Beyond-III

[Continued from here] [Part 1 here]

The doorbell rang. I decided to stop moping and open the door. It had been hours already; I needed to fix dinner and get some work done. As long as I wouldn't die, I need to survive. That was the only thought driving me for the last few months. For several weeks after that fateful day at the airport, the silence and the guilt had consumed me. I lost him, my job, most of my friends and my own self-respect. But as long as the guilt wasn't killing me, it wasn't paying my rent either. Gradually I decided to move on, get a new job and occupy myself. To the extent that today I didn't even remember what day it was.

The doorbell rang again. It was Shikha, who lived next door. Once, she was a great friend.to both him and me. But she never looked me in the eye again once she got to know why I broke up. She told me she wasn't judging me, but was pained for him enough not to be my friend.
She stood at the door with a few envelopes in hand. The postman had wrongly delivered the mail again. I took them and she left, without saying a word.

I put on the lights and settled on the bed to add up the bills for the month. That's when I saw the white envelope marking my name and address in his handwriting. Written letter? From him? My heart skipped a beat. I could not decide whether to open it or not. My hands were shivering and tears welled up in my eyes. After several minutes of numbing anguish I decided to open it. I wasn't breathing. It looked like a letter. The only thing I could think of was why a letter. Why not a phone call or an email or...

"Happy anniversary...." I started to read.


[To be continued]

Beyond-II

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I thought I was in love.
Once upon a time, a bit before that, I was really in love. At that time, it was the best thing to have happened to me. Probably still is. Point is, once upon a time, not so long ago, my life had revolved around one precious relationship for more than seven years.

Like many other people. And like many of those people, I intrinsically believed that was it. It was full of love, care and deep understanding for the most part. Except that time, distance and that funny thing called too-much-comfort had probably taken a toll on it.

Aarghh...why am I trying to find an excuse. Lying to the mirror doesn't tint your reflection. Fact is, he loved me a lot and he loved me the same all those years, and probably would have for the rest of my life. But I wanted more. It now sounds irresponsibly callous, but it wouldn't be too off the mark to say I was probably bored, and life seemed to offer so much freshness. The day I stopped taking his calls and pretending I was too busy, I didn't feel a thing. Maybe I was dead already by then. And I was indulging myself in what felt like righteous liberating choices.

He had come here to surprise me on May 10th last year. To celebrate our seventh year of being together. I was happy and touched. The past few months of distance had almost vanished. I could have been rescued!
We spent two wonderful days together. And then flew to London for the next three months.

The day he came back from London, I went to see him at the airport. And then, when I saw that immense love in his eyes, I just couldn't stand it any longer. I felt small - yes, maybe even then I had a soul. I told him I had cheated on him behind his back with this guy who lived in the same building as me, but had no more courage to say anything more. I couldn't even answer when he asked if I loved him. I had frozen. The pain of his eyes at that moment stings my insides even day

He walked away.

When I finally realized what I had done, and how little everything in the world without him meant to me, I collapsed.

I tried calling him once, and he disconnected. I haven't been able to try again. People tell me move on, look beyond. I wonder, to where.

How could someone be so dead that they stay alive knowing the evil that lives inside them.

[To be continued]

Beyond - I

May 10th.

I hadn't realized it in the rush that defines every morning for me- in fact, not till 11 am in office when I needed to schedule a meeting did I realize what date it was. And then it was in the calender, staring at me. May 10th it was. Eight years today. And I'd actually forgotten the date.
Life changes so much, so soon.

But once it was back in my mind, there was no getting away from it. The sharp pain returned, almost as if someone had removed the insulation that strangled its intensity so that one could always feel it there in the background but was practically numbed to it. I tried to work, but after another hour, gave up. The images wont quit flashing, tears threatened to well up, and my body felt weak. I tried to eat some lunch, but ended up running to the restroom to puke. There, in the restroom luckily empty at that hour, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. It looked pale, it looked guilty, it almost did not look my own. And then I started to cry.

Before the end of the hour, I'd managed to somehow explain sudden onset of illness and sneak out of office. But how was I to know where I needed to go at that hour, in that time. I felt the world was going to come crashing down - or I was going to faint and fall, one of those. I called a taxi and asked him to take me home.
25 mins later I walked in, drew all curtains till it was pitch dark, and collapsed on the bed. At some level, I couldn't believe just the memory of a date can do this to me- bring me back to the same darkness I found myself in for months altogether not so long ago.

But then again, it wasn't just any date. May 10th meant to me a world that was once all I knew. I tried to put myself to sleep.

(To be continued)

I think I may like to belong to the middle zone...

..or maybe not, but I'm certainly bored of the orange zone :P

Unhappy, here's why

Somebody recently had pointed out that this blog has predominantly negative or neutral posts. Part of the reason is that of late I only write a post when in a certain mood. Now, after writing more of those crappy ones, I figure why I've been unhappy.
I've nothing of those three, if you count out one crappy job.

Low

It's a bad night
- one of those.
I try a deep breath
through the nose
so it relieves the ache
living in my chest
If only for a moment
I get some rest.
I feel alone
and worthless
angry at the world
stupid, aimless.
Just like the stupid rhyme
of these lines
I feel crappy and shredded
by Naxal landmines.
(see what I mean
I dont even have words
the motivation is dead
but phoenixes are stupid undying birds)

Love in the time of dictionary.com

I searched for love
In a dictionary
It told me what I was looking for
Was tender affection and care
I filed a tender
To do something worthwhile
Wrote a cheque to CARE
Then cheated with the spelling
And caught an infection
By some inspired rain playing
I felt happy for a moment
Wondered if that was love
In my feverish rumble
Then went off to sleep
Hoping that love would find me
Or else
I'd sue the dictionary.