Can I get one more chance?

Primp
in

Do you remember any incomplete conversation that you wish you had a chance to complete?  Have you witnessed your mind struggling between ‘I wish I had’ or ‘I wish I hadn’t’?

Few months back:

I had got my first job. I wanted my father to be the first person to know about it. Though I was standing still with phone in my hand, my heart was dancing on the beats of ‘Happy’ (by Pharrell Williams). I was expecting him to pass a virtual hi-fi after hearing the news. Instead, I couldn’t sense even a pinch of happiness in his voice. .

Dad: So you are not coming home?

Me: I can’t. The joining date is day after tomorrow.

Dad: So you are not going to study further?

Me: I will. I have plans to pursue my master degree next year. Dad….

 “Your daughter is not going to study anymore”, he said, passing the phone to my mom. The call got disconnected, after a few minutes of dead silence on the other end. How would you feel when you realize that your father is not happy on your success? Bizarre!! I was disheartened. My mind was apprehended with shrieks of anger. In that belligerence, I decided that I will not talk to him till the day, he asks me to talk.

After 25 days, my sister called me to inform that dad was admitted in hospital. He was suffering from Chronic liver disease. The infection had spread throughout his body. It had hit the brain, resulting in partial memory loss. Five days that I spent outside I.C.U, reminded me of the last 20 years I had spent with him. My hopes fluctuated with every rise and fall of his chest. Those nights were nightmares for me. Every morning, I thanked god for not turning it into reality.

In the morning of the sixth day, I lost him. 

A week later:                                                                

 I was sitting in the lawn with my mom and aunt.  Breaking the silence, my aunt muttered that dad was aware of his deteriorating condition. He knew that he had very less days left to live. She also mentioned that he was extremely happy of my success and had even offered sweets to a few close relatives. In his last days of life, all he wanted was to stay close to his family. And, that was the reason he had asked me to come home.

That incomplete conversation with my dad was the last conversation I had with him.

If I had a chance to complete it, maybe I would have done it in this way:

“Dad, you spent your entire life fulfilling our wishes. Every time you looked at me, I could see a ray of hope in those idyllic eyes. You are my inspiration. I admire your loyalty and determination. With time, primping and clothing will change my appearance but my soul will remain intact with the lessons you have taught.  I know you miss me. I miss you too dad. That’s why I have taken this decision. It’s time for you to take a break and make wishes.  I love you dad. I promise to come home soon.  ”

He taught me: Don’t try to escape reality. Live them. Create memories and laugh at them when you grow old.

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Memories

Copycat

 

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The sudden skip of a beat and that uncontrolled breathing,

The comfort in your arms like a protective sheathing,

And the touch of your chin which caressed my skin,

I am still under arrest of these bewildered feelings.

One scoop of that multi layered ice cream we shared,

The different cuisine every night you prepared,

You were so immature to count the number of stars,

Lost in our world, what others think, we hardly cared.

The first time you held my hand in the park,

Or the last time we escaped in the dark,

 A treasure of such moments  reside inside me,

Now all I have of those memories, is a remarkable mark.

You loved my face, when I used to be most annoyed,

When you imitated me like a copycat, you looked paranoid,

There was no space left in our hearts except for love,

After you left, the only coding left in my system is NULL and VOID.

Be it the blanket of your arms in the cold chilly weather,

Or the dry season when the birds shed their feathers,

I remember moments ,not days,

Though the breaches have widened between us,

Still, cheers to the beautiful time we have spent together.

Dear Life

Giant

 

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You have definitions

yet, unknown to me.

You are an unsolved riddle

backed with insinuations,

an experience absolute new

and answers all hidden.

Time, when I was a little princess

wrapped in my daddy’s arms,

you were easiest to describe.

Slowly, the lines on my palm

joined hands with you

bent in directions that pierced my back.

Every dream that I dreamt

with eyes wide open,

have been killed

and buried without cremation.

Every thirsty breath

that has formed a giant lump in my gland

have yearned to be quenched.

Time then, hurt just meant

bleeding wounds on skin.

Time now, with skin clear like silk,

hurt is beyond ‘just bleed’.

You have harassed me

with your pedicured nails,

and dragged me to a destination, unknown

with no door open for help.

I have accepted my mistakes,

let go my weakness,

fell and stood again, positive.

But again, you my dear friend

beheaded me, leaving my organs paralyzed.

I am out of coins now.

With every round I play

the debt increases.

Still I will hold myself together

Until, I define you with 

words unknown to you.

Man/Woman – One defines the other

Rearrange

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Every new soul is an amalgamation of love shared between two individuals. It is a decision taken by two animals blessed with the power of imagination i.e. men and women. It is a creation that inherits some recognizable and some unrecognizable features of both parents.

No dictionary in the world defines men as dominant and women as suppressed creatures (or vice versa). They are two different mortals of one group (humans) with small dissimilarities in appearance. Except a few, they both have organs which functions alike.  But how do we define the relationship between a man and woman?

Emotions are a subtle part of human beings. The arguments between them are outcomes of misunderstood opinions. The arguments are not meant to prove who is right and who is guilty. It is the differences in thoughts stated in an eccentric way.

The ceremony of exchanging rings is an acceptance of each other’s follies and foibles. It is the beginning of two lives which will now be lived as ‘one’. They are ready to glide and rearrange their assembled lifestyles. It is a promise that may be their ways would be different but destination would be same.

When we talk about love, it doesn’t merely involves the act of sleeping together. A woman devotes herself entirely to a man because she thinks of him as a person who has rights on her. She doesn’t define it as intimacy but a process of falling in love with him. A man on the other hand doesn’t make love to a woman to just satisfy his crave. He is, in fact thankful to his lady for choosing him as her partner and letting him enter into her privacy.

A woman during pregnancy goes through enormous changes, both physical and mental. A woman’s feet increase in size and her uterus expands to more than 500 times its normal size. And, this continuous change automatically leads to mood swings. Men are not blessed with uterus. Hence, they cannot feel the pleasure of a soul growing within them.  It is difficult for \them to describe their emotions.

The unbearable labor pain that a woman undergoes is the proof of her strength and celestial happiness. Sitting outside the operation theatre, a man cries too. Hearing his lady scream, is the last thing he would want. The flow of blood in his nerves is replaced with the flow of anxiety which can be termed as ‘patience test’. His mind struggles with plenty of unanswered questions and unclear decisions. He has never been taught about parenting. But the moment he holds his child in his arms, anxiety is replaced with bliss and the only feeling, of ‘being blessed’ lingers around.

With every step they take together, they enlighten the world. Dinners, drive, shopping, arguments, intimacy, support, respect, adjustment, compromise etc are part of a life cycle, paddled by two souls, tied with an imaginary indestructible knot.

Have you seen old married couples walking in a park? You will often find them holding hands. It is a scientific reflection of their love. They have lived by the promise they had made to each other, several years ago and believe to abide by it till the end.

Abortion

Banned

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I was a symbol of love and affection;

A divine blessing.

Not an alibi of mating

Or your lack of protection.

I was alive in you

With your oxygen and food,

In the bed which was round and watery

Day by day I grew.

I had plans to play,

Hide and seek,

To swing, to slide

Perhaps, a new game every day.

I wanted to cuddle in your arms,

sit on daddy’s back

and help him grow paddy

in his large, gigantic farms.

But you killed my dreams

you banned my exit.

Not even once,

you could hear me scream?

Those people with scissors, knife

Syringe, tuning fork

flushed me out of your womb

and snatched my right of life.

I wasn’t either he or she

I was just ‘it’.

But I wasn’t a cuckoo’s egg

laid in crow’s tree.

Though I am no more

but I will remain alive.

As a secret, a bad dream

Behind those closed doors.

TRANSFORMATION- FROM WOMB TO COFFIN

12Transformation

The journey of a life begins when one amongst the billion sperms meets the ovum, giving life to an extra ordinary creature of the world – human.  For the period of nine months, the creature tussles, twists and revolves around a sensory water tank having circumference of 34-38 cm. The tank (womb) acts as a shield; protecting the delicate creature and nurturing it for months. By the end of nine months, the junior becomes completely impatient and fights with the mother to come into the world which it doesn’t know is precarious.  

As soon as it enters into this world, its genetics defines as to which vivid group of human being – men/boy, women/girl, Trans – it belongs. It is then addressed by a name which also implicates its religion. Such as “Christopher for Christian, Krishna for Hindu, Zaid Ali for Muslim etc. (names used only for example purposes). Simultaneously, it is taught the gestures to adopt, required while offering prayers to the almighty.

The day the child wears uniform, it shows that its intake of milk has changed from mother’s breast to perhaps a glass. The first profound transformation. The motive behind studying in any educational institution should be to gain knowledge which will last forever. Unfortunately, the lesson “to first start from zero’ remains untaught. All they learn is to play with numbers on their marks card. In other words, it is a stereotypical and repetitive process of education. People are not ready to accept a fact as simple as ‘holding a pencil in left is not wrong’. Examinations are treated as tests of life and not tests of knowledge. It becomes a magnet, attracting a child towards depression.

Love, empathy and sacrifice are pushed to a place that it becomes impossible for humans to find them when they need them the most. And soon it becomes extinct.

Now on its next move to look for a source of income, its past comes to play a major role. It is officially not welcomed to even give an interview, if the academic records do not adhere to the requirements of respective organizations. Does that mean that a child has to remain alert from the moment it stops wearing dippers?  No wonder, unemployment rate is so high.

The constant fear of not being accepted by certain group/s, burden human beings; intoxicating lots of stress. Those who get accepted, fail to satisfy themselves. In order to escape reality, they addict themselves to the lifestyle which has a traumatic impact on their body, mind and soul.  And when realization takes too long, it becomes too late.  

Till the end they keep running away from something which is inevitable. Life becomes a never ending cycle but they remain constant in the race, dying bit by bit.

Behind that door…

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From the time I had seen that house across the street, I have wondered what’s behind that mysterious door. I was six when I moved to one of the streets of Vandmere.

The mysterious house stood beside the house, built opposite of mine. The splotches on the walls resembled that the original paint was brown. Over years, rain has washed the shade to such an extent that now it appears rustic. Weeds and dandelions poked out from the cracks of roof. And the only light that showered on the house was the moon light.

During Christmas every house in the street glowed and remained flooded with guests but there was never even a single knock on that door. It has been shut from years. Though no one stayed there but every year on Christmas Eve a lady would come to visit the house. She appeared to be in early forties and her clothing gave assurance of her upper class. The strange part was that she never went inside.

On last Christmas, I was sitting near the window of my room,BE waiting for that lady to arrive. This time, I had decided to get all my answers from her. The clock struck 8 and a car parked just in front of that door. I ran down the stairs leaving the front door of my house wide open. I knew if I missed meeting her that day, I would have to wait for a year to demystify the truth. The noise of slamming the door was loud enough to scare her. As she saw me running, she hurried back to the car, shut its door and in few minutes the car was gone, forming clouds with smoke.

The very next day, I saw a post man dropping a letter in that house. If no one stayed there then the letter?

“Are you sure this letter belongs to this address?” I said.

“Yes, the envelope reads the same.” said the postman, turning around.

“But, no one stays here. I haven’t seen anyone here from years.”

“Even I haven’t dropped a single letter here before. Anyway, I am just doing my business.” said the postman and went ahead.

I was about to take out the letter but suddenly my mom called me. I left the letter there.

Next morning, I saw the lady again. She had never come to the door except on the Christmas Eves. It seemed like I was given one more chance. I ran but again she disappeared before I could reach her. I looked for the letter and it was gone. She had taken it with her as if she had known it had arrived.

And after that day, neither the letters came nor the lady. The discovery of truth behind the door remained mystified- forever.