Just another Broken Heart

Days pass by- he’d stopped looking at the calendar now; his wait long ceased. But had it really? For if it had, he would’ve forgotten about her- or at least stopped thinking about her. He would’ve at least stopped reminiscing the times they spent together; the hours that they shared- and the dreams. He would’ve stopped wondering if she’d been to China yet; or seen the rare white tiger. He would’ve stopped worrying she might really give bungee jumping a try. She could hurt herself that way. He wouldn't think about that formidable temper of hers and hope no one would provoked it- for her sake and theirs. This, he still thought about with a wry smile. A smile on his face that had become a rare phenomenon. As rare as those white tigers of hers.
He still remembered how she sat on the sofa curled up and all ready with popcorn to watch her favorite soap. The one he hated- yet he would listen on to the latest developments with patience that still amazed him. All because she wanted to talk about it. He wondered if she still watched it. He did- at times.
Did she know Sophia got married? He missed her at the wedding. He didn’t want to go- yet he did. He was hoping he’d see her there. She wouldn’t have liked her husband- not really. She would have considered him too proud. He still did that- trying to see people, as she would have. That hampered his judgment. Since they both had such differences in opinion. Yet he couldn’t seem to stop being that way. People said he needed to get over her. He knew he did. He just couldn’t figure out how.
So that was what he had been thinking. He’d give himself one week to get over her. He still had those valiums she used. All those extra bottles she stored. He didn’t throw them away. He figured he might find a use for them. One week he gave himself. Good-bye love.

Unconditional Love

A smile that lights up the face of a child when he sees his parents is like no other. The trust, affection and love in the smile are enough of make a man out of any cynic.
The mother, sleeping late because of her child, waking countless times in the night for him and changing her entire routine for the little one makes one wonder what propels such behavior.
What then, changes? As he grows old the love does not seem to mature? Somehow, the affection seems lacking- the trust dwindles and as a child becomes a man, at times it changes to distrust.
A feminist changes her views, throws her feminist gear and hugs the maternity wear- loves her child as no other; and loves him unconditionally.
Would she do so, I wonder, if she could foresee the future? If she could see her beloved son escorting his mother to a nursing home- sending a card or so every mother’s day, mind. No one can say the son does not care about the old lady. Why, did he not mail her a card just last year? He’ll mail one this year too- is in no doubt.
If she could foresee the arguments they were to have, the fights, the “I hate you”s flung offhandedly or even those “you don’t really care about me”- would she really have given up her job? Her night’s sleep? Every penny of her savings on his toys, accessories, luxuries, whims? Or would she have forced herself to do as he claimed? ‘Not really cared about him’? That, you see, is the problem with unconditional love. You cannot help it. Their lack of care, lack of understanding and lack of reciprocating the love you give- may hurt you; but you cannot stop yourself from loving them anyway. Hurting- and loving. Hating the turn the events have taken- and loving. Always loving. Merciless unconditional love.

Silence

The Offensive, placid silence
Gnawing my senses slow
Methodically working the nerves
Worse than the worst of foes.

A Moment Of Enlightenment

The lights went out and she was suddenly seized by a wave of panic. She was not a person to scare easily. Yet the panic and dread she felt would not go away. As she lay in her bed unmoving she thought, “this is how it will feel when I die. Only, the bed wont be as soft, nor the grave this roomy.” She spread her hands as far as she could, breathing deeply in the air- still cool from the air conditioner that had been on before the light out. “I will not be able to move freely. The air will be murky- suffocating. I will probably have been tied.”
The panic had subsided- leaving only dread behind. She was remembering her colleague who had died last year. “She was young- so young. Death did not care about that, did it? It surrounded her anyway. Her long hair, delicate body- all part of dust now. What did she feel as her soul was extracted from her body? Pain? Dread? Relief? What will I feel? There is no avoiding it. No two ways about it. I will die. What do I have to show for my life? A few useless degrees? A job I spend fifty hours a week on? Who have I been kind to recently? No one. When did I last remember my God? When did I last beg for forgiveness? Can’t remember. Who will help me out? My boss? My friends? Even mothers wont help their children that day- who am I to depend upon friends.”
She kept thinking, sweating- even though the air was still cool. The lights were back. She hadn’t noticed. She was still in a world of her own. She did not know where this had come from.
“ Ah- God; well, the thing is, I was too busy with the job, the outings with my friends, sleeping and entertaining myself to think about this life. Had I the time, the opportunity- no doubt I would’ve worshipped myself to stupor.” She could just see herself nodding with conviction. “You bet I would’ve!”
She gulped. What if she was asked the amount of time she spent being ‘bored’, with ‘nothing to do’ or even the time she wasted away strolling in the malls with no intent on buying anything!?! How many excuses could she think of? When in all honesty, she did not feel like praying.
She wondered had she been born blind and asked God why he had not given her the two standard eyes- and He replied he didn’t feel like it; or worse, since he wasn’t in the mood he felt he ought not to do it; what would she have done? She had never really given her eyes a second thought- not even a first would be more accurate. Yet they were one of her greatest assets. Then there were her ears…. Everything He had given her was worth more than everything she had ever earned. Yet she blatantly refused to thank Him for it all. Where would it all lead? Not to the elevated position one wished for, she was sure. That was why, fifteen minutes after the lights had come on again, the she in question was knelt before her creator begging for forgiveness and asking for enlightenment to the right path

Deception

I am tired of this pretense. This execrable place I am trapped in. I am expected to compete with friends and foes alike. Only, with friends it is subtle. Rivalry in everything. Why can I not be myself? Why can I not stop worrying how what I do will stand in with what they do? Why can I not do what pleases me rather than doing what will stand out and make friends and foes squirm and writhe with jealousy. Why can I not use the words I like, the style I prefer- rather than flip open the Webster for baffling words and a style that is just not me?
I am exhausted trying to be someone I am not in front of friends. Yet I continue to do so. It is because they continue to do the same with me. Why can they not admit a fault? Why do they have to adorn it so as it appears a rare quality?
Am I a pessimist? I was not always this way. Why have I changed? Why can’t I enjoy life as others do? Take joy in upping someone- and trying to up yet another someone a while after. Once, I valued friends. Went to the reunions regularly; returned all the calls- made a few of my own; got the gifts; tolerated their moods, talks- and smiled in the face of an insult. After all, I had my moments too. I got the gifts too; someone was there to listen to my mumbo jumbo when I was down in the mouth about the reading the weighing scale showed; someone was always there to make sympathizing noises about how unfair my life was.
They are still here. That is the problem. I do not want them anymore. I’d rather gulp down a valium or a Prozac when I’m down- I’d rather eat the Nandos chocolate mousse cake when the weighing scale gives me yet another heart wrenching reading; and I’d rather tell them to get a life and sort out their own dirty problems.
I have it all sorted out- yet I do not do what I want. Deep down I am a coward. And the only consoling thought that I can find in this entire mess is that everyone around me is one.

An Ode

Mother, the immaculate.
The incarnation of love
The embodiment of strength.

Forgiving the wrongs,
Forgetting the pains
That small smile with love
As I hurt you yet again.

Understanding my fears
Before I put them in words
Cast off my pains
Wiped away my tears.

Looking up with reverence
I know I cannot pay you back.
But I do hope for guidance
Now that I’m on the same track.