Ghosts of a painful deal

I live with the man who killed all your self-esteem right before my eyes. I live with the man who robbed you off your lifelong savings and put you under indefinite debt as a price to keep me. And, I live with that man willingly, hoping to bring a tinge of happiness to you.

I am doing well here. I talk when I am supposed to, smile when I am expected to and laugh when I am triggered to. I respond to him like a programmed machine.

I have no regrets dad. But, will I ever forgive him? I don't think so.

I cannot perceive the fragrance of the flowers that he occasionally brings for me. I cannot see any beauty in the hill stations that we visit together. I cannot enjoy the sunday brunches that he cooks for me. I cannot feel the love when he touches me tenderly.

May be, with time, I will stop detesting him. But can I ever start liking him ? I really don't think so.

A Beautiful Coincidence

Strolling with my pals around your campus, I had begun to wonder if I would accidentally catch a glimpse of you. But I chose to save myself from the heartache and immersed myself in the frolic developing around me. While we were playfully looking at our feet and coordinating the steps with the drums that were being played somewhere distant, that accident was no less than a dream. Or should I call it serendipity?

You stood right in front of me! With 2 guys by your sides.

Hello mam.

And I, dumbfounded, looked into your eyes in disbelief. That moment would have frozen there, had you not brought me back to my senses.

Seems like you can't even recognize me now!

My heart smiled. The most wonderful part about tragedy is the comedy concealed in it. Very few can see it. Fewer still can enjoy it. These words were shot at me by you: the person whose thoughts, for all these years, had not vacated my mind for a second.

No. No. Nothing like that. I am just a little surprised. Umm.. So how are you doing?

And some more meaningless talk followed.

Looking back at that day later, I realized something: Not all coincidences have a hidden purpose.

My apprehension

It's been months since I saw you. And I know I will wait months to see you again.

With each passing moment, I can see our souls distancing further. But the chain that ties our hearts keeps getting stronger. Tied to this chain, we have now begun to bleed. And when we get to talk, it's only those wounds that shape our discussions. No more hasty dreams. No more imaginary moments of solitude. Romance is a thing of the past.

Sometimes I wonder when our lives will move again. Will the distances between us grow enough to separate us? Or will the strength of our bond help fill all the gaps?

And if we do get back to each other, will our hearts bear anything more than the pain that we embraced in the name of love? Will our affair retain the same flavor that it possessed at it's conception? Will that old spark reignite?

Not long ago...

Even today my gaze goes down when I think about him; my lips curl up.

And those moments fall right before my eyes. His stereotypical questions and my well-expected answers. We had discovered our destiny in those meaningless formal talks. Then followed the celebrations and the preparations. Our secret hideaways amid the crowds. His fingertips on mine. The sensation of those elementary contacts. The joys of first rains. The zenith of euphoria that we reached together. Social and financial. Emotional and physical.

And an ugly storm took it all away. It left between us huge, permanent gaps. Gaps that we could not even try to fill. But did we have a choice?

Years passed by. He moved on. Lived those firsts with someone else.

And here I lie, alone. Yet again reliving the moments spent with him. Savoring the memories of his essence. Hoping to see a different climax to this story in my next lives.

Echo from the womb

I was born in a moment of shallow ardour.
At that very moment, perhaps, my destiny had been scribbled too.

As I grew, I started to hear the soft heartbeats of my mother: the rhythmic music that brought to me a unique sense of security and comfort. Gradually, I even began to overhear words from outside.

Really?? I'm so happy. I strongly feel it's a boy this time. And we will confirm that tomorrow- said a hefty voice. I guessed it was my father. And moments later, I could hear my mom sob in silence. I can't let you die again, my baby. She was talking to me. I hope you not are a girl!
Not that I feared death. Not that I wanted life. After all, someone unborn like me is nothing more than a virgin soul. And I knew no abortion could kill the real me.

But I felt sad. I felt miserable for the woman whose heartbeats sounded shaken at that moment. I felt sorry for the man who did not reject me outrightly, but would sanction my existence on the basis of my gender. I felt terrible to acknowledge her vulnerability and his vulgarity.

Do I really want to experience the world outside- the world that already seems so filthy? I questioned myself. My little mind wondered if I would end up becoming another helpless mother or heartless father. But a higher intelligence pacified my perplexity. I realized that, if born, I would at least have a chance to bring about a change. And that's reason enough for me to want to live.