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Friday, September 21, 2012

The murder.

He sat back and looked at the mess he'd made. His reputation for creating havoc preceeded him. The pool of blood, the scarred face. There used to be a smile there somewhere but he took the liberty to erase that. Forever. Funny word that. Her incessant usage of it used to bug him no end though he never said it out loud. Now no more. He was free. 

If I leave here tomorrow,
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on now,
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.

He did believe in the beauty of a perfect crime. He hadn't intended to pull the trigger, no. But it was inevitable. She was asking for it really. Her with her constant whining about it being too sunny and it raining too less and him being too absentee. Well, he was here now and so was she. He traced his initials on her palm. The stupid thing she always used to slip in his - make him feel tied down. Tied to the one that he fit with with ease. But he wasn't the missing clue to a puzzle. He was the puzzle himself. He wasn't one to need someone to fit with. 

The bourbon rested neatly on her sidestand, a few drinks still left on account of her horrible capacity. She used to be able to drink when they'd met. He wiped his gun clean with the seams of her dress. Her fragrance was soon starting to fade though as the pool of blood took over, drop by drop. That annoyed him. He used to like being able to tell them all different without needing so much as a second whiff. Damn this red fluid for masking everything the same. 

He gulped down the drinks and then began the tedious task of erasing everything that might link him to the crime scene. There were books scattered around, with blood splattered on them. Hitchhiker's and Lord of The Rings caught his eye. He slipped them into the black leather bag first. Few fairytales and romance novels went in next. Damn, such a girl. There was a wrist watch with it's strap half undone due to the slight struggle she'd put up. He pocketed that. Next to seep into darkness were the toys that she had around since she was a kid. They were smiling still, almost eerily now at the fate they'd brought upon her. Serves her right, refusing to grow up despite repeated warnings.

He tore up the pictures on her cardboard. All the faces were familiar, he'd heard one too many stories about them all. She liked clinging to people, holding on to them long after they were gone. She liked to believe the best in everyone. Well, so much for unconditional love and blind faith. She'd know better than to trust a stranger next time and welcome him into her life. He took out his Swiss knife and played around with her skin, marking it with him. Good thing she couldn't tremble now, that might've halted his strokes.

He opened her drawer next. The combination lock was simple for him really. She never had kept one too many secrets. He knew her like the lyrics of the songs he first heard when he was five. Those kind of things tend to stick. As he stumbled upon a bundle of unsent letters tied up and kept in the corner, he decided to read just a few. However a few pages down the reading, he felt his eyes get numb. The bitch. She hadn't been lying. He'd always thought she was for that made things easier but these letters said otherwise. Next he hunted for the diary she was known to dutifully scribble in. Holding his head in his hands, he read words that were once exchanged. He slammed the drawer shut. 

Deciding to grace the floor with his skin, he sat beside her this once and held her in his arms. So fragile still, he recalled how happy she'd been to see him. He looked at the flowers scattered on the floor that he'd bought earlier that evening and retraced her words, "Flowers, really? For me?"
He had just nodded. The grin that followed was quite unnecessary he felt. She went on, "How come?"
He'd answered reluctantly, "Today marks something."
Those eyes had lit up instantly. The fool was expecting something else and he knew that all along. He grazed those hair that he'd loosened from the pony they were tied into earlier. 
"You'll stay the night?" she had asked him.

But if I stayed here with you girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm free as a bird now,
And this bird you cannot change.

Her eyes were still open. She had actually thought he was kidding when he'd pulled out that gun. She'd said again, "You cannot hurt me." That was what triggered it. How could she be so naive? There was no place for the innocent anymore, didn't she know that already? Hadn't he taught her anything? There was a split second of amazement when the bullet hit her chest, he hadn't been able to shoot her head though watching a splattered brain had been kind of a personal wish, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't catch her as she fell to the floor either. He towered over her, as she looked up to him and tried to smile. He could see the why forming on her lips which was when he silenced her by putting one more bullet, right through the heart this time. The eyes took just a second to freeze as she managed to get those words out in a bare whisper, the stubborn mad girl, "Im meleth le."

Bye, bye, baby, it's been a sweet love,
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please don't take it badly,
'Cause the Lord knows I'm to blame.

Those eyes would infest his brain for a while. He did love those. Once.
Those eyes were what remained in his memory as he decided to set it all to fire. He emptied a bottle of her favourite whiskey over her and those belongings that made her who she was, and then lit the match as he stepped out in the cold street. As he watched her go down, burn to ashes, once and for all, her with all her insanity, he felt liberated. Little did he know, she'd haunt his dreams still. With that same smile he'd wiped off and that pair of eyes he'd taken out the life from. Forever. Funny word, that.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Wishful thinking.

I want to open the door to my destiny and be astounded by what it holds or me. I want my breath to be blown away by the mere surroundings that engulf me and to be amazed beyond imagination by a world that I've only heard about but never felt for my own. 

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The thing about travelling is, it gives you a chance to escape your own life, even if just for a bit, get out of that head and just explore. And it's almost addictive - this quest to unearth and discover the unknown, what lies beyond the realm that we've been living in.

Freshly back from a trip to the hills, my body ached for some warmth and comfort. After a much needed 12-hour sleep, I looked through my mail and found a letter (imagine my surprise when these days nobody has the time to write down emails, I had myself a letter in ink and parchment and everything!) from Melbourne. It was an old friend beckoning me to make the trip that I'd promised her long back. Just to lure me, she even sent a few pictures along with that letter which halted my life for a while.

The Great Ocean Walk.

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That's the first picture I saw. To say I felt an unexplained pull to the city instantly would be an understatement. I want to walk the miles that I never could in this city life, by the sea that I so adore. I want to walk endlessly till my legs give way and I have to stop to admire the sheer beauty of my surroundings, to take it all in - not because I have to but because I want to.

The State Library of Victoria. 

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That was the second. My love for books is second only to my love for water and what better place to lose myself than in a world created by masters of their very field ? I have this urge when I look at any library to shut myself in and not step out until I've read all there is to be read. I want to live in the world of fiction for reality stopped making sense a long time ago and there's a certain hold that these made-up characters have on me, this enigma about them with which I can relate to more than I can with the people who surround me day in and day out.

The exotic beaches.
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I feel at times that sand defines the soul of our being - ever changing and always getting washed by the water which engulfs it's identity with so much ease and yet never quite seems to swallow it's entity in whole, for the sand remains. Footsteps that we walk and imprints that we leave may fade, but the path that we make for ourselves, never does. I want to build this new path that takes me to places I've never seen and meet people I've never known. I want to be the mistress of these islands whom every strange sailor takes a fancy to, but only temporarily for he has more unknown territory to see for himself and I.. I have the sand to trace my name in, only to watch it wash away with water so I can trace it over, more beautifully again.

Ballooning and Scenic flights

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I want to see the world upside down, inside out and in it's entirety. I don't want to miss a single thing. I want vision that encompasses the whole and not just a fragment and when I saw this picture, I finally felt like I had a shot. I want to be up, reach the top - the very zenith - and then look down at the view which so rarely graces us for out on the land, we are but just an insignificant dot, but high up in the clouds, we can be visionaries. The very thought of Melbourne makes me one.

Kite boarding and wind surfing

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I want to be a tiny speck on the horizon and dissolve to nothing in the vast extent of the pale blue sky. I don't just want to see the sunset, I want to be a part of it as I soar along side the birds that I've always envied for their freedom and the very essence of liberty that they signify. I want to hold on to something, something bigger and more powerful than me so that I can't be blown away by external forces and when the time to be whisked does present itself, I want it to shake me up real hard so that I grow stronger to face whatever yet remains to be suffered.


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I want to crash in the snow and then dust it all off, shake the mist off of me and then rise up again. I want to experience biting cold, severe enough to numb my very senses so that all I feel is the nature and nothing else. I wouldn't even mind turning the crimson red shade that I always do in extreme climate as long as it gives me the opportunity to be the phoenix I've always yearned to be.

I want to fall in love again - sing, dance, laugh - even if it has to be in a night club or at one of the famous Melbourne musicals and plays or at a one of the many comedy shows organized in this city. I want to lose myself just to discover the real me that I lost in this haze called society, I know not when. I want to experience this revelation in a city that has every shade of life to offer me. I want.. I want so much and I feel like I finally know the place which has the answers.

Melbourne through pictures alone, was love at first sight. I found myself booking my ticket before I could change my mind or life could take it's course. And if at all you have that hint of hesitation in doing the same, in taking that leap of faith, I'll quote the life altering letter when I say.. 'It's your time to visit Melbourne NOW.'


This is a post under the 'Visit Melbourne Now' contest organized by IndiBlogger

Sunday, September 9, 2012

A real short story - IndiBlogger & Harper Collins Initiative.

Love is something that has intrigued the masses since time immemorial. I happened to stumble upon this article where there is  hunt for a 'real' love story by IndiBlogger in collaboration with Harper Collins. I thought to myself about how love, heartache and heartbreak marks the theme of most my writing lately and thought maybe this is what I'd been looking for.

The idea of my story is simple really. A summer time romance with a stranger. How two people discover in one night that they are just 'two lost souls, swimming in a fish bowl, year after year' (Quote: Pink Floyd). It's entwined with not just one but two love triangles, what follows and how it all goes down. The story will likely cover details of a present day relationship and it's quirks. Of things and emotions that drive us today. It'll reek of bonds formed over music, bourbon and an unexplained chemistry. And my version of love, or what I think love is anyway.

I just hope to be able to do this story justice for it's very close to my heart. And hopefully this will mark the end of my lovesick posts and I can finally set the quill down on us. I always thought I had a story to tell and where better to do it than here.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Keeping me hostage.

I stumble out of my slumber unexpectedly, almost abruptly and realize what I'd been dreaming of, again. You. In one of the million settings that my subconscious loves to create. Though this one apple didn't fall too far from the tree. A random party with countless acquaintances and you just happen to be there, which in reality will never happen for our paths will never cross again unless we want them to, but well, my dreams have other plans.

They lead me to you, over and over again. Do they not take a hint from my active attempts at trying to distance myself from your very existence? Apparently not. So I'm there and so are you and this one mutual friend who kind of likes me. And then just for kicks you ensure that you have me, probably just for the night, to prove a point - mark your territory perhaps. I try feebly to resist that charm, spark and connection that exists between us, but you never did take no for an answer. When sheer charm isn't enough, your force isn't something alien either and I almost surrender willingly. Because you're there, and you want me. Even if that means destroying something good with someone else, I can't bring myself to care. Warning signs and red lights spring up in my head all at once, but what power do they have against your lips? Against our history? Against my masochistic faith in the fact that we fall apart only to come together again.


There are stories to be written, many of them. And I'd rather that you didn't feature in all of them. It's exhausting. You walk in and assume the lead role and no matter how hard I try henceforth, no other person or character seems important once you're in the frame. Once you're in, it's like I'm blind to the very storyline - I don't care for the end or the bigger picture - I just have eyes for you. And that inevitably destroys all these stories making them mundane and repetitive, and oh so monotonous.

The little girl falls for the bad guy and the rest has been dissected over in a million ways by many script writers. It's not unknown territory. There's a lack of imagination. But what if that's the only story I'm capable of writing? Ours? What if all my stories will forever have you or a hint of you in them? That's a tragic thought as a writer, though I'm not sure if I should even call myself one anymore.


Then there's that smile. I almost forgot about your smile. When that flashes in my memory, how could I even complain? It makes up for my sleepless nights and pretty much everything that you've put me through. That one smile and I'm done for. I'm coming clean here, you own me baby. It's not even a question - it's just a fact - one you use to your benefit always and the one that makes me lose all respect for me but it is what it is. But you really need to set me free.

I want to fly. There's so much I still need to see. So many words and thoughts that you just have been cluttering up. I'm yours. I always will be yours in a way I will never be anyone else's for I won't even try. So once you know this, you can loosen that grip darling. Let me live up to my potential atleast. You may go down in my stories as a lot of things, a bitter disappointment might even be one of them but you can't be the reason that I was destroyed. So here's your little girl, asking you to please just fade away. Into the unknown. I can't be your hostage any longer. I need to break out of this prison that you've built for me.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

The Best Teachers.

Back where I'm from, today is when you celebrate teachers. What they mean to you, how their contribution to your personality has shaped the very essence of your being. So I shall take a moment here to step back and do just that.

Let's start with my personal top of the line, Life.
You're such a tiny speck on this planet and life never stops to astound you and reaffirm this very fact. The absolution and uncertainty that defines it is representative enough of it's toll on each one of us. You don't get to argue with this one, just accept whatever it throws your way and try and make the best of it. Someone (undoubtedly great) said, life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans. But I guess that's the crux of it all. There's a lesson here somewhere, I just don't think I'm evolved enough yet to comprehend it.
A close second, Time.
The healer, the bruiser, the ever changing. This one reiterates over and over again the one and only constant in this universe - change. It doesn't stop, not even when you beg and plead for a moment is just too perfect for you to want to let it pass; it doesn't hurry by faster when all you need is a fast forward button through your shitty days. The pace never changes and yet everything else does. People leave, tragedies strike, there's heartache and heartbreak. There's also that one perfect sunrise or sunset you watch with a friend, that inexplicable moment of bliss when you fall in love and victories which leave imprinted smiles. All the while, the silent reminder, this too shall pass. No matter how good, bad or ugly, it's not permanent. Time will ensure that.

The third, Murphy, with whom I share a love-hate relationship.
He loves me, and pretty much plays the role of a stalker in my already drama filled life. I hate him and try to avoid his existence altogether. But like an excellent lover, he patiently waits, and never let's go. If something can go wrong, he ensures it does. If many things can go wrong, he makes sure they ALL go wrong at the same time. His laws cannot be ignored as much as we'd like to. And knowing them merely draws more attention to said person who possess this knowledge (or so I feel). You could call him a sadist or a clown, it's your pick but there is an amusement of some sort in the way he pans out his acts. At the end of it, when he's totally brought you down and pushed you to the wall, you can't help but smile at the elegant execution of his plans. They inevitably make a fool out of you but well, what kind of a practical prankster would he be if he didn't do exactly that.

Fourth, the inevitable one, Death. They say it takes one loss to completely change you from what you were to what you will be. Whether you totally crash down and never stand up again or move on to be a stronger, better person is again an individual choice or more accurately, reaction. But this full stop to someone's life is the biggest halt which provokes the biggest fear in all of our hearts. The irreversible clause that accompanies death is what this fear feeds on - the basic fact that you'll never see or hold or hear or even be able look at the deceased again - no matter how strong the urge or how immense the need. It's over. And just like that you have to come to terms with that hollow that the said person's absence will leave in your life. Cherish what you shared together, no matter how brief and then accept that nothing, absolutely nothing will breathe someone back to life. What greater lesson can there be to learn really ?

The fifth, and many might not acknowledge it, Love.
This is what makes the harshest of people melt down, the most mysterious of them come clean, and the most promiscuous ones become absolutely loyal. Love actually has the power to change. It also has the power to heal and nurse all past wounds. It may not be what makes the world go around, but it surely is what puts a smile on the face of most of the riders. Whether you experienced is once or countless times is immaterial, as long has your heat beat faster for someone and you were ready to give up the world for them to run off into a twinkly sunset, it was worth it. Love is always worth it, contrary to what everyone says. That one moment of bliss, can get you through a whole load of crap to follow after. Call me a fool but I am the romantic who strongly believes that it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. It's a rush.. A must on your check list of things to do. No drug can match the high that love brings and as all drugs, the withdrawal symptoms can be horrific to say the least.

The sixth and all these go hand in hand, Hope, Faith and Belief.
When all is lost, that's all you have left. And as long as you have hope, all can never be lost on you. Things do turn around, the sun does shine from beneath all the clouds and you do find it in you to dust yourself off and gleam again for the world to see. It's easy to be yourself when all is hunky dory but to not lose sight of the person that you are in face of adversities is the true test of a man. I once read somewhere that courage is not the strength to go on, it is to go on when you have no strength - and the only way to do this is to have faith, keep the hope alive and always, always believe in yourself, your inner strength to overcome anything and everything.

The seventh, and a personal favourite, Music. I've always said - words hurt, music heals. And music is a soul's best friend for it needs no language. It's rhythm is enough to let you ship's sail float high in all unpredictable tides of the sea. The symphonies can drown out your sorrows, escalate your miseries, or take you any which way you want. There's a song for every mood, and another for every situation. If you find that, then the journey will never be boring again and you'll discover the one teacher that doesn't leave a bitter after taste once they're done teaching you a lesson. This one actually leaves you with a melody, a beat or a symphony to keep you company when you're alone or blue. It can be your best friend in a crowd and a soul-keeper in solitude. Never let it's magic stop surprising you.. It's the one thing that makes our life truly magical.

And as always, the eighth, the most special and the most important, The Family.
Father: The one person who actually has the capacity and ability to see through all your facade and determine your actual potential. The one hand which strikes only to get you back on tack; the one voice that is raised only when you've become too deaf by your surroundings to actually listen to what needs to be heard. He maybe strict but it's needed. He maybe many things for many people but for me my father symbolizes a safety net - my permanent 911. The one person who'd not just fight but destroy the very crux of my unhappiness.
Mother: She's truly the better half of a married couple. The lap you can sleep in, the shoulder you can cry on and the one friend you can always trust. She has the heart of gold and is patient, kind and generous (well, atleast mine has been an embodiment of all of the above). She loses her cool rarely and stands by you, even against her husband at times to get you way more free passes than you deserve. She's the one to send you extra pocket money when your allowance runs out, the one to make your favourite meals even in her most tired state and the one to always cover up for you.
The Family, is what teaches you the most. Because at the end, this is what lays the foundation and determines till the very end, the person that you are. The principles that you have (if any), the morals that are inculcated (if any) come from this constant pillar of strength. Because even when all else fails, family is what always remains. Blood truly runs deeper and thicker than anything and everything. I am glad it's their blood that runs in my veins. I would have it no other way. This bond, unshakable, unbreakable and the only one which actually keeps it word and sticks forever.