True love finds a way…

A year ago, my sweetheart I sat to make a plan. A plan for the near future. For the far future. We were kind of frustrated. Stuck in the rut. Itching. We wanted to run. Not run away. Just run.

Me, on the darker side of twenties, and she, on the brighter side of thirties. Two women, with the eyes and dreams of girls’. I made a plan to learn Epidemiology in the US, and she made one to learn Marketing in Canada. My plan kind of worked out, hers did not. We said our goodbyes, and did not cry at the airport.

We grew up fast. We fought, patched up. We made new plans. Of how to pay off debts, how to meet mid-way and go places, of how to see and love the world together again. Not once did we doubt. Or think that we were getting ahead of ourselves.

She called up today. Said she was getting married. My heart sank. I asked her all sorts of questions, before she could answer any of them. She then said, she was getting married to a guy in New York. She sounded calm, happy. I shook and shivered. I kept aside my selfish self and tried finding out about the guy on social media.

I am overwhelmed. Also, if anyone gives me shit about true love, I can ask them to shut up. Very confidently.


Did you?

Did you write to me? I am sorry, I do not understand the meanings of simple words these days that I have been reading so much between the lines. Do you mind translating to me meanings of all the simple words?

Did you say something? I am sorry, I cannot hear right these days because of all the noise in my head. Do you mind screaming a bit?

Did you just look at me a little longer than usual? I am sorry, I did not catch the clue; there’s fog in front of my eyes these days. Do you mind looking at me a bit longer than that?

When school assignments are fun

I have taken up a course at school called “Enhancing Creativity”. The professor is awesome. I think he fits the bill perfectly. Class interactions call for creative participation, there are intelligent and creative discussions, the professor is lively as hell, and he always wears ties with cartoons. He occasionally stands on our desks, or rolls on the floor. To make his point, he can go to any extent. I love him.

The assignment for this week was to write a story. I am not going to bore you with the details of the requirements for the story. I will just put down the story I came up with. Hope you all like it 🙂

Life does not just go on

Lee was the CEO of a well-known IT solutions company. Tall, bald, married with two kids, filthy rich with every hard-earned penny under his name, Lee was a workaholic. He seemed to work hard for a goal no one could see, or know, not even his wife. Lee loved watching football. In the past three years, he had never missed going to work. Not once. Or meeting Anthony at 12 noon, outside the Spire building, where Lee worked.

Anthony was a sweeper, who swept the plush commercial streets around Spire. Single with long braided hair, and living life hand-to-mouth everyday, Anthony always carried with him a pack of cheap cigarettes. As a child, Anthony used to live by a beach, and went out surfing as often as he could.

For three years, Lee and Anthony smoked Anthony’s cigarettes. One each, everyday. They sometimes even played chess, when the days were not so cold and the sun was out in full glory. Chess was their favourite game, and they had somehow come to find that out without talking about it. They never met outside this arrangement, never exchanged numbers, never discussed their problems. Their lives were monotonous; Lee had a rich monotonous life, and with it came rich problems. Anthony had a poor monotonous life, with poor problems. Both of them never discussed them though. They seemed to be content with the status quo, when together, at noon, outside Spire. They sometimes sang together.

One day, at 12 noon, both did not show up. Both knew, because Lee had started working as an audio engineer in his own new recording studio, and Anthony showed up with his old guitar to record his first solo.

Now here, and nowhere

Two dry leaves. Far apart. On a green green tree.

A leaf fallen. Lost in the sky.

Two mocking birds. Mimicking nothing in particular. Among pretty pigeons.

A tune forgotten. Now without a sound.

Two bubbles. With rainbow colours. Floating over dull layer of air.

A bursting bubble. Bursting into the tiniest droplets.

A pair stealing glances. A pair looking away. Taking turns.

Eyes longing. In daylight. In dreams.

Playing games. No rules. No players.

No losses. No wins. No timelines.

Self obsession

I look at myself in the mirror. The first thing I notice is my nose. Less a nose, more a tower. Eiffel tower. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be like. It’s supposed to shine. My nose always shines. I hate it when my nose shines, but still, it’s supposed to shine. I wonder what’s wrong with it. May be I should scrub it a little more the next time I wash my face.

Then I look at my hair. Why is it not curly, as it’s supposed to be? My hair can’t be straight, the way it is now. May be there’s too much static in the air. I use shampoo and conditioner that say something like “curls rock”. They are supposed to rock my curls, aren’t they? But I think they can’t work their magic when there’s too much static in the air.

I look at my eyes. They don’t look big now. I have fairly big eyes. But they are only half-open. And half-closed. Now. Which suggests that these days I am either very lazy, or very tired. I don’t know which of the two it is.

Then I just stare. I see the lines that are not there. I see the zits that are there. I see no smile. I see no frown. I don’t know if either of them has to be there. The face transforms, slowly. I see clear skin. Flying shiny hair. Laughing eyes. Pearly teeth. A sparkle in each eye. I see a little girl. She laughs and laughs. For no apparent reason. She looks so happy. I want to pick her up. Fling her in the sky. High up in the sky. Make up for all the time that I ignored her. Hurt her. I want to hear more and more of the peal of her infectious laughter. I want to love her.

PS: Look into the mirror a little longer than you do