Just around the corner

It’s just around the corner. Just one more turn and you’ll be there, he kept telling himself, trying to will himself to continue to move on.

But the corner passed and he was no closer to the end than he was an hour and a half ago when he told himself the same thing.

His feet complained. He’d been on them for far too long. They were now aching and protesting l.

He would feel the soreness of every inch of his being, even his soul. He could feel them complain threatening to just to give up on him.

By now he was all by himself. The ones who started with him had long gone ahead and he was left behind. In fact, he could see them on the other side of the route waving at him cheering on.

He felt disheartened and drained.

Even his mind began to play tricks on him, to question his sanity to undertake this arduous undertaking. Making him wonder what had gotten into him to even think he could do this. Making him wonder if he was going round in circles. Making wonder when would it all come to an end. Whether he should just give up.

But despite it all, in a little corner of his mind there was hope, trying to fan that small spark within him that kept spurring him on.

A little voice deep within telling him that he got this despite all his aches and pains and fatigue. Telling him, as cliched as it may sound, he didn’t come so far to just give up. He didn’t put all this effort just to quit before the finish.

He had come so far, he just couldn’t give up.

So he willed him to just keeping moving. And like Dory he sang to himself,

“Just keep running, running, what do we do we keep running!”

And lo and behold, when he turned that final corner the finish line came insight.

He spotted his friends and well wishers standing at the finish line cheering him on.

And so with one final push, he gave it all he could, and dashed across the line much to the delight of those gathered there.

He raised his arms in ecstasy, fell to his knees with tears streaming down his cheek glad that he didn’t give up when he felt like giving up, for believing that his destination was just around the corner, even when it was not.

Father and Son: An unspoken conversation

They sat there eating in silence, trying hard not to make an already awkward situation even more awkward. 

The air between them was so rife and thick  with tension that you could cut it with a knife. The silence between them was deafening.

Given a chance they would rather be anywhere but here. But then they had made a promise to her, after she managed to broker an uneasy truce, and so they chose to honour the promise even after she was gone.

Why couldn’t he be like other boys, he thought as he glanced at the boy sitting opposite him. Why couldn’t he just be normal. But no he had to go and be someone different. 

He remembered that long ago he too was once like he was now, wanting to be different, wanting to be someone who would make his mark, someone who would standout form the crowd. But this was not what he did!

He’s still young , he thought, and had his whole life in front of him to do whatever he chose to do, maybe even find a girl and settle down. If he wanted he could marry. But no, he had to go and choose to be something different, someone different. He had to go and make life difficult, make his life complicated. 

Like his wife he too was worried what was in store for him cause he knew life wouldn’t be easy and the world and society wouldn’t be kind to someone like him, in fact it can be cruel to someone like him.

How he wished he would just slow down and be calm, take some  time to think and think a lot. He could  think of everything what he got. He would still be here tomorrow but his dreams may not.

He’s still young and eager and easily malleable, and this was not his fault. But it was not the time to make a change cause there’s a lot he would have to go through. 

Oh only if he could be a normal boy like any other boy, he thought.

As he sat there eating  in silence he felt this uneasiness in his system. He felt uncomfortable. But he had promised his mother, and he was here to honour his promise to her.

How he wished he would just understand, he thought, as he tried to glance to the older man sitting across from him. Why couldn’t he just listen to what he had to say. But when he tried to explain, he would just turn and walk away.

He could understand all his hopes and dreams, but these were not his dreams, it was not the one that he dreamt. This was not who he was. This was who he chose to be.

He knew it would be difficult to accept it but he had to accept it, there were no two ways  about it. 

From the moment he could talk he was ordered to listen, not being allowed to say what he wanted to say, not being heard what he had to say.

This was always going to be same as along as he refused to listen, as long as he refused to understand, as long as he refused to see his point of view. 

This was going to be same old story no matter how much he tried, no matter how they tried to change the narrative.

So they ate in silence, exchanged a few forced pleasantries, a forced hug and went their way hoping they would never have to do this again, but knowing they would do it again cause they had promised her, cause they knew there was a thread, though fragile, bound them together, kept pulling them back to each other.

A Summer Romance

Their’s was a summer romance, but somewhere down the line he lost his heart and he fell in love. Unknowest to him, he didn’t feel the same way.

He made it known to him, from the start, that he was not looking, he was not looking for anything substantial, anything long-term, anything that would be labelled. But despite it all he fell in love with him.

He knew what he was getting into, and though he tried to ground himself, he let it his heart heart flutter, he let his guard down, brought down the fences that he put up to keep the unwanted out, to keep them from trampling on his lawn that he cultivated with pain. He let himself be vulnerable and bare for him.

He waited with baited breath for his call, and cancelled all his plan just in case he called, if he wanted to meet , or just hangout, or to just hookup. He was ready to drop it all just to spend sometime with him. He was always willing to drop it all just spend time with him. 

His heart fluttered whenever he used “us” to refer to them. He quivered whenever he touched him, whenever he  put his hand on his shoulder, or grabbed him by his waist. 

When he hugged him him he felt he could melt into him, just having his body pressed against his.

And he felt he could die whenever he kissed him, even when it was just a simple peck on cheek, or kiss on his forehead. To feel his lips against his, against his skin, was all he wanted in his life.

He cherished every moment they spent tangled between the sheet. He called it hooking up, but for him it was making love. He gave himself wholely to him, to do what he pleased, and in it he found pleasure.

He loved the their clandestine meetings , they making out in places where he would never dare to be this bold, to be this open.

He made him feel bold. He made him feel free. He made him feel sexy. He made him feel desired. Most of all, he made him feel loved.

And then with the end of summer he was gone, leaving him behind pick the pieces of his broken heart. He had moved on to another, just like he said he would. He said he was free bird who couldn’t be caged. Who’s spirit couldn’t be pinned down.

And though he knew this day would come, cause he knew he was never his, but he rued the fact he let his heart love him. He cursed himself for letting himself fall in love (he couldn’t curse him, no matter how bad he would have wanted to).

He felt hurt and betrayed by himself though he tried to stay practical and grounded, though he knew what was to come.

So he let him slip away, let him become a memory, cause he was never his, cause it was only summer romance for him, but in this all he lost his heart and got it hurt.

The Stage… His Home

As he got ready, he stared at his reflection. He had clearly outdone himself. The person staring back at him was not a young handsome man but a beautiful gorgeous woman, who was decked in regal splendour. 

Her face was painted just right, as if it was painted for the Gods. The beautiful , dark red bindi adorned her forehead. She had her hair tied in a bun and covered with sweet smelling kajra. She was wearing a beautiful necklace and the most gorgeous and colourful bangles.

She was draped in the most beautiful nauvari, and had a kamar patta across her waist. On her ankles she wore ghungroos that created sweet sound with each step. He had certainly outdone himself.

He was introduced to the dance form as a child, in the films his parents took him for. As he grew up, his love for it grew deeper and he decided to do research on it. The more he learned about it the more he fell in love with it. He wanted to be part of it. But he couldn’t be a nat, he had to be in front centre. He was mesmerised by the movement of the dancer and the way she not only entertained her audience but how she captivated and held their attention, how she got them involved in her performance.

As a child he was bullied for being effimate. He was called names like bhailya, chackha, Hijra that really hurt him. But as he grew up he realised that the names he was called had more honour than the people who called him those names.

He was a disappointment to his father. He wasn’t the son he had hope for. He wanted a son that was more manly and not domesticated and effimate. He didn’t leave single moment to let him know his disappointment. And knowing what he was doing he was all the more a disappointment to his father , and he had somehow managed to soils the good name of his family.

His mother on the other hand was supportive of him, more kind and loving. She loved him unconditionally. In fact, he was wearing a nauvari she had given. How he wished she could be here, to be part of his first stage performance, to witness how happy he was.

He dabbed off the tear that was welling in his eyes, trying not to let let it smudge his kajal.

Just then the stage hand came into the dressing room to inform that it was time for his performance.

His heart began beating hard against his chest, racing at 100 miles an hour. He could feel the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

As he walked to the stage he tried to drown the voices in his head, in each step he took, in the sounds of his ghungroos. He tried to tune them out. 

He draped his palo over his head so he was able to conceal his identity. He wondered if they would be able to guess that this performer was a man, not a woman who traditionally performed it.

As he climbed up the stage, he touched it, paying respect to this stage, grateful to the  platform it provided, seeking its blissing for what he was about to do.

He held his breath as he patiently waited to hear the dholki. Once it started he began to move his feet so that the sound of his ghungroos were in sync with it beats, while at the same time keeping his pallo draped over his head, still concealing his identity from the audience.

When he finally threw over the pallo, he waited for a second to see the audience’s reaction. Were  they able to guess his gender?

He felt a sense of triumph when he realised that they couldn’t. For them he was just a beautiful performer.

As the song began to play he let the music take total control of him. All his nerves, his fears, his anxiety, went right out of the window. He felt one with the stage.

He lip synced the lyrics of the songs as if the words were coming out of his mouth, as if he was actually singing the song. As if he was lip syncing for his life, lip syncing for his legacy. 

He used every part of his body to express every word  of the song. He used the gunghroos on his feet to keep beat with the song. He let his hip sway to the music, using his hands to gesture and his eyes to express the sensuality of the song.

He felt an unbridled joy, and he let this joy fuel the energy he needed to performance. He let it flow from every pore of his being.

He danced with all his heart. He danced, not like a fool in a trance, but with elegance and grace, with the right amount of sensuality, that didn’t come across vulgar or obscene. He danced with all his heart, getting swept up by the music.

He occasionally stopped to tease the audience l, to get them involved in the performance, and they in turn, hooted and howled, whistled and cheered even louder, egging him on.

Just as the music began to reach its crescendo, he began spinning around the stage, going faster and faster as the the music picked up pace, finally falling to his knees and sliding to the front of the stage as the song reached its climax.

He raise his hand in pose, breathing heavily, almost panting from the exertion of the spins, waiting with bathed breath for the reaction of the audience.

And they erupted with applause, clapping and cheering for him, asking for an  encore. The whole auditorium reverberated from the sound of their applause and chants of “once more”.

It was in this moment he realised that this was what he was meant to do. This was where he was meant to be. This was his stage, this was his home!

The Wrinkle

She sat in front of the mirror, softly humming as she combed her tresses…

“I feel pretty, oh so pretty

I feel pretty and witty and gay

And I pity anyone who isn’t me today!”

Oh how she wish, she could say…

“Mirror, mirror, on the world

Who’s the fairest of them all?”

And if her mirror could reply back, it would have sure declared she as the fairest of them all.

She seemed mighty pleased with her reflection, borderlinning on being vain. It didn’t matter to her, she was pretty and beautiful and vain.

And then she saw it! A wrinkle on her face. How was this even possible! She was only… she stopped short… a lady never reveals her age… even in her thoughts.

How was it even possible, considering her skin care routine?

“Why God why!” She lamented, “why are you doing this to me? Why have you forsaken me!”

Now she would have to go to the spa, adopt a new skin care routine. She would need to buy better brands, the ones she used weren’t working. And those new brands are showing going to cost her lot.

What if these too didn’t work, she would need to take Botox injection. She wondered how much would they cost? Would it be painful? How many injections would she need to take? How big a hole is it going to burn in her pocket? Could she even afford to take at least one? If she could, would it be affective? Would men find her attractive anymore?

So many questions, and no answer insight. She was stressing herself thin.

And just as she continued to stress herself, a second wrinkle appeared causing her to faint on the spot on its sighting.

The Last Rites

They met each other at a conference. The moment he saw him , his Gay-dar started buzzing. He wanted to know him. It wasn’t like he was desperate for him, but there was something attractive about him, a magnetic personality, with a face and smile to-die-for, with a fit body under those clothes. This thought made him hot under the collar, a bit embarrassed as he literally swooned, undressing him with his eyes.

Somehow he found it in himself to introduce himself, after all he had a confidence in himself, but somehow he knew this one was different, unlike the ones found on dating apps, for people to hook up.

He was surrounded by a group of ladies, who were desperately trying to get his attention, and why not, a gorgeous man like him deserved his own entourage. He felt a  pang of pity for these women as they didn’t  stand a chance, or did they?

He used an exercise of discussion, to swoop him away, a white knight rescuing a maiden fair. He smiled at the thought.

When they were safe from the crowd, he thanked him for coming to his rescue. To which they both burst into laughter. They introduced themselves. Though they kept their respective orientation under wraps, they agreed to meet each other for drinks.

The rest of the conference, he kept staring at his watch trying to will time to go fast. But it seemed like time had chosen the day to take it nice and easy.

He had butterflies flapping around his stomach, while he waited for him at the bar, afraid he may have come on too strong. He hopefully he would come. This was so unlike him. He dated men before, and been on the other side. Was this god’s way of punishing him?

When he finally came , he felt a relief, which was quickly replaced by a giddy feeling. He could swear, at that moment, he turned crimson.

He couldn’t actually remember what they discussed, all he could remember was his eye, how they lit up, his lips, the dimples they formed when he smiled. He so wanted to grab him and kiss him, but he had to control himself.

That night, they formed a  friendship, which was sealed with a hug, and not a kiss. They exchanged number.

Overtime they met over coffee and drinks, went for movies together, shopped together. They constantly texted and called each other.  He so wanted to make a move on him, but he had to contain himself. After all he wasn’t a guy you wanted to fuck and forget. He was a type of guy who you could come home to, and share the rest of your life with. The only thing stopping him was that he had not really mentioned about his sexuality.

Then one evening, after a few drinks, they were walking in the park. There was something on his cheek, which he tried to brush off. Suddenly, he was holding his face, staring into each other’s eyes. And then he leaned in and kissed him. 

He sweared that in that one moment his heart stopped beating, his world stood still, a moment frozen in time.

When he came out of his dream, the first thing he saw was his irresistible smile, and then he heard the words come out of his mouth admitting that he really liked, to which, he dumbly responded, thank you.

He remembered how embarrassed he felt, but it was a memory that they had a good laugh over. He quickly tried snap out of this trance, only to have him kiss even more passionately, and this time he kissed back too. He felt like he died and went to heaven, if heaven was being in his arms.

They walked for a while in the park, holding on to each other’s hand, smiling at each other, like two teenagers discovering love for the very first time.

He took his hand  and kissed them, making him go even more crimson. He told him that he really liked him a lot, loved spending every moment with him. He would love to see where this would take them. But before they could  do that, there was something he wanted to share with him. He told him that he was married and had a son.

Suddenly the whole quickly changed for him. He couldn’t focus on what he was saying. He felt giddy once again. He had to get out of there.

His eyes were welling with tears, and walked around like a drunk, even though he tried to explain to him. He hailed a taxi, and without waiting to hear an answer, got in and instructed the driver where to go. How was it possible that his life could from heaven to hell, from a dream to a nightmare. 

He cried all the way home, and cried himself to sleep. He wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He didn’t feel like getting out of bed. He just lay there and sobbed. Why did it hurt so bad when there was nothing really between them. But somehow he felt cheated.

He refused to answer calls and messages, especially his, for he had tried calling him. He didn’t reply to any of his messages.

Then he heard a knock on the door. He tried to ignore it, hoping that the person would give up and go. But the knocks continued, and if it went any longer it would attract attention, which was the last thing that he wanted at the moment. So he finally answered the door, hoping he could get rid of the person. To his horror, it was him and he refused to go away till he was given a chance to explain himself.

He felt conflicted. There was a part of him that wanted to let him in, while the other wanted nothing to do with him. There was part that felt like a jilted lover, while the other hoped all this was some crazy, cruel prank. But most importantly he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him in this state.

But then his heart won over his head, and he let him in. He warned him that he would hear what he had to say, but there was no changing his mind, which he meekly accepted.

He asked him to sit down while he made a cup of tea  for the them.

When he took a sip of the tea, he smiled, knowing he had not been joking about the tea. After taking a couple of more sips, he placed his cup  and took his hands in his.

He desperately tried to avoid his gaze but he saw a similar hurt and sadness and pain in his eyes.

He started by apologising for the hurt he had caused him, though hurting was never his intention. He tried not to get attracted to him, but he couldn’t help being drawn to him. He didn’t want to lie to him, there was something special about him, the way he felt about him, something that he tried to avoid, but somehow he succumbed to it. He explained that he came out to his parents when he was a teenager, but they refused to believe him, and cursed him. They sent him for therapy thinking it was a mental ailment.  When he was an adult, they forced him into a marriage against his will, even resorting to emotional blackmail. He had no other option but to give in. He had hoped marriage would be better, but it turned into a living hell. His wife was aware of his orientation and used that as a weapon against him, finding every opportunity to humiliate him. Then they had a child, the Apple of his eyes, and once again she turned it into a pawn in her wicked game. She threatened to cut him off from his child if he ever tried to cut her off. She would humiliate him and his family and would take them to court.

When he finally narrated his story, he looked at him, waiting for some indication, some response. He stared into his eyes that were welling with tears. He just hugged him tight and kissed him.

That day they made love, it wasn’t just plain cranial sex, or a mere hook up, this was love which they made. It was the starting of something beautiful. With each passing day, their love for each other grew stronger. 

But it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, or even a bed roses, cause every rose comes with it share of thorns, and there was bound to be rain sometimes. He always felt like a third wheel in the marriage, a mistress. Though this hurt him a lot,they did have their fair share of arguments about it, he bore the pain because he loved him and he knew he was the most kindest, loving, generous man. He knew the predicament it  would put him in if he insisted on legitimatising their relationship. And besides Same-Sex couples were not legally recognised. 

When he least expected, his love found a way to stand-up to the emotional blackmail. He finally stood up to his family, to his wife. He had enough of living a lie, a dual life, of being bullied. He wanted to live his truth.

What followed was reasoning, which turned to tears, then to threats and abuses, but he stood his ground because of their love.

He finally broke off from his family and separated from his wife and child. He lost the custody of his child, and paid his ex-wife a big fat alimony. His family berated him and disowned him, but they focused their anger on him, their sons love, blaming him for corrupting their son.

As painful as the separation was, it had to be done. He knew he had lost so much for him, for them. He would wake up at night to sound of his sobbing. It took him a while to grieve this loss, but he somehow managed to do it. And when he had finished the grieving process there was a sense of freedom, a weight lifted off his shoulders. And from that moment they began living as them.

He had moved in with him, cause he lost everything in the divorce.  It was a small place, but it became their place. Their little nook in a cruel world. Their house may have been small but their home was large, because they were each other’s home.

Over the years, they managed to get  a bigger place. He even managed to make amends with his family, and managed to get visiting right for his son. He was happy to see him happy with these amends, but he could feel their coldness. They didn’t miss a chance to insult him. But he kept quiet, knowing the happiness this had brought him.

And so their life went on, with all the twists and turns, people coming and going. The only constant was each other.

And then came the pandemic. Like everyone, they stock piled all the essentials. They  tried to stay away from the news cause it only made them more nervous. They followed all the safety protocols, even ensuring that they went out with masks and gloves and kept distance from people.

Then one day, he started feeling feverish. He began to exhibit all the symptoms of the virus. Though they tried to stay calm there was nervous undercurrent. He informed the society and his family doctor about it, who initially advised him to quarantine him at home , keep a watch for any other symptoms.

However, his fever refused to come down, and he also complained of breathlessness. The doctor advised to be hospitalised immediately as his oxygen levels were low.

He called up all his friends, took him from hospital to another, trying to find a bed for him. All this while his condition only worsened. 

Finally, when he found a bed for him, doctor informed him that he would need to be put on a ventilator. He begged them to do all what’s needed to be done, however, a consent form had to be signed, which could only be done by a blood relative, or a spouse. Since their relationship was not recognised, he couldn’t do it. In his desperation he called his family, who initially refused, but finally gave in. His father came and signed the form. However, he gave instructions that only the family should get get any information. 

So he sat there outside the hospital, waiting for any piece information on his love. However, there was none to be found. Everyone refused to give any information cause their relationship was never legal. However, there was a nurse who was sympathetic towards him and gave him bits and pieces of information. He sat there all night and all day without much budging from that place. He ran for medicines, when it was needed, running from pillar to post when they were not available. And all though he was spread thin, he refused to leave the hospital. He felt sad that no one from his love’s family stayed back.

Seeing his state, the friendly nurse told him to go home and freshen up, if there was any update, she would call him.

He knew he wouldn’t be of any help considering the state he was in, so he reluctantly went home, had a shower, ate his food, and then exhaustion took over. He didn’t how and when he fell asleep, but when he woke he saw there were a number of missed calls on his phone.

He frantically dressed up and tried to call up the number, but nobody answered. So he quickly drove to the hospital.

When he reached, he ran up to the ward, asking the receptionist for information. However, she told him that no one was there. He asked her for information of the patient who was there earlier. However, she politely told him that she could not  give him the information as he was neither a blood relative or a legal spouse of the patient. As same sex marriage or partners were not recognised, she couldn’t give him any information.

He begged and pleaded with her but she wouldn’t break hospital rules. She even threatened to call the security if he created any further ruckus.

Just at that moment the kind nurse came out. She took him to one side and tried to calm him down. She told him that he had passed away.

When she told him that he was dead, it felt like the whole world had come crashing down around him. As he was not related, the hospital reached out to his father, who after finishing of the remaining formalities they had released his remains to the family. She had tried to call him but he was not reachable, and considering the current situation they couldn’t withhold the body for too long.

He frantically tried to call his family, but no one was picking up. He ran like a maniac, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to breakthrough and blind him. The news still hadn’t sunk in. Everything felt like a blur, but he tried to keep focus. He finally got someone on the line who informed him that someone had passed away, so few people had gone to the crematorium.

He quickly made his way to the crematorium, but they wouldn’t allow him inside, as only immediate family would be allowed, and he couldn’t prove he was family. 

Somehow he made found his way inside. He ran like a mad man around the cremation ground, till he finally came across a lonely pyre where there was no one there. The person tending to the cremations informed him that the family of the deceased just performed the last rites and left.

 Seeing pyre in front him he finally broke down and began to cry. It finally hit him that he would never ever be able to see his smiling face again, feel his sensation of his arms around him, he would not be able to kiss him, make love to him ever again.

He collapsed to floor in tears and sat there till there was nothing but embers. He finally took the pot that contained all that was left of him home, hugging it as if he was hugging him.

They were brought together in life, but sickness and death and a legal system tore them apart, not even giving him the legal right to be there with him in his last rites.

Shallows... in the mood for LOVE

She could feel the butterfly flutter in the pits of her stomach. The nervousness she felt made her nauseous. But despite it all she was giddy from the anticipation of the moment. The thought of his touch on her skin sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t wait to turn around, and come face-to-face with him. The only thing being that she just hadn’t met him yet!

She was just an ordinary girl living in a modern world, wondering if she was happy in this modern world, or if she wanted something more, something that she was searching for. As she stood there on that stage, staring at an invisible audience, all these thoughts raced through her head. She stood there, with baited breath, waiting for him.

As he slowly walked on to the stage, he saw her silhouette against the stage light. He couldn’t wait to turn her round and come face to face with the beauty that stood on that stage. He wondered if this would be the start of something new, or would it just fizzle out. His heart was racing at over 100 miles an hour, making him wonder if she felt the same way too. He took a deep breath and walked towards her, just as the music began to play. 

She heard his footsteps against the wooden stage, and there was spotlight, not too bright so as to blind, not too low that they couldn’t see each other. It was just right, perfectly soft, accentuating feature. As he stood behind her, she could feel his warm breath over her shoulder, she felt his touch as he gently caressed her shoulder, spinning her around, bringing her face-to-face for the very first time, almost taking their breath away. 

For moment they were both enamoured by the other, just standing there staring at each other. He put his hands on her waist and brought her close, but not too close to make It awkward or uncomfortable for her. For a moment they were in such close proximity with each other that they breathed the same air, almost breathing in unison. She wondered if sparks would fly cause the heat he radiated almost made her feel like she would combust at any moment. And he actually felt the same way too!

As their face came in close proximity, she could almost feel his breath on her face leaving her all flushed, making her go weak in the knees. And they had a moment. She stood still with bathed breath waiting for him to make the move. He looked at her, and could feel that pull towards her. He was trying hard to fight that feeling, holding back, but like a magnet she kept drawing him to her, like a moth to the flame, an affect no other woman had had on him.

Just when she thought he would, she had to do a trust fall, and strangely she trusted that he would be there to catch her when she fall. And he did, with ease, with finesse, with class, once again coming face to face, once again feeling the heat of the moment, once again fighting the temptation of wanting to give in.

She felt he was pulling her deeper and deeper in the moment, deeper and deeper into him. She was far from the shallows, far from the safety of the shore, and the truth be told she didn’t care, she didn’t mind risking it all. She was swimming, floating, and there was no touching the ground. 

He kept feeling like he could drown in the limpid of pools of her eyes, happy to be there. They were both in the moment, living in it, swimming in it. Crashing through the surface where no one could hurt them, cause they were far from the shallows. 

He effortlessly lifted her, guided her, leading her across the stage, twirling around the stage with grace. Every moment felt elegant, every moment graceful, every moment went on and on, with them never wanting it to end. They felt like they were in a dream, in a fairy tale, never wanting to wake up from it and put an end to it. They wanted to live in that moment, just the two of them and no one else.

But then the moment had to end, cause they had to come back to reality. And just as the music began to fade away, he held her face, cupping it with both his palm, he couldn’t hold back any longer, he was ready to risk it all. He pulled her close, and  kissed her, a little hesitant if she would return his affection. To his delight, she kissed back, literally melting into him, spontaneously combusting in the heat of the moment, and like all the moment they had felt, they didn’t want it to end.

But when they finally came around, returning down to earth from soaring high up in the sky. As they parted, they embraced one final time, with their hearts racing from the events from few moments ago! They couldn’t control themselves, the way they felt for each other. They knew they needed to get to know each other more, they desired each other’s company, they had tasted blood and now they wanted more. So as they walked away they knew they had to meet each other again, had to get to know each other. Cause just that moment was not enough, cause they were far from the shallows now!

On the wings of a Marigold Petal

He sat there on that rock crying, tears streaming down his cheeks that was stained from the tears he had already cried. Where was he? How did he get here? How did he find himself in such a predicament? So many questions swimming through his head. And how would he even have answer if he didn’t know what go him here. But most importantly he was just a child.

He sat there by the ground from where he managed to dig himself out. All he could recollect this neighbouring uncle telling him to wait in his house till his mother came. He remembered the uncle giving him something to drink after which he started feeling dizzy. He remembered the uncle making him touch him in a way that made him feel awkward, a way that he didn’t like. He then Madeline  touch him and do things against his will and that he didn’t want to do and were painful. He remembered crying and screaming for his mumma. He remembered the uncle putting his hand across his mouth and then all went blank.

When he woke he found himself in the ground. He managed to dig himself out, and tried to find his way back home. But everything was different and unknown and scary. He was scared and cold and didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how he could get back. He didn’t know how long it had been. So he sat there crying, wanting to go home, and away from this strange and scary place, and to his protective arms of his mother. But how could he get away from here?

All of sudden he noticed an orange marigold petal shinning on the ground. He couldn’t help himself and want to pick it up. So he did just that. And just as the first one had appeared, another one appeared, and then the next. Soon there was whole line of marigold petals on the ground, laid like a pathway, leading him from this place, like a carpet, beckoning him to follow it and see where it would go. 

So he followed that carpet of marigold, as it lead him out of the forest and on to the streets, past busy highways and down roads and streets. He didn’t know how much he had walked  cause he didn’t feel tired at all, he just followed it where it lead him. No one seemed to notice him or the carpet of marigold.

So he followed it, till low and behold it lead him home, to a table where there was just a picture of him and a solitary marigold flower, who’s petals was the one that brought him home. Next to the picture sat his mother, sobbing, her cheeks stained from the tears she had cried, just like he had done for her.

He was so happy to see her. At the very moment he wanted to run and hug her, tell her that he had found his way home, cause he knew he was the reason for her tears. He wanted to wipe away her tears and kiss her tight, he promised he would do as she told him and never take anything from anyone, or go with anyone. But as much as he tried she was out of his reach. He couldn’t understand what had happened to him.

Just then there was a huge commotion outside. The neighbouring uncle was being taken away in chain. His mother seeing him, ran to him and began hitting him, pleading with him to tell her where he had taken her son, but the uncle seemed unfazed by her actions, only giving her a cold blank stare. He didn’t utter a single word despite of all her pleading, totally ignoring her beating and intreating as they dragged him from there.

During all this he wanted to tell his mother he was here with her, he hadn’t gone anywhere. He wanted to hold her tight and wipe her tears, but somehow he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t understand why. So he sat there by her side.

He didn’t know how long he sat there. She sat in trance like situation, not crying and speaking, not eating, not doing any thing. She finally let out a wail when they brought what looked like him. But then how was this possible when he was here by her side. He was all the more puzzled and couldn’t understand what was happening. They laid, what looked like him on the ground while all those around were crying bitterly.

When they finally dressed what looked like him and carried him away his mother cried bitterly and refused to let it go. But they managed loosen her grip and took him away. He couldn’t understand what was happening and why was it happening to him. He cried as bitterly as his mother did, from the cold and helplessness and from the pain of separation that he began to feel.

Just then a bright light appeared. It seemed to beckon him to come towards it. But he didn’t want to go and leave his mother all alone, but the light kept calling to him, pulling him towards it. And so he finally gave up, kissed his mother one last time and finally walked into the light as those marigold petals once again lit up his way.

Help ME make it through the Night

They were two lost souls, a bit broken, a bit damaged, imperfectly perfect. Their past may have scared them but it hadn’t quite broken them. They had weathered their storms, which had damaged then a bit, but they came out stronger. They were two lonely souls in this world, who felt drawn to each other, a pull towards each other, a kindred spirit. Circumstances had torn them apart but destiny had other plans and conspired to bring them together once again.

As they sat there, trying to catch up, trying make up for lost time, they could feel this pull towards each other. A tension, an undercurrent, an attraction that they both felt, but were too shy to acknowledge, too scared to accept, conscious of society and the world at large. They sat there, bring each other to speed to what had happened all the time they were apart, trying hard to fight the urge to act on how they really felt.

As they ate silently, an awkward silent, a song began to play, a slow music. In that moment, it was now or never, to be brave and acknowledge what they truly felt for each other, the feeling that they had been denying, the feeling that they were trying to push back but could not push back.

He got up from his seat and to him, taking him by the hand, taking him by surprise, pulling him towards him. He held his hand and put his hands around his waist, and began to move slowly to the music. At first, a little hesitant, a little shy, but slowly letting themselves get lost in the rhythm of the music, the beating of their hearts, which was pounding against their chest, threatening to break free.

He placed his head over his shoulder, as they moved slowly to the rhythm of the music, moving together in unison, two bodies joined by their souls. They didn’t care if the world saw this as right or wrong, they didn’t care what it would say tomorrow. They didn’t want to think what they would say tomorrow, they didn’t want to try and understand. Yesterday had come and gone and tomorrow was out of sight. All they had was here and now, they wanted to live in the moment. They needed each other cause it was sad to be all alone. They needed a friend, a company, but they also needed something much more to help them make it through the night.

As the music slowly came to an end, they slowly moved to each other, forehead to lip, nose to nose, and slowly and shyly and finally, lips meeting lip, letting them interlock, letting the passion they felt fuel it. They didn’t care who was looking, they wanted to live in that moment, live in that passion. They were two lonely souls, they didn’t want to be lonely no more.

He paid the bill and took him by the hand. They didn’t care what tomorrow would bring, all they had was here and now, they didn’t want to be alone, cause tonight they needed a friend to help them make it through the night, they needed each other to help them make it through life.

Unconditionally

Everything had to be perfect, everything had to be the way he liked it, not necessarily it was the way he wanted it, in fact he hated being fussed upon. But she was his mother and she wouldn’t have it any other way for him, other than the way he liked it.

He would be here at any moment, he phoned from the airport, the moment his plane landed, when he was able to switch on his phone, and then again when he completed with his customs check. His flight was on time and custom checks had been smooth, so be would be here soon.

She was giddy with excitement, giddy with anticipation. There was so much to do, and so little time, he would be here soon and she wanted everything to be perfect for him. She gotten his room cleaned, changed the sheets, the curtains, et.al. Fresh new sheets had been laid on his bed, the pillow cases changed and the pillows fluffed. She also draped the room with new curtains. She knew he was allergic to dust (after all she was his mother), so she had to have the room spic and span. Ah had spent the past few days ordering the servant, directing her, supervising her, ensuring everything was in place and ready.

She was preparing his favourite food, she could have the cook do it, but she wouldn’t have him eat food prepared by anyone else but her. God knows what he had been eating for all those years he had been living abroad. So she was pulling double duty, or was it triple, she lost count.

For the longest time it had between just the two them, ever since her husband’s passing. And now he had some news for her that he couldn’t wait to share with her but would do this in person. Now she was really excited at what he had to tell her, what news he bore. He had teased her for being old fashioned, for being technologically challenged. But she was comfortable that way.

She sensed him as his cab pulled into the driveway of their small little house. Call it a mother’s intuition, or some filmy effect. She hugged him tight and kissed him the moment she saw him. No matter how Big he may be, he would always be her baby. He had not come alone, a friend has come with him, a young handsome man who maybe a couple of years older than him. 

“Maa,” he said introducing his companion to her, “meet my partner Suraj”. She smiled and welcomed his friend, not really understanding what he had just told her. “Suraj and I have recently got engaged and would like to settle down together,” he said slowly, measuring each word he shared, trying to study her reaction.

For moment she was speechless, she didn’t know how to react. This was not what she had expected. She may have been old fashion, but her thinking wasn’t. If this was who he was, this was who he choose to be, whom he chose to be with, then so be with. If he was happy this way, she would be happy for him. She loved him no matter what, she loved him unconditionally. And this was a part of him and she accepted him, unconditionally.

She smiled and hugged his fiancé, kissing him on the forehead, like she would for her own, welcoming him into the family. She slapped her son for taking such a big decision and not telling her. All he could to do is hug her and burst into tears. She hugged him back, hugged him like she had hugged him the day he was born, tenderly and with love. She pulled her new son and hugged him too, one big hug, one big group hug, filled with love. This was her family.

She spent the rest of the day getting to know her new son and how they met, totally pampering him, dotting him. That day she may waited for one son, but got two in return. 

When we were Young

She saw him get out of the cab, joining his friends who had already entered the pub. Could it really be him... no it couldn’t be him, she thought. What was he doing in this part of town? What was he doing here? What was he doing in this city? So many questions swimming around her head. She peered through the windows to  check was it really him, ducking when one of his friend noticed her. So that’s how a gold fish in a fishbowl felt.

As she sat on the pavement she couldn’t help but go back to the time when they were young. A very strange place to reminisce, but she couldn’t help herself. As she stood up slowly, she once again glanced at him. Age had been kind to him, taken him in it’s stride. He seemed to be ageing well like fine wine. As she straightened herself, she glanced at her reflection in the window. She looked good, all thanks to the make up she wore, that made her look more younger, more prettier. Take it off and she just another plain Jane, who age had not been so kind. She felt a stab of pain in her heart, maybe that was why they called it window pane.

She remembered a time, which now felt like another lifetime altogether, when they were young, when they were friends. Growing up they had been very close to each other, almost inseparable. People would assume that they would fall in love, get married, have kids and start a family. This got her parents worried, cause though they liked him they didn’t approve of him because he came from the opposite end of the tracks, not from their social circle, not from their caste. He was good to have as a friend but not as a partner for life. She had been painfully aware of this, and even though she liked him, liked him a lot, she couldn’t bring herself to go against her parents wish. So when he finally found it in himself to propose to her, she put up an act, took offence to it and permanently friend zones him, even though inside her heart was breaking, more than the heart break he felt from her rejection.

She married into money, as her parents wanted her to, to social standards, into the same caste, into a bond that was accepted socially, besides her parents approval. She had pushed out two children from this. Her life was comfortable, her life was empty. She had given her love to someone who had no need for it, and this pained her. She felt pained that she let him go and in turn got trapped into a loveless marriage.

She finally found the courage to approach him. And when she tapped him on the shoulder, he turned to her, took a second to see her and then smiled and hugged her, bearing no animosity to her. for her rejection, holding no grudge. He held her tightly as if nothing happened, chatted with her animatedly, with excitement, as if nothing really happened. He was eager to know about her, what was she upto, complimenting her on her looks, congratulating her on her marriage, children, her life in general.

As she sat there listening to him, she just smiled, but on the inside she was breaking into a million pieces, she was hurting inside. She hated that she was growing old, and this made feel restless, made her feel reckless, especially knowing age and time had been kind to him, and cruel to her. She just wanted to close her eyes and take a picture of this moment, if this was the last time she would be seeing him. All she wanted to do was to turn back time and return to the time when they were young.

Goodbye... the saddest word

As he slowly began to pack things into boxes he sensed her presence in the room. It was like she was never gone, every little thing, every nook and corner bore her memories. It was like the house had absorbed her essence and now that he was packing, moving out, it was very cruelly reminding him of her. It had been two years, to the date that he had to say goodbye to her, the hardest thing he had ever done, something he never had wanted to do ever again.

He thought he had it all. He was married to the love of his life, they had a beautiful baby boy and another on the way. But life took a cruel turn. She was diagnosed with the Big C. They thought they would fight and win, after all weren’t there others who did. They believed they could, they could conquer it, overcome it. But then it was not meant to be, they weren’t meant to victorious over it. She wouldn’t be called a survivor though she was more than that, she a superhero, but then not all superheroes make it through, some perish in a snap.

So when the inevitable was imminent, she began to plan for what was to come, preparing herself, her boys (yes they had a second boy), preparing him. She oh so coolly but so cruelly suggested that he get a supermodel as a date for her funeral, he protested saying over his dead body, she coolly replied, no darling over mine. He knew that even though she joked about it, she was hurting inside. He knew it killed her that she wouldn’t be able to see her boys grow up, she wouldn’t able to witness the major events in their lives, at least not in person. And so she wrote letters to them, to be given to them on their birthdays, so they would never forget her and she would live in their hearts through her words.

Her coffin was the heaviest thing he had ever lifted, cause it not only bore her weight but it also bore the weight of his heart, which weighed a ton from the sorrow. He had to snap out of the grieving process, he couldn’t grieve for too long, after all he was a single father, he had his boys to take care of, and he had no clue how. Though he had the help of his parents and her parents, he still had to learn the ropes and that was taking him time. He was there for others who needed him but he didn’t have anyone to help him grieve.

As he continued to pack, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. In the entire process of coming to grip with his situation, coping with life as a single father, he had let himself go. He was a pale self of the man he used to be. He had been there for others now he needed to take care of himself, cause in doing so he would be able to give his boys the life they deserved. He had planned to visit a friend who was a stylist and had taken on herself to groom him, to whip him into shape. And he had set a deadline of his housewarming party to present a new self.

As the movers loaded the last box on the truck, he glanced around. Everything seemed so empty, everything seemed to bare. It felt like it was stripped bare and now stood naked. But even in it all he could still feel her presence around. As he locked the door, one last, he couldn’t help but let himself grieve. He muttered a soft goodbye and then turned and moved on.

Goodbye's the saddest word I'll ever hear

Goodbye's the last time I will hold you near

Someday you'll say that word and I will cry

It'll break my heart to hear you say goodbye

'Till we meet again

Until then

Goodbye

The Raging Tempest: The Mind of a Woman Scorned

Where did she go wrong? What did she do wrong? Was there something that she did, or something she didn’t do? Her head was swimming with so many questions with no answer in sight. Why did he spurn her, if spurn was the right word to be used here? Hadn’t she been an obedient, loving wife, a dutiful daughter-in-law, in line with the vows which they had made to each other, in the presence of their loved ones and friends? Then why did he want to separate? Where did she go wrong?

There were so many questions racing in her mind, but she couldn’t find the root to her situation, leaving her hopeless, helpless, in despair. Her world seemed like it was falling apart, sinking speedily into a black hole, threatening to take her with it, to swallow her whole. She was restless from not knowing what to do, he had blindsided her. 

Her eyes were red from crying, her face stained with her tears. She had locked herself in their room, refusing to come out, not for him or anyone, or even food. She refused to take anything, all she did was sob uncontrollably till she fell asleep. But then sleep came to her in fits, and when she woke, she once again realised the hopelessness of her situation and started to cry again till she fell asleep again.

She went through this cycle a few more times till she could cry no more. She had used up all her tears, she had no more tears to cry, like she had dried up all her tears. The feeling of hopelessness and despair made way to a simmering fire that was lit by his betrayal. A steady rage, an anger seemed to rise in her chest. Why should she waste her tears on the betrayer of her trust, the oath breaker, back stabber. Yes his action had left shellshocked and crestfallen, but why should she be a pitiful figure. He had betrayed her and now he should pay for it, she would make him pay for it. She would make him pay for it, she would make pay for every last teardrop on her pillow, every teardrop she shed for him. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, now there was hell for him to pay. She would make him feel the heat of her fury.

She couldn’t sleep, she just didn’t want to get mad, she wanted to get even. She was so filled with rage and hatred towards him that she was surprised to see his call. She didn’t want to talk to him, she didn’t want to hear him, she didn’t want to do anything with him. She tried to ignore the ringing phone but her persisted till she finally relented out of spite and anger, if nothing else. 

She wanted to scream into her phone, but there was something about his voice that began to calm the tempest within her. He begged her to hear him out, he was prepared to face the consequences after that. He knew that nothing he could say or do could stop the chain of events that he had set in motion, the hurt he had caused her, undo his decision. He knew he was the cause of the pain, and given a chance he wished if he could do without causing her pain, but there was no way around it and he had to do it.

This marriage wasn’t what he had wanted, in fact he was forced into, coerced into something he didn’t want, emotionally blackmailed into it. He tried his best to give her the love she deserved, the love she desired, the love he couldn’t give her. He couldn’t find it in himself to love her, he could love no woman. It would be wrong on his part to good on living a lie. It was eating him from inside, and he couldn’t live with that guilt on his conscience. Therefore he decided to put an end to it.

He was prepared for the worst, prepared to face the consequences of his decision. He had inadvertently hurt her and he was ready to pay for it. He was prepared to support her financially through out her life. He knew doing this may cause her initial pain but he was setting her free from living a life of lie, from an empty relationship that acted like a prison. 

When they finally finished their conversation, she placed her phone at the side, took a deep breath and stared into space in front of her. She knew he was a man of his words, and would never go back on it. What he said rang true cause they had yet to consummate their marriage, and barring this situation, even here he had not wronged her, it was just that while making making things right he had caused he le pain. But he had set her free. She took a deep breath as she felt drained, she had run the whole gamut of emotions, from despair to rage, to pity, and now in a way she felt liberated, she felt free. She felt sorry for him, a pity towards him, but now she needed to think for herself, think about herself. He had set her free and now was the time to make the most of it, take control of her life, live it on her own terms. She finally found hope, and for the first time she smiled.