On a rainy afternoon, I yearn for peace.
Silence and peace, can they mean the same? Amidst the chaos, I long for some quiet, some solitude. I wish for some sign to tell me that I did the correct thing, that I let you go for my the sake of sanity ; that I don’t wait at the window expecting you to turn up. Watching the downpour, I can’t help but wonder of the reason some people dislike the rain. Personally, I love the rain because it can signify a lot of things. It can soothe you when you cry, showing that maybe the universe is upset as well, at your sadness. It can uplift your mood, when you wait expectantly, for new ideas, new opportunities to take shape, ones which could change your life forever.
I stayed when you asked me to, when you didn’t receive my calls for 5 days straight. I stayed when you were ill, looking after you as though you were my own. I stayed when the first bruise changed colour and even when you said you needed time to think over things. Watching the rain, I wonder how I never thought what I wanted. I never thought of what would make me happy. After being told a hundred times of how to think, how to act, somewhere I lost the ability to make up my own mind. Be it something as mundane as picking out clothes, or greeting someone on the streets, I pushed it all into a latent corner of my mind. I was convinced that making others happy was of utmost importance. You see, when you’re fed a lie innumerable times, somewhere you begin to make it your truth, or at least doubt your own truth ; which is exactly what you wanted, to watch me suffer, because it made you feel superior. Finally gaining some sort of control over my confused, weak mind, if you would, I asked you to come clean to my kinsmen, about where you thought we were headed for. I will never forget your reaction and thank God for that. It seems I hadn’t lost all my conscience, after all. I picked up my bags, disposed off all signs of your presence in my life and headed out of that tall, beautiful wooden door towards the sunshine ; towards the beautiful meadows blooming with Jasmine flowers.
Thank God for that flicker of hope, when I looked towards the sky and realized that the universe was giving me a sign, an indication to let go. A sign that my peace could be different than yours and that it was perfectly normal. It was this one moment, this enlightenment that made a cynic like me thankful for a higher power. Something I could hold onto, something to find strength from, when everyone else left my corner. It was then, that I truly realized- Zindagi Gulzar hai.
Mausam beete, par ek dua hamesha rahi.
Ek dua, ki tum salamat raho. Khush raho, aabad raho. Muskuraho aur zindagi guzaro, bina koi ranj rakhe- bina koi shart ya malaal ke. Ranj uss waqt ki jo saath guzaare, shart uss baat ki kisi ke na hone se tumhari zindagi tham jaaye.
Hum rahe ya na rahe, tum yuhi muskurana; mohabbat karna, kisi aur se hi sahi.
Na chahte huye uss mausam ke palatne ki dua humne ki, uss andhere waqt ke dhalne ki dua humne ki.
Mausam beete, par ek dua hamesha rahi.
Hum muskurate hai aapko yaad karke
Hum muskurate hai aapko yaad karke
Hum sehte rahe zulm, aapse mohabbat karke
Hey, little girl. Welcome back! My apologies that I kept you waiting all this while. What have you been up to? Have you been up to no good, as earlier, or have you heeded my advice? Do you have, yet again, some help to request from Santa this Christmas, or have you been protecting yourself, like I taught you last time? What of your social circle, your loved ones, have you been giving them numerous chances,as always, in the hope that they would understand your dilemma, that you wouldn’t need to raise your voice in order to be heard,above all the noise,over and over again? Have you disappointed yourself again, trusting and waiting for things that may never happen- for that one question to be happily answered or that one coveted object,which may be a necessity for you, but is only a luxury item in the eyes of you loved ones ? Are you guarding yourself too much, or too little, from even those you think you ought not to? So many questions and so little clarity. Too much of anything can be a bad thing, you know?
I know you well enough by now. You wouldn’t have come running to me, if you hadn’t failed humongously in keeping your promise. I see you, day in and day out, trying to look at the brighter side of going back on your word, but ready to light up like a matchstick at any moment. You took new vows, known only to a select few, forgetting our pact. Did you think there weren’t any repercussions of breaking your promise, the only one which you made to yourself back in your teen years? Did you think I wouldn’t tempt you back again into the deal we sealed, then, by showing you examples to strengthen your resolve in your vow which you had made to me? For this betrayal of yours, I will break you down everyday, bit by bit and show you how alone albeit peaceful life could have been, if only you hadn’t jumped in joy at the first moment of realization, or hadn’t agreed to the friendship on that fateful day, skipping the company of the people who gave you company in your daily commute. Cheers to your destruction, bit by bit. अगर इसे बचाना कहते है, तो बर्बादी किसे कहते है ?
Darling, do you like what you see?Take a good look. Would you still love me? Do you like the rivers of red streaming down my arms? Do you the glistening drops staining across my body? Do you feel satisfied that they aren’t taped up, bandaged or let to heal any other way? Are you glad that they bleed, cut open afresh everytime you pass a cruel comment? Do you know that everytime you say something unpleasant, I get an opportunity to again dub myself with golden words; words which you might shudder on hearing; words which you might not call someone by, even in your wildest dreams? Do you like it when I bleed? Do you like to stab me over and over again ? If you do, if it gives you happiness, I might just give in to your demand. Let you do as you wish. Because I love you. But, tell me, pray if the rivers would ever stop flowing. Tell me, if you want me to stop loving you. Tell me, if I can ever call myself by my name when I’m stabbed, rather than the golden words- irresponsible, irrelevant, careless slut. Tell me if unloving you would make the glistening stop. Tell me if you would meet me in 10 years and there would be unsaid regrets and apologies between us. Tell me if the butterflies in my stomach are due to my fluttering heart or the now familiar glistening which has become a part of me. Would you still love me? Would you stay? Or has the question now become, do I really want you or just the glistening to stop, because quite frankly, my love, I think it’s all become the same now. I can say in conclusion that you’ve changed the meaning of the word ‘love’ for me. I still love you, always have and always will. But I will hate myself equally for loving you. Would you still love me?
Would you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?
Why do you slip away, my dear, when I think I’ve finally found you?
Why do you feel the need to cut all ties when, for I’m once, I’m truly happy about our equation?
All those laughs we shared, all those crying sessions we saw each other through, were they pointless, in the end?
Whenever I feel like jumping in joy, expecting you to pick up the phone and call me first, is that all in vain?
Do you not feel the need anymore, for me to be your 3am friend, like how we were in school? Have you found someone else, or is it just me who’s mistaken?
Whether there is a replacement, I need to know. For if so, I will train my eyes not to search for your number when my phone rings. For if so, I will let go of my dream of having a sister. For if so, I’ll go of the childish notion that people of the same gender can have a bond which is thicker than blood.
If so, don’t ask me to stop loving you. If so, just give me a goodbye, so that I know we truly mattered.
Perception. It’s a funny word, isn’t it? This little word in the vocabulary is supposed to tell you about the method of forming opinions on matters. This tiny fellow is supposed to make you understand human mentality. It’s used to give a deeper meaning to things. But is it enough? Can one word be sufficient to encapsulate all the emotions, the dilemma you face under varied circumstances on a daily basis? How is it supposed to explain the chill in your bones on holding a knife to your once exposed wounds, which now lay healing, with you in the ‘pinkest of health’ – the same object, which a mother uses to cook food for her family? How will it explain the overwhelmed feeling a homeless child experiences, when seemingly the ‘haves’ distribute a miniscule amount of their happiness out on the streets? Take fire, for example. It can either translate into a festival of lights in some countries or turn into endless anguish for a victim of burns, now laid to waste by a spurned narrow minded fellow being. How is one word enough to express all these emotions? Take the congratulatory word ‘mubarak’, for instance. For some, it’s a congratulatory message, filled with well wishes and love; and a bitter reminder of a ruthless dictator for others.
Some beautiful vocabularies contain words like ‘hiraeth’.
The devastatingly beautiful word: Hiraeth.
It is a Welsh word, that inspires a nostalgic longing, a sort of melancholic homesickness.
It is also a word used to describe a time or place you cannot return to, or one that never was. Similarly, hiraeth can be the yearning for something that cannot be experienced, attained or completed. The piece of music you won’t hear, or the garden you’ll never visit. Perhaps a person you won’t ever talk to, or a someone who never existed at all.
When you can long for something which never existed, how can one word be enough for all that I feel for you, my beloved?
हाँ, हम दोस्त थें। हम दोस्त थे तबतक , जबतक आप किसी और के हुएँ। फिर उस आग में, न हम रहें, न वो वक्त।
Wistfully watching the heroine’s bracelet getting stuck in the hero’s shirt. Little did she know, years later, her stethoscope would do the same magic with his labcoat
Reasons to give up are limitless. But you need to grow a pair, become strong and surprise me with your success one day. It’s not your time to go, yet.
Wishing I wasn’t yours,
The suicide note you wrote