Seeking Solace

 Seeking solace

When the ones I truly loved, turned away;

When the ones I really trusted ditched me,

When the ones who found their ‘guide’ in me,

Disappeared when I felt lost,

When the ones who adored me the most,

 Now branded me as fit-for-nothing.

When everyone offered only rejection and dejection,

When everyone painted my weaknesses bright,

And left my strengths behind in darkness,

When everyone used only harsh words on me

That pierced through my heart,

Making wounds that never heal

I roamed around the cruel, ugly world,

Searching for love, peace and a shoulder to lean upon,

My bloodshot eyes wandered around ceaselessly, hopefully,

But they found no one…

Not a single soul amidst the billion faces,

To love me, to have my back,

Not a single soul that would listen to me pour my heart out,

Not a single soul to tell one good thing about me,

Not a single soul that would pat my back and wipe my tears,

Not a single soul to whisper “I love you, despite your flaws” into my ears.

I reached the end of the path,

I grew tired of searching,

My eyelids felt heavy,

My throat had became bone dry,

My legs ached terribly,

I kneeled down having lost the very last ounce of energy and hope.

Then I noticed that the path diverged into two,

I peered at the other path,

That I had never used before

There were a lot of footprints,

 Overlapping one and other.

Slowly, I rose up,

As I heard each muscle in my body

Scream with pain.

I staggered towards that path,

Glancing at those footprints,

When I lifted my face,

I saw people rushing towards me to take me into their arms,

They planted kisses all over my face,

They made me dance,

They made me sing,

They fed me foods I had never tasted before,

I realized I had stopped crying,

But I wasn’t smiling either,

I felt a strange sense of hollowness grip my soul,

My eyes gaped at them, blankly,

With no trace of emotion.

But as the days passed,

I began enjoying my life,

After all, I had people around me

To shower fake love on me,

To offer fake trust,

To pamper me with fake kindness.

Yes, everyone are fake here, every single one of them,

And the best part;

I have mastered the art of flashing fake smiles…

                

Muddy Morning

 Muddy Morning

The startling sound of my alarm broke the stillness of my room, at precisely half past five, knocking me out from my deep, sweet slumber. I made a face at my mobile, and as always caught myself wondering how quickly, almost cruelly time flies by when we are asleep.

‘Ignore the alarm and go back to sleep, honey’ I heard a husky, alluring voice whisper.

“Wake up! You should be heading to the park!” barked a loud, hoarse voice.

“It’s okay if you miss…”began the alluring voice. I muted it and crawled out of my bed grudgingly. I splashed the cold water on my face in an attempt to wash away the imprints of the hangover. I changed into my walking outfit and tied my hair into a ponytail. Then I wore my watch, took my mobile and stepped out of my house.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, I reached the park. It felt refreshing to be in the park after a long, strenuous week. As usual, I focused on anything but my walking. My eyes swept across the park capturing few kids chasing each other, senseless adults on the swings which are meant for only children under ten, the familiar good looking uncles exercising vigorously and a group of elderly men engrossed in a discussion about politics.

Half an hour later, when I was done with my walking, I left the track and began searching for a place to sit. I noticed that most benches were wet owing to last night’s rain. I walked towards a particular bench. I was too busy viewing the bench that I didn’t notice how muddy the ground was. It is hard to explain what happened next… My left leg was firmly fixed on the ground, but my right leg skated away without really getting the consent from the other leg, leave only  from my other body parts… and so, my left leg eventually gave in and I landed right on the muddy spot. Balancing my weight on my right palm, I quickly retrieved myself from that awkward position and sat on the bench.

 I looked around to make a quick survey of people who might have witnessed my fall. Nobody came rushing towards me to lend a helping hand, no ‘Are you okay’ from anybody. Thank god for small favours. Such actions would have only added to my embarrassment.  I looked down at my right palm which was smeared with mud. I wiped it with my kerchief, gingerly. Then I wiped my tracks in quick, calculative movements so as to not catch anybody’s attention. I studied the muddy ground and wondered if I could have avoided the fall had I been more careful. I tried to act normal; wore a casual expression on my face, trying hard to ignore the tornado of embarrassment that was uprooting my self-confidence.

After a while, I glanced at my watch. I had spent fifteen minutes sitting, which meant it was time to leave. That was when I encountered a new, unique problem.

I couldn’t lift myself from the bench. No, I didn’t break a bone, no bruises, not a body part in pain. Yet, I couldn’t accomplish that simple task.It was solely because I didn’t have the courage to do it. Okay, I know this might seem kind of funny to you. But step into my shoes for a  moment and you know why exactly I felt that way. The moment I stand, the stains on my track pants would be clearly visible to the people around, they would start wondering how I got it stained, and the ones who had seen me fall would actually smirk at me and keenly watch how I walk, hiding the embarrassment, and of course, I would certainly receive a lot of unwanted glances from the others too.

But I refused to give up so easily. I kept telling myself ‘Act like an eighteen year old, act matured!’ That did some effect on me, because I began setting countdowns. ‘Okay, on the count of three, rise up! And then I tried a different approach… ‘When the seconds hand reaches ten I will stand up’, I promised myself. The countdowns ended; and the seconds hand never failed to reach the number I specified, but the task in hand remained unaccomplished.

After around ten minutes, I realized I was fighting a losing battle. So, I called my dad and narrated the incident and told him about my inability to stand up. He offered to pick me up, and I reluctantly agreed. I felt slightly better, but couldn’t kill the nagging sensation that kept reminding me how I was being such a pain in the neck all the time!

For the next few minutes I kept contemplating on why I was always running into trouble and acting like a jerk.

After what seemed like ages, my dad turned up. He looked sort of tensed and upset. He certainly had misinterpreted my problem of not being able to rise up; He and my mom had conjured the image of me being in severe pain and had thought I had probably fractured my bone.  

“No, dad, I just fell down and got clothes stained badly. That’s all...” I told reassuringly.

“What actually happened?”

I quickly narrated the incident on the way home. I apologized profusely for being such a nuisance.

Once we reached home, my mom started yelling at me for frightening them unnecessarily. Dad, who had been relatively less agitated, got inspired by my mom’s temper and started yelling, too. I stood still, nodding at their suggestions, grudgingly. No, things didn’t end there.( Not so fast!)

Apparently, they had been talking to my brother (who is in US) while I had called to inform about the mishap. So, this meant that it was my brother’s turn now. My brother began by pointing out to how I had overreacted for such a silly issue.  I grunted. ‘Why can’t anyone empathize with me… why do the dearest ones not understand my feelings?’

At one point of time, all three of them were shouting suggestions. ‘Ugh! The stains on my track pants are way better!’ I thought.

But, as my brother continued to talk, it slowly dawned upon me how I should have dealt with it in a more sensible manner. I felt small waves of peace gently hit the shore of my mind. If anyone is capable of having a calming effect on me, despite being a few thousand miles away; it is my brother! No, he doesn’t use sugar-coated words, nor does he tell a few harmless lies to make his little sissy feel better. Instead he uses logic to do the magic! Yes, he very calmly, very sensibly tells the facts… Not always the ones I want to hear, but the truth no matter how ugly it might be, certainly is transparent and simple. Transparency brings a sense of serenity to our minds. He very clearly told me how I should have thought about the possible alternatives instead of freaking out, how I can’t possibly sustain in the cruel world out there if I’m going be affected by such petty issues.

However, after around five minutes, we were discussing books and movies. When he hung the phone, I had almost forgotten that embarrassing incident!

But, we always have these ugly reminders around to haunt us, don’t we? I stared at my dirty pants, making a mental note to wash them later.

Nevertheless,  I felt my usual self returning. In fact, after breakfast I showed my parents a deliberate demonstration of my fall. They had a hearty laugh over it…

 Later, when I woke up from my afternoon nap, I realized how I learnt two important things from that incident. One; not to freak out for anything. Because when we start freaking out, we stop thinking, when we stop thinking, we can’t come up with appropriate solutions. So, instead think like an outsider, as in, insolate yourself from the situation and think what you would do if you were an outsider. This approach helps you to calm down, and enhances your problem solving skills.

The other thing that I realized was,  how important it is to care less for what others think of you. I know, this is really hard. But take a moment to recollect  how many times you had refrained, from wearing an outfit that you have never tried before or from sporting your favourite, funky hairstyle, out of the fear of being judged or hearing an undesirable comment. Remember, if you mend your ways according to standards set by others, you will cease to live, you will merely survive…or worse, you might end up destroying your real self in the process. Okay! I think I have deviated a little too much from the main plotline (I do it more often than not!)_

So, yeah, coming back to the incident, it certainly can’t keep me away from the park…However, I wouldn’t mind staying away from the benches for a little while…

SCARRED- Chapter 3

                           Chapter 3

After around ten minutes, he found himself rushing into the hospital. Around ten yards away, he spotted Sindhu lying on a stretcher. Man, she was breathing! He let out a long whoosh and leaned against the wall. There were two nurses huddled over her, but she was still alive. 

But when he went closer he froze. The left side of her upper body was sort of… disfigured. Her left eye, the skin on her face had almost melted away… Acid, he realized in horror.

He knew he had to run to her, but he felt as though a dumbbell was tied to each of his leg. His vision became blurred, his head throbbed. It seemed like all his vital organs had ceased to function. As he ran his hand through his hair, his mind projected a series of random incidents at an unbelievable pace. He tried to slow them down. When he began to concentrate, he heard the voices.

‘Let’s go to the police….You better stay away from her… Why didn’t you tell me before…Why not?... Or else, you might end up being hospitalized for life… I wasn’t sure if he was stalking me…They would make us seem like criminals…’

Suddenly, it struck him. His eyes widened. He felt the blood rush to his head. ‘It must have been that bastard…that bastard who had been stalking Sindhu a month earlier’ he told himself.

He clenched his fists. He and his friends had warned him twice. He did seem to back off. He had stopped stalking her. ‘Oh god! We must have approached the police, or maybe no, I should have beaten him to death.’ He thought.

Suddenly he wanted to kill him, rip his body into thin shreds, throw acid on every part of his body and watch him wriggle, watch him die…

Pooja walked over to him and sat down beside him.

“I’m terribly sorry, Aakhil”, she said.

He looked at her bloodshot eyes; he knew that she must be feeling more miserable than him. She is Sindhu’s childhood friend, after all.

“It was th-that bloody stalker”, she added after a moment of silence.

He nodded slowly, very slowly, gritting his teeth.

“She lost her left eye…and her upper left arm looks really bad. The doctor told that she has to undergo around twenty to thirty surgeries…

He just stared blankly at the floor. He couldn’t respond; he felt numb.

Then, he heard her break into sobs. He opened his mouth to speak, but the huge lump in his throat didn’t allow him to do any talking. He gently patted on her shoulder and turned away.

After half-an-hour, they were done with the first aid.  “Maybe you should talk to her”, he heard Pooja say.

‘Talk to her?’ echoed a voice inside his head. The idea of talking to Sindhu now seemed like an alien concept to him. He sighed. Only around an hour ago, he had wanted to propose her…

He slowly tottered towards the room in which Sindhu was lying.

For a spilt of a second, he saw her face, especially the part that had melted away, and then she immediately buried her face into her hands.

“Please don’t come in, Aakhil, get out!” she screamed.

“Sindhu…please…”

His voice choked. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. Seconds later, he realized it was a serious mistake. His tears made her yell louder.

“Get out, I say!”

He stumbled out of the room, feeling more heart-broken than ever.

Three weeks had passed since he spoke to her. None of his calls were answered, none of his messages received replies.

What nagged the most was, she won’t allow him to lay his eyes on her, atleast not when she’s awake. He desperately wanted to talk to her in person, holding her hands and gently stroking her hair. But he didn’t want to upset her. So, he made visits to the hospital and her house only after checking with her parents if she was asleep. And during the visits, he noticed how a shawl neatly covered that part of her face.  He spent hours talking to her parents and her lawyer and did almost everything that their son would do, if they had any.

He wondered how he had survived these three weeks. Each day seemed to be more painful than the previous one, with each second making him feel guiltier, making them grow more distant. Maybe, this is how lovely couples fall apart. ‘Not that the lovely couple tag really suits us’ he thought bitterly.

Twenty one days sans Sindhu’s calls and messages gave him a lot of time and space for introspection; terribly painful, nerve-wrecking introspection. And it resulted in one of the worst realizations: His love was dependent mainly on physical attractions.  All the tiny, squeaky voices in his head tried to deny the inner’s voice’s accusation. But deep inside he knew how right his inner voice had been.

                                                                            

                                                                        ***

After the acid attack, he came to the park every day. His lifeless eyes gazed at the hustle and bustle, as he solemnly contemplated on the terrible incident. He slowly, deliberately recalled all the fine, intrinsic details of it, allowing guilt to take a toll on him. More than often, he desperately wished to see Sindhu’s normal, unburned face.  He hated to admit it, but sometime caught himself wondering if he would love her less now.

But today, exactly three weeks after the acid attack, he was a changed man. He decided to let go of the acid attack. True, it did cause a permanent stain on their picturesque love life. But after all, it had been a stain which had kick-started their love life.

And anyways, a love life can’t remain to be picturesque forever. Sometimes, it ought to get stained… And now he knew their love can now withstand worse stains.

He decided to visit the hospital today, no matter what. He got on his bike and shifted the gear. As he heard the engine roar, he thought, ‘Hey angel, I’m coming to see you and nobody can stop me from doing that. Not even you.’

                                                                       ***

He stood at the entrance of the room, gripping the frame of the door. His heart did a mini somersault.  The first thing that caught his eye was the bright red shawl covered that part of her face. She was lying against the propped up pillows with a novel in her hand. He squinted to see it was a novel by her favorite author Dan Brown, or rather their favorite author. She placed her finger as a bookmark and fixed her gaze on him.

He could see hatred, pain and anger in her eyes but what shone better was her want to live, live past these struggles, insults and the pain.

He expected her to shoo him away like the last time.

 Instead she spoke“If you’re here to talk about the lawyer or the thug, let me tell you; I don’t want any of it. I don’t care, anymore. He threw acid on me only once. But there are people around me who burn my feelings every day, every single moment…”

She stopped abruptly.  He thought the tears would come gushing out. But no, she didn’t cry. Her eyes were red and watery, but not a single tear was to be seen.

He took a deep breath and gripped the door frame harder.

“No, it’s not about him.”

“Then, what else?”

 He felt a sharp pain in his heart. She made it seem as though they had nothing to talk about, she made him feel like a complete stranger. He suddenly realized how far she had gone away from him.

‘What can I do to make her understand that I love her more than ever? True, I  had been smitten by her looks and found her really attractive, but now my love was beyond the fading charm, beyond the sweet, flirtatious talk, beyond the meeting of the eyes, and beyond a lot more things ‘ he thought  bitterly.

Suddenly he found himself being on the verge of tears. ‘No, not now. O god! Not again.’ he told myself.

A painful silence enveloped the room, like a thick layer of smoke suffocating me. I knew it was suffocating her too, but she would never admit it.

A chill breeze entered the room , as if to break the silence. It made the curtains flutter; her shawl got slightly displaced, only slightly. She immediately pulled it back. He felt the sudden urge to pull away her shawl, caress that part of her face and shower it with his kisses. But he still stood at the entrance, gazing helplessly at her.

She slowly spoke, “Maybe we’ll talk some time later. I’m tired.

“But Sindhu…”

She looked irritated.  “Oh Aakhil, can’t you understand? Do I have to explain everything to you? Get out, now!  Get out of my life, please! Please…”

She paused for a moment. Her voice became close to a whisper. “Aakhil, I know you don’t deserve to be yelled at. But it’s hard to keep my cool, because I have gone through enough. These three weeks meant hell to me. And I know it’ll only get worse…”

Her voice cracked. She drank water and continued to speak, “You know what, I want to punch peoples’ faces before they could turn them away feeling disgusted for having laid their eyes on my face. I want push people out of my life, before they shove me off from their hearts. I hope you understand…”

“Sindhu, no one can understand you better than me.”

Her expression softened. Her right eye tenderly gazed at me for a moment and then it fell to the ground.

Then the breeze came again.  Her shawl fluttered, slowly very slowly, it revealed her face. She made no attempt to replace it now.

He went numb. He relived the nightmare again and imagined the how painful it must have been for her.  He searched her face. She looked very different from the woman he had found attractive and had flirted with. But he knows she is the woman he wants to wake up seeing every day, the woman who would fill his little lifeless house with love, happiness and the sweet sounds of little children, and with whom he would be huddled with in the veranda to watch the dawn break and the sky change colours, the woman with whom he would spend his last moments…

He swallowed hard and prepared to speak.

“You have every right to push me out of your life. But allow me to sort out few things and then I shall walk away.”

He doubted if he would ever walk away from her. Very rarely does he come up with which dramatic lines. He made a mental note to tell her later that he spoke such lines only to add a little spice to their conversation.

He closed his eyes for a moment. The lines that he had rehearsed for the marriage proposal back then seemed so meaningless now. She was a changed person, a much stronger person than she used to be and his love was no longer superficial.

She slowly climbed out of the bed and bent down to pick the shawl.

“No! Sindhu, you don’t have to wear that. You don’t have to hide your scars; the scars show what you’ve gone through.  There’s a tough journey ahead, I agree, but you can’t run away from it.  You ought to show the monsters out there that you won’t let the scars affect your dignity. And there are many who need inspiration and support from you. You got to reach out to them…”  He stopped suddenly feeling breathless.

She cried, smiled and blushed at the same time. She then closed her eyes and remained still for a very long moment. It’s hard to explain what happened next.

She came running towards him and flung her arms around his neck. He stood still, not knowing what to do. When she pulled her arms away, he spoke, “I- I want to a part of the journey ahead of you, I want to stay by your side all the time. Sindhu, Will you marry me?”

She nodded, looking straight into his eyes. He wrapped his hands around her and smiled through the tears.

SCARRED - Chapter 2

                               Chapter 2

A whirl of colour disrupted his train of thoughts. Aakhil squinted to spot a butterfly. He offered a  smile to it, feeling somewhat mystified. But he didn’t chase it, like he used to do as a kid. Instead he simply sat there, admiring the happy-go-lucky creature rapidly flutter its wings, as it flew past him. However, he had not the slightest idea whatsoever, about how to deal with the hundreds of crazy butterflies in his stomach.

                                                                           ***

After their first meeting, he didn’t miss a single match scheduled for the weekends. But he cared very little for the pitch; he had eyes only for the stands. He remembered how his friends were more than glad to offer him loads of free advice after their first meeting. One of his friends had suggested him to slip an ‘I love you’ note or a love letter into the folds of the jersey before returning it to her. Another friend was quick to see how ridiculous the idea sounded. ‘What if she doesn’t notice it and drops the jersey into the washing machine?’ he had asked which was followed by hysterical laughter from his gang of friends.

But as the days passed, his friends figured out they had only one in million chances of finding her. They tried to talk him out of this. But all their preaching fell on the deaf ears for he was driven by the madness of love.

However, after four months, the madness began to wear off, the practicality started to sink in. He realized that he’s never gone to meet her ever again. He stopped going to the Chepauk stadium. In fact, he developed an uncanny aversion for everything related to cricket.  He felt depressed than ever…

 And he had his share his nightmares, too. In one of them, he found himself roaming around in the stands with a torch in one hand and the jersey in the other. In another one, he spotted her and almost felt her presence. But before she could tell him her number, she got hit by an army tanker.

After a few months, his friends forced him into joining them for a cricket match. He decided to give in, but swore to himself that he wouldn’t search the stands for her; nevertheless he had the jersey in his bag. It was a T-20 match, but it felt like a test match; it seemed to go on forever. He never once hollered or yelled, he watched the match silently, almost lifelessly… His friends began to wish they hadn’t brought him along.

Finally the match ended. India won. But it meant almost nothing to him. As they prepared to leave, his eyes involuntarily swept over the stands. He sighed and quickly turned away.  But, when they neared the exit of the stadium, he was in for a shock.

The whole world seemed to go still for a moment. He stood still too, holding his breath, fearing that even the slightest movement would dissolve this long awaited moment. No, it was not a dream, not a hallucination either; she really was standing there, just a few yards away from him, with her soft, brown, mesmerizing eyes fixed on him, her silky shoulder-length hair tied in a short ponytail, her skin glowing haughtily in the sunlight.

They stood gazing at each other, not wanting to speak anything for they knew that the words become useless when the eyes do the talking. The silence felt divine, it seemed sinful to break it. After quite a long moment, they did become sinners.

“Hi”, they said in unison and then smiled as they realized how wonderfully well they voices travelled together. He let his eyes wander over her. He couldn’t help but notice how she looked much more attractive than the last time.

Not knowing what to speak next, he turned to his bag. He could feel Sindhu’s big, eager eyes on his bag as he began searching it for the jersey. Her face fell when he held out the jersey to her.

“Oh! That jersey…”she told feebly, not trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Well, I thought you would want to be it as a souvenir”, she told hesitatingly, with traces of coyness lingering over her lips.

“Souvenir?” he repeated, letting the sweet disbelief sweep over him. He had a feeling that the stars are favouring him today.

“Yes, souvenir for our first meeting”, she told, not feeling coy anymore.

Aakhil waited for one whole minute for the meaning of her words to sink in and then he let out a low, lunatic giggle, the giggle that a pauper would let out when he is informed that he is going to become a millionaire overnight.

He realized that it was his responsibility to take things over from here on.

“Well, I can’t believe I had to wait this long for-"

“For returning the jersey”, she interjected teasingly.

He saw no humor in that. He shook his head frantically and said, “For telling you how much I love you, how much I want to be with you…”

“What are you waiting for, then? Do it!”

He didn’t have flowers in his hand, nor did he go down on his knee. He just took a step closer to her, flipped the jersey over his shoulder, ran his hand through his clumsy, unkempt hair and said,

“Sindhu, I’m in love with you, madly, truly, crazily…”

She simply beamed, with ‘Oh god, long how I had to wait for this’ expression written all over face.

They looked into each others’ eyes and at that moment they both knew they were destined to be together, forever.

Then almost immediately he blurted out, “Can I have your number?”

She blinked. She felt that popping that question even before the magic of the proposal would settle in was slightly less appropriate.

However, she said with her hands on her hip, “Okay… Maybe we can exchange numbers”. She   paused “… but only over coffee”, she added with a wink.  

He grinned crazily. ‘Some woman she is’ he thought.

She took his grin as a ‘yes’.

 That was how their love story had begun. What followed was a wild, sizzling and super romantic road trip. There were few bumps, alright. But those bumps mattered very little to them; nothing in the world seemed to matter when they stayed together. Soon they became the couple that everybody was jealous of.

Only two years had passed since their first meeting. But it felt they had spent their entire lives living together. So, he decided to pop the question. ‘Aakhil, don’t be hasty. Allow your love to get nurtured’ his friend had told him. ‘Why does love need nurturing? What’s wrong if it stays raw, fervent and unstable forever? And if at all it needs nurturing, let it happen after marriage’ he thought. He simply couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her…

He stared intently at the entrance of the park, as he meddled with his bike keys. ‘What’s taking you so long, Sindhu? You better come before I change my mind about the marriage proposal’ he thought. He smiled as he realized how fake the threatening sounded. But what his smile hid was the creases of uneasiness which had begun to slowly chew away his happiness.

He took a deep breath and shifted his weight restlessly. Panic began to seep into him, now. Usually it took her around half-an-hour to reach the park. Even if there was heavy traffic, it would take her an extra fifteen minutes or so. But now, he had waited for nearly an hour. He gripped his mobile a bit tighter, debating with himself on making a call to her. He had already called her thrice and all the three calls had gone unattended. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. He pondered for a moment and then decided against contacting her, for he knew she would be driving now. ‘But what if…’ He let the question hang there, not wanting to complete it. With the ghost of optimism, he thought that something might have gone wrong with her moped. ‘In that case, she would have definitely rung up…’, he thought.

The loud, alarming ringtone of his mobile startled him. It was Sindhu’s friend, Pooja. Fear gripped his heart.  Something didn’t seem right. When he picked the call, he heard only sobs for a few seconds. His head throbbed. He kept yelling ‘hello’ feeling desperate, finally Pooja spoke, “A-Aakhil, it’s Sindhu…”

His heart stopped. “WHAT HAPPENED TO SINDHU?”

“She’s…Please don’t ask any questions now…  Aakhil, listen come to the General Hospital. Hurry up, Please…

His mobile fell to the ground. The whole world seemed to shatter right in front of him, the world he and Sindhu had built together. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. He buried his head into his palms. The tears spilt across his cheeks.

He wanted it to be a nightmare, a nightmare that would be over in no time. But the brutal reality was laid naked in front of him. ‘Sindhu is-‘ ‘No, she’s not dead. I won’t let her die. I shall tell her how much I love her, how badly I need her by my side, and then we would get married , have kids and…’ he suddenly stopped realizing how slim are the chances of these things happening. This brought fresh, new tears to his eyes. 

After a few minutes, he tried to get a grip over himself. He must focus, he must act. ‘Sindhu is going to be alright. She can’t be dead when I’m still alive’ he told himself.

He staggered towards his bike, shifted the gear and sped towards the hospital.

SCARRED- Chapter 1

                     Chapter 1

The August breeze tickled the nape of his neck. But the weather didn’t have a calming effect on him. Aakhil ran his hand through his hair and then smoothened it. He tapped his foot restlessly, as he rehearsed his lines in his mind for the hundredth time.

 He stared at his mobile to see that only a minute had passed since the last time he checked it. His eyes impatiently darted across the wide, crowded park and finally rested on its entrance. He let out a sigh. Waiting for someone can make us go nuts, especially if that ‘someone’ is the one whom you are nuts about. He smiled as he let his train of thoughts derail towards their first meeting…

Aakhil had to literally shout to his friend who was sitting right next to him, to be heard. Such was the noise level that surrounded the M.A.Chidambaram Stadium. It was an international T-20 match between India and Australia. MS Dhoni was on strike, so Aakhil didn’t complain. He had witnessed worse uproars in Ranchi Stadium, after all. But there was an almost ear-splitting hollering that kept coming from his right, which he couldn’t simply tolerate. He scanned the crowd to find the source of that hollering. He didn’t have trouble finding it. It was a lady; gorgeous- looking, young lady, probably in her early twenties.

And he simply couldn’t take his eyes off her. He kept gazing at her eager, brown eyes fixed on MS Dhoni, her shoulder length hair swaying lazily over her shoulders, her hands cupped around her mouth, her lips beautifully shaped to a perfect ‘o’. (Through that small ‘o’ came the loudest, craziest cheers.) A part of him still wanted to watch the match, but that part seemed so tiny, so insignificant.

 He could sense that he was falling for her. And he wasn’t a bit surprised about it. It almost felt like it was destined to happen. He could already see their future in her eyes…

He noticed that the others too stared at her.  While they looked at her out of amusement, he did it  out of fascination, or rather pure, blunt admiration.

However, she seemed to be unperturbed by all the staring. It looked as though she believed that her whole existence depended on cheering for the Indian players. After a while, though she did feel perturbed by a particular person’s constant staring. It was, of course, Mr.Aakhil. She turned to look at him. For a moment, they eyes met, their gaze locked. And then she quickly turned away. ‘Our first eye contact’, he thought. The word ‘first’ made him smile instantly. For he knew there was more to come, much more…     

During the interval between the innings, he slowly approached the drinks counter, scanning the place for his dear ladylove. Just as he turned to his friend to ask his help, he collided with a woman who was carrying a glass of coke in her hand. He frowned when he saw the drink spill on his T-shirt. But when he recognized the woman as his ladylove, the frown travelled down to his lips and transformed into a killer smile.

Her eyes lingered over the stain on his shirt, and then they reached his face and finally settled at his eyes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry”, she said.

He jerked his head awkwardly. Now she viewed the stain as if it were a bad omen.

She quickly produced an Indian team jersey form her backpack and almost thrust it into his hand.

“Oh! Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll need this”

“The last time I spilled my drink on a guy, India lost miserably. Since then, I always have an Indian team jersey in my backpack”

‘Oh, wow! I’m not the first. Seems like she has a penchant for spilling coke on peoples’ dresses’ he thought.

“Please put it on. I can’t afford to see India lose.”

He bit his lower lip to keep himself from collapsing into fits of laughter.

 According to her theory, the stain is the one causing the problem. But wearing the jersey isn’t going to wash away the stain. Well, he would have tried reasoning out if it were a different time, to a different person. But now, he decided to keep his opinions to himself.

“Sure, if that’s what you want”, he said reassuringly.

When they had returned to the stands, he found her looking at him or rather the jersey he was wearing.  He pointed to the jersey. She nodded and smiled. He blushed as he felt the adrenaline rush. ‘ A lot of boys might spot a pretty girl in the stands, but not many get to wear the jersey she gave nor get to see her smiling at them across the stands’ he thought, feeling thrilled than ever.

                                                                               ****

She walked to him after the match was over.

She said, “Well, India did win after all. I doubt if things would have been the same if you hadn’t worn the jersey.

He beamed at her as he nodded his head. He has his own set of superstitions when it comes to watching live cricket matches. ‘Maybe I should save it for our first date’ he thought with a blush.

That made Sindhu become suddenly interested in the strap of her backpack.

“Do you often come to the stadium?” he asked, desperately hoping to get ‘yes’ as an answer.

“We never miss the weekend matches”, she told, with a proud smile spreading across her lips.

“I see. So, I shall return the jersey when we meet again”, he told, his eyes sparkling like two pieces of burning coal.

“Oh come on, you don’t have to return it, seriously…”

Then both of them fell silent, feeling content with just replaying their little conversation in their minds.

Aakhil sensed the peculiar kind of tension between them, the tension you can feel when the other person has real feelings for you. As began to relish this, he realized that it was time for the inevitable to happen. Exchange of phone numbers. But he decided to be patient. Some part of his brain, which had lost the ability to reason ever since he fell in love, assured him that they would certainly meet again.

“Well, I got to go” she said, her eyes actually speaking the contrary.

As he watched her walk away, he felt the space between them fill with questions that he didn’t want to answer.

We feel attracted towards quite some people, flirt with a few of them and probably end up dating one or two.  However, you can hear your heart say, “She’s your girl” only for one woman. This might sound like a cliché, but it is still the truth… and in his case, his heart was singing that message to him in a trumpet.

Man, it was definitely love at first sight…

Trimming Them Down

                

              Trimming them down

          

     I squinted at the letters ‘tq’, accompanied by a few emojis grinning crazily at me, on my mobile screen. I sighed. I know I should have gotten used to those tiny words but I somehow I couldn’t.

I pulled the sheet closer to my neck. It was a cold, windy, December night. The WeatherBug showed a temperature of 21 degree Celsius a few minutes ago. I yawned. It is so difficult to stay awake when the weather is perfect and your bed is so cozy and yes, when your friend types a teensy, weensy ‘tq’ to the great help you had offered.

 I certainly don’t believe that one must use the word ‘Thank you’ to express their gratitude. Nevertheless, it is the magic word. However, it certainly loses its magic when it is cut down to ‘tq’. Most of the words lose their magic when you trim them down to your convenience.

 I turned to my mobile, getting ready to type. After a moment’s thought, I typed back, ‘You’re welcome’, sending the same emojis along. Somehow, ‘You’re welcome’ seemed more superior to the tiny ‘tq’. ‘ You didn’t create these words and so, you have no right to shorten them’, I told myself.

 Of course, I had been one of them, taking pride in cutting words the shortest and being the fastest one to reply, until…

My mobile slipped from my hand, it fell right on my face. I made a face at it and rolled over. That somehow churned the memories in my head. As though the churning disturbed them from their deep slumber, a swarm of my childhood memories came buzzing towards me, and a particular one almost stung me…

It was around the time when I created my first blog. I had been super-excited about it and did a lot of promotion for it in the social networking sites, and that made my friends lose interest almost immediately. But that didn’t stop me from pestering my brother to check out all the blog promotion I did. He wouldn’t budge for he cared  more for blog posts rather than blog promotion. One day, when I literally dragged him to the system, he finally gave in.

When he began reading it, I smiled gleefully like an emoji. However, after a few seconds, my features mimicked the expression on my brother’s face, and the smile quickly disappeared. At that moment, if my Mom or Dad had peeped into my room, they would have bet I was actually imitating my brother.

I gave a quick glance to the promotion work to check if nothing seemed absurd or out of place. 

As if he had read my mind, he read, “Please read…” from the screen  in an accusing tone.

 “Well, I was trying to be polite…” I told, feeling slightly stupid.

“It’s spelling!” he said pointing to the screen and gave me a look that a headmaster would give to a filthy brat who was going to be suspended.

I stared at the word, as if to scrutinize it. The word Pls stared back at me, inoffensively.

 I blinked. Using 'Pls' instead of 'Please' seemed so right, so natural. I wondered if any explanation was required at all.  On the contrary, his expression demanded a lot of explanation.

“Ev- everyone does that”, I told smugly, with the What’s-the-big-deal look written all over my face.

“That’s doesn’t make it any authentic”, he snapped at me.

I considered this for a moment. I felt a tiny drop of Guilt, whch almost immediately got diluted in a wide sea of arrogance. After all, feeling remorseful doesn’t help in winning the argument with your sibling.  You had to keep back-answering or else you would lose miserably.

“Don’t you-“, I begin and then bit my tongue.  ‘How stupid! Of course, he won’t advice me against using such words unless he’s not using them himself’, I thought.

But the words that had slipped cannot be taken back, and now I wondered if I have to brace myself for a mini-tirade.

However, his voice was unusually calm when he spoke, “No, I have not cut down the words ever since I fell in love with the language.”

‘Oh, wow! So, English had been his first love,’ I thought and instantly felt a nasty grin spread across my face.

“After all, it helps me in learning a lot of stuff, in communicating with people around me, and most importantly, in expressing myself.

These words echoed in my mind and I mercilessly killed that nasty grin.   

But I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I decided to come up with a sensible retort this time.

“We can’t afford to waste time, typing the entire words”, I told him.

Suddenly, he looked a bit furious, but he continued to speak in that calm, serene tone.

“The neologists had spent years breaking their heads to create the words and you think you would actually waste your time typing the entire word?”

I fell silent.  It never really occurred to me that they were people who spent most part of their lives forming English words. Because, only text books, story books and newspapers had introduced me to the world of words and of course, my buddies had forcefully (not really forcefully all the time) dragged into the world of cuss words.

Now, the will to quarrel had gone, for he was perfectly right. Now I saw Guilt speeding towards me in huge, monstrous waves, it washed over me, making me feel wet and vulnerable.

I slowly sat down beside my brother, with my face slightly bent down and decided to be honest.

“Well, I actually wanted to be one among them, wanted to show them I follow the trends (he rolled his eyes at this) th-that’s why I actually cut the words shorter and use abbreviations... I wanted to feel included, you know…” I told, with my eyes on the floor.  

“Did you really think that cutting down the words would actually make you one of them?  Why do you want to become one among them, anyways? You can stay unique, unique in your own way.”

 ‘Unique in my own way!’ I raised my head and looked right into his cold, piercing eyes.

“Aristotle believed that earth was round. The whole world laughed at him and you know what, he laughed at them, well, not really… but he went on to prove that his concept was absolutely right…”

I began to wonder if he was starting to exaggerate things and drifting away from the actual conversation.

“…And you might actually wonder why I’m relating such trivial things like using crazy abbreviations  to such a significant concept.

I raised my eyebrows. It’s funny how he reads my thoughts so well, every time. It actually gets creepy over a period of time.

“…But nothing is as trivial as it seems. Like, for instance, Rosa Parks could have simply given away her seat to the white person, however, she refused to do so for which she was arrested; she stood up for her ideals. Her act of defiance paved the way for the Civil Rights Movement.”

 Then after a small pause he began to speak in a voice that seemed so distant, so strange, 

“So, stand up for your beliefs and ideals, even if the whole world is against you, because they never let you down. And even if they happen to fail you, at some point of time, fight on and in the end, you would realize how right you had been”

“Even if everybody in the world types r for are and u for you, you type the complete words, simply because you believe it’s the right thing to do.”

“I think it’s the little you can do to respect the language that has helped you express yourself for the major part of your life and to honour the people who had dedicated themselves for the innovation of English language”, he concluded,  looking slightly breathless.  

An eerie silence developed in the room. The Guilt, now, flowed through my body, making me realize how silly I had been. After what seemed like hours, I decided to break the silence.

“Hey, bro, don’t you dare disturb me for the next ten minutes or so. I have a bit of editing work to do.”

He grinned at me broadly (A rarity!). And I grinned back...

The unique, distinct notification sound from my mobile instantly brought me back to my tiny, dirty room.

The mobile screen showed the message ‘GN’

I smiled at the two, tiny letters and typed ‘Good Night' and, yes I did sent a few emojis along.