Coincidences & Clichés

I think God wrote my life out to be a tragic comedy. There are funny coincidences which are prequels to devastating clichés. There’s laughter, no doubt, but it’s covered in a shroud of sadness. There’s tunnels leading to sure fire consequences & then there’s tunnels not leading anywhere. There’s a mountain of confusion, from behind which a faint shimmer of hope glows. There are smiles that struggle through tears every day; there are tears that hint of a dam about to break. There are questions with answers that need not be spoken; there are questions with no answers at all. There is depression & sadness; there is joy & a trail of guilty pleasures. There are broken promises. There are badly kept secrets. There are open books with empty pages; there are libraries full of words. There are faces; there are voices. There are broken windows & boarded doors. There is no way in. There is no way out. I could leave, yes. But then who would be there to shoulder the burdens & share the loss? I could leave, yes. But then who would be there to watch you fall & let you find your way back up? I could leave, yes. But then where would you find another me?

I think God wrote my life out to be a tragic comedy; coincidences, clichés, et al.

Forever (Short Story)

One bright, sun-shiny day, a boy met the world. Well, actually, he only met this one girl, & for a while it felt like she was the whole world. She walked right past him first. Then came back & asked if he knew what time it was. A general question really, but one from her that made his mind boggle. He looked at his wrist-watch, told her the time. Oh, how much energy had it taken to say “4:15” at that moment.

He watched her run to the ticket booth & he felt his heart bleed in prayer, “If there is a God, please let her be on the bus with me, please let her sit on the seat next to me.” If he had known the importance of that one prayer & that one moment, he would’ve asked for her forever.

They announced that it was time to board & in the chaos that ensued, when people rummaged to pick up their luggage & run to the terminal, he lost sight of that girl, something he kept cursing himself for. He went to the bus, lost all hope except for a dim glow. He sat in his seat, the adjacent one empty still. & that one light glow of hope kept his eyes glued to the door of the bus. &, in his heart, he kept praying for a miracle. & then it happened. She walked in. & then he prayed for another miracle, & it happened. She kept looking at the seat numbers & found her seat was the one next to him, beside the window. As he got up to let her pass, she gave him a smile, a smile with enough familiarity in it to make a man feel loved.

She sat there, pulled out a book from her bag, opened to the bookmarked page & was lost in it even before the bus left the terminal. His heart was swollen beyond measure at the joy. He went over & over in his mind at how to start a conversation, how to talk to her, how to tell her he’s never seen anything like her & he’d burn his eyes before he ever did. In that moment, all he wanted to do was make this beautiful stranger his, keep her smiling forever. In that moment, beyond a doubt, in spite of all the impossibilities, he knew that he could make her his.

It took him one hour (of a four hour journey) to get up the nerve to talk to her, & before he even opened his mouth, she closed her book & told him she was hungry. It was nothing significant, just a starter for some small-talk. But, boy, did he feel special. They kept on talking, all through the journey, all through the stop they made for some tea, all through the rest of the journey. He told her stuff about him, stuff that everyone knew, stuff that wasn’t so special, but stuff that he wanted her to know. She told him stuff about her, stuff that was recent, not going too far in the past for it would’ve scared him off, but stuff that kept his attention.

They were nearing their destination. & he wanted time to stop right there & then. He wanted to tell her that he felt he knew her, that he felt he could get to know everything about her, that he could love her for everything she was & for everything she was yet to become. He wanted to ask her not to leave. He wanted her.

& the bus came to a stop. She smiled & said, “Home, at last!” What was that in her voice? There was something he heard, something that caught his attention. But she got off then, waited for her luggage. He kept watching her, begging God for her not to go. But she got her luggage, started to walk towards the exit. He stopped her, wanting to say a million things, wanting to tell her everything. But what if she was disgusted? What if she left & the only memory of him in her mind was that of a shameless man? So he changed his words,“Is there someone coming to pick you up?”

He watched her walk away, get into a car & leave. He stood there & watched her leave. Funny how he felt like his world was collapsing around him. He picked up his bag & walked away. But, in that one moment, he was changed from a man of chance to a broken man, with no interest in anything, with only a memory of perfection.

& as she sat in the car, on her way to home, she couldn’t fight the tears she felt. & she couldn’t understand why there were tears in the first place? She had wanted to tell him that she felt she knew him, that she felt she could get to know everything about him, that she could love him for everything he was & for everything he was yet to become. She wanted to ask him not to leave. She wanted him. But she knew without a doubt, because of all the impossibilities, they just could never be.

Little did they know, God was listening that day. The only word they forgot to say was ‘forever’.

Life's True Pleasures

Lying in bed, listening to David Cook’s “Daily Anthem”, waiting for the sleep in my eyes to take control of all my senses for the night, I realized something very interesting about myself. It’s interesting how all my character revelations come to me at times when I least expect them to.

Well, what I realized was that I’m an empty-minded person. By this, I don’t mean that there are no thoughts in my head, believe me there are plenty for each one of you. But what I really mean is that, the main thought process is happening in the background, just like a computer performs background functions. In the main arena, in the front of my mind, there is nothing.

I know people who are always thinking, using all of their minds for sometimes the most pitiful things; gossip being the worst of them all. I tried to think of something like they do, tried to stop the background functions & use the whole of my brain to focus on some of the people I know are utter losers (No offense! =P) but within seconds, a pain shot out of (metaphorically) the middle of my brain & erupted like a volcano. I had to stop my chain of thoughts & as soon as I did, the pain went away.

I’m not saying I’m some kind of genetic mutation, evolution research project. But, on the basis of my, afore mentioned, character revelation, I would like to say that I’m somehow a better person. Not because I am like a computer with the background functions and all, but I think I can better concentrate on more important things this way. Without gossip, or other such germs, diseasing my brain, I can put most of my thought process in the back of my mind where they can stew in the pit of my opinions & concentrate on higher priority issues/thoughts, for example; which color socks to wear or whether to order in or eat out.

It’s all a part of who you are I think. Again I’m not saying that I’m any better than the rest of the lot. But I’m a rare breed of humans who put an emphasis on the finer details of their lives. I’m the person who’ll put her flight bookings on hold just to find the right pair of flip-flops (right color, right pattern and right feel)!

The background functions are the big things, the obvious things. The focus is on the little things. Because the true pleasure is in the detail.

Our Failure & Nature's Tears

We all spend our days hoping, & even praying, for a better world, where there are no innocent killings, no B&Es, no pain, no suffering, no hunger. But really who are we kidding?

I might strike you like it, but I’m really not a pessimist, I was a real devout optimist who believed in the kindness of strangers & that there was some good in everyone. I believed in the good side of life for a very long time. I believed in “all rainbows & butterflies” like it was a religion. I believed right up till the moment I figured out that, basically, we’re all screwed.

The ice caps are melting, the oceans are drying, the natural fuels that everyone keeps fighting over are close to being replenished unless we find a new power source within the next 30-50 years. & what are we doing? We’re killing each other over oil. We’re killing each other in the name of religion. We’re burning down our own houses in the name of revolution. We’re slaughtering innocent people in public just because their views don’t match ours.

The world is coming to an end. Even nature has started revolting against humanity. The typhoons in North America, the floods in Pakistan, the earthquakes in China, the Tsunami in Japan; these are all nature’s way of telling humanity that it has had enough of our cruelty & treachery. We cut, we burn, we char. How many forests, how many natural habitats has mankind destroyed to make room for multiplexes & luxury housing schemes?

Everything has turned against us & our response is to turn on each other? The most intelligent life-forms (yet) in the world & we have resorted to barbaric practices. Make you feel proud to be a human, doesn’t it?

What we don’t realize is that we’re running out of time. & we’ve put our faith too much in inanimate objects rather than living, breathing people. & this, indeed, will result in the end of us even before the true end comes.

What we fail to realize is that humanity is failing itself & working its way to the bottom of the food chain pretty fast.

What we fail to realize is that we have failed.

Hallucinations

Sitting aimlessly, staring at the stars, searching for a purpose, hoping to God that there is a storm at the end of this silence, listening closely for even the hint of mayhem, looking for signs of grandeur in the dust settled on centuries of sin.

Is this what life truly boils down to? Or is this an illusion to shield from the bitter realities of the true world?

Where am I? What am I doing here? What am I supposed to do here? What is my purpose?

There are too many questions. No answers. Or maybe answers which I don’t want to hear. Or maybe my ears ring as the deafening silence that grips my soul.

There’s darkness, it pierces through my soul, plunges me deeper into doubt. But it kills the fear, slowly. Do monsters still exist? Have I become one yet?

I’m swimming to the shore, through a lake of blood, dying to survive. Can I make it? Or will this be the end of me? Is there no majesty for those of us who know life & yet do not wish death? Are we the prisoners of war that death has claimed?

Waking up in a pool of sweat, not knowing where I am. There’s darkness outside the window. There’s silence inside my soul. It’s happening all over again. Will I ever wake up? Will I ever be free?

No, no, no. A clock strikes in the silence. Death claims me once again. But my eyes open once again. Then it happens all over, once again. & again. & again.

Is this Hell? Or is this what it feels like to live eternally? Is anyone out there? Would someone please wake me up?