pulled her towards himself, and hugged her.

Tears tumbled down his cheeks as he chanted, " Oh! I love you. I want to be with you forever."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. How could she ever tell him, that she had made a mistake.

Picture source

No Day

The stars did twinkle
And the crickets did sing
But it wasn't a night
Because I held you tight

The birds do sing
And the Sun does shine
But it isn't a day
Because you are not mine