and she will be loved

There only so many people we sift thoroughly to let deep down into our hearts. I too, have had my share of all kinds of friends, but today I will raise a toast to my soul-sister. The one girl who through time & distance will always be a huge part of my life.

My ninth- grade was a pretty rough year. There was this girl in my class K who sat right in front of me & she had the jolliest nature ever. K was perpetually sunshine and smiles & there’s no better way to describe her. Our first talk in class went like this.
Me: where are you from?
K: Tamil nadu
Me: oh a pandu
K: excuse me!
Me: yeah a pandu & an enemy
K: why? We don't even know each other enough to be enemies
Me: because you guys want to steal the kaveri water from us
And thus fake wars were waged as we fought for the kaveri we hadn't even seen.

 Since I was kind of alone & in no real intention to make any more close friends (due to a huge dramatic full - fledged Indian serial type break up with my ex-best friend) I took refuge in the library. Every recess & every free period I would run away to the library & bury myself in books. And every once in a while she would swing by & check on me, she didn't have to, no one else did, but she would and it pretty much made her almost top of my list of awesome people. She was a reader herself & we would have many talks about our heroes.

Skip a few years. We just got closer.

She got married & had a child. We didn't tell any of our other friends because when life tends to find out you are too happy it jinxes your happiness. I was leaving for vacation when she went into labor & I kept trying her cell but could not reach her. Finally she did call me & I was so happy for her that I thought I might just shoot out like a rocket with all the joy. And then she dropped the bomb. "Will you be godmother to my child?" If I had any doubts about rocketing away, I was fairly certain I would now. Needless to say I spent an entire vacation planning on stuff I’ll buy my godson, and what kind of a god mother I would be.

In a few months, she called me & said she had a big announcement and I still remember regretting being a happy go lucky loser who joked about everything because I teased her if it was a second pregnancy or something when she broke down on the phone & after moments of uncertain silence and panicking she told me she was getting a divorce. I was dumbstruck. I didn't know what to say so I cried & tried to convince her that it would be ok & I was there for her - always. I had known for a while that there was something going on between them but she hadn't spoken about it ever & I didn't ask because I knew if she wanted to tell she would have told me- I didn't want to intrude into her personal life. So I spoke to her more often & though I wanted to visit her more often than I could, I tried. Eventually she got the divorce but then there was the custody battle & we plotted & fought court - of course I only had a minimal role to play except for the daily prayers. But in the end we won. She got my godson & it wasn't all great & glorious but we got through. And I feel like hell even now because I wanted to do more for her & be there in more ways than I could but I tried & that is my saving grace. I visited her & we cried & sought solace in reminding each other of god's mercy & greatness & His grand plan.
And then she left. For good to India (family emergency). I was upset for a whole week before I could be normal again.

I cannot think of her without a smile creeping up on me because she made me a better person, and for the sister she has been she deserves nothing short of heaven.

 

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The Same Room

My fingers trembled as I held the pen, I was so sure of what I wanted, I  had fought family and friends, my own morals and values to be here, then why were my hands shaking as if their very existence was at stake? His hand gently held my other, and it gave me all the strength I needed. I closed my eyes - I could only see my mum’s tear-stained face, my dad’s terror, my family’s shame at their daughter’s deed.

They say when your life is near its end, you see everything like a movie and the thing / person you care about the most is the most vivid image in your mind. My life was hardly near its end yet it felt like I was about to choke to death, people I had loved, trusted and still did with all my being, would hate me from now on. A range of emotions battled within me – hope won. I had to take a stand for myself, it was time, I opened my eyes and whispered “sorry mum, sorry dad”. I signed as fresh tears escaped my eyes. 

I can assure you running away from home is not as easy or romantic as the movies make it look like. Sure it’s exciting- the rush, the adrenaline, the joy diluted with pain- it’s just about  as tiring as it can get. Yet I just lived a dream, right now i stand as a wife, officially a wife.  “I’m in love with this courtroom”- it’s all i can think of. The man I love beyond reason placed a seal on our love with this marriage. I know all the wrongs and rights associated with “running away” but, hey I’m an adult and I have every right to take my decisions myself-esp about who I want to spend the rest of my life with. My parents can’t force me to change who I am for a guy of their choice. 

People walk in and out, the sky is clear , just like my mind – in spite of the turmoil I feel oddly at peace. Everyone looks so remote here, no one smiles, no one bothers. We don’t come here  for “legal help” , we are here because we want our right, our freedom, we are here because it matters so much in our lives. Were it trivial we wouldn’t be here, But the people in the court are barely aware of how much it matters to us, for them it's just another day at work, they become so immune to their job that they hardly place any emotional value to the events.    

My now husband's car is parked a few blocks away so I decided to wait outside on the stairs. I sat down and across the road I saw a little girl holding her mother’s hand, her mother gently tugging her along, she saw the ice-cream vendor and planned her deal. She begged for ice-cream, her mother refused and tried to talk her out of it but she persisted- getting a little stubborn moving her hands wildly and leaving her mother’s hand and running towards the ice-cream cart.

That image, that moment will never leave my mind;the parting of hands. Even in childhood, we leave our parent’s hand when they don’t agree with us, just like we do when we grow up, and eventually, like always our parents will come around. Or so we hope.

She fell down, her mother forgot the world and rushed to her, kissed her little head, bought her an ice-cream, took her hand and walked on - if I had given my parents enough time, perhaps if I had been stubborn, would they have come around? Maybe they will. It gives me hope more than I can ask for. It feels like the universe is sending me a signal that my parents too will accept me one day. 

I want to tell that mother to never leave her child, to never say no to anything she asks for, to never put her in a situation where she will be forced to break her own heart and their trust. I want to tell her to give her the freedom of choice as she grows. Tears slip away again, they just seem to need a reason even in my current state of ecstasy. 

Then I noticed her, even with tears in her eyes, she smiled at me – thank god for a human here, I smiled back. Her eyes show so much of love lost, she could be very young, perhaps just a few years older than me, but her face seemed like she’d seen a bad storm, Like a gambler who had put her hope and trust out in the open, rolled the dice and lost it - a young divorcee. I wonder if that is me in a few years time. That smile, that look seemed to be telling me to change my decision and run back home, that I’m wrong. But it was already too late.

Ironic isn’t it I just started my story in the same room where another girl’s probably just ended.

My fingers trembled as I held the pen, I was so sure of what I wanted, I had fought family and friends, my own morals and values to be here, then why were my hands shaking as if their very existence was at stake? His hand gently held my other, and it gave me all the strength I needed. I closed my eyes - I could only see my mum’s tear-stained face, my dad’s terror, my family’s shame at their daughter’s deed.  

They say when your life is near its end, you see everything like a movie and the thing / person you care about the most is the most vivid image in your mind. My life was hardly near its end yet it felt like I was about to choke to death, people I had loved, trusted and still did with all my being, would hate me from now on. A range of emotions battled within me – hope won. I had to take a stand for myself, it was time, I opened my eyes and whispered “sorry mum, sorry dad”. I signed as fresh tears escaped my eyes. 

My dad’s car was parked a few blocks away so he told me to wait at the stairs outside courtroom.  “He” passed by me and didn’t even look back. There was a time he would never leave without looking back and blowing me a kiss.  That was then, this was now. Going through a divorce is probably one of the toughest things a girl can undergo.  It’s like trying to escape a black hole, the more you walk out, the more you get pulled in. It is still beyond my understanding how can you love someone so much to promise to be with them with forever , and yet in times of need fall back on that only hope a  girl survives on. How can you not muster up the courage to defend the girl you love, in front of others? How much do you expect a girl to change just because she is your wife now? How can you defame her like that, how can you be so intimate with her and forget all of it and ask for a divorce.? 

People walk in and out, the sky is clear , just like my mind – in spite of the turmoil I feel oddly at peace. Everyone looks so remote here, no one smiles, no one bothers. We don’t come here  for “legal help” , we are here because we want our right, our freedom, we are here because it matters so much in our lives. Were it trivial we wouldn’t be here, But the people in the court are barely aware of how much it matters to us, for them it's just another day at work, they become so immune to their job that they hardly place any emotional value to the happenings.   

I sat down and across the road I saw a little girl holding her mother’s hand, her mother gently tugging her along, she saw the ice-cream vendor and planned her deal. She begged for ice-cream, her mother refused and tried to talk her out of it but she persisted- getting a little stubborn moving her hands wildly and leaving her mother’s hand and running towards the ice-cream cart.

That image, that moment will never leave my mind- the parting of the hands. Even in childhood, we leave our parent’s hand when they don’t agree with us, just like we do when we grow up, and eventually, like always our parents will come around. Or so we hope.

She fell down, her mother forgot the world and rushed to her, kissed her little head, bought her one, took her hand and walked on – I feel grateful for my parents standing by my decision. I see my own parents reflected in that mother, and I know whatever mistake that child will make, her mother will always be there for her.

I want to tell that child to never trust a man other than her father in her life, I want to tell her to never let go of her mother’s hand because if she does, she is only going to fall down. I want to tell her that although her parents will hold her hand again, they will feel the pain- magnified. That only you will be responsible for what they are going through and even if your life is happy with your decision, a part of you will always long for a better story- one where your parents never had to face anything because of you , one where you made them proud. These days my tears are definitely on the rebound, paying me back in full interest for all the times I had tried to subdue them.

I look around and see a girl perhaps a couple of years younger, she’s got tears in her eyes, so I smile at her. Even with tears in her eyes, she smiles back.  Her eyes shine with fresh rays of hope- masking the pain that seems so far away. that smile radiating so much joy- so she’s another registered wife today. She reminds me of me a couple of years ago. I smile, although I really just want to tell her to run back home and change her decision; she seems to understand but I guess now is a little too late for that. I pray I’m not jinxing her happiness.

Irony has her own ways of revealing herself- my relationship ended just moments ago in the same room that she started a new one.

Everyone’s story

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend

Passing by our school, I see our playground and every memory blinks a different light in my head, blurring my vision with their watery escape. Friends we made, fought with, waited in the morning to arrive, parted ways every afternoon, right here. Every solace found, every game played, every moment celebrated, every person cursed, every period bunked -too much to remember and nothing worth forgetting.

Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask

It's just another phase of life, you have to let go. Every good thing shall pass, making you a better person, life is too short; so relish the times you get and later relish the memories you made. Every time your heart aches with the pain of sweet moments lost in the past, you delude yourself – thank god for facebook you say. We can at least keep in touch. Though you are told it’s no use living in the past, who can really truly move on? Do you and damn, can you, forget the good old times??  You “add” all your old friends, your pillars of strength, in hope that you will never let go – that you will always have someplace where you know solace, friendship, love and open arms await you.

Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday 
 
Everyday you come online but you barely do much - you play ghost. Facebook laughs at you, tempts you to come in, teases you as you keep track of your friends, tries your moods as you wonder what to tell them, how to tell them that you miss them, and laughs again, more sarcastic than ever, as you decide there’s nothing to say. It’s a daily routine, even though you barely talk to each other, even with the distances in between, you await to see their daily routine of activities, and when you don’t see any likes, shares or comments – you tense, wonder and pray for their well-being. It’s just a little fire in you, a longing for them you can never, and will never, express – it’s something you can’t hide or reveal. You cling onto the only connection left between you two, you can’t say bye.

No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say

And even though you don’t know how much I still care, or you probably don’t realize how intensely I still care, I try to reach out, but you don’t quite catch me. I attempt to remind you I exist, my best friends, my partners in crime - but it seems like you have moved on. Was it really that simple for you? You barely respond inspite of the ease of it, and I wonder if there is any hope for me with you, I worry if I have lost my old friends – hopes shattering through tears in my eyes, the flame shivering in the storms of reality, or perhaps my delusion. I look carefully at your profile again, but I don’t recognize you anymore, maybe a little in bits and pieces - I see familiar patches, but not the same whole. You may have changed or moved on, I may not be as important to you as you still remain for me- but I cannot replace you in my heart, I will continue to pray for you. As realization dawns on me, I cannot distinguish between my friends and these familiar strangers.

One request – can my real friends please raise their hands?

This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy

song credit : madonna 
please be kind, it's my first ever song-fic.

in memory of friends i made and lost, and the friends i didn't get a chance to make yet lost them.