They say all that begins comes to an end so anything that was born will die its own or brought upon it death. It’s also true that where there’s a vacuum, the nearby substance would move in to fill that space.

But what about the thoughts those keep my mind clouded even when I want to only shirk those away? The ones those keep me occupied as though that’s all I was meant to do? It doesn’t matter if I am in a company or sitting lonesome, those thoughts keep blowing in my mind like mad evening breeze. The bright and the sharp tones keep etching and playing themselves like some chaotic landscape. Some are pleasant; some are not. Some are questions; answer to which I may know but curiosity keeps nudging at me to sit back and see what would be- may I say this time?

Words like soul- mate, passion, love seem to have defined themselves for the first time ever. Definitions have been merging out of the denial that I have been living in till now. By not allowing myself to think over, am I being easy again? Maybe this time I should be.. Alas, if only the allowance could rule the disobedience.

Differences are huge- attitude, life-style, understanding of life- almost diagonally opposite. Yet, I kept giving in and if I am writing about it here, I am still giving in then. Abstaining is complete denial. But my making the very mention of that is the acceptance in itself!

My peeve of drawing comparisons between two people is not working well this time. The similarities or the un-canniness range from some of the afflicted relationships to some very memorable ones to some I would never be able to hold with anyone again. Or maybe I just did this once bit! Infact, all of those altogether..

I feel I stand under a hail-storm. Realizations, questions, their answers and then newer questions have been hitting me all over as I stand naked trying to absorb life this one time. Never ever have I let my guards down so low that the other one sees right through me. I feel I have been pierced through every pore and when there were no more left to be stabbed, newer ones were wounded in. Never before I talked so much or shared things so very personal to me without caring for any opinion or judgement. Never before my words were heard so loud before I actually even decided to speak. Never before was I held so many times up. Never before was I pulled out held by my hand. Never before did I cry or laugh with life thrown in at stake. Never before the windows of my thoughts were forced open so many times.

Metaphorically and quite literally too!

I am thinking too much but I’m done giving in on impulse. It’s deeper than any instinct could tell. It’s burning my insides like some fire in the woods. I feel the fire and the ice both at the same time steaming me to vapor.

• I need some water to burn the fire down.
• I need some warmth to melt those ice crystals before they hit me.
• I need some hand to hold me forever so I don’t even stumble or fall down.
• I need a canvas to paint and keep doing that forever..
• I need that music to keep me under its spell till eternity and beyond!
• I need a door so I can walk out- out of the hurricane of thoughts, away from the eye of the cyclone.

One way or the other!

• I wish to live and love.

Or awaken my peeve of running away… only my mind is not letting me do that!!!

I want to be whole again and then forever so these thoughts lose their existence… for all times to come.

Cold weather, freezing winter winds and one soppy teary Love Story- and what have you?

Last few weeks, I have been watching movies, the English movies. Quite surprisingly I have started watching the spooky horror movies, the ones those turn out to be horror thriller movies instead of some ugly burnt mindless body making you jump over you couch. Only I am not a potato, neither am munching on any wafers!

Starting with a beautiful Mozzart piece- my personal fave to be precise; the movie made a very different impact on me. Although shot in an era or how the audience is made to float in, it was very relate-able. The girl (or the heroine), I could identify myself with her at the very first instant. Witty, intelligent and clever; definitely picking her man very carefully, she made me smile like I had known her from somewhere. A lovely made-for-each-other sort of romantic movie; it made me sit and grin and mush all over. Oliver (the hero of the movie) is a stinking rich man any girl would love to fall in love with, sits on the ice- covered walkway bench and muses about his girl. It was like standing at a beautiful view-point and turning back to narrate how your travel was till then. As it so happens, the girl gets sick terminally and passes away leaving a young widower to mourn and rave about the life he just lost.

Till about some time back, I used to dig for the types- not anymore.

I loved the movie- no doubt about it. But it just reminded me of the movie I watched years back. The girl kills herself to save her lover, apparently, he kills himself over too. Years later, after deciding I don’t want any of these “sick”ly love stories, I go out to watch something very similar. “Rockstar” if you may want to know. I had gone to watch that in cinemas with someone (yes, someone..). I cried at the end and had stood in front of the screen entering the hall again from the other exit to hide my tears- if only they knew how not to slide down my cheeks.

I have come to believe that you make of yourself exactly the movies you watch.

The recent inclusion of horror or suspense thriller (as the case maybe); I am yet to understand which way I’m heading lifeward. Perhaps, I am learning how to take the dirty details exactly in my face. By the end of the learning curve, I would not give any more leeway to people so they hopelessly prove my judgement about them right. People who know me beyond the surface level know I do tend to give a second and sometimes third chance also- only to be hit back by my being so easy about my conclusion about them. Now, I might just learn to act upon the message I usually send out of “I don’t give people a second chance ever”.

I do watch cartoons and sci-fi stuff a lot.

Did you hear that? Fairy tales and fictions I said. I hope I do make my life a happily ever after with loads of happiness thrown in. For now, I still hear Mozzart playing over a snow clad set with a smart chic woman who loves music and loses her life exactly when she wanted to be a mother!

~*~*~

P.S.- Only one person I know would be able to decipher the last few lines..

The thunders are quite literally thundering. All that glass shattering noise is freaking the ghost out of me. I do feel scared; feeling the very same right now.

These are the times when my instincts work faster than the flash of lighting. Like how it takes some time before we hear it after we see it; it stones me for a few seconds before the realization starts preparing me for the patch up. Ordinarily, people break down and wail. I sit up and start analyzing the occurrence to save myself the next time. Only by the next time, I grow too matured to even call upon anything remotely similar.

An even uglier stance starts preparing to hit me.

Gothic at its best, the chills of the winter combined with rains sets the perfect backdrop for those paranormal movies. The ones where you don’t see the spirit, but only feel being watched over. How we cry in bouts, the drizzle keeps changing itself to pour and then fall, and then light fall to splitter splatter, till all the pain is gone away, till all that needs to be mourned about is done with.

I had left the upstairs door opened today, so had gone to latch that up. A falling rain-drop kissed me wet leaving me with a certain thought. Something happened a few days back and I am busy calculating the words those got processed in my mind in the most probable way. A certain peculiar vibrations were set. I am yet to decide whether to feel appalled taking offence since it sped up a few things, thoughts those would have taken months if not years to set its grasp; or to feel thankful about the same.

With each pouring drop, my mind is letting go off a lot of apprehensions that I had held unknowingly. Now that those are leaving, I feel lighter than before. Clearly, I have stepped up my initial insecurities. I still wait for his call no doubt, but that restlessness of whether-he-would is clearly gone. No matter how much it pours, nature only blossoms after a rain; my mind is also becoming greener letting many a new things shape up, earlier those were only a far-fetched idea , which seemed only a delusion.

Not anymore.

The stance was like a rain falling so hard that I was barely able to look-up. But like they say- every cloud has a silver lining; I see the rainbow come-up almost immediately. How hard it was for me to suppress my desire to give someone a piece of my mind! Half of my mind is still doubtful wondering if now he has put up a farce to please me since maybe he has been made to think in a certain way?

Then again, if it is to get affected (or ruined) so simply, then it’s not worth it- what say?

• Why killing is a crime and giving birth not?
• Why giving birth to an illegal child is criminal and giving birth to a legal one only to be left to rot in the hell not?

Thanks to him that I am not a mother yet.

In the whole process of his fathering me and then abandoning his family, he has left me as an illegal child who is only leading a life of an orphan. Things are so screwed up that no man has been courageous enough to take me the way it is. Guess what, they all are but men.

Quite miserably I have been forced to live a life of that of a loner. Beneath the façade that I put up of being a snob and fiercely independent lies a great yearn to build a family of my own. However, I could never trust a man enough to take him as the father of my child. I have made everyone around me believe that I don’t like kids when on the contrary I kept growing up my daughter in my thoughts.

My father not only ruined his own married life, but also my mom’s and mine too. I am yet to understand that how many more generations to come would take repercussions to my father’s that one careless act!

The very fact that I resemble him makes me feel no better. After all the years of brooding about the past stances that perhaps I’m leading my mom’s life- since all that happened with my mom was re-repeated with me too; I realised that actually, I’m living a life quite similar to that of my dad’s. Horribly redundant to mention; the realization was not at all pleasant.

Alongwith the other artistic talents, I have also inherited his mastery over running away. Although my running away is situational and not a trait; however, I definitely know how to leave relationships behind and live alienated even in a company or family. That I do so out of no choice is something I choose to ignore at this point in time.

For now, I am what my father made of me – a terrible social reject. A recluse and a borderline retard, who is too scared to initiate any relationship. How he lived solitary despite being in family and leaving them behind is something he has made me do too, making me live a deprived and missed out upon life.

I wish, I could disown him legally too.

I’m thrown back in time- just yet again. How it’s been for a year now, I’m being forced to look at several different times when my life had transitioned to different phases at different intervals. It’s hard to ignore what’s happening around me at present since it bears an uncanny similarity to the last few stale phases I crawled out of!

Dream come true.

For three consecutive nights, I dreamt of having shifted to a different place. On the fourth night, I indeed landed at a guest house to stay. Today’s the 3^rd night here. The room that I peeped into while walking out this morning is the room I have been shifted into tonight. Guess what, that’s the same room I stayed in some four months back. I had so wanted to write about one of the most beautiful days and the best date ever that it will be for all times to come. Only I wasn’t aware of the fact that I would be pushed back to the same guest house, same room yet another time where I would make a mention of that particular day. Now that I do it here, I have a strong conviction about something that had crossed my mind that evening.

It was only a few months back on 24^th July, 2011 that I lived the most wonderful date of my life till now. Upon reaching home, I had not wanted to there. It was peak summer, my air-conditioning unit wasn’t working. That was when this thought had crossed my mind for the very first time.

Landing down here in this guest house 2 nights back, I had become stoned.

As much as I wish to gain stability, I have only been living a life of a wanderer; noble, if I may! I had shifted to Gurgaon in December 2007, after which I spent straight 4 months locked up in a (different) guest house. With no place to go out to and no one coming in to see me; that’s the best expression I have to explain how it was. All I had was 2 set of night changes, and a pair of jeans to live in. That’s when I had turned into a recluse. Few of my friends, or so they claimed had in length conversation with me over the phone; however, never made any attempt to meet me or even ask me to drop by their place- one of them lived only a few blocks away. The current phase had started with my stay in a guest house; I have all the reasons to believe that it would end in a similar manner too.

Yes, I was out on a date with him yet again!

Today, on the 3^rd night of my 2^nd time stay at this guest house, I am barely able to take control. of my brooding mind. Strangely enough, my thoughts are mixed and are not limited to feeling upset alone. The last two times the electricity problem had caressed the wires, which is why I am here; I had shifted out of those fallen out phases. For the past few months, I have spent more time out of my home, including nights. In the most harsh manner, is time once again warning me about what is to hit me and soon?

Is it time already that I leave this obnoxious arrangement? Maybe one of those dates with him would actually not letme go back to my life that needs a change already!

I’m waiting anxiously..

That’s one of the things I can’t handle besides rejection and indifference.

Come to think of it- all of these are very much related to each other. An outloud coldplay of no emotions expressed towards someone. It sets me into thinking how can a social animal- like we human are, can do something as cruel as this? So far my observation has been that only people with a secured upbringing surrounded by their family and close-bound relationships are the ones who exhibit such brutal expression. Obviously someone who is a loner and is devoid of any relationship- blood or acquired, wouldn’t dare to put the other one into a vacuum.

I am lost in the past.

With absolutely no one to speak with for the past couple of days, which is actually how it was even otherwise before he happened to me, I was forced to go back in time. I mean what else would you do when everything how it is in your present stems back from your past? This is despite the fact that I kept all of that beside me and written down every bit of it explicitly in my blog! I wonder how much someone’s silence made me go back to time when my my life changed to become how it is today, when I was only a kid. No points for guessing- it was the indifference and silence that my life since childhood.

My childhood witnessed my dad and my uncle never speaking with each other, my mom and dad never interacting with each other and I entrapped in the dilemma of talking to whom out of the three. They would avoid every probability of going out in public together- so that they don’t end up communicating even accidentally. My dad wouldn’t talk to me the day he would see me talking to my uncle. Feeling sorry for my dad, I would spend most of my time with him- for which I would be reprimanded by mom till I stopped speaking with him one day.

That wasn’t the end of it.

Like any other young girl, my dad was my first love, who only abandoned us and went absconding when I was all of 12. A year later, my teen crush (perhaps it was not) made me do something that I regretted about till few months back; only to be put back into more or less the same situation as that was by someone yet again. I was sort of labeled as an outcast in both the schools. A huge confusion resulted in making me go completely silent; what options did I have when no one really spoke with me? The second school I went to, I was never accepted. Excepting for a few fun months with Ruby after which she shifted her school, I was treated like an alien!

Soon I stopped talking to my uncle after he barged into the washroom with me standing stark naked. My mom had once made me go for a shower with my dad despite my discomfort long back; after the incident with my uncle, I stopped speaking with her too. The only few months I happen to speak with her in all my life with her is for only 3 months-after which I lost her to death.

Conclusion:

• Best of the relationships only lasts for a few months.
• If I love someone, I lose him no matter (to) what.
• If at all a friendship develops, it’s always long distance.

The only opportunity that I got to live a relationship even if in a fallacy for just a few months has been rudely snatched away from me. Yet again..

Why, I’m not surprised!

Ever wonder why we do all of this?

More than sharing, it’s about the other one letting you see your world as if he was a part of it while those instances were happening! I wouldn’t mind if I were to tip toe after the shower in a towel while he may accidently lift up his face. The idea is not to seduce him while I act all coy or innocent but it’s about sharing my very own self the way I am. It reflects upon how comfortable I maybe really to do that without feeling shy or worrying about being not in a perfect shape as the case could be.

Cliché!

You could say. You won’t if you are in love. I have had people around me- that’s right, never in my life. My life till now has been like walking through a Victorian Era museum. Curios, artifacts and the rare jewels all displayed for the visitor to look at and admire- but only from a distance. On the face of it, I have a perfect life- style, but like I said, it’s only on the surface. Like an elaborate packaged gift, one would see a very different content when the façade is scratched down. When I’m letting someone read me beyond all of that glitters which most definitely is not gold, I’m letting that someone to know all about me, so he knows all about everything like he were a part of my day and night.

It’s like living in my very own fairy tale.

I am the princess and the prince becomes when I am with him. I care not of the time or even the lack of it as long as he is around me- even though it may be only for a few minutes! It doesn’t matter either if all of this is to end so soon as if gone like a beautiful dream.. I will live every bit of what comes my way like it’s my own life even though when it may not be!

Who really cares what happens thereafter?

My best friend Ranu Arora who I lost within a few months of our friendship, one who had first created an impression on me to communicate formally even with friends had once pointed out; I tend to say “I wish” a little too often.. she was right!

I wish there were someone who could decipher my silence as my desperate need to talk to him. I so wanted someone who could read my laughter as my helpless attempt to not cry. I wanted that someone to crowd up my personal space so much that he eventually ended up becoming my habit, my passion and my whole world to me. Who knows this may have already happened.

Till now, I had stayed arrogantly smirk about the fact that nothing could really move me. I used to stay drunk in my ability to not love anyone so much that his action affected my state of being. For years together I had wondered about how upon seeing anyone never made me skip a beat or maybe two!

I never felt this way ever for anyone before. Anyone I have talked about this to has only smilingly concluded it to be love. I only try to explain what it is that I feel for him. I never imagined someone’s silence or disappearance – seemingly unintentional could move my whole state of mind from being at peaceful beach to an after flood bank! The pride I took in never going back to patch up with someone whoever tried to walk away from me came crashing down after meeting someone. My existence gets rocked at his even slightest of avoidance.

Beyond any rational understanding, I go sulking thinking of every possible wretched mis-happening. I so overlook the broader picture of the situation I am in. When it’s about someone and for my life-time; there are more complicated things that would need addressing. Instead, my whole understanding of things crumples down to a cypher.

Fear of losing him engulfs me like the winter fog of January morning. What is it if not insecurity? If only I had someone with me; let alone that someone! I would have been busy with him confusing that far cry from perfect relationship as being the love of my life. Only the ones with lot of vacuum are the ones able to identify what they want. The irony is that they seldom get what they want since in their void, they tend to sketch the exact peripheries of their desires; when in reality, nothing is near perfect. Till sometime back, I could never make someone realize that I hold his hand to get support and to not provide any; don’t know if he now understands but quite likewise becomes my state of mind when I don’t get to hear from him.

Helpless.. Forlorn.. Dejected.. Aimless and completely lifeless! Only silence rules..

Footnote: I had read someone’s diary this morning where he had expressed his disappointment over how things were in his life. I had so wanted to reply to it. Only didn’t know that by the end of the day, I would write something very similar to what I had read!

I read some good number of pages from someone’s diary today.

Reading through someone’s mind written down in the most personal manner has always intrigued me since ever. The fact remains that I strongly believed that only the soft in their heads write diary- my mom included. Before I go on to share what I read or concluded reading his words, let me share about what I read about my own self. I believe; I have begun to understand myself better, ever since I went into being in that recluse mode that lasted from December 2007 to April 2010. For once, I thought I was out of that phase. Now, as I write this; I feel the phase is very much growing back on me. I typically feel I would end up in that self- imposed exile once again. The only few things that I would let near me would be the words.

The irony of my life (till now) is: my love to communicate with people while I have no one around me to do so actively. This is one of the other not so interesting reasons why I started to write and young. Reading through the personal scribbling makes me see that someone living his life, giving me beyond a spectator’s view. I feel I’m living with him in that very moment- in a time zone that passed by long back, where my future presence could have never been guessed. The very experience of going through someone’s diary makes me believe I was so meant to be. When the words are being written, I strongly believe that those create a different dimension inside our minds when they are read. While it’s being written, each book writes down its own destiny of what dimension it would create when it would be read. In that destiny to strike, several other people and instances get bound together. Hands that would pick it up to only flip through its pages, to someone who would buy it to perhaps gift it to his beloved, to how the words read by someone would feel influenced by those, to exactly whose book- shelf it would sit in to what love- stories it would be a part of.. These words- written and/or printed are The Destiny Creators. They live to generate that same magic throughout the Universe across all timelines.

Like time, the words witness life stances, time zones and yet remain constant; the characters in its words get immortalized.

As if to echo my thoughts, the movie I’m watching also runs on the same thought pattern. There are always Signs for you to recognize- something I would write about separately (read: another post). There are no co-incidences. Incidentally, I have something to share about this movie too. While working with hutch (now Vodaphone), the movie I went to watch in team outing was Minority Report. My manager’s manager Sanjana had freaked out since I had kept telling her my version of the science fiction thriller. She believed I had watched that earlier- which I had not. It’s only my hobby to analyze- the fictitious, the better. Well, the rest half of my team went out to watch Signs. Could it be only a co-incidence that yesterday I missed Minority Report because I felt freaked out and watched Signs this evening without any scare when watching such things actually make me nervous?

My getting to lay my hands on this diary says as much. It’s been with me for a month or so, he has asked about what all I read if at all I did and what I think of him after reading his written words. Come to think of it, this diary while was being scribbled by someone was creating its own destiny that one day, it shall sit at my home becoming a part of my life- style, making me believe I know that someone beyond just a casual acquaintanceship. Why else would someone want to give it to me upon my asking for it only once when he only wanted to show me only a small part of what he had written?

The typicality doesn’t end here..

When I say music, it is beyond listening to a few “fave” songs on the music system as it used to be then or on my cellphone or laptop as the case is now. Good music when played loud gives me an unmistakable high; perhaps, why I started to experiment with drinks very late. Combine the two and I will have the most beautiful evenings of the week or month. The time I spend listening to those while getting high on drinks is like making love- each time taking you to unconquered peaks and losing count of the times in the process. I was only a toddler when my elders found out that I could sing and very well at that. That nothing was done about that is one of the brutal facts and grudges I hold against my parents. In exchange of I agreeing to change my school, I was offered to take music classes formally to pursue a degree in the field. As a repercussion of believing my mom, I had lost my school, friends, a relationship that could never be and whatever little I could do about it by participating in school functions.

I don’t tend to carry on with the things without any conclusion.

Anything that I see going nowhere and I still continuing with it kills me until it lasts. Although only 12, I had noticed something about him that had made me to shift my school along with my residence (incidentally) leaving no trail for him to catch up with me ever. Not sure if I would want to use any expression anymore as I have clearly decided it was not unfortunate. Likewise, I don’t wish to give him any credits for anything good that might have already come-up because of him not being with me anymore, not even in my thoughts! Over the period of time, i.e., as late as in 2005, my observation about him proved out to be the most correct one. Somewhere in all of this confusion, I had developed feelings for him- more so out of guilt and with the memories of time spent with him in school. The few songs we sung together or the few he made me listen to ever, are now all washed up ready to create fresh print on my mind.

I was talking about my love for music; why “lost but not love” then?

This isn’t my arrogance speaking when I say that most of my school teachers across all the branches knew me with my name while I didn’t most of them! All the songs I have ever sung are still embedded in my memory sheet. Back then, there were no youtube channels or even any Ipod players. Sadly, the two times I was made to leave my home, I was made to lose my collection of music- both in terms of cassettes and also the fond memories build around while listening to those. In later years, those songs would remind me of the associated stances taking me back to the same humiliation that I had suffered while leaving those alongwith having to leave my house.

Today, as I sit listening to some, all I feel is as if in trance.

I am keeping highly occupied and somewhat disturbed too. Being completely unable to resolve and understand a few things, it’s pushing me to the edge of breakdown. I already spent a couple of days under observation in the hospital as repercussions of taking stress at two different times. Although the medication is only as much as not making me end up in the hospital yet another time; it’s not doing much in terms of relieving me of the anxiety or inquietude that’s brewing in my mind. Each time I breathe in, I feel a throbbing pain stabbing my chest. As if it wasn’t enough, you questioned me if I never give in to listening to music, putting all the songs back for me, in the process showing off a similar taste in music as that of mine, listening with me to my all time fave numbers, screaming to a few in utter surprise and at times in repulsion, downloading others- for me and from me! For once I just wish to stay stoned.

…

…

…

Music makes me stay drunk.

Not exactly shifting my focus, it is somewhat making me remain in a make believe world giving my mind a certain swing to sway in. All the lost music, a few songs that “he” had imprinted upon making me helplessly think of him is now back to me creating a virgin memory. While I am enjoying all that is happening to me, I am trying very hard to keep myself distanced and dissociated too. The memories I am creating right now would stand to be the best ones for all times to come, a fact I am very well aware of. I so wish if I have him along with all the memories that are getting created too. With all his love (or is it only me? Not that I care to know really!), he not only erased all the fun I had, along with its memory of back then exchanging smalls bits of paper with songs written in reply to the previous one with him passed on from the 1st bench to the back bench in 7th standard, but took the whole act of sharing music to a different level altogether. Now, I wonder if someone else can really outdo the whole thing ever.. Every time you made me listen to your fave songs while talking to you or before going off to sleep, it only seemed so right.

SIGH..

That all I would ever have to hold upon would be these memories is the afflicted part.

Yet, I am trying all that I can to take it in my stride and failing miserably. I have not been able to live my life full swing before this. From uncanny co-incidences, to having child like fun to enjoy all that I had missed out upon; I am living all of it right now. I feel I am living my last 34 years of life one more time. With so many stances hitting me when I had left all hope, all I am doing to celebrate “the” right now is to listen to my fave numbers. I have all my songs I had lost back with me from last so many years to as though cheer me up in my present phase!

Just when all of this would end, I’ll play the same numbers in remembrance of the lost period.. with you..

when without you..