Monsters

They didn’t have the best of relationship, the most cordial of relationship. Their relationship was so strained that it began to fray around the edges because of all the tension. They each wondered why the other couldn’t be more like the others, normal and accepting.

He always felt that in his heart knew that he could never become the son that his father wanted him to be, though he tried his earnest and darnedest best to make him proud, but somehow he always felt he fell short. He could never be the man his father wanted him to be because of who he was. 

He wondered if his father would ever accept him for he was, the life he chose, the love he chose, if he only knew. And though he never truly spoke about it, opened up about it, he always had this thought that he would never accept him for he was, cause once, a longtime a go, he had shared his view on the subject.  

So that view stayed with him, stuck with him and never truly allowed him to share himself with his father, to tell him his truth.

He had always thought he favoured his daughters more than his son cause they took up after him. The phone calls, the message,  the chats, that he didn’t receive, made him feel left out and unloved. An outcast, an anomaly.

It didn’t help that in a drunken state his father declared that he was not his son! These words cut deep and stabbed him badly, leaving a wound that never quite healed. He lived with his whole life with this scar, with this resentment, but at the same time with this regret that he could never quite heal from this hurt, or forgive these words.

But still here they were, two grown men trying to say their goodbyes. And although he knew that he still had some resentments, some grudges, scars and unhealed wounds, he knew there had been many moments of genuine love, of kindness, of tenderness, of bonding. And for these he had to let go of all the bitterness he held inside.

In that moment there was no wrongs or rights, no ways to forgive and forget. They both knew the mistakes that they had made. But now it was time to let go and just be two grown men trying to let go of the past, trying to find a way to reconcile, find a way to heal.

He remembered a time when his father chased the monster, lurking in the shadows and under his bed, away. So now it was his turn to the do the same.

So he patted him on arms, and kissing his forehead, and whispered him to sleep, hoping while he slept he could still find a way to make him proud. 

So he said his goodbye, as he saw him take his last breath, and through the tears he whispered, “Daddy now it’s my turn to chase your monsters away!”

What’s your Story... Morning Glory

There’s a story in all of us, each unique, each different from the other, cause no two stories will ever be the same, cause no two Storytellers will tell a story the same way, cause no Storyteller are the same, they’ll always bring their flavour into the equation.

Every life has a story, and every story needs to be told, every story needs to be be heard. No story is too great or too small, or insignificant. You may feel your story ain’t what legends are made of, nothing to write home about, nothing to inspire, or shining example. But then what we may feel insignificant maybe the hope that someone may need, the ray of hope in the dark sky.

Through the highs and lows and ups and downs, we script our stories. Through the decisions we take, the choices we make, our preferences, our orientation, the way we liv our lives, we write our stories, we shape our narratives, our lives. Our every experience decides the stories we tell, the life we live.

So don’t be afraid to tell your story, to let it be heard. Your story is unique, your story is you, unlike any other story being told, being lived. No matter how insignificant you may feel, your story deserves to be heard, no life is insignificant, no matter how big or small. Every life matters, every story deserves to be told, to be heard.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” - Maya Angelou

The Beginning: Breaking Free

He sat behind his desk staring blankly at the window in front. All he could see were the glass windows of the concrete jungle. There were no greenery in sight, except for the green envy that always reared it’s head. He knew that there was a park somewhere out there, he been there a few times, though not recently as work left no time for himself.

His life was going as he had planned but still he felt an emptiness inside, like something was missing, a piece of the puzzle that was missing. Was his life like that park, out there but not been lived? When was the last time he lived life the way it was meant to be? When was the last time he actually lived a life?

He was tied to his desk, except for the time he went to gym regularly, but not for superficialities that others went there for, just to stay injury free and healthy. That’s didn’t mean he didn’t have ladies swooning for him, but he had no time for love. He had set a path for himself and followed it to the T, love wasn’t a part of the plan, and he had no plan to take any deviation from his path. Still, as he sat he behind his desk, he felt an emptiness that kept eating him. He felt an uneasiness. When was the last time did he take a vacation? Did he do something impulsive? Something that was so not him.

He felt a restlessness deep within him, a voice shouting to be set free, to break free of the chains that bound him to that desk. He could sense the great outdoors calling out to him, beckoning him to join her. What was this feeling? Why didn’t it let him be?

Finally, on impulse, he closed his laptop, cancelled all his meetings for the day, for the next couple of days, and headed out of his office. After a quick light packing, he headed for the airport. Where would he go, he didn’t know. He hoped to find out, figure out by the time he reached the airport. This was the most impulsive he had ever been, almost pushing him off the path he had set for himself. But for once he was ready for what would come his way. A bit hesitant, a bit nervous, he was ready for the adventure that was in store for him, was ready to go where life would lead him.

The Beginning: La Vie Bohèmme

As she stood there, staring into space, in to the distance, nothing in particular, she wondered what lay ahead of her, what adventures lay ahead, what twists and turns would life take? She had a suitcase full of clothes but a head filled with dreams. She stood there with her suitcase, a little hesitant, a little scared, a little anxious, but all excited for what lay ahead of her.

College had prepared them for the life to come, but did it prepare her for the life she wanted live? Her friends would get married and have children, but domestic bliss was not for her. Some would start businesses, have successful careers and becomes pathbreaking leaders, but that was not a life she had envisioned for herself.

She thought about the boys, and girls she had kissed, and many more she would kiss. She was a free spirit, a bird that could not be caged. She sang not because she could sing but because there was a song in her heart. The rules of this world was not for her, she never could understand them, could follow them. She marched to the beats of her own drums, to the beating of her heart, down a path she had paved for herself. She couldn’t follow the path paved by others, it was not meant for her. Her spirit was wild and free, it couldn’t be contained, La Vie Bohéme.

She stood there and wondered, was leaving now the right thing to do? Should she follow her heart, or let her head control the journey she would take, her destiny. The world was her oyster, it could make her into a beautiful pearl, but it could also let her be an ugly rock and spit her out. This thought scared, frightened her, making her doubt if this was the right thing to do? But then life is short and the world is large, she had to go out make memories for herself. 

She took a deep breath and took a step into the unknown, into the uncertainties of what lay ahead, but into the adventures she were to have, the experiences that would shape her life. She step into the train station, onto the train that would take her into the adventure, the life that lay waiting for her, the life she was meant to live. As the train pulled out from the station she waved goodbye to her friends (who had come to see her off, and make that last ditch effort to make her choose otherwise), and to the life she had once known.

The Woman with the bright pink shoes

He spied her from a distance, she in her racerback vest and floral shorts, whose colour kept changing with the season, but always in her bright pink shoes. She was a woman, not a girl, not a lady, but a woman, the best word to describe her. Tall, slender and athletic, with hair that was always tied in ponytail, a dusky beauty. Her racerback vest showed off her toned back, arms and shoulders, her slender waist and those washboard abs. But her most distinct feature was her legs that seemed to go on for miles and miles, only to end in those bright pink shoes. 

Unperturbed by the stares that she usually got from passerby, some envious, others lecherous, she went about with her warm up. Surely there’s a God up there, he thought, cause only a God could create  someone so beautiful. He continued to stare in her direction, not lustily, just admiring God’s creation.

His greyish hair was already matted with sweat and there were beads his forehead. He was already warmed up and ready to go, from the distance he had already covered. He could either make haste and join her, or take his time and take in the moment. 

He remembered those initial days when they just passed each other, while on their respective morning runs, She a young beautiful woman, running at her pace, he an old man, with more silver hair than he could count, running at a pace than most men of his age (that’s if they ever ran), in his bright neon tees. Soon they began to acknowledge each other with a smile and a wave and the occasional thumbs up. Now as and when possible they ran together, two running souls. He never asked her name or what she did, nor did she seem interested in finding out more about him. For him she would always  be the Woman with the bright Pink Shoes.

“Your pace or mine?” She said, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Surprise me!” He said but secretly hoping she ran at his pace as that would be comfortable for him, something that he would never acknowledge, call it the male bravado.

So off they went, running in the light drizzle. He knew he would be the envy of those who saw them, some even passing judgement without truly knowing. But he didn’t care, people may never understand that they were running souls, enjoying each other’s company, nothing more, nothing else.

Not wanting to slow her down, he tried his best to keep pace with her. Occasionally she realised this and slowed down to a comfortable pace but then again gradually increase her  pace again. Not a single word was spoken between them, they only spoke with each other in gesture.

He was grateful for her company, for running with a person of his age when she could have been easily be running at a much faster pace, more suitable to someone of her capability. He was grateful for the drizzle cause it hid the tears that welled in his eyes. He didn’t want her to see it but secretly knew that she understood how grateful he was to her.

And just like that their run came to an end after they had covered their set distance. After cooling down and some stretches, they said their goodbyes and greetings for the day they went off to their mundane life. He stood there, looking in her direction, as those long slender legs of the woman in the bright pink shoes disappeared into the the day.

Once Upon a Little Boys

Once upon a time, a few decades gap, born a little boy as cute as you could know. He had cutest of faces and the rosiest of cheeks that made everyone to squeeze.

He grew into this cute little boy, the apple as well as envy of many eyes. With the chubbiest of cheeks and softest bums like buns, though not of steel. Much to the delight of the aunties and others, who wanted to pinch and squeeze (you see, there was not known as abuse then), much to annoyance and charging of he.

His grandmother and mum wanted to see him plump, so they kept feeding him with all that he could take. And trust me he didn’t mind this a bit and gobbled up the food with delight. In the afternoon if you were to hear a sound, like a mouse scurrying around, it was just him rummaging through the cupboards for something to eat.

As he grew older and he became a bolder, his aunt and father felt that he needed to be disciplined, so off to the boarding he went. Now the food in the boarding was no good, and lil guy was in no mood, to eat the rice and the dal prepared in the day. So he stopped eating his noon meal and so the weight began to peel. So by the time he was out of the boarding, he looked a poor boy starving.

So once he was back home, his mom tried to make up for the time gone, trying to get to be fat again. College life brought out the eating of junk and all the fast food could. That meant putting on the little pound here and a little pound there. Not exactly making him fat, just healthy as he would love to say.

Now the little boy grew up into a not quite a strapping lad, and a model he wanted to be. So he tried to Gym, on a whim, but couldn’t sustain the enthusiasm. And with it went his weight. But obese was not he wanted to be, so he tried to apply himself more practically, whether at the Gym or what he ate.

Seeing all the hunks And well toned bodies all around, made this lil boy want to be the next model. So he strove to get into shape and even get his portfolio clicked. Sadly for him, the struggle of a model he couldn’t take. So he once more gave up on the dream. Looking at those pics now makes him cringe, because he was not the model that he thought he could be. But from this all came a something good he became health conscious and ate good food.

So the years went by and the lil boy grew older, he found and lost love and then love found him again, and that love made want to look good again. He got hooked on running as he was into gymming. Diets he followed, to some success and then he unfollowed. Health magazine he read and used apps to keep his workout in check. But his control over food wavered cause he always loved what he savoured, leading to weight gains and then the struggle to loose it again.

And now he’s trying to stay lean and from the results he has seen, inspires him to push onwards to try new things and new way to help him get lean and stronger. Weights was not just what he used, he tried crossfit and functional training and even a mix of both. The results he began to see made look triumphantly, cause although he knew he was cute, but now he was lean and hot to boot (or at least that he felt). So this lil boy promised himself, to continue to take care of his health and always strive to look good.

So this a story of a lil boy that I once knew. It could be me, or it could be you.