It's not you. And I mean it.

My body cringes

When your fingers touch my arm,

When you run them along the length,

When you kiss my fingers

And bite them too.

You pull me close, whisper in my ears

There’s no other place I’d rather be

You look into my eyes,

Let us dance to the melody of Himeros

With every kiss, my lips smile

When you reach my neck,

My arms follow

Your touch is sweet,

And you caress my waist

A kiss on the neck,

Chin. Cheek. Nose. Lips. Tongue.

Legs around your waist, my hands find support around your neck

Head rests on the shoulder while you touch every part of me.

My lust consumes me,

Probably more than it should.

But how do I tell you,

That it's not you

Whose touch I crave.

Now, more than ever.

I see your face, I drift away

I see a tomorrow

In the sea of thoughts, that’s a way

I see our lives, from the future that I borrow

I tremble when I walk

On me, your eyes stay

I stammer when I talk

To me, the attention that you pay

Into my eyes you gaze

With so much love and hope

And you’re lost in a maze

I feel I’m pulled by a rope

It’s overwhelming,

The level of satisfaction

It’s charming,

The amount of your affection

Strongest bond we redeem,

We are a team,

A distant world it seems,

Like a translucent dream

And I love you more

With every passing day

Than I did before

It’s what I’ll always say

I tried to live without you,

Tears fall from my eyes

For so many years, or so few

I told myself all the lies

It’s a starry night

When mysteries suddenly unravel

Hold on tight

While all of the fears dishevel

We’re gonna get through the storm

Because I cannot live alone forever

I need you in my dorm

Now, more than ever.

"True" love story.

Love Story: It’s definition (I googled) is “a tale of lovers”.

But, that’s not my concern. The idea for this blog randomly struck my mind when I saw the words “true love story” and it got me wondering. True love story, as such, has no definition.

Who decides though? Which love story is true and which is untrue? Romeo & Juliet, Cleopatra & Mark Antony , Laila & Majnu, Salim & Anarkali and some more tragic love stories are few that are considered to be ‘true’.  The stories with sad endings. And then there are movies depicting the unconditional love between a couple where one partner is diagnosed with some terminal disease eventually or the ship they are travelling in hits an ice berg and sinks.

As much as I love sappy sad stories, I hate how our notion of true love stories has now become the very idea of someone sacrificing their life either waiting for ‘the one’ or devoting their life to a dying loved one.

"True love stories never have endings."

And then there are these quotations which frame such very notion of true love in our brains.

Whatever happened to our childhood when true love meant our parents fighting ever second day and then making up to each other the next? The constant nagging and arguments followed by “ladte wo hi hain jo pyaar karte hain”. Rather, our grandparents. The time when the women in the house wore a pallu over their head and had meek expressions with eyes that never met their husband’s (atleast when they were not alone). That was also love, true one for that matter but only in a way now alien to us.

Fortunately, I haven’t seen the tragic ones around me. But when I see an old couple walking together at a market or a mall, I look at them and think that is true love. I see my parents, and there I see true love. I see my friends who sometimes fall out of relationships but I know their love was true, only it just didn’t work out. Because sometimes it’s not meant to work out. And sometimes, true love stories do end.

It was always her.

She woke up to her phone ringing.
"Hello", she muttered in her sleepy voice.
"Hi, you sound so cute. I just called you to apologize for last night and wish you morning."
"Morning", she replied with a smile on her face. "Let me get up and give you a call back?" she asked.
"Sure babe. I'll be waiting", Jay replied.

She dragged herself out of her comfortable bed and walked to the restroom. She started brushing her teeth.
"Hmm, that wasn't so bad. Maybe I can get used to this." She smiled again. After freshening up, she went to the kitchen. Caffeine was desperately needed. She decided that she'll call him later. There were other important things she had to care of before talking to him that day. She needed to think about what had happened the last night, and exactly why.

Jay and Aria had been dating for a few months now. Their's was a relationship that grew out of new friendship, they had known each other a few months before they decided they both liked each other. It was going great, until last night. Last night, they had their first real fight.
Jay was a sincere guy. He knew he wanted to be with Aria from the day he had met her. No one had understood him the way she had. No one ever will, was what he always believed. Aria, on the other hand, was a carefree girl. She wasn't used to giving much heed to emotions and feelings. She took everything as it came to her. She was smart enough to expect the least out of people, to not put her faith in anyone. She started dating Jay because she liked him just the same. He made her happy. She was reluctant initially, thinking that Jay was too sweet to handle someone like her. She was too strong with her ideals and her rules. But she still went ahead with it.
Yesterday's fight was about her insecurities, her expectations which had started to rise without her acknowledging them. It was a silly reason though. He had apologized and he tried to reason with her. In her heart, she knew he was right but she was hurt. She didn't understand why. And she ended up being really pissed, more at herself than at him. She tried real hard, but she couldn't keep the thought out of her mind that maybe it was a mistake, her relationship. Maybe they were not ready. Maybe he was not able to handle. Or maybe, it was her. She was unable to handle all the emotions and she was caught in the turmoil. She wasn't used to expecting anything at all from anyone but now she was expecting, and getting disappointed. But it was noone's fault for her expectations were unrealistic and she knew it. All the anger was hurting her from the inside and she had no one to go to. That's why she ended up fighting with him.


Caffeine helped her think straight. She needed to figure how to make things right. Reflecting upon everything that had happened last night, that she said and whatever he had explained, she finally accepted that she was very wrong. She needed to let a lot of things go and get used to being disappointed a few times here and there. After all, he had a life of his own and he won't do everything according to her. That's why she's always hated being involved with someone, she wanted things her own way and when that didn't happen, she used to get pissed. But the way he had handled her anger last night, the way he had tried to make her understand, she knew noone else would have done that.
Maybe it was never him or anyone. She was highly wrong in thinking that he won't be able to handle her in a relationship. It was her. Always have been.
She was not able to handle herself like that, like the way being with Jay was changing her. Yesterday was not about disappointment, it was about facing the reality.

Lost dreams

I want to become a doctor.

I want to become a teacher.

I want to become a pilot.

I want to become an astronaut.

I want to become Sachin Tendulkar.

I want to become a truck driver.

The most common answers to the question, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’

A very famous-THE-most-important question asked to kids and these are their answers. In these answers lie their dreams, their aspirations and adult’s humor. The question has become too cliché and the answers have become even more cliché that no one pays any heed to them anymore. “Hah! He’s saying this now, wait for 4 years, he’ll change his mind.” The first thing that a kid’s ears catch is that statement after they have revealed their dreams. It’s just another statement to us, but for them, it’s the first push towards a road much travelled, a road that leads them to a point where they start believing that these dreams might just not come true. First thought of failure is thus incepted in their mind.

While many in-a-subtle-yet-ignorant-way demoralize their kids, some encourage theirs to dream. And dream big. But what they fail to tell their kids is that few years down the line their lives will be much more than just trying to fulfill their dreams. Males will have to take up the responsibility of the house and females will have to take up the daily chores. And both will have to study their asses off and score good, because hey, you cannot achieve your dreams unless you score good. The sound of that line is drilled into their tiny heads from the start.

Years go by and so does the question about what they’d want to become. Life gets so busy that you never think about the answer, mostly because you are never asked that question again. You are not 8 anymore, means you are in the rat race. Who cares about what you had wanted to become 4 years back? Do you?

Managing studies, home, chores, our entertainment, playing, sitting with parents, getting proper sleep, etc and the list goes on. Years go by and the list keeps on increasing. And before you know it, you are graduating with a degree you never knew of when you were young. Odds are, it’s not even in the direction of your childhood dream. But you keep going. You’re in the rat race, whether you like it or not.

Eventually, you will get a job. You’ll work. You’ll marry and have kids. Grow old and one day while sitting on the porch, waiting for your death to take over, you will decide to look back on your life (Well, apparently I have heard that old people kinda knows when their death is around the corner).

For one moment, you’ll think what was it you had dreamt of doing when you were a kid? Alas, it’ll be harder to remember than you thought it’d be.

It’s a scary place to be. So stop. And think.

What was it that you wanted to become when you grow up?

You have grown up. Now is the time to chase after your dreams. Now is the time when you should remember your dreams, and if you cannot remember then make new dreams. Because if you don’t, one day you’ll find yourself sitting with your laptop, thinking about what your dreams were and almost dying inside after realising you don’t remember your dreams.

That very moment, you’ll be lost. Lost in a way that can never be explained. Being lost is a feeling that can only be felt and then understood. Let’s hope by the time you realise you are lost, it isn’t too late.

                            

                              

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.

the Devil in me

Every coin has two sides. And this is the devil side of me.
A side that every one has but no one has the guts to accept. A sin, no one wants to take responsibility for.

If I ever write my own story, it'll start like this -
"Once upon a time, a girl found out that she turned out to be a wrong person"

There possibly might not be anything that's good about me. I'm selfish, and yes I never deny that fact.
I'm arrogant. You can't just piss me off and expect me to treat you like honeycomb.
My modesty is overshadowed by my facial expressions that usually suggest that I'm showing attitude towards you.
Well honestly, your face isn't exactly what I wish to see for long. So don't be surprised if I choose to look at the ground or anywhere else in the air while talking to you.
I'm not here to please you, so don't even get the vague idea that I'm trying to impress you by bragging or lying about anything.
I'm an adult lady. Yes I get horny. And I don't make efforts to hide it or cover it. No one is a kid here and hypocrisy is not my thing.
I care about anyone and everyone, only because of the values instilled in me by my parents, not because you are very dear to me.
I am a woman of words. Unless I say anything out loud, I don't mean it. So don't even dare to think I love you if I have never said it. Chances are, I'll never say it too.
I might talk to you day and night, but no, I won't end up feeling for you. If I can not feel for you after talking so much, then you can also do the same.
Yes, a lot of guys have asked me out. They might want me for all the good or the bad reasons. But hey, there are no bad reasons. So they want me for my body. That's something to be proud of, not ashamed of. Just because they want it, doesn't mean they get it.
After all, talking to every other guy or lusting over them doesn't make a girl a whore, sleeping with everyone does.
For those who love me for my mind, very frankly, I don't get it. You people don't know me. You cannot know a person in a few months. You cannot take the worst of me. What makes you think that you love me for my mind?
Nevertheless, I still respect your feelings. It's not easy to feel for someone and to reason with it, so I won't ask for reasons. So thank you for giving a piece your heart and mind to me.
But don't get so worked up that I've had a lot of guys to ask me out and never say yes. I don't say a yes not because I'm very proud or anything, I don't say a yes because I don't feel for you, simple as that. And it won't be fair on my part if I know that you feel for me but I don't and still decide to go out with you.
I do fantasize. I do wanna smash a girl's head only because she irritates me with her high pitched voice. I do wanna spill food on a better dressed girl because she gets to look hotter than I do. I am jealous of pretty girls. Or girls without acne, with perfect hair.
I am egoistic. Very. You cannot target my self respect and expect me to not react.
My self respect is above any of you.

I might be the most arrogant bitch in the whole world, but I'm not a liar. Whatever I am, I accept.
Honesty goes a long way with me. Be a liar, be arrogant, be a pervert. But if you're honest, you are still tolerable.

Hate me all you want. And fathom the immensity of fuck I do not give.

- Girl you 'should' be afraid your parents will meet.

Alterations

The thing with happiness is, too much of that, and you get bored of it.

The thing with sadness is, too much of that, and you get used to it.

There comes a time when you know you’ve tried everything- keeping yourself busy, distracted by talking to a lot of people, flirting, socializing- but nothing seems to work. Even if it does, the extent is very little. No matter what or who, nothing except time can help you move on.

No matter how hard you try to forget certain people in your life, small things they did, typical words or places full of memories of them, life has a funny way of reminding it to you in some manner.

One small move or gesture sends you on a roller coaster ride to your past. Long walks on beach, sitting in the balcony for hours, listening to music, playing guitar, nothing helps. Their thought stays stuck in your head.

Thought of you being together.

Thought of you never thinking of growing apart.

Thought of spending a considerable amount of time with them for you to cherish for the rest of your life.

Thought that never occurred that one day everything will get fucked up.

When everything seems to be going according to plan, when things feel too good to be true, you’ve definitely missed out on something. A screw up is bound to happen.

Helplessness is all you have left.

That. Is. Life.

You wait. And wait.

You wait for a change of course in your life’s events, people or surroundings. Desperate need of vacations persist. You hate change throughout your life but this is the time when every part in your body longs for a change. A change so drastic that it will tear away the old memories and help the new ones to bloom.

And you live in a hope that the change will happen.

Torpid

She is at a point where thinking feels like a punishment to her. She was not exactly happy. She was not sad either. She was just okay.

But her mind is tired. Tired of thinking what went wrong. Tired of thing about all the Whys and Hows. Tired of thinking altogether. For once in her life, the moment she started to think about the whole thing, her mind went like "Shit Happens" and that's it.She had lost her job. She had lost her boyfriend. And there she was, lying on her bathroom floor waiting for a reason to get up. She wasn't crying. She was just lying there doing nothing. Not even thinking.

She thought she was going to get promoted but the recession caused her to lose her job. That one thing, till now, had been her source of distraction from the fights and shouting and finally the break up. But now, she had all the time in the world. Time to think. Time to contemplate.She was so tired of thinking that the moment she started to think, it made her sick in her stomach. Thought of her ex made her feel like someone was stabbing her with a fork. Not because she had started hating him but because he had now become a guy from her past. She had spent way too long a time with him to think of only herself. Alone. 

She took the path that every girl takes. She spoke to her friends about him. She spoke to them because it kept her from talking to him. At that point, talking about him seemed easier than talking to him. She spoke to them because when they cursed him, for a little time, it made her feel good about herself.

Sometimes she used to chat with her ex, whenever he texted first. The talked revolved him and his life. She never spoke to him about her feelings. Which was making her heart ache. For last 9 years, she had spoken only to him about her feelings. He had been there, to listen to her, to hug her and to wipe her tears. And now her heart was overflowing with feelings but he was not around.

She could have spoken to him but she chose not to. She could have told him how much she missed him, how much she missed holding his hands, lying in his arms quietly, watching him sleep. She could have told him how much she missed him. But telling him all that meant she would fall apart. Her job kept her busy so she had no time to fall apart. It kept her sane.

But now that her job was gone, she didn't know what to do.

Hours pass by. She still doesn't move or cry or think. And then with a jerk, she gets up. She walks upto her bed, switches on her laptop and starts finding herself a new job. She needs a distraction.Because she doesn't  have the strength to fall apart. She just does not have that much of strength.

F.I.N.E

Every moment you look at me

I fake a smile so you won't see

It's only in you, for the part

You’re the only one who can break my heart

I found the truth in your eyes

Then I found out it was just a lie

In you I had found a reason to repair

A broken part of me, of which you seemed to care

In a swift moment the reason was gone

All the hope was mercilessly torn

I remember that moment, that time and place

Trying to picture your lovely gentle face

Holding your face, I think about that last kiss  

I had a feeling which maybe I miss

It's been a while since you went away

I still remember that very day

I wish we could go back to how it was

Writing each other letters, "Just Because"

But then the things you said cross my mind

And how easily you made me blind

Just one word, that you never ‘wanted’

Its all on you where we’ve landed

God knows that I tried

But with that one word, every part of me cried

My whole body sank to ground

And my whole world was dead, all around

I started doubting myself

And everything that had happened with us, it wasn’t all by itself

There’s still not a lot that I can think, maybe nothing has sank

I go out of words, totally blank

There’s only so many ways you can express your feeling

I was never good at it, I am always reeling

Within me there’s a riot

So out of all the things, I choose to stay quiet.

Can't Sleep It Off :|

Selfish.

Mean.

Liar.

Think only about yourself.

Pretend.

Few words you would never expect to hear from a few people. But when you do, everything seems to fall apart.

Anger subsides, you get over the sadness, but when you get hurt and hurt that bad, it’s not at all easy to push it at the back of your mind, let alone forget about it or not think of it.

And even after all this; you still can’t get yourself to hate those people. You can’t even think ill of them. You start thinking that they might be as miserable as you are, they might also be going through hell thinking what all you might have said. As a result you start doubting yourself and your self respect takes a downtrip to hell.

Have you spent crying yourself to sleep because of me? Have you blamed yourself over and over again? Have you thought of anything about how miserable I am? Have you thought how am coping with my problems all alone because you asked me to deal with them myself? I guess not.

Then you start to think that even if you said the bad things, you did apologize and they were nowhere near to what you got to hear in return. Also, even if you did say equally bad things, you did apologize. But the apology never came from the other side. Had it come, you wouldn’t have missed if even if it was not genuine, because in between all the crap, you were just looking out for one apology to make yourself believe that you’re not making a complete fool out of you.

Everything was so much easier when you didn’t want anyone by your side, you didn’t want anybody to hug you and stay with you while you cried thinking about your fears or insecurities.

Maybe it should stay that way – without the willingness to share anything with anybody or get anyone’s hug.

Life is cruel at times, after all.

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.

~ The day her heart changed ~

        

She was in high spirits to be giving the last exam of her high school. Little did she know that her spirits would die soon. She walked out of the gates, found her friends joking around. Surroundings were noisy, everyone busy deciding where they should party. And then she remembered. She had to confirm some news she had heard recently. Scrounging in crowd, she finally spotted her batch mate. With all the courage she could gather, she walked up to him, carefully chose her words and said, “I heard your brother isn’t well. Is everything all alright?” He could sense the tension lingering in the air but he instantly replied, “He’s good”.  That was when she knew she had to say it, so taking another deep breath she rephrased, “Is he  ...umm... suffering from  ...” and he knew what she was talking about. With her question hanging incompletely, he answered, “yes. But how do you know?”

She only heard him say ‘yes’ and rest of his words disappeared in thin air. Her mind went numb. She didn’t know what to say, how to react – to him, to her own self, to the situation. She just turned around and started walking. And before she knew, she was crossing her friends without hearing their continuous calls and in some time, she was home.  She rang the bell and her mother answered the door. There must have been something her mother had seen on her face that she didn’t say a word. She quietly went her room where she sat on her bed, staring blankly in air. She didn’t look up when her mother came to sit beside her.

Her mother wasn’t expecting her anytime soon, since she knew it was the last exam and it was positive that she would go out with her friends but there she was; her face looked scared. She put her arm around her daughter and her daughter suddenly cuddled in her arms and started crying. In between the loud sobs, she heard her say, “Kunal has blood cancer”.  And she said no more for she knew nothing could help her daughter other than crying. So, she let her do so.

Kunal was her senior. She became a good friend of his in a very short period of time. He was the sweetest guy she had ever seen, with a caring heart like no other. They became friends on a random day and had talked often since then. He had proposed to her but she never thought of him as more than a friend so they remained friends. But ever since he had proposed her, she started to feel a little bugged with his flirting and mostly because she knew she was hurting him every moment she talked to him. She knew it was difficult for him but she couldn’t do anything. She got irritated and often she ended up being rude to him; without any intention to do so. And that was why she was crying.

All day and the night that followed, she sat in her dark room and cried. She was angry with God for what he did to him. He didn’t deserve all that and on top of it, why had He made her go through all that. Knowing that she had hurt a dying heart killed her too. More than God, she was angry with herself.

The only time she had stopped crying was when her father entered her room. In a chat for less than few minutes, because also he knew nothing could help her, he told her to be strong and face the reality. He asked her to make best of the opportunity; now at least she knew the truth and she could, as a minimum, try to make upto him. Then he walked out, leaving her alone to deal with the situation.

She was angry, scared, sad, wounded and helpless at the same time. She cried herself to sleep and when she woke up next morning, she found Kunal waiting for her in the drawing room. She couldn’t gather the courage to face him but she had to. She had decided last night that she would be strong and she would do anything to keep him happy now. Her heart still aching, she pulled herself out of the bed, washed her face and sat in front of him. For a few minutes, there was deafening silence in the room. He was the one to speak, “how are you?” She couldn’t believe her ears; the guy who was suffering from a terminal disease is asking her how she was? She felt a lump in her throat and all she could do was to nod at his question. Another period of silence. And then, he finally talked.

“Please, don’t cry. I have come to terms in dealing with it and I don’t know how you got to know but I am glad I don’t have to hide it from you anymore. It’s saddening, I agree, but nothing can be done. Am living happily and that’s what I want from you to. I want you to be happy and cheerful like you always are. Don’t let this affect you in any way because I know you’ll always be with me, even when am irritating. And I want nothing more.” She sighed at that. She stood up and went to sit beside him. And for the first time she looked straight in his eyes. She could see fear in his eyes - fear of death, fear of losing his friends, fear of losing his family. She just sat there, staring at him for she had no words to say. So he continued, “Don’t worry. I am going through treatment and hopefully I’ll be fine one day. I want to stay happy and not waste any moment being sad so please, cheer up. Let’s not talk about this ever again and lead our lives normally.”

After sitting with her for few more hours, he left. She felt little better for all the things he had said but she still couldn’t believe; how can God create such a guy with a pure heart like that and not let him live? But like he said, nothing can be done. Accepting the harsh reality, she decided it was time she got up and continued with her life because that was the best she could do. From then on, she made sure that she told people how good they were, how lucky she was to have them in her life, and how lucky they were to have a good life. And from that very day, her view had changed.

| Infatuation |

 

A giggle escapes my teeth,

when ii think about the fluttering butterflies, my stomach seethe           

Across the hall, ii see him chatting

talking to his friends, they're happily patting

An urge runs down my spine

to keep staring at him, the guy who's a sparkling shine

Captivated by the unknown factor

there's not a word to him ii wanna utter

I don't feel like giving up, i know i'vnt wasted my time

not wasted it believing, he could ever be mine

It's not a case of a friendship turned into love

so there's no chance of a heartbreak, not any dying dove

Thats why ii don't fear,

to keep gazing at him, ii know there won't be any tear

For a person like me, an extrovert

these sensations are new, as into words my thoughts instantly convert

To him, my feelings, ii don't share

he's a popular guy, who wouldn't care

Because ii know I'm not "higher class"

i'm something he would just surpass

This thought might get me disturbed,

but knowing that ii ain't making any effort, my emotions aren't perturbed

Somehow ii don't repent that ii aint making an attempt 

it's the gazing with which my heart is contempt

Coz with a try, there can be a friendship's creation

merely atm all ii want to experience, is a beautiful feeling called infatuation.