Figures

 Coming back to you, baby

This was a year of health - or the lack thereof - and now it's got me at the end of my mental capacity, truly. It's getting dark in here.

If you're on the outside, looking in, I'm sure there's not a single thing you can find amiss in my life. As my mom rightly points out, many people would swap lives in a heartbeat. Here I am thinking of it finding a way to end, one way or another.

None of it seems to stick. It was a year of battling perfection and we're standing in August and I'm sinking. In the monsoon rains, In my thoughts of inadequacy. In my incoherent dreams (nightmares?)

I don't want help. I'm actively blocking it out at this point it seems. None of it works, not for me anyway. I don't know how to customise it for me. A way which is consistent, not heavy on the pocket, unique, but not restrictive, one that is tailored, one that is mine, but supportive, one that facilitates, one that is... non-existent. 

Days I cry, nights I hold them in. I'm the image of perfection for everyone except the one in the mirror. Happy, smiling, supportive. Lies. Queen of deception, overworking, illness, and excuses. My father would often say to me as a kid, you either have reasons or results. I guess I have neither. 

Coming back to you baby, one broken bone and dream at a time

i decline

 Remember when I could just come here and bleed?

When did this place stop being my safe sanctuary? When did I stop returning?

Was it when I tired of writing about him? 

Was it when she told me that it worried her when she read about my difficulties?

Was it when they didn't show any appreciation or validation?

I don't know when it was but these words, they stopped flowing here. I stopped feeling like I could put them out there for the whole world (and at the same time paradoxically, no one) to see. 

I still write -- perhaps this year i have written much more than ever before. I write because that's all I know. I don't know how else to let it all out. How to process without expressing. How to make sense of it all. I don't know if there is any meaning at all. But these words, the sound of my keys clicking and clanking away is the one way I create any. I find it within me this need to put it all out. Put it to paper. Record it. 

Perhaps this is the only way i will be remembered

The only way i will be known and distinguished from the unknown. The only way I'll get through this journey is with these words. Nothing in the heavens can explain why we are all just slowly burning away into nothingness. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In the end it's all about the love we send out, isn't it? 

No. It's also about the pain and the suffering. The pain we shoulder together. The suffering that we persevere through. This life can't be lived with only the love. To love is to know pain. And as I type it, a sense of terror seems to take over, i don't think i have it in me to love anymore. i just can't do any more pain. 

none. 

A voiceless child.

 Today I saw a child silenced. 

So matter-of-factly by the scolding of her mother and the beating of her father. 

So abruptly - as if halted midway through a sentence, pleading to complete it.

Today I saw a child silenced.

She doesn't smile in her silence.

She doesn't even utter a sound, lest she be reprimanded. 

Today I saw a child silenced. 

I want to give her words. 

I want to bring back her smile.

Today I saw a child silenced and realised just how easy it is to shut children up

And just how very hard - to have them speak, have them explore, have them question. 

2021: Of a virus, my half-lost sanity, and MonsterModi

It's the 14th day today.

No, not of my quarantine, of me crying about what's happening to my country and its people. My family, my friends, my clients, their families. Death, despair and tragedy everywhere I turn. I can't switch it off. I feel, that's what I do - what I've always done. How do I now find the superpower to stop? I've spent all of the sanity I saved. Everyone is positive, or knows someone who is, everyone needs a bed, an ICU. oxygen, basically - just a shot at life. They just want to survive. 

I have never grappled with the very real possibility that my parents will eventually die. Now, I sit with this thought every single day. I wake up to it. I sleep to it. The nightmares are back. I snap at people, and then catch my tongue because who knows? This could be the last time we speak. I remind myself to hug and kiss my parents everyday because I don't know how long we will be safe. Or alive.

I've seen so much and yet I've seen nothing at all. I type this from the comforts of my house where I have the privilege to work from home, with nutritious home cooked meals, and two people to play Ludo with or build puzzles with. I type with oxygen in my lungs and surroundings - still terrified - what happens when we are next? Can we prevent the inevitable? Will I lose more people this year? Will I witness more than one funeral this summer?

One of my closest friends is set to get married this May. I promised him all my life that rain or shine, I would be there. Failing my promise seems the tiniest possible sacrifice I'll be making this year. I worry for my other friends who are doctors during this manmade horror. I worry, constantly. Gratitude doesn't work. Deep breathing doesn't work. Colouring fucking mandalas doesn't work. Nothing works, goddammit.

If I was a theist at all, I would drop down on my knees and spend my days praying. Maybe that would work? Dear God, if you're listening... I would really like to not lose my parents just yet. I know nobody does but they are all I have. I don't have a partner or a child or siblings. They are literally it. I can't - can't process the thought that this pandemic will take them from me. Call me selfish but I need you to be partial. Save them. Over me. If it comes to it, take me instead. 

But why should anyone have to lose their loved ones? Why are so many people dying? Why did we elect this monster Modi? Why, why, why did people not choose dumb over devil in 2014? Why was Hindutva and Ram Mandir so bloody important that we got these villains and criminals back in 2019? Are we as a nation paying for the grave sin of electing someone who orchestrated Godhara 2002? Did we really expect him to change and "develop" India? Were we so fucking naive? 

Modi, Shah, Yogi and BJP have done what they do best - elections, rallies, religion and jailing anyone doing anything right from protestors to students to activists to journalists to people helping others through social media. We didn't elect fools, we elected masterminds. We elected our very own version of Nazi India. 

I deplore people who still support these soulless monsters. I loathe people who work for the BJP IT Cell. I abhor the news channels that are refusing to call out the government's sheer in competence. And don't you dare give me the "What about when Congress did ---" and "Could Rahul Gandhi have handled this better?" rhetoric. I am fucking done. A five year old could have handled this situation better because s/he would have known when and whom to ask for help, and when and how to admit they're wrong. 

You know what perturbs me still? We won't remember these lost lives even till 2024. Our collective attention span is that short. We forgot demonetisation and what hell that unleashed on the economy. We will forget the countless that die without oxygen, outside hospitals, in their homes, on the roads. Hundreds that are being cremated without their families getting to bid them goodbye. Dalits and muslims building pyres and still facing discrimination. Laypersons trying to do CPR because that's how desperate we are. 

To say India deserved better is factually incorrect. 

India has gotten the leader that India deserved. The one who is better for the "economy" and "markets". The one who wants capitalisation all the way. The one who is BETTER than lord almighty Pakistan. The one that removed 370. The one that is building Ram Mandir during a pandemic. The one who doesn't meet the press once in 7 years. The one that loves Savarnas. The one who single-handedly destroyed supposedly impartial institutions like EC, RBI, CBI, Supreme Court, High Courts, and countless others. The one who uses his mother only for PR gimmicks. The one who makes policies, bills and infrastructure to benefit the rich biggies. The one that refuses to put a halt on Kumbh. The one who doesn't check his leaders when they blame women/jeans/momos for rapes, when they force-feed urine to Dalits, when they burn rape victims, when they murder anyone who comes in their way. The one who doesn't disclose the details of PM Cares Fund. The one who ensures every critic is deemed anti-national. The one who killed women and children. The one who continues to kill everyone around him directly or indirectly every single day. 

"Speak up, do something" they urged. "Silence and inaction at this time is no less than burning your country alive."

"Let them burn" he replied, as he carried on practising his pranayam and asans for the upcoming International Yoga Day. 

Standing out

 All my life I've wanted to fit in

Fit into a tiny little box 

A place where I'm liked  and popular and hot

Sometimes people can make you feel that way no?

Like you're their favourite song?

I want to be your only diary

the last page of all your notebooks

scribble all over me

doodle and draw across my skin

cover me in your ink

I want to be your muse 

I want to be your -

Actually I just want to be -

- yours

Italics

Personal pronoun 

But I'm not 

So I'll continue drawing attention

& lighting fires

and standing out 

a l o n e

The start.

Oh, take me back to the start

**

I want to write you a love letter 

but midway it turns into a goodbye note. 

I guess that's how my brain makes my heart work. 

Even when all my heart wants to do is believe, 

my head won't have it - 

it doesn't allow me this basic illusion or relief 

that it's all going to be alright. 

People fantasise about their perfect life, 

(hell some believe they even manifest it) 

but here I just play tragedies on repeat instead - 

A hundred ways in which it can go wrong. 

Even my poetry is broken; 

I set out to write verses of love sonnets but inevitably 

end up with morose prose instead.

I don't know exactly when or what date it was

when my heart decided to break into two

and my mind disintegrated into a mess of cynicism 

irreparable, irreversible

stuck on the pain and the agony

making my life into the worst tragedy

when all my tiny heart wants 

is

to believe

to love

to hold

and to cherish

**

I want to scream i love you

from the rooftops and mountaintops 

until my throat is sore and dry

I guess that's how much I want to tell the world that you're mine

instead i become more quiet

I fade and dissolve

into the background 

Wanting to become the white noise that is -

barely noticeable 

insignificant, immaterial

as if i don't matter 

as if i am but a passenger in this journey

replaceable, forgettable 

because i can't shake this feeling 

of not being nearly enough 

I find myself reminisce the past

where did this all start?

where is the three year old that fell in love with 

the most romantic actor of all time?

the one who believed in fairytales and happily ever afters

hell, the one who even dreamed about them

where is the belief?

in myself 

in you?

in us?

**

Oh, take me back to the start

Does somebody love you?

  - in the way i do -

when i'm left to my own devices for too long,

i don't know what i become

i may not be extremely special

but i sure am extremely talented at kidding myself about it

because i enjoy the territory it comes with

geniuses are allowed madness 

and how else would you explain this dark madness inside of me?

that neither food nor music can quench

that love only dampens but never extinguishes

allow me to be mad 

and alone

and dark

allow me to self-destruct

and yet, save me too

be mine

leave me 

to my own devices 

and watch me crumble and combust

as perfectly as only i can

as beautifully as only i do

Take it all away.

 What do I do to stop feeling so utterly and completely alone and hollow from within?

If my tears could speak, this page would be full, but they can't

So it's not.

If my heart could be cajoled, it wouldn't break so easy, but it can't

So it does.

If my mind could be tricked into believing and keeping faith, I would

But, it can't.

If there was a prayer for redemption of one's soul, I would start praying

But there isn't.

If there was a way to erase memories, I would erase them

all

But there isn't.

And I can't.

Go on, now.

The fated moment's here

All the sidestepping in the world couldn't keep it at bay

Now it's time for me to step back, dear

I used to believe I have the courage to stay

I don't.

In so far

Don't really know the shallow end from the deep

I left all my doors ajar

Hoping you'd get to my heart, and that you'd keep

You didn't.

Oceans could be crossed, mountains climbed

Even if that meant drowning or falling

But for this, I was forever primed 

And I guess I was just stalling

The inevitable.

So, go on now 

Don't look back

I'll leave you with a smile

And a promise that I'll be fine 

Someday.

This is my song.

...of inadequacy,
Does it ever leave? This feeling? You would think one can have enough achievements in their life - if there ever was anything like "enough" in this consumeristic, materialistic, unjust world - for it to at least sink somewhere deeper where it becomes harder to resurface but nope. There's always rejection and regret and choices that weren't made at the right time or at all.
It stays, and it haunts.//

...of not being enough,
You know that fleeting thought that no matter what you do, you'll never be good enough? Sometimes it's just not so fleeting anymore. There might be evidence to the contrary but then, there's enough to strengthen this belief as well, right? That you're not pretty enough, not smart enough, not well-placed enough, just not enough.
It gnaws you from within.//

...of perpetual self-doubt,
Am I good daughter? A loving partner? A caring sister? A loyal friend? A kind person? What if I'm just not a permanent kinda person. What if I'm a great temporary, but a horrible forever? What if nobody ever sees me the way I want them to? What if everyone is selfish and I'm not built for this world? What if I'll never belong?
It leaves you hollow, and empty.//

...of darkness,
When you've been chasing the light but it thwarts you, misses your steps, and startles you in the few moments that it does grace you, you fall back to the known, even if it is miserable. When you feel absolutely alone and insignificant in this universe, where do you go? Whom do you call? What do you say? How do you explain the void in your chest?
It leaves you helpless, and hopeless.//

2 broken hearts.

Something's shifting,
around you?
me too.

His touch isn't there,
neither is yours,
is it?

I don't get high
Like I used to,
anymore.

We keep spinning,
round and round,
quietly.

My dairy lies discarded,
in a corner,
she weeps like I do,
from within.

There's oceans.

There's this thing I do now, which I have never done before, ever. Because I wanted to save us from scars for as long as possible. It's something silly and insignificant really, but it's big for me and I like that it helps hold you in a place in my heart, the existence of which, even I was unaware of. But I'm losing my mind without your face, and your touch, and your voice on my skin. I'm spiralling and constantly running away from myself and any possible triggers. Because I don't want to test you in any way - I'm testing my self-restraint and willpower in ways I didn't think possible. Perhaps it doesn't look like much because I still keep whining to you, constant-fucking-ly. 

Imagine working for as long as you do, and then staying up late to talk to your person, and them always being miserable and demanding. I get it. Anyone would tire. Frankly a (large) part of me is waiting for you to tire - almost? But as I stay up, night after night, the oceans between us keep growing larger and keeping us further and further apart. I haven't felt your radiant smile, shine on me for so long that I think I've forgotten how to (genuinely) appreciate it across a screen, more so because I'm forgetting how to appreciate most things as time passes me by, and the reality of the virus dawns on me more and more. 

Nothing seems to have any meaning anymore darling. Because nothing ever leads to you. It's an unending torture. And with the whole world literally like a sinking ship, I don't know if I will ever get to you, before I go sinking too. I'm so close to breaking my personal vow, because my resilience and perseverance is cracking. The self-doubt looms over my head, darker than before; the negative thoughts keep building up; the questions with no answers; and the feeling that I'm alone - all the effing time. I'm all alone.

I know, I know what I'm doing to me, and you, and us, and I can't seem to be able to stop. I'm so mad at myself for not being half as logical or practical or just fucking real. I want to stab the idiotic romantic fool inside me till its dead and gone - it tires me so. I want to pull my guts out so my heart can stop sinking down to them, as soon as there's a slight mention of a longer delay in seeing you. 

I always knew I had my weak spots, but to have you become a weakness, so fast, and so much, is unnerving even for me. I want to just be able to face this evil monstrosity of a virus, bringing you some semblance of comfort and peace that I seem to be so adept at bring to the rest of the  world.

Yet, I fail repeatedly, currently in this battle and perpetually in the emotion called love. I've probably never grown enough to get it right. I just hope that I do, but hoping and praying is not enough. 

Clearly, neither is love; for all the love in my heart for you, there's still insurmountable oceans between you and me tonight.

Happy 13th, you.

Would you love me for the hell of it?

I like to think I'm just a call away from anyone who matters to me, or ever did. I don't particularly know what this says about me - the fact that even during a pandemic I have thought about her and him and you and everyone in between; wondered if you're all safe; ruminated about how I could support you. I obviously know better now so I don't actually reach out. I have make-believe conversations in my head instead.

Because it's only in songs and movies and sitcoms (damn you, FRIENDS for setting such unrealistically high standards of human behaviour) that people take the higher ground or the path less travelled by. In actuality, it's just so much easier to do the easier, more self-serving thing. To go on pretending that nobody else's feelings need to be important. I still always thought if the world was ending, you'd come over (albeit metaphorically). Right? 

So all this has really got me thinking - am I also on somebody's mind? Do you grapple with whether or not you should reach out? Do you lie awake at night thinking about my safety? Do you wish for my happiness like I wish for yours? Do you curse at the wind because it doesn't seem to carry messages from you to me? Does every change of weather do something weird to your insides? But it's been years now, and as much as I didn't want to I've figured out how to - how to let you go and let communication die out. 

Because the alternative was to drive myself insane waiting - for a text, for a call, for a sign - like I have time and time before. I've screamed and wailed and wept because I wouldn't get my way; not often, not rarely, not ever. I've raged, bruised and bargained with fate to just change this - to make conversations possible. Eventually, I've even learned to make my peace with never having any semblance of normalcy or of a shared past but just wished for an ability to look back at it without fear or doubt creeping in. I think, I think I've figured out now - how to think about you without it ripping my heart out.

It's slightly easier when the inevitable seeps into your conscious. When you judge patterns and discern what works for you in the longer run. When you (finally) understand that giving in to your need to reach out and be empathetic to everyone, all the time doesn't leave much room to protect you. I'm not one for destiny or fate but sometimes enough good happens for you to start believing that even the bad had a purpose//reason. I know, you know, we know, you weren't down for forever and it's fine. It's finally fine. Because with you, or him, or her - neither was I honestly. I just didn't want to admit it.

However does that have to mean we pretend the other doesn't exist? This one's for all of you. 
You were my childhood bestie, my crush, my first sacrifice, my best friend, my favourite brother, my whirlwind romance, my perfection, and I'm still carrying you all. 
I remember you all and find myself hoping you've found safety and comfort in these trying times.
But I'm pretty darn sure I haven't once crossed your mind. 

Because the world is ending and you haven't come over.
Right?

Riddle me this.

What is it about happiness that terrifies the crap out of me? Is it just that it's so fleeting that my guard is always up about it disappearing? Is it that Meredith Grey's quotes about pain are too deeply embedded in my brain? Is it Peyton's "People Always Leave" that has me constantly questioning my gut? 

Why am I surprised and disbelieving of happiness - almost as if I'm certain I don't deserve good things? Why am I so skeptical when somebody picks me? I keep looking for answers as to why they would and keep falling short. If someone can truly be with anyone, why would they willingly and knowingly choose an over emotional person with so much baggage? 

This cycle of questioning never ends and I keep looking for clues where there aren't any. I'll make comparisons just to feel inadequate and unworthy of you. I'll find the data to support my thesis that you deserve better and I shouldn't be standing in the way of that. I just wish it didn't feel as good as it does so I could walk away and let you find real beauty. Should I walk away regardless hoping that you find that perfect person (better on paper is also probably better for you in real life too) , all the while knowing that it will absolutely break me when you do.  

I have so many questions but the most gut wrenching and heart shattering one that keeps haunting me is this - why do you love me? Are you sure? 

I think you should know better. 
I think I should definitely know better. 

Hold your breath.

The chronology is crystal clear. The question is what sticks? The pattern or the hope? The self-destruction or the romantic optimism? Dare I dream? Dare I dream with you? I don't think I'm the one - for you, or for anyone. I may be beautiful, as you so often remind me. But these reminders will run out and all I'll remember is the hollowness and the void that your absence will leave in its wake. Why? Why am I so scared? I know what I feel and I know it is pure. What is this deep need for it to last and this unwavering doubt that it won't? 

People matter to me most and people screw me over the most - that much is certain. I allow for it is also evident. Is it because I don't believe I deserve love? Is it because I turn everything I touch to anti-gold? Is there no greater pattern and just a series of unfortunate coincidences? I'm terrified to find out the answer to this. Horrified out of my mind to actually come to know that I'm but an option, nothing extraordinary, nothing exclusive. Just an everyday mundane that makes those around her happy as per their convenience and then is easily forgotten.

Will you leave? Will you stay? Will I be forced to reevaluate myself through my life choices and my life experiences? Will the cynic win or the romantic? Is there any winning at all in a life and world as twisted as the one we currently live in? 

What am I doing here? I don't belong here. 

Forgiveness.

Dear you,

I guess I know why I have been unable to write - something that my future legit depends on - because all the letters in my head are currently addressed to you. Until I can get those out, I won't be able to write about anything even slightly meaningful to me. I was trying to avoid this because I'm scared, I genuinely am, as to what this will do to me emotionally, writing this letter to you. For once, I don't have tears in my eyes though. Maybe they'll make their way as I struggle to find the right words for you, one more time. Here goes another futile attempt at closure. 

I don't want this letter to be anything bitter. I've been so angry at you lately, that it has consumed my entirety and honestly, I was never good at carrying some emotions - anger, guilt, anxiety. I'm more at the psychotic end of the spectrum - seeking thrill, adventure and even total annihilation if that's what life and love leads me to but this neurosis? Nope, not my style and is exhausting beyond measure. Anyway, I digress. 

I've framed so many hate mails to you and your family in my head, that this is somehow not coming naturally to me. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for this because nobody in your world has done anything for any of you to deserve this, but I guess this is more for me than anyone else... 

                         I forgive you. 

I forgive you for never looking back or reaching out. I forgive you for moving on one day after our break up. I forgive you for never understanding my love for you and undermining it in front of everyone who mattered to you. I forgive you for discarding and deleting people from my life who loved you immensely and tried to reach out to you repeatedly, siding with you, despite everything. I forgive you for forgetting my mother. 

I forgive you.

I forgive you for not holding me at the end, as I lamented the loss of my happily ever after. I forgive you for not meeting me one last time and then blaming me for it. I forgive you for removing all reminders of me from your life and building a love on my remains. I forgive you for taking all of our dreams, my dreams, and gifting them to your new girl on a platter. I forgive you for picking 2020 as the year you'll marry her, (it was mine!). 

I forgive you.

I forgive you for the social media love outburst you display each day, with no changes in the manner that you used to write for me/us. I even forgive you for citing your names as research co-authors, forgetting when and for whom you did it first. I forgive you for forgetting all our firsts, dreams, promises, the names of our never-to-be-born son. I forgive you for sharing Rockstar and Tamasha with her. 

I forgive you.

I bring myself to forgive you for all the hate you sent my way once we were over - for shaking my faith in love and humanity and friendship. I forgive you for never believing in me or the best version of me that I tried so hard to be with you. I forgive you for breaking me beyond recognition. I forgive you for never listening to 'Unspoken' the story that I only told because you were a part of my life. 

I forgive you.

I forgive you for all the gynaecological problems loving you led me to. I forgive you for not supporting me when I needed it most, just because it was hard for you, despite you having someone to comfort you all along. I forgive you for denying me closure. I forgive you for always sowing that seed of doubt in my heart that I'm unworthy of love, I'm not a good person, I deserved all the horrible things that happened to me.

I forgive you.

As hard as it is, I forgive you Firdaus. I forgive you for being another Anshuman. I forgive you for stealing what your name meant to me (long before you happened even) forever. I forgive you for carrying me in your subconscious and making your entire relationship a replica of ours. I forgive you for not being as progressive and open-minded as you claimed to be. I forgive you for not having the strength to fight your parents for me. I forgive you for you lying to me about their apparent liking for me. I even forgive you for making me a cynic forever. 

I forgive you because it's time. I forgive you for the apology that you'll never send and for not knowing why you needed to. I will keep waiting for a day to meet and hug you goodbye, the right way this time, but that's not happening. You've forgotten what we meant to each other and I guess that's okay. It must be hard to accept we were good and then continue to be a douche to me. Attitudes and behaviour cannot remain in conflict forever, right? So I forgive you for being the worst nightmare of mine, for ruining my favourite year 2018 and now for your exquisite plan to ruin 2020 too. I forgive you for not caring about me. I forgive you for being so petty and shallow during the breakup and after that I no longer recognise who you are. I forgive you for getting us to a place where despite sharing a large part of our lives, dreams and goals, we can never reach out to the other. I forgive you for making me a psychotic villain (#Durga), for ruining my memory of us, for replacing me within 24 hours, for giving up. 

All my life I've had people give up on me. I forgive you for convincing me that you never would, for making me love again, only to pull the rug out from under me when I needed it most. I forgive you for coming into my life when I was in a happy relationship, show me how it wasn't all that I needed, make me doubt everything and believe in you - only for you to do it all over again with her; for you to abandon me in totality and instead devote your time and energy into 'saving her' from her relationship. I forgive you for not telling me when you moved on. I forgive you for using your parents as an excuse against me and then for convincing them for everything I ever wanted for us, only with her. I forgive you for leading me on, during the most important years of my life, only to leave me stranded eventually.

I forgive you for changing. 

I forgive you for the transition from my perfect dream to my perfect nightmare. I forgive you for being my Thunder only to watch you share this with her too. I genuinely forgive you. You didn't do any of this intentionally. This is just how things turned out. I don't know how much of this was conscious/subconscious/unconscious; what was motivated by your insecurities and family issues and what stemmed from my horrid past experiences and inability to reassure you of my love. How much of this was me testing you endlessly and how much was you constantly running away and me trying to hold on, I'll never know. 

So, I forgive you.

I forgive you because I cannot hold on to you any more. 

I just cannot.

I cannot wait for you to do the decent, human, kind thing anymore so I'm doing it for you. Forgiving you for all the things you never will ask forgiveness for. 

I forgive you. I forgive you for this deplorable end. 

We were good. I'm sorry you forgot four years worth of memories in less than 48 hours. I'm sorry I couldn't hold on for longer. I'm sorry I couldn't reach out to you again, only to be disrespected or worse still, ignored, one more time, in one more novel manner. Trust me I tried.

In the end, I forgive you most for being your father's son. Expecting you would stand up for me was a fantasy really when you never could stand up for yourself or your mother or for what you thought was right or even what you knew was right. I know it was your greatest fear that you'd end up being the martyr between the two of us, but guess what, you were more him than her all along. 

And here I am, the hopeless romantic, heartbroken, (still!) and finding the strength from somewhere within to write this apology to us. 

Your 

(True) Martyr 

Getting through October

My dreams are made of all the possibilities of a decent, normal closure that I so yearn for. I feel so happy, satisfied and content in my dreams that we have been able to achieve that and the reality is obviously a rude contrast. In actuality, there have been no pleasantries, no considerations, just silence, misunderstandings and anger. As soon as I begin to try to make peace with the latter, my subconscious draws me into an impossible dream. But if there's some way to remember us by, I would rather believe in an alternate ending. I don't think this is how I want to remember the story so I'm just going to pretend it isn't until I change it or accept it. Nobody should have to be forced to hate their favourite person at some point (read: you) just because they couldn't match that ideal forever. 

Happy Belated Birthday.

One day I'll wish you again. 

We were happy?

Some people believe at their very core that they are not worthy of happiness which is why they will do everything to destroy it even when it's well within their reach. Most run, avoid, escape happiness from the very start but there are a few who will chase it, nail it down and then ensure they become the reason behind it's complete and total annihilation. It's seen a lot in patients seeking therapy. They report relationships breaking repeatedly, unaware of their pattern and if aware, unable to change it. 

Am I one of them? 

I know there have been things that have haunted me from the very start of life. Try as you may, not everything can be erased - not memories and definitely not nightmares. Just when you think you've outrun your demons, new ones are formed, much worse than the ones you had learnt to fight against. You're one of them now, and nothing pains me more. You, the one who would have me breaking into a smile on my worst day is now a reservoir of misery. You are the one whom I can't hate or love.

Were you ever you then or are you ever you now?

I can't, don't, won't reach out to you. There's a lot I want to say but that's a door I've had to close for myself. I thought we could talk, acknowledge, validate and maybe find some peace in the abrupt closure that was thrust on us. But then I recall, it wasn't thrust at all. You chose it. You continue to choose it everyday. Your rigidity over our sanity. Your demons over our truth. You over us, always. Maybe it was a long time coming.

Are you too tired of fighting? Is there absolutely no fight left in you?

The pain of the matter is I know you. Really know you. That is perhaps why I can't hate you. But I can remain angry and I am. An apology email doesn't cut it anymore. I'm sorry for a lot but not this. I ache on days like today when I see all the happy memories of us (and boy there are so many) and realize they weren't enough, that nothing was enough for you. Or me. Or us. And I realize that I'm fucked because if that wasn't - if that wasn't it - nothing ever can be.

Can it?

The saddest thing of all is that you will never believe what you meant to me. You were redemption - God's way of making up for all the shit in my life. My smile, my joy, my happiness. My faith in goodness. My reason to be better. The one who could inspire me and support me and drive me like none other. The one who knew me better than myself. The one who made me believe in "the one". My everything. My thunder.

Until you weren't. 

Gnaw.

Memories spring up from where you least expect them. So much of this town is tainted. I reach somewhere and suddenly the wind leaves my lungs, my airway is deficient and choked, and I have lost all sense of time and place. I am ready to break down, I do break down internally but how many times can I find a corner to silently weep in? I think I've learnt the art of weeping on the inside constantly instead. I don't think anybody thinks about people, places, songs, and cities the way I do. Many people have ruined many things for me but you took this to a whole new level. It's not even on you - it's on me and my inability to dissociate. It's not the end that has ruined it all - it's the complete and utter loss of meaning to every memory - was it all a lie, a pretence, did I "steal you from your parents" all along? Was there no free will? Are my favourite memories your worst nightmares? I think I can't be the villain in anybody's story and being the only one in yours is what hits me most. Nobody else knows what we went through but surely you do, right? Surely you don't hate me as much as you say, right? Right?

I hate that I'm always left wondering! Why must I be forced to rethink everything? Why can't it just be something beautiful but not everlasting? No, it must be scarred and I must be blamed. I empathize and I understand the world and then when nothing is left of me, I empathize some more. But never am I granted the benefit of the doubt I so easily give to those I love. You know what this questioning does to me? Do you? I constantly second guess myself. I struggle with self love. I always doubted my physical beauty now I doubt my inner one too. It's not fair to my parents, who raised me so much better than this; it's not fair to my friends whom I constantly hold to extremely high standards; it's not fair to the person I'm with because I always alternate between being too enmeshed or too distant but most of all it's not fair to me! Why must I be the one left in doubt? Why can't I just be allowed to treasure my past as opposed to constantly run from it?

In the end, you're all the same, with all the same promises and the exact same heartbreak.
And yet here I am again, hoping that unlike you, he'll always remember us this way.
Hopeless romantic much?


PS: Thank you Ad-mad, if you're reading, for being the only exception. 

Doori.

He said to her: 

"Kehne ko hum paas hai par, kitni doori hai

Yeh bhi kaisi majboori hai?

Tumse hamdardi bhi nahi kar sakta main,

Meri bas ki baat nahi hai

Main ye behte aansu ponchu,

Itni meri aukat nahi hai.

Main bhi yahin hun

Tum bhi yahi ho

Par sach ye hai ki main hun kahin

Tum aur kahin ho

Kehne ko hum paas hai par, kitni doori hai
Yeh bhi kaisi majboori hai?"

She smiled. 
He finally understood what she had known all along but struggled to explain. 

She said:

साथ होके  भी  साथ  ना  थे,
अब दूर होके भी दूर नहीं
सबकी हमदर्दी के बिना ही जी हुन मैं हमेशा,
अपने आँसू पोछना बन गया हैं मेरा पेशा |
मजबूरी नही थी पर मजबूर हैं हम,
हमारी यादों से भी अब अनजान हैं हम |
दूरी तो सिर्फ एक बहाना हैं,
तुम्हें अपने आप से जो भागते जाना है...
पर मैं हूँ यहीं
तुम भी यहीं हो,
पर तुम हो नही
क्या तुम वही हो?