Friday, January 30, 2015

Not enough

She sat looking into her computer
One movie and 2 chat boxes
Alternating between the two
Her sister
And best friend
And a whole bunch of un-shed tears
Caught up in her throat
She told her friend that she wanted a ditch
A big one
Filled half way with quilts and pillows
So being buried there would be perfect
But what she wanted to do was
Scream
Really scream.
As she cried
Maybe even thrash some glass
The shattering of glass could be something that might calm her down
She'd told herself she was ready
But hadn't realized what she had signed up for
If she had,
She knew for certain that she'd never have waited this long
Not for this
She would have taken care of it,
As she saw fit
But, that ain't true
Back when the age was right,
The time wasn't
Age wasn't that big a deal now
That was a fact
Which she knew
Was aware of.
Almost always
Except when they brought it up
Then she felt old
Ancient
Her best friend tried to joke it away
She smiled
But it wouldn't reach her eye
Because the tears were busy pricking her there
Was this it?
What this what it was going to be?
Damn.
She felt doomed.
There was no where to run.
Nowhere.
How could he
After all those years
Not understand even the basics of what made her
How
It didn't make sense
Nothing did at that point
Except the craziness of it all
Why of all the blessed countries of the world
Did she have to be born in that one,
Where this was a common cultural practice?
She knew she could have done a lot worse
If they were playing that game
That she had it better than many
In most things
Most
Not this
Definitely not
Some days there was hope
And then other days were like this.
Maybe all one needed
Was someone to come over and say
"It'll all be okay sweet heart"
Like they really meant it
And maybe
A hug could help too

Of course
A friend
A sister
And a whole lot of words
Poured out
Those help a little too
Or at least enough
To get one to sleep out of exhaustion
Rather than moroseness

Monday, January 26, 2015

Amongst those book shelves

She stepped into the book store
It was the same as ever ... toys.. a little bot of furniture ... accessories ...but mainly books.

"I'm inside the mall... I'll wait inside...."
"I know where you would wait. I'm there already "
She smiled as she hung up the phone. It was a good thing that he never made her wait. Very sweet too... made her believed in old fashioned chivalry. Though he never opened doors for her ... well you win some, lose some. 
He decided to head towards the auto-mobile magazine counter from the science book shelves. It commanded a much better view of the entrance. So he could see her when she arrived. It's not that she would have difficulty finding him ..but he liked how she entered. Always a bit distracted, like she's trying to absorb all those colours in at once, while explaining to the security that her backpack was her equivalent of her handbag, and that she should be allowed to take it in... and then she'd spot him, and suddenly she's looking only at him. And the smile would spread on her face, the smile he knew was meant only for him, and everything else matters a little less for that moment. He moved to that counter, so he could see that smile much faster. The one that reminded him why he'd been grinning a lot that day... why he smiled a lot these days. 

She entered the book store. They had a little of home décor, toys, accessories, but it was mainly books. Rows and rows of shelves of heavenly smelling books. 
After a relatively easy convincing session of the security guard. She liked that he waited close to the entrance these days. Earlier, back when they were friends, he used to be flipping through the science books with earnestness or be somewhere along the PST game DVD section. 

It was funny because the first time they had met... all those years ago, was at a library. 
Though they didn't really read the same genre of books - unless it was science fiction, the only area where their interests overlapped - books were always a common ground for them. Though they came to hang out with each other, they invariably spent quite a bit of time inside the book store itself. Even if they were in different sections, they'd look over to where they each stood, and smile absently ... or either of them would take the book they are more engrossed in, and stand next to the other person, absently smiling at each other occasionally, or showing each other passages. 
As they left, he almost always would have secretly bought her a chocolate ..and she would have got him his mint supplies till they next met. Of course they would go somewhere after that. But this was tradition.

She entered the book store ... it was still the same, home-décor, toys ....books ... but so little of them. They were closing down, and it was the final 10 days of clearance sale.
There were just 2 racks of toys - all those legos, soft toys, DVDs, everything encompassed in just 2 racks. What once used to be a whole section of it. And the books, oh so pitifully laid out on 4 tables at the centre of all those empty shelves. 4 tables, with sign boards that said "90% off". That's what it all came down to. 10% of it's original value.

After they had broken up ... they had still remained friends. But she could never bring herself to visit this mall much after that. It had been "Their Place". She didn't think he went there much either. Eventually they too had grown apart and all that was left was memories. She had visited the book store a couple of times however, just for old time's sake. 

She had heard from a friend that it was shutting down. More than the sale itself, she had come to say good bye to the store. Almost like saying farewell to an old friend. An old friend who knew all the secrets of her first love.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Yesterday...

Time..habits...

Weird things those. They change so many things.

Yesterday, I heard something.
Logically, I should have...could have rather, felt bad, or sad about it.
I was just pleasantly happy for him.
Not in the defensive self protective, opposite acting out kinda way, but genuinely happy that he found someone for himself. I'd believed that I might feel bad about it. Expected so even. But time, wonderful thing that it is, has made it possible that it didn't matter to me at all.
He is no more an emotion. He is just a memory. A memory of interesting emotions once felt. Not even special enough to fondly remember much.
He is just somebody who once was.
(It is a possibility that we knew we were not right for each other, and hence I never actually registered him that much. Yet, I believed that I had cared enough to care. But no more. Which is a pleasant relief. :) )

Yesterday, my grandma slashed her hand. Early in the morning, as she opened the gate for me to leave for work.
At first it didn't bleed, but in 3 seconds, it was a blood bathed finger. In her right hand, that too! I quickly got the first aid kit, and left after she assured me that it wasn't deep and that it didn't hurt much, and with my sister in charge.
I get home in the evening to see that my grandmother, obsessive cleaner that she is, had done everything she would do on a normal day, and was soberly sitting with a very swollen ring finger. Especially with the blood still oozing a bit. Considering she's diabetic, and it had been more than 12 hours since she cut herself... Not a nice scene.
Queasy around blood, I've always been.
Yet weirdly, first aid is almost an instinct for me.
Not that I know exactly what to do all the time. But I do know how to get it done, and the will/ patience/ gut to stick around till it's done. No matter how much blood there is. No matter how queasy it makes me.
I guess it has a lot to do with all the time I've spent in the hospital as a kid. I remember at least 2 whole summers there.
It's strange that I hate the smell of hospitals... still can't get a shot/ get blood drawn alone, without my dad or someone close standing close to me, and letting me squeeze their hand, as my eyes stay firmly tightly shut. Still will not go to a hospital unless it's terribly serious, and I have no strength to stop.. no, fight the people (plural - requirement. Trust me) who are dragging me there.
And yet, I feel safest in a hospital. A place where people in white coats can make the worst news seem like something that can be gotten through, something that can be overcome. White coats with the power to give hope to the hopeless, and time to the dying. Sometimes, rarely, even life to the dying.
Yesterday, I spoke to my cousin who is a doctor, got my instructions, and when I was done with her finger 2 hours later (repeated ice compresses and cotton presses and whatnot) the swelling had completely gone away, and the bleeding stopped. As I wrapped it up for the night, I felt a feeling of accomplishment, more than I would do after 3 solid days of work!

Habits... ingrained over time, almost made as instinctive as a reaction
Time ... changing what once used to be habit, to mere memories

Strange things those.
Strange wonderful things.