Reading between the lines

Often we befriend a person, a person who changes our life for forever. In a bad or good way, that's upto you how you read between the lines.

The ones we remember are usually the ones who change it in a bad way.

It's strange that we often spend more time thinking about those who hurt us than those who heal.

Nevertheless, we think about them. About ourselves. About them and ourselves. Sometimes, it's a relief what happened, more often it's not.

"I never thought that you would ever do that
Everything we had is gone
You said you love me, said you'll never leave
Maybe I just heard you wrong" - Shayne Ward - Damaged

 

Cliche story most of the times. It starts off as friendship, over the time it becomes strong. And just when you start feeling safe around that person, life happens. One betrays the other. Not in a typical-bollywood-betrayal-way. But in a typical-this-is-life-way.

And the betrayal leaves us wounded for longer than its supposed to be okay. 

That is when you start to wonder what went wrong. Was it you? Or the other person?

Was it evident from the beginning what was gonna happen but you were too busy reading between the lines that you missed what was right in front of you. Hope, can either do good or can make you look like a complete jerk. 

And then, after wondering for a looonnngggg time you give up. The only question remains, 'Why? Why would you do this to me?' Every other question from the past renders useless. 'Why?' is the only question you want an answer to. For the time being. 

It's a long trail of questions to which you might never find an answer to, questions that haunt us and will keep doing so.

In return, it's either their silence or their wrath. How you interpret both, is on how you read between the lines.

Our whole life is about reading between the lines. All the answers are between the lines.

Deceptions.

In that great, gabled country home with its Flemish brick façade and trimmed privet, Kiara lay on a giant, soft bed beside Jose, agitated and sleepless. Her fingertips explored the distinguished line of his neck; his eyes; his cheekbones. She kissed his hair, remembering a word Jose had mentioned earlier: closure. She gathered it meant peaceful resolution of the past. The infinite possibilities of the word enthralled her, but its reality, difficult and gangly, left her disappointed. She had abandoned Dehradun and come to Delhi to be rid of her past. In that big city, she had fallen in love, and in friendship. She was in love with Sam, a man of regal stature and her boss. A perfect bachelor, he had swept Kiara off her feet. She had been head over heels for him only to realize later how he had been using her, all the while, for pleasure while his family planned a big, fat wedding with a rich tycoon’s daughter. When the world had exploded in her face, she had fled to Spain, to grow anew a skin that had been peeled by what she had secretly come to think of as ‘strange events of Delhi’.

Now she lay listening to the glacial wind hammer the leafless firework of ivy against the window and the Labradors snore outside the bedroom door. This life was entirely unlike that which she had known, but its unfamiliarity did not divest her of the affinity she continued to feel for Delhi; in fact, if anything, it seemed to solidify her resolve to return.

She tilted herself on her side, closer towards Jose, and put her head on his chest. She had started to love him and knowing this broke her heart. Shutting her eyes, she could see the buildings, and vehicles racing, she could see the deer park’s lake, the leafless trees and marigolds floating upon its dirty, chartreuse waters; she could hear the aluminium canisters rattle on Atlas cycles manned by absurdly athletic milkmen. She believed she could now go back to Delhi although it was nothing more than a catalog of her failures. Because some people were meant to shepherd you to different shores, and some people brought you back to familiar ones.

She kissed Jose, feeling grateful. He had been her shelter in the cold country. Jose woke up and kissed her. She responded quickly. His tongue moved from her mouth to her neck, travelling down her chest, her navel, hipbone, seeking scholarship of her body. But if he knew she was thinking of leaving him, of returning to India, to Delhi, what would he say? Would he hit her? Would he turn away, dress up and walk out? Or would he laugh and go back to sleep?

Perhaps Sam had been the same way, committing treacheries within kisses, and so now she passed on the deceptions she had received.

Sympathy or plastic smile?

What is it about people who can never get themselves to share the intimate things in their lives?

Have you ever wondered that there's more to a person that meets the eye? That her/his life, which seems blessed and good, is actually not that good. That the fact that no matter how much better off they are, they are still messed up in their heads.

There are 2 kinds of people.
People who choose to share their misery, confide in people and let others know that they are vulnerable and hurt.
And then there are those who can never get themselves to share anything that makes them seem weak.

Maybe it's not about what kind of a person they are. Maybe it's more about who they choose to confide in.

But how do you know in whom and when to confide? And what about the things that you are too ashamed to share? The things that give a wrong impression of things close to you, things that define you - like your friends or family or your own self.

What about things like being exploited by a loved one, sexual or mental harassment or both, domestic violence, drinking problems, parental problems, spouse issues?

What if the person sitting next to you, who's smiling away and making jokes is going through any of that but he is too ashamed to share? Or maybe who simply don't want you to see the bad in their loved ones.

So you see the pain of people only when they tell you. What about the ones who are not like them? The ones who don't go around telling others that they have certain issues because neither they want sympathy nor they want pity.

It's obviously true that there will be someone you will confide in. Someday. But till that someday, what if people you want to understand you, leave you for someone who chose to make themselves look weak?

I don't know which one of those two is in better place, which one is happy in the end. Sharing the things and gaining sympathy or having a smile plastered on your face? 

But that is a question I ask myself everyday.

Orientation

You say you love me,

But am confused

You say you need me,

But am confused

Unsure of what the truth is and what are lies,

Oh, am confused.

How do I react?

To what’s going all around

How do I perceive?

The actions and words that reach me

I can’t make out what you want

Dear Lord, am just confused.

Among all the transient demeanor,

Unhappiness is what I experience most

Even if am unsure of what we both want,

Grief remains indisputable

Consequently it comes down to one solution

Seems am not so confused anymore.

He Says

I wanna talk to him but I don't wanna talk unless he replies to my questions. There are so
many of them, left unanswered.
He's being so strange suddenly, sometimes soft sometimes  hard - on me and himself as
well. He says, he was always this way but I know he wasn't. He says he cares, but I
never see him care. He says he loves me, but I never feel his love. He says he'll try but I
never witness him trying. He says he's always with me but when I am low and I need
someone to talk to, he's never around. He says he doesn't mind me talking to other guys
but when I do, he gets angry. He says I fight with him but its always me who tries to
massage his ego. He says I am immature but he's the one who wants to be taken care of
like a child. He says he always speaks the truth but there were times when he lied. He
says who else will he share everything with but I see him sharing his life with others
more than with me. He says he never forces me but all I ever experience is doing things
forcibly. He says he understand and he'll never do it again but "again" doesn't seem to
mean anything to him. He says he's interested in my life but when I think about it, am sure
he knows nothing about the on-goings in my life. He says he wants us to be together but
he drifts himself apart. He says he feels like talking but it's always me who initiates.
He says I don't understand him but I do.


And
He says he knows me but does he not know what I am going through ?

He says so much that now am unable to believe him. Only because all he ever does is
SAY.

Assumption Game

One fine evening, he decided to take a walk on the beach. It had been a week since he came to this place, this new city, a new neighbourhood, new people but old him. Raghav had decided to finally move to another city and try his luck there in the corporate world.
On the beach, he let his mind run.
He had kept first few weeks to explore the place, explore himself in that new city. He had left a lot of things behind - his former job, family, friends, acquaintances and most importantly Tanya.
Tanya was his love, a girl whom he saw as his soulmate. But something had caused him to leave her, he didn't know what. He had been reluctant about a lot of things - his growing feelings for her, her importance in his life and the very fact that he never dared to confess his feelings towards her. They had been great friends, for the last 5 years, but lately, things had been different, difficult. He was trying to figure out what was wrong with him, why he felt so special about her. He was in huge dilemma and there were times when T used to ask him what was wrong but he himself didnt know what to asnwer so he always nodded his head and told her that everything was fine. But everything was NOT fine. they were drifting apart. He felt that. He knew that.
What he did not know was whether she felt the same way ?


Had T also noticed their drift ? But if she did, why did she never try and stop me ? If she really felt there was something special between us, why didn't she ever say anything ? Why was she always very normal around me, talking about her other guy friends ? Did she not feel what I felt ? Did she never see me burning with jealousy when she talked about that guy from her office ? Or about the guy she met at the bar ? She never cared as to how I felt. She was always indifferent about my feelings. She always thought of me as a playboy and that's why she never thought of me as a special one. I should have told her how I felt before leaving but I guess it's fine. If she feels like talking, she'll call.


On the other side -

Tanya was sitting in her balcony, staring at the cars passing by and wondering what went wrong. She had met R at Eminem's concert and they had clicked right away. Something about him made her feel so comfortable about everything. She could talk to him about anything and everything. He was one guy who truly cared for her, who loved to make her smile, who understood her. But something had been off lately. He had suddenly decided to move, out of the city, out of her life. For last one year, she had felt special about him, like she knew it was him she wanted to spend rest of her life with. She used to tell him stories about her other guy friends only to get a hint of jealousy on his face which would have given her an insight of his feelings. They were amazing together. But what caused him to move, she didn't understand. She had tried asking him several times but he never gave away anything. He was quiet all the while. Quiet as much as that, that he didn't even ask her before deciding to just walk away and abandon her. She went numb, the moment she got to know about his decision. She didn't know what to say to him or to anyone else.


How could he do this to me ? How can he just leave without giving an explanation ? Did he not see the tears in my eyes that begged him to stop ? But how could he not, he understood me so well ? Did he not feel even a slightest thing for me ? But he was so amazing, its so unusual for someone to not notice what special we shared. So long years, and he just went away, just like that ? He knew me so well but he could never make out what I felt for him ? I always teased him to be a playboy but he knew I thought of him as a GREAT guy, because I knew him inside out. But he still went away. Maybe he never cared as to how I felt. He was always indifferent about my feelings. He always thought of me as a any other girl and that's why he never thought of me as a special one. I should have told him how I felt before he left but I guess it's fine. If he feels like talking, he'll call.




And the Assumption Game had begun.