A blink too long

I have always been the complaining girl, never happy with what I have. But especially with her I was even more. I always wanted her permanent attention, every second, every place. I could never be happy with no matter how much she gave me. There was always something missing. And I kept demanding more. But the catch was.. the demand was always in my mind. I couldn't bring myself to openly ask her to give me what I felt she should. And this was because deep inside I did know she was giving me her all, that even a little bit more of my asking would be a selfish call, and also because there was no return from my side.

Still, I cant help but think out loud when I was denied what I required the most. An attention to a slight change in my mood, disturbance in my mind, a trough in my heart. And being the transparent person I am, it pained even more that she wasn't able to see through those emotions widely visible on my being. She closed her eyes on me on my most vulnerable moment.

So why didn't I go up to her and complain? Tell her she needed to notice, tell her I was hurt she missed me, that she overlook something right in front of her eyes? I guess the distance had grown..but maybe I just had that ego deep inside that I needed her to find out, I wanted her to look up and ask why.

There are times I wonder why we have this ego to the people we love the most, the ones who are the most closest to us. How I so easily forgive and let go for the superficial friends but am quite adamantly determined to make my life worse by always having that silent fight with the most important ones. All because right now they missed a moment, because today they didn't see my silent tears, because they forgot to check in perfectly when I needed it the most. And that made me forget all those years, the million moments, the warm hugs to silently console me. I complain because they weren't there "now" but I forget they were always there "then". How I so want them to always have their eyes open for me, their words ready to advise me, their arms open to embrace me. Its a selfish demand I agree, but then its something that can be accepted especially when the bond is quite strong. At some point in our lives we will always have someone, that someone for whom we would wish to be the center of their lives, just like they are ours. Sometimes its one person, sometimes a few more, but there always will be one constant, someone who would have had to be the receiver of all our mood swings and still be ready to share her arms when we run back to it. And when she decides to look away to a different view, even if for a few moments alone. That is when we fall down the most.

Somebody's angel

... Sitting in his car sipping a mega size booster juice and talking random non-sense that I normally do while he munched on his nutrition snack, the conversation slowly veered to how we met. Looking at me he smiled and said "My room-mate had just left and I felt I would soon be pushed into the well of depression again. I was scared about what would befell and didnt want to be there once more. And that's when like an angel you entered my life"...

He would never know how much those words meant to me. Like I mostly do when caught unawares with no words to reply( back then I never even used to "awwww"), I gave the widest smile I could with a slight blush seen and left it at that. Years down everytime I recollected that conversation to people, it made me feel good, made me feel special, made me feel awesome about myself. And sitting miles away, ignorant to all this, he had frozen that moment in my life.. forever.

Not everyone can be a Mahatma or a Mother Theresa. I cant even be a good daughter or sister at times needed. But does that mean we do not have a part in this world? That the world wouldn't miss us if we weren't there? Not really. Every portion of our life is filled with small bits of purposes, purposes that even we may not be aware of, things we do even without our own knowledge. We may spend our entire life just passing through and never realize how much of a value we have added.. to that stranger on the road when we smiled at him, to a long-forgotten friend when we suddenly called her, to a struggling colleague when we helped them out, to that granny when we held her hand as she climbed down the stairs. Maybe if you were not there in that moment, someone else would have and that help would anyways be given. But you were chosen to be there, and that mark is made. You become part of the cycle of joy that circulates around, even if just for a short moment, and radiates from the world. For those few seconds at least, the world is a happier place for someone, because you were a part of it.

But sadly we live in a thankless world. Or in most cases those people are just as speechless as I was with a fear to spoil that magical moment with words too plain or inappropriate. But that doesnt mean your deed was forgotten. It just means that even words couldn't explain how much your help meant.

My life has been made up of so many magical moments like that. People just come in and sprinkle miracles as if they were just created for me. Sometimes it makes me feel blessed, but at the end of it I feel guilty.. of not having told them how much more special my life had been because they cared to share their time in it. Of course he called me his angel, but little did he know what I felt about him. In a city far away from home, with not many friends and no one to selflessly help, he was my friend, family, teacher. He drove me around, shopped with me, showed me the city in its brightness and afterwards, made me smile, made me think, made me fight, made me feel at ease in taking control over him, advised me, teased me, cared for me. So much so even I could say "I would have experienced depression way too early. But then like an angel you entered my life".

And He laughed and laughed and laughed..

I watched the kites fly with the wind
And teased their dearth for a will to rebel.
I wrote my name along the shore
And challenged the waves to strike its core. 
While He simply watched and laughed..

I guarded my words, I guided my steps
Lest perfection lost way, lest the clown within trips.
I refused words that soothed, the hand that calmed
Being way too strong, beyond hurt never wronged.
And yet again He watched and laughed..

I painted the world in black and white
I carved my beliefs with an iron-willed might.
I felt no stutter, no stumble, no sway
I walked head held high and feet slightly on air
This time He watched and smirked..

When the time came nigh for Him to show
How wrong I was, how life changed its flow.
He did so with that smile intact
A gentle hand to hold me tight.
While I stood there struck in awe.

He stopped the rebel, He crushed the ego
He taught me to be free, be full, let go
To accept the help, stretch out my hand
Fall to the earth, make peace with the land
Confused I watched the me grow..

.... I just re read and found my last para as totally crappy. Trying to find a way to end it.. Till then let it be incomplete.. :)

..Bcos the entire universe conspired to help me find you..

Its funny how some people leave such an imprint on your life, and you shudder to think that a moment's lapse and you would have missed them forever. He was one of them. Though there are quite a number of special people you know happened to you in such moments, he tops them all simply because he was the one I thought of when I heard this line. That is how much he played a role in my life. And he would have slightly never been there.
We were in the same city together for a quite significant portion of our lives, walked the same roads, probably even crossed paths, never to even give the other a second glance. Fate intervened enough to keep our lives to just a mile apart but we never cared to try. It took us more years and many more miles to discover each other in the most convoluted way. A guy randomly held his hands out to me and I reluctantly slipped mine into them just to be pulled into a vortex from where there was no return. And right somewhere near the middle of this never ending whirlpool I chanced upon him.
Avana pathi naan enna solla....
I am not here to describe him, I wouldn't even try to. Every day I see something new, something different, each day is a discovery of who he is. From the first moment when he pinged me to the last ping I sent him every moment has been a journey. Of laughter and tears, of discussions and arguments, of complaints and consolations, of insane and insensible rants, of crazy theories and impossible philosophies, of secrets that somehow just make their way out of a dark and deep slumber. Its not that he needed to be there for me, its not that I needed to be there for him. I was there, so was he and somehow it made sense to be there for the other. At certain points in life you just need a ear, probably a feeling that someone was listening, someone was concerned, someone cared. Because at the end of the day your problems are for you to solve, no matter what the solution the world tries to give. But still for that moment when all you want to do is shout or sing or simply blabber, you're glad someone had the patience to listen. I'm glad you did.

Sometimes you need to let go..

It feels heavy and it feels hard, but then you know you did the right thing. Because deep inside despite all the misgivings you know any more of holding would just increase the pain when the inevitable happens. There are moments when you understand that the thing that makes you feel your best and gives you a happiness you never knew before was not meant for you. And by keeping it to yourself you were actually crushing it and ruining it of its own happiness. You were causing it an unbearable pain and in the course causing pain to you too.
Its in moments like this that you see who you really are. The monster living deep inside you who was waiting for the right victim to attack and devour. Its a moment of self-realization, to make you understand a part of yourself, something you see you need to change and work on. Something you would never have known otherwise. You just feel sorry that you had to show it all on the one thing which dared to open up a whole new world to you.
Though now deep inside I wish I could reach out and call it back again, I know I shouldn't. I know it was right to let go. Because it might be numb now, but I've made sure that need not last forever. I can see it living its life of happiness in the future. And that makes me smile.

"Hmmm"

When silence makes up most of the time that actually need conversations, it might not really mean what the world says. Maybe there is something beneath that you are not much aware of. Or maybe you are aware but then think you're acting quite clever by closing your eyes. Being blind never means that the sun doesn't rise every day, the moon doesn't go through its phases, the tides don't ebb and flow. It just means that you don't see them happening and don't know how they are happening, but they are. Ask the blind what they are missing, ask the dumb what they want to say, ask the deaf if they miss hearing the birds chirp. They will all tell you how lucky you are to have all these senses and still so thankless not to use it.
Silence is good, for people who are in meditation, who are solitary and want to be away from the world. What you forget is that with each increasing day of not using God's greatest gift to mankind, you get so used to the quietness around you that you forget the days of directionless banter that actually gave you sanity. You reach a point where you think before you talk because you rarely talk and so when you do you want to make sure it has its importance. And some other time you just hate that silence being disturbed. You like it to stay that way.

Where lies my 25%?

The greatest gift God gave to every child was the mother. And then to augment it He gave a grandmother.. No, he gave two, to tell them stories of times gone by, to sing a lullaby of periods lost, to bring them into the fold they lived in, to be the buffer when the mother boils over. God blessed me with those two. And then he decided to give me one more. To explain to me by actions a virtue expected normally in a family - unconditional love.  Just that this was not the bond that pulled us together. What bound me to her was not something that could be defined using the labels this world created for the myriad relations that existed here. But for simplicity sake I called her Ammachy.
So what did I share with her? Probably just our birthday month. But what did she share with me? Anything that a grandmother should.. and some more. That silent prayer, the caring touch, the smile of encouragement, the look of displeasure, the addressal signifying a belonging and then that odd but cute "thank you" she ended all our calls or meets with. She didn't have to give me any of that but she did, and with such passion combined with the rigid belief that it was her duty. She felt she had a right over me at times even stronger than my parents and I loved every bit of that.
Spending days with her, listening to her talk endlessly on mundane stuff with more attention on the delicacies she prepared, was a sort of ritual I needed to do at least every quarter. She was the reason I developed the love for good food, the patience to listen, the interest to build, maintain and especially remember familial ties. I was awed by the way she kept such awesomely close contact with her super extended family sans Facebook or mobile phones.. with just hand-written letters. Unfortunately try as I might I could never emulate it. I still remember how years back when this girl took a playful turn to church by talking and goofing around right in front of the altar Ammachy quietly pulled her towards herself and kept her there making her understand the sanctity of the whole service more with her stern looks than by words. She was the inspiration for my belief in God, she showed me how much He would help through her life, her experiences. Even when she scolded I felt it funny, funny because I was taken back by how she could so effortlessly take full control of us, because I didn't understand how or why she bothered so much,  because it amazed me that someone could take note of such intricacies and point it out. When she complained I smiled, at the innocence, the childishness, the expressions her face took. When she cooked I stood admiring her sense of detail and oh yes, the cleanliness. I think I can go on about her need for linearity and order. Her likes, her interests, her practices which had been constantly the same over the forever years that I have known her. Forever years..
And beneath all this I felt a love I knew would be missed for the rest of my unknown life. In this world where everyone gives only with a surety for some distant future I got from her something I would never be able to measure up to. I was gifted with a bond that I could not give a physical description to. It all stemmed from the heart.

Nothing to complain..

Nothing is permanent in this world. No one stays forever. No feeling is unconditional and no act is selfless. And being a part of this self-centred world why should I complain of people who come and leave at their own will, who make use of what u give them when your gift itself has a ring of selfishness associated to it. You cling on to people for your own needs, where is the justice in you expecting them to be otherwise. The world is as good as you get. If what u did was good, so was what people did to you. And feel good that you were good enough, which is why you were saved from worse states. Its been a good life, always was, always will be.

Love blossoms..

Every Sunday for many years as I could remember I used to wait at the entrance of my church for that Corolla which stopped there. And then as the doors open a smiling grandma in her pastel shaded sari n grandpa in his spotless white mundu emerged, the wide smiles on their face as they gave each other a moment's glance, a few words exchanged, sometimes a laugh and finally the entry to the church. They looked more like siblings than husband and wife each glowing in the others light. I never managed to ask them what was special about their love. But I could see that over years and years it had grown and molded into an inseparable bond.
He was never the perfect man, but over the years, she said, she had grown to learn what he liked and adjust to it. Life was devoid of all the romance that movies and books talked about but then it wasn't a life she wanted either. She toiled at home without much of an expectation accepting all she got as the greatest gift from God. It would never have been a perfect life, no life is. But every single time I see them both hand in hand as two little kids who look over one another, I get the hope that perfection can be created. A little bit of letting go on either side, patience and the will to see through everything together will make any journey much wonderful. And over the years it grows into something beautiful.. if only you try.

No More Words

Words sting worse than actions. And especially when they're are written words, they stay for posterity, until erased off or deleted, for the affected to revisit till it gets ingrained in thier hearts. Like a birthmark, never to go. From time immemorial we have learnt of wars fought, kingdoms lost, civilizations destroyed all because of the ill-used words. And still we don't learn. When God created Man, he gave him a major boon.. or so He thought. The mouth. And then Man created words.

Life is all so simple and uncomplicated when you don't know to speak, when all that you said were just words which made no coherent sense. At that time, it was all cute to everyone's ears. And finally when it started making sense, you're talk becomes senseless, your words become meaningless, your thoughts become heartless.

And you finally understand how it was all so better when you just didn't talk. When all you did was smile at people and get back home to talk to that pillow on your bed. At least you didnt have to touch up your grammer, tone your accent or prune your words to make sure it was not hurt!