waiting to exhale

Today, she needed the silence, more than any other day. The chaos around her made little impression on her. It is however, the ache somewhere deep inside, that needed her attention. Earlier, she had surprised herself by sliding into uncharted emotions, in haste. The soft quick-sand of passion, cushioned her as it drew her more into the sink hole of turgidity. Once the hard reality hit her, she woke up sorely, clutching the still warm sand that quickly slipped through her fingers leaving a coarseness that she was unaccustomed to. She sighed, trying to gather her thoughts. Why should it hurt at all, she wonders. The pleasure was so fleeting that she would have missed it, had she bothered to blink. The shadows of intimacy lay around her in shards of a broken mirror, reflecting the truth that she was too late to see. Why did she always demand so little and gave everything in return. Perhaps because there is no cure for stupidity.

Toska

Another airport, another city, another country. Same old feeling. Restlessness and wistfulness mixed with a longing with nothing to long for. It feels strange yet calming. She gets lost once again in the human cacophony and the mundane soundtrack of other people's lives. 

Pigs On The Wings

She hates twilight. She has hated it for as long as she can remember. More so, as it descends on a city that isn't her home. She had only ever told him and no one else. As the darkness seeps in, blotting away the last light of the day, she contemplates her heightening desolation. The peace of living outside of her real life, for a day, is rudely overtaken by the crowding feeling of isolation. In a city brimming with people, company was just a dial away. But it is not a warm shoulder or a chilled drink that she seeks. She misses her happy disposition and her effortless smile. Perhaps it is the spill over tiredness from the last few days, perhaps it is the mistake of giving too much of herself. This will have to go away she tells herself, as she curls up in bed, waiting for sleep.

obscured by the clouds

She watches the ocean in silence. It always invokes a sense of longing in her. If only she knew what for. It’s a familiar restlessness that rises in her chest and falls with the rhythmic beating of her heart. It’s not painful, but she winces a little inside with the tide of emotions surging and abating with precision. If only she could deduct the reason for it, she would wrap this up neatly within a moment’s notice. Was it the call of a faraway land. Was it the willingness to seek anonymity in an unknown crowd. Was it the emptiness of unaccustomed feelings. Was it the inevitable numbness that follows a short lived excitement.

 

saucerful of secrets

She has never been afraid to love. The exhilarating dizziness of giving herself completely to that one feeling.  She doesn’t do anything in half measures. The complete submission to that quivering happiness and the unknown trepidation that is at once bitter and sweet. It had been love that had finally set her free. Free of all the fears that were holding her back. It was love that like the delicate kite string, let her soar, yet held her gently to her reality. In it she found her freedom, as the spaces within her soul stirred a familiar music, the rhythms rising and falling with the swaying heart.  

fistful of stars

She poised briefly, to reflect on the year that is almost over. Then she realized there was nothing truly to reflect on. Truth is, that the year was over and another one was waiting to break dawn. It doesn’t surprise her that there is nothing to wish for anymore. She has everything that she will ever need. The familiar joys, the little heartbreaks, the momentary flush of happiness – she can hold them all in her soft palms and cherish the known sensations. No she doesn’t have anything at all to wish for. She has never been greedy and has always accepted life’s gifts with humility and hope. Most importantly, she knows she has herself and that is something she will never ever lose again.

struggle

At the end of yet another year, she finds herself struggling to find inspiration. Those fleeting moments of magic that can lift any dull day. The heady lapses into forbidden indulgences. The thrills of the unexpected and the unfamiliar. The unexplainable feeling of wellbeing and the transient yet memorable wholesomeness of affection.

miss You!

 It is that time of the year again. The world dresses up to usher in another new year, the forced festivities that seem to be de rigour and suddenly there are happy people everywhere. It is at this time that she feels most alone. It is not that she is against anything, but all this cheerfulness makes her acutely aware of that one person she doesn’t have in her life anymore. With whom she would want to share the merriment with. Her earliest memories with her brother and how they always found their own things to do to celebrate – going for the midnight mass despite not being Christian, walking around Park Street watching the crowd, baking cakes to give away, decorating their tree, feeding the hungry strays and helping out in the orphanage. It was always his generous spirit that infected her wholly - his welcoming smile, his disregard for the riches, his sincere belief in world peace, his brilliant mind, his ability to always find someone to help, his melodious voice and his ease in mingling with people from all walks of life. She always had looked at his selflessness in wonderment and urged herself to keep up. They were always more than siblings. They were twin souls separated by a few years at birth. Therefore, it is during this season of cheer that she missed him the most.

i Alone

Today she is irritated with herself. It is not like her to get distracted this easily. But when she found herself unable to focus on the task at hand, it puzzled her. The distractions were many but there is one particular one that seems to bother her the most. Like a tiny piece of meat stuck in between her teeth, it constantly reminded her of her predicament. Try as she might, it was impossible to dislodge the thought. More she contorted her mind to be rid of it, the more menacingly firm it remained. Finally she decided to accept the situation and wait for it to melt away after a while. The anticipation of the ambiguous emotions that were aroused in its wake was something she knew she had to tackle alone. She whispered to herself, 'I alone love you' from an old forgotten song and wrapped her arms around herself the best she could and waited for the uneasiness to pass. 

finding Voice

On a particularly long difficult day, after winning applause for her sharp wit, she wished she had used her voice when she need it the most. Instead, one morning, she had walked out of their home of seven years, in silence. She wished she had told him that the least he could do was to be nice to her. That his ineptness in making either conversation or love made it that much harder to bear his violent temper. She should have told him that his alcoholic rage broke her to bits, every single night. Instead, she had shrunk back into her shell of silence hoping for the morning to break, every night. She should have told him that his rare slurred ardour made her skin crawl and his crudeness had an unbearable stench. Instead she laid in bed, cold and bleeding after he was done satisfying himself. She should have told him that his feeling of inferiority was not hers to mend. Instead she let him blame her for everything that was wrong with him and in it he found new ways of abusing her, everyday. It is in those million silences that she choked to near death, till one insomniac night, she looked at her sleeping baby and decided to walk out of it all. She had hoped her silence will deafen his shrilling name calling. At the end, she had only hoped for relief. 

passing ships

They meet for the first time during a business visit. He is curious but reserved. She is intrigued but detached. Through the day they share polite banalities of their work life.

 

At the end of the long day; 

Interesting dude: Thank you for taking care of everything and sorry for all the trouble (smiles broadly, shaking her hand)
Clever dudess: (smiles) My pleasure really! I am used to chaperoning. (failed attempt at humour)
Interesting dude: (still holding her hand, still staring)
Clever dudess: (wonders why she had to make an ass of herself!) 

And the moment passes. Chances of meeting again, zero.

memories

She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. Last night had left its mark, as she had hoped it would. They had slept late. A night of binge drinking was something that she had left behind in her youth. So when she woke up clear headed, she was pleasantly surprised at herself. It had been a wild night. Her lips still swollen and a bit bruised. Her lower lip had bled a little and it left a dark spot where the drop had dried. That had made her smile. The sweet pain on her lips made her body tingle with a familiar sensation. She loved how he kissed recklessly with his searing passion when he got a little drunk. Oh how she had wanted to taste those lips again. He is a passionate kisser. Perhaps the best in the world. At least in her world. She hadn’t known anyone to be like him. The fierceness in his kiss tasted of possession and it melted her into completely surrender. She would have never known that pain could be so exquisitely sweet. He used his teeth often on her body, when passion engulfed him, and that left marks. His marks. Marks she could savour for days after. Marks she could touch, that reminded her of him. She would look at them and feel the rush of sensation that it would inevitably bring. This was her secret pleasure. To relive their moment of passion, over and over. That after taste of pleasure he left on her body, made her feel alive.

He had whispered that he loved her and that there will always be them. Then he had caught her lips in between his and crushed them. She had felt his soft tongue tasting her mouth and his teeth biting her lips like they were lovers for the first time. Remembering that moment she sighed. She knew she was special and that she was his. But his words, after so much time, gave her a new sense of fulfilment. She knew that a part of him will always be hers to keep. She has always loved him with all her heart, refusing to put a label to their relationship and never questioning the irrationality of what the future held for them. She knew what he made her feel was something extraordinary, something she will never feel with anyone else. He always let her be herself when they were together. What he made her feel was visceral and because of him, she faced her own passion without guilt for the first time. There was no better honesty than how he made her body react, for him and within her. So she had let her body decide. She knew there would never be another like him and the passion they shared, was theirs alone. To hold a secret this precious made her special.

Hindsight

She revealed in her womanhood. As if some door was opened for her for the first time. Suddenly she felt awakened and she smiled for no reason. It was perhaps the gushing hormones or maybe just the knowledge that she was going to be a mother.

On hind sight, it seems to her that she was keener to have a baby than S ever was and now that he had given her what she wanted so desperately, he shed all pretence of being intimate. That was when they stopped sharing the marriage bed. He was repelled by the changes to her body. He wouldn’t even let her change her clothes if he was in the same room. But everyone around her said she was beautiful. Her cousin teased her about how S must be taking advantage of all the ‘glow’ as she winked naughtily. For the longest time she couldn’t fathom why S was suddenly even more averse to intimacy. He was never the one to initiate, and she thought this was probably a phase that he will grow out of. After all they were already married for over two years. For the first time she felt good about how she looked and about herself. She wanted intimacy like never before. But then he told her. To stay away from him. That he found her ugly with her slightly swollen belly, fuller chest and her silly smile. And that he would never ever touch her again. It hurt her like nothing had before. It chipped away a large part of something deep inside. She had grown up knowing she was ordinary and that she would never be pretty like her cousins and she had accepted that. By the time she was in college she had embraced her ordinariness and found beauty in it and solace too.

With pregnancy, her hitherto plainness has turned her into a woman whom everyone noticed when she went out to the market or for an evening stroll. Strangers turned and then smiled. Some even asked her about when the baby was due. By then she had a small bump that made her condition known. And the men often stared, trying to hide their expression of appreciation. It shocked her at first. Why would strangers look at her in that way. But then it happened often enough to convince her that it was because of how she looked. It was then obvious to her that the prettiness she felt when she looked at herself in the mirror was not just in her mind. Thinking back, it was perhaps the confidence she felt in her body that made her pretty and made people notice her for the first time. Not pretty in the conventional way but someone who would arrest attention and tempt you to look twice. But S’s words shattered all that and she was grateful when the doctor advised her to fly to Bangalore by the mid of her third trimester. Her in-laws had decided that the baby delivery business would have to be taken care of by her parents as was customary for them. She had protested and begged S that she wanted him to take the responsibility and she wanted to stay with him and it was their baby after all. But S refused to talk to his parents and it appeared to her that he was relieved to see her go. She should have seen it coming. She should have anticipated what her life would be like for the next five years. But she didn’t. In her new found happiness and her joy of becoming a mother, she let that unsavoury thought slip away from her mind.

And their eyes met

They met, proverbially, at a train station. He with his spiky hair and she with her friends, excited to go on a vacation to Goa. No one spoke. She hoped she would see him again soon. Which she did, once again at the train station, on their way back home. A few exchanged glances were all that was. She had forgotten about him, until several years later, when they meet at a party. He had lost his spikes and some hair, she was that many years older. It took her a few minutes to realize that it was him. She was certain he did not remember her. With introductions done, they got talking. He opened their conversation with, 'You are the girl from the train!' She blushed a bit. Happy that he remembered such a brief encounter from so many years ago. Then he told her about the prank. His friends knew he was smitten by the girl from the train. So they posed someone as her and made him speak over the phone, for a month. By then he was besotted and when he insisted that he wanted to meet her, they giggled and broke the spell. She laughed as he spoke. Life is strange, she thought. She had never imagined that seeing someone at a train station could actually lead to a story. The evening ended pleasantly. But they never met again. Maybe, because they never took a train, anywhere anymore.

why

At this crossroad life overwhelms her. She has no lust for money, fame or youth. Only an uncomplicated desire to belong and the security of being understood. At mid life she stands bereft of either thinking she might as well then have pursued what was arguably easier.

you found me

Is the pain more when someone she loves hurts her, or, is it when she hurts someone she loves? She can deal with her hurt. That has never been the problem. In her entire life she has never told anyone in how many ways they have hurt her. In defence, she built a wall. Only a chosen few were allowed in. They were chosen because she chose to love them. And by doing so she allowed them to hurt her. But that mattered little to her. Life has taught her to give more and expect less. So in love, she gave more than she took, and more she gave, more came her way. Sometime it came in form of reciprocation and most other time in form of peace.

But life hasn’t taught her still the ways to deal with the pain when she hurt someone else. She lives her apologies. She means her I love yous. And then she waits patiently for the ache to ebb.

moment of weakness

Sitting in the cramped economy class seat she considered the emptiness welling up inside. The random loneliness that engulfs her at moments like these never fails to surprise. It’s been many months and a year now. She thought she packed all her hurt and longing with a neat little bow and pushed it far away from her everyday reality. She doesn’t miss him in any way. She can listen to their song on radio and enjoy it without the lead dropping in her gut. She eats his favourite dish without feeling the bile rise. She has long stopped rehearsing the conversation they might have if they meet by chance. She has been getting through her cleverly sculpted day for months without ever thinking of him. Infact the regular day leaves her tired enough to sleep through the night without ever having to wonder what he would be up to. She knows she doesn’t love him. He had made it easier to sever him from her life. She knows she doesn’t hate him either. Hate takes effort and she had decided long back not to waste any emotion on him, ever.

In her sterile world, each day folds into the other in a regular rhythm without any disturbing crosswind. She has quietly and methodically killed it all. For the better she knows. This has helped her to be the funniest mom a 10 year old could have, a sensible friend always full of good advice, a witty co-worker reputed to be cool, and a non-interfering daughter who never nitpicks. She has managed to live her life outside of herself where there is no hurt and only a few disappointments that can be shrugged off easily. Thus this stray need to belong, jolts her. Was it that unconscious touching of hands, the tender look and the lingering smile that only lovers know so well. Right now, she likes the sanitized orderliness of her life cause it assures a safe passage. And that assurance gives her comfort. So it frazzles her nerves to suddenly feel this needy. But she knows by the time the aircraft touches down, all will be well again. She will return once more to embrace her tidy world of harmony and yes, peace.

She misses him at the oddest moments. While watching Flashbacks of a Fool and wanting to know what he would have thought of it. When she wondered who he will vote for this time. When she got stuck on clue 17A of the Sunday crossword.

Yes. She still misses him on her pillow. In the shower. In the kitchen. In their Floyd song. In that antique bar cabinet that they almost bought. In the blueberry cheesecake she doesn’t eat anymore. But these are expected places. So it gets easier with time. It is the odd unexpected ones that take her breath away.

She cried in her bed leaving ugly wet splotches on her cold pillow that irritated her cheeks. For the first time she didn’t dwell in what brought them about and let the tears roll in quiet dignity. Was she overwhelmed when her little one surprised her with a poster saying 'I Love Mommy', in her bedroom? Was it knowing that someone is disturbed and she cannot give a tight hug to say you will feel better soon? Was she jarred by a stray stranger praising her eyes, little knowing the sadness they have seen? Was it the ‘Your smile lights up my day’ message her workmate wrote on chat, unaware of the effort it takes to smile through it all? Was it even the fall out with her best bud and the hurt and disappointment she knows they both feel? Or was it the shinning tinsel of raindrops under the halogen light that she stayed back to watch after everyone left office? It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the sense of release. She knew she will feel better tomorrow. She always does, eventually.

Today she is like a confused mess of overdone spaghetti. Mangled, hard and lumpy. And wanting to hide under the lid. The strange yet familiar emptiness is back. Not the unhappy one that causes tightness in her chest. But one that makes her dizzy after retching. Like something bad is over but not sure what happened instead, was good either. There is a faint surge of anticipation too. Like something good is happening but not immediately apparent. So the dancing rain drops on the glass didn’t excite like always. The lunch didn’t prompt animated conversation. The tasks just sat on her desktop waiting for her attention. The promise of a surprise at home didn’t enthuse as much. All she wants is to get in bed and pull the blanket over her head like when they were children, imagining they have disappeared from the world for a while. If only wishes were fireflies…