The Yellow Umbrella Approximation Against Actuality

15 hours, almost non-stop labor, lifting boxes half my body weight or maybe less every other minute. Although, I don’t recall my body weight nor do I remember the last time I measured it. A full black sleeve t-shirt over loose gray bottoms running down to heavy safety shoes 1 kg each. RealFeel -17 and cold wind scratching against my face as it blew brutally. Repetitive motion of in and out the store before the skin could respond to rapid temperature change. Sometimes I don’t understand the force that drives me. When you pick up weight more than you can, using your arms, they become sore and heat builds up in the muscles that helps mind throw a neural impulse faking a warm feeling throughout the body which fights against the cold temporarily, after that everything is an adrenaline rush. As I lifted evening’s last box of 55inch core bits up to the 3 legs balanced ladder, the manager cheered ‘Abhi jaan baki hai young man.’ to trigger a weak smile on my dry face. By the time I reached home my joints began betraying me and after the shower, I have to say I am amazed that my fingers are still running across the keyboard following directions of the motor cortex which a minute ago refused to grip a pen in soreness. If I think about it, this everyday ritual of remembering everything that happened throughout the day before going to bed is plain stupid but, makes me remember things I thought I never would. A swift motion of eyelids to shut the world out and remembering that I forgot to eat, or for that matter cook. Ma would be so mad. It’s a good thing she doesn’t have to know. Seems to me, it’s easier when you don’t have people around to care.

It feels like my backbone is slammed and will break from 3 different places within the thoracic column if I try to move without the consent or support of my hands which by the way are still going strong along the dim reflection of a faintly lit LCD screen while I am thinking about what Virginia Woolf once said.. “How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?” because somehow my heart hurts more than my body. And If I think about it, she didn’t say anything about people who use keyboard to drain their emotions on the internet which in the end aggregates to a couple of megabytes bound to be lost among the terabytes of data, making me just another pretentious snob, wasting at least 22 words per minute on a cold winter night. Makes me want to skip forward to the better part of my life where I am happy and holding hands with the love of my life. I think I am approaching the limit of my emotional endurance. Ted had it easy, he believed he would meet Tracy one day because the script said so from the beginning. Me? I don’t have a clue which way to go in this total darkness. A hopeless romantic, even on the edge of oblivion I know I will always choose Yellow Umbrella over Blue French horn. Borrowed time in the sun is always better than settling for unjust calibrated destiny. I used to believe that there is a yellow umbrella girl for everyone, but the truth is I am tired of waiting. I know it’s not in some depressed, lonely frustrated kind of way because my words are not profane yet, but it takes a toll on my reserves of belief. Every day I don’t meet her I believe a little less, and as Ted would say, it sucks. Because all that I am holding onto is escaping hope and a misconception of true love. I know I have to suffer a few heartbreaks to get to her, it's just that, every time I fall for a wrong person it takes away a part of me that I can't get back. And I am terrified that someday I am going to meet her and I won't have anything to give anymore. Would she love me anyway? Would I even have the courage to go up to her and tell her how all my ways led to her? Because it’s not easy telling someone you love them. If you mean it, it takes all the strength you have, and all the courage in the world comes up short. But that is not what scares me, it’s what if I don’t meet her? What if I’ve already met her and she doesn’t feel the same way? For a person who loves rain so much the criticality of a colored umbrella throws everything off balance. I have this notion in my head of how her eyes will light up brighter than the Times Square when she’ll tell me all about her dreams and I’ll tell her why they are important. Somehow I know I can achieve every other goal I have in life one way or the other because that is how I am, I do well on the things I care about less with minimum effort, but this, this is a hit or miss. I am just too paranoid to leave everything in the hands of fate. Maybe that is why I run my bloody fingers across these keys forming words of my thoughts, so that one day when I am gone, someone will find these feeling beaded into bytes and think ‘I would’ve loved him’.


I also learned today that deficiency of B12 causes guilt in a person and guilt is a powerful motivator. I can only imagine why people always work through the process of ignoring feelings to maintain a spotless conscience. It makes you wonder if every other emotion you had was because of malnutrition or lack of one vitamin or the other. Or is it just another trick that our brain pulls on us. Wouldn't it be great if you could just go up to a person and say.. Remember the other day when I said I loved you, I didn't really mean it. I was hallucinating due to the lack of oxygen because earlier that day I saw you smiling and it was so dauntingly beautiful that I couldn't breathe. But what's the point? You know you can only lie to the person, not yourself. Why would you even decide to tell someone you have feelings for them? The answer is simple: when you understand the feeling behind a heart running wild across the barbed wire of stereotypical notions that society puts up, only then will the intensity of one's integrity towards the irrational actions make sense. But there are also actions which are driven by the reckless emotions on a high and cannot contain the chaos even if given a bottomless pit container of sympathy. The warm nurturing touch of love may very well be an illusion, where naked eyes perceive the misdirection of a magician at work who likes to call herself 'life'. And I guess this is where my feelings sneaks up on me from behind and beats me senseless under the busted street light in the back alley of my sub conscience to convince me that the unexplained emotions my mind was experiencing is more than just some metaphysical manifestations of my psyche created for the ample defence mechanism to avoid truth I always keep running from a little longer. I live for the little things in life, like balloons, balconies, rooftops, the smell of the earth after the rain, the reflection of the night after it snows, soulful eyes, smiling lips, inspired hearts and last but not the least, the symbolism of a yellow umbrella and belief that if one can’t see the beauty in twigs there is no point in looking for it in autumn leaves.

I miss her the way I feel hunger. One second I am totally fine other second I crave samosas, but then I ignore it and it leaves me with this emotional acidity that gives me a literal heartburn. To tell you a secret, I don’t always crave samosa, but I do always miss her, does that make me a terrible person? It’s like there is this face imprinted on my frontal lobe and the more I try to smudge it off the more my cognitive skills degrades. To lose this feeling I have to lose a part of who I am and I am not sure I am ready for that yet. Because however messed up I maybe, I love myself and I am the only one that makes me happy, even if it is through long nights of sadness and momentary mornings of epiphanies, like this one; It doesn't matter how many godly things I do in the day. During the night, in the cold lap of vulnerability, I am just a boy who misses the girl of his dreams, who is never going to feel the same way. And that makes me sleep so tight that I don’t want to wake up the next day.

So far, the day I wrote this post was my worst day in Canada when I met that girl at that bus stop on my way home. I couldn't help but listen to her as she spoke about how she's struggling, she doesn't trust herself, she might hurt herself and all the while I believed she'd pull through but couldn't do anything to help her, I am not sure she remembers this, she was going home to take a nap because she was so tired and I suggested she might have a b12 deficiency. I was so sad that day because I knew she was not happy, and I didn't realize this until a few days ago, I think I wrote this for her subliminally or maybe not, I don't know what to think, I may have written this for someone else entirely for someone I loved, for the significance or the symbolism of the color yellow, fucked up in the head I am, can't trace meaning of my thoughts anymore. But today tops off the mother of bad days. This shit show stars our very own self-proclaimed tortured writer who always has to give two fucks about every damned thing. I mean who does he even think he is, a punk smack dab in the middle of a messiah complex, well, boo-fucking-hoo I can’t even save myself how can I possibly think I can save others? Sometimes its easy to blame it on my misplaced sense of righteousness other times it’s just as comforting to accept the fact that I am in fact what’s wrong with the world. I mean poetry..pfff, what I write is not poetry it’s just a lame attempt to stay alive or find something to cling on so that the darkness doesn’t devour me or the night doesn’t swallow me whole, but to be honest sometimes I wish it does and maybe choke on my bones. I suppose if I really think about it, I am the darkness, pure unadulterated form. I damage people with things I say or things I do out of LOVE, and maybe you’d think that it is justified because of that most commonly used four letter word, but let me tell you, it is not. I am starting to realize that it is my baggage to feel ever so deeply for people who get close to me and show them the life they think they deserve and have never had. And honestly, I think people do deserve better, even if they are not the best ones, I mean who the fuck am I to judge, the man who tries to walks on water or the man who drowns in his puddle of tears. It is always ugly, always and we have to fight for it, work hard for it, but what would I know, I am sitting here writing tales of my sadness. I should just stop getting so close to people, just stick to my ye ol’ mask of the “the guy who always says something funny or inappropriate or both”, shut off the sensitive side, notice less melancholy and more mediocrity. Dissolve in the crowd and say what is expected, behave what is narrated and get close to no one better yet sway further apart from myself. I am so tired of all these feelings I get, so tired of thinking that this time it would be different. So tired of giving people the benefit of the doubt. So tired of them always letting me down and leaving. My mornings smells like cigarettes and I haven't felt like myself in a very long time and I think this should be it, that's all, that's it. Last time I called, they put me on hold with an automated machine, I really hope they answer this time or I really hope not. My writing has become all about venting and I believe it is not fair to write about hope if I don't have any, it wouldn't do anyone any favors. Writing has always been about the truth for me, it should end on that note too. I fall in love with people easily and far too often or maybe I respect them more than myself and it seems it is a crime against the existence of the generation we live in today, and I think its almost poetic to go out as you were than to become something you are not. I wish I knew how to put emphasis on almost in the formatting but I am too tired to care and everything hurts and I can't make it stop. Make it stop! Make it fucking STOP!

The Story (of Us)

What is a Story? What sort of series of events would it have to be to qualify as a story? The way it starts? The way it ends? What if it doesn’t end? Or is it just the meaning it conveys, to a mere onlooker or an intense follower. Does it depend on how relatable the characters are for oneself? And if the story is relatable, what sense can you draw out of it? To a normal person these questions don't mean anything, but, if you are a writer or claim to be one or at least trying to be one, you know these questions decides the fate of what kind of writer you want to be, and where you are headed. Do you avoid to tell a story simply because it is too painful for you, or because it is too personal? Or maybe you subconsciously think that no one would understand it, ever? And even if they do, can they ever trace back the feelings with which those words were beaded together and penned down? It’s a stereotypical world we live in where nobody wants to be the writer, not really. Everyone settles to be a reader. A reader, who involuntarily falls for the character in the stories, in every which clichéd way. But what if, the character from the story falls in love with the reader for the first time. How would that pan out?  Would it be thought of as unconventional, or would it just change the world?

I was sitting in the 1^st lecture of the day soon after we placed our bet and wages. I tried to think about a way to win the bet, but, my mind sniffed in this drug called wanderlust and parked my train of thoughts down the memory lane. As soon as I was pushed off the train I saw myself sitting beside Angel with a small notebook in my hand underneath a tree. Her head resting on my shoulder as I read from the notebook:

“She raised her finger in the air
and drew the outline
of the constellations
in my night sky,
tricked my heart into falling
like a shooting star.
Wishes were made for love
that can never come true.
Silly boy, hearts are no stars.”

She forced a smile, while her eyes disagreed with the movement of her lips. She caught me looking and instantly turned her head towards the notebook, hoping I wouldn’t notice. But instead, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

She ignored the question and turned the page asking “Read me this one.”

I insisted “No, tell me what’s wrong?”

She stole a look at me and then turned back a few pages from the notebook and read:

“Happiness is when the season's first raindrop
falls on her lips, and you get to kiss them.
Making the clouds jealous, so they pour some more.”

“See?” she pressed, expecting an answer.

“What?” I managed.

Her brows grew a little angrier as she pointed her finger to next few lines and read:

“Love stories are just stories
until you try and turn them real.”

“See, how you changed?” she paused, took a long breath and continued “Before you met me, you used to write from a happy place, a more positive place, and now, you just put words to your misery. Like you are trying to delay something inevitable. Just masking the darkness that is growing. This is what I did to you. I know you wrote this when we broke up for the 1st time. The last thing I want for you is to be writing from a sad place. These feelings that you scribble into words, means more than you think. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

It took me few seconds to process. I bit my dry lip thinking. I saw she was waiting for me to respond, but I was having a brain fart. When my silence turned awkward I joked “But, you have to admit, it’s more beautiful than..”

She cut me off in between and ranted “Of course it is, look at it, it’s a thing of absolute fucking beauty. I know you are joking just to lighten the mood, but it is more beautiful than you can ever realize. It's borderline truth, you know exactly what strings to pull. That is what makes it gorgeous and me scared. Because there will come a day when you will wake up and realize how much sense it makes for you to write while high on your misery and I am afraid that you wouldn’t want to go back. You’ll call that dark place your home. And I’d rather die than to see you become that horrible shell of a person, who can only interact with people with the wall of words he puts around.”

“That’s never going to happen” not totally believing what I said.

Her expression grew angrier. I started evaluating all the possible things she could say out loud; “Of course, that’s not going to happen, we’ll always be together” or “It will, sooner than you think” or “I hope not” or “I won’t let that happen to you” or the least of all “I will make sure this happens to you”. But she stayed quiet hoarding anger. Ironically, her silence was the loudest of them all and it felt like a part of me died when she didn’t say anything.

“Just don’t be angry” I said, picking up what was broken inside.

“I am not angry, I am sad, I don’t want you to be the person who lives in his stories, when I know you are capable of so much more.” she mumbled as calmly as she could.

Again, I was out of words to say to her. I mean claiming to be a writer and running out of words is terrifying. She saw the terror in my eyes and immediately held my hand. She started “All I am saying is no matter how our story unfolds, whatever tomorrow brings our way, promise me you will be stronger than you are now. You will accept whatever it is that becomes of our story, and you will recite it to everyone in the happiest way possible. Promise me that you’ll love again, even more passionately and fiercely than you do right now. Promise me that you’ll forgive me and more importantly yourself. Promise me when you’ll look back on our story instead of being sad that it ended, you’ll be happy that at least it happened. You’ll cherish our memories and move on. Promise me.”

“But..” I tried.

“No Buts, just promise me this.” She insisted.

“But, why are you..” I tried again.

“I said no Buts, just promise me. Once you do I promise I’ll tell you a secret.” She gripped my hand tighter than her insisting.

I stayed quiet. I stared into her eyes blankly. Then it hit me, it was not anger, it was fear. It threw scintillations of chills down every nerve ending of my body. My skin went cold in an instant as if it was physically possible. I always thought we all are broken things of our parents, but never realized that damage could be so deep. I mean, they do break us, but it’s weird that it teaches us the way of life at the same time. It’s up to us to figure that all out. But all this raw fear inside of a person, it’s no wonder she always feels so suffocated. This was the first time I saw how afraid she was, all the times. I didn’t want to scare her more at the time by saying no to her. I wrapped my hands around her and said “I Promise.”

She pushed me away and yelled “No, not like that. Promise me the way you do. Making a mental note, and seeing it through. You can’t fool me, your actions mean more to you than your words. Promise me your action.”

I nodded yes. Not knowing at the time that unintentionally, this would be the only promise I won’t be able to keep.

She pulled me close and started talking “So, did I tell you how I fell for you?”

“Yeah, because I was so charming and handsome, you couldn’t resist.” I muttered trying to tease her.

She laughed heavily, punching my joke to the ground.

“No seriously, why do you think I started talking to you all of a sudden?

“I don’t know.”

“You remember when you gave me this?” she asked holding the notebook.

“Of course I do. It was the day I worked up the courage to ask you for your number.” I replied.

“And do you remember what you said when you handed it over?” She asked.

“Give this a try if you are in the mood for something unconventional.” I said almost smirking. I knew the story from that point on because in the notebook there were two sections, “Mine” was the section containing all of my work and “Others” section containing the stuff of other authors or songwriters. “Mine” section had a bunch of quotes, poems and a story titled “The Story (of Us)”. This story contained all the things I felt and wrote about Angel. The way she smiled, the way she carried herself, the way she talked, the way she shied away from people. Of course, I didn’t mention any names, just that there was a boy who was hopelessly in love with a girl. Everything in there was true to the bone, every single word exactly the way I felt about her. But, I never wrote it in such a way that she could figure it all out. I was curious now.

I pushed words though my smile “How did you know? I was not even sure that you’d read it.”

“Are you kidding me? The way you look at me. I felt that it was creepy in the beginning, but when I read The Story of Us, I saw how you saw me, how you loved me. From that day forward I thought of talking to you and I was surprised that I liked you, a lot.” She paused and continued “And then you said you loved me that night, I stood in front of the mirror helpless, blushing exactly the way you described in one of those pages, the story was screaming the obvious now. It became clear to me that I cannot deny it any longer, I was in love with you. ”

“Don’t tell me you figured it out all by the uncanny details of yourself blushing” I protested.

“No, I didn’t, you clued me in. Remember the other day you were telling me one of your crazy theories? The Reader-Writer deviation? How everyone is unknowingly a reader, and are bound to fall for the writers’ characters and how awesome it would be if a writer falls for a reader. When I read The Story of Us, I knew you were always the fallen writer and it was up to me to be or not to be the Reader. This was nothing less than a magic trick. You won me over by your subtle signs. I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t change my world.”

“Really?” I managed.

“Hell yeah, you are true to you emotions and feelings. I see that now, you genuinely care for people but you don’t admit it. Don’t pretend to be a jerk and push people away. I just hope one day someone will look through your funny and sarcastic comments and understand you as I do.” her shaking voice narrated.

“But why are you saying all this? I can’t live..” I started, only to be interrupted by “Please don’t, I don’t want to cry today.”

I held the choke in my throat by my tongue, arched my lips in an upward direction and waited for words to jump out of my mouth, which didn’t happen.

Slashing the silence between us she offered “I still have one question, why don’t you write in Hindi, I mean I know you don’t have a strong command on Gujarati, but you talk in Hindi all the time, why don’t you try writing?

Suddenly, I came back to my senses and heard an intense discussion about 32-bit buses and 64-bit buses among the first benchers and the lecturer. I took out a pen and started scribbling on the last page of my notebook. As soon as the lecture was over, I tore the page and I ran out of the class before the professor could. Hoping to catch Angel before she goes for her Lab class. As soon as I reached the corridor, I saw her at the top of the staircase. I ran, and in one or two swift jumps I stood right in front of her just one step below. Our forefather apes would be so proud.

“Hi” I said.

“Hi” She replied smiling.

“I wrote something for you.” my face inches away from her.

“Please don’t kiss me here, there are a lot of people here and lecturers can walk out of the lab any second.” She said, not hearing what I said.

“I WROTE THIS FOR YOU.” I said in a comparatively loud voice.

“You have the most soulful eyes, you know that..wait what? LET'S HEAR IT THEN, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” her voice grew louder than me. Her smile turned contagious.

I read from the paper in Hindi:

“Meri ruh ki silvato par teri ungliyo se mera nam likh ja,
Meri sehmi sanso ki uljhi hui khamosiyo ko teri palko ki gunj de ja,
tere labo k pyalo ko mere alfajo pr chalakne de,
tham ke hath mera, sine me jeene ki vajah bhar ja.”

I looked at her, I saw her eyes go moist but were sparkling than before, she was smiling broadly now, she tried to say something, but couldn’t. Instead, she held me by my collar, pulled me close, sneaked in and placed a quick kiss on my lips, and pushed me away saying “Choke on it” and I did. It’s funny, it happened so fast, like in snap of fingers but it felt like our lips touched for eternity and a few seconds more. But actually it was not even a second, just snap, poof, stardust everywhere. It all happened so fast I was still stunned and before I know I landed on my ass when my body absorbed her push. I stood up, cupped her pretty face in my both hands, feeling the warmth of her soft skin, pulled her close and kissed her before the air between our lips condensed. It was like fire and ice, rubbing against each other, producing flames and burning both of our bodies in a sweet anguish. This was a long one, and unlike her kiss, everyone was looking now. And, just my luck, one of the professor walked out of the lab, pinched my ear and dragged me away.

Angel blushed and ran to her lab while this professor took me to his special lab.

The Joy Forsaken Bus

I really wanted to try this.

I went on the roof, and saw the sun shine with just a hint of clouds around the corners. I clenched my fist with a force that could roll my fingers up in my skin. Pressed one foot forward and strung the other back out to give my body the thrust it needed in order to manage enough lift for what I was about to do. I stared at the sun, not blinking at all, feeling strong as its warmth touched my corneas. And by the time the glare started filling up my irises, I was sure that this was going to work. With that thought, I rushed my hands an inch back and started thinking about her. Within a fraction of second I felt a pinch in my heart. Something powerful that lived inside was no longer dormant, scratching the surface, finding a way out. It started as if someone had lit a matchstick and shoved it in my heart, and, gradually spread out like wildfire through my blood stream. The only difference was that this was way more aggressive than wildfire can ever be. Before I could tame my thoughts, they exploded in every direction, unleashing a tide of felts. I was high and it was starting to swift me. I felt a drat force on my back, as if something under my skin was bulging out, at that instance, I could have sworn that wings were about to sprout out and spread behind me. I gazed over my shoulder just to get a jest of it, but collapsed on my knees, and drained the moment out of it.

All I could see was darkness, pouring onto my eyeballs, and edges clear, probably, the sun showing me my place. My left eye started clearing up as I ran down the stairs, and missed one. Rolled down like a tennis ball, and twisted my ankle, landed face first on the floor to see my mom giving me the stink eye.  This soon evolved into a heavy badgering of what I am supposed to do and what not…It went on and on and on…

…..Angel giggled at what I said, as she looked out the window, her eyes trying to find something that was nowhere to be found. Morning breeze dared played with her hair as she tucked them back of her ears and finally spoke.

Look, I get what you are trying to say, and I know this is so amazing that we are feeling being in love with each other but, what you are saying is not at all possible, you felt what you needed, and frankly your body is a slave to your mind, so, it will run over the hills if that’s what you need to make yourself believe that our love like any other love is not ordinary. And once you meet my parents they will make sure this is etched on your very belief that we could be one someday and you will..

I had to cut her off of her thought and said…that is rather rude for a beautiful morning. You need a cup of strong coffee, remind me to fetch you one as soon as we get off this joy forsaken bus.

She nodded in approval.

After a minute or so, she said, “Sanket, look at this sky, what do you see?”

I replied, “Can’t I just look at you and tell you what I see”.

“No, you dumbass, you've been looking at me for 35 minutes now, it’s time you had a change of scenery. Moreover, you are in a college bus, better behave yourself.” She demanded, while pushing my face away with her palm. Bottom of her palm touched my lips in the process and I couldn’t help but kiss it. She withdrew her hand immediately, and looked out of the window again; her eyes closed this time and her face blank. She started breathing heavily and grabbed my hand. She tangled her fingers with mine and pressed hard. I could almost hear her heartbeat through our tightly braced hands. Her face still showed no emotions whatsoever. I panicked, grew scared, but couldn’t speak.

Few seconds later, she managed “Sanket”. She said in a high pitched voice as words hardly escaped her mouth. I didn’t know if she was calling me or talking to herself, or just checking how the word ‘Sanket’ vibrated in silence. She said my name one more time, her voice stronger this time, almost as if trying to make a point in this pointless awkwardness. I had no clue what was going on. She opened her eyes, glanced out the window, inhaled all the air she possibly could and shouted ‘Sanket’ at the top of her lungs. It was deafening. Everyone on the bus went silent started looking at me instead of her. Faculty members showed keen interest on what went around in our little bus seat. One of them said, meet me in my office at 11:00, we are going to have a long talk about this, and yeah, come alone. I gave him the screw you look and turned back to angel, who was still looking out the window.

Me: What the hell was that?

She: Realization.

Me: Are you sure? It sounded like an orgasm.

She: Quiet now (Placing her finger on my lips). You talk too much. Look out the window, don’t think, just look.

Me (keeping my mouth chapped at the finger’s intersection): What has gotten into you? I am scared now.

She ignored “Look at the sky. What do you see?”

The sky was scattered with white clouds all around. It was distorted, vast, irregular and beautiful. Sun was at the center of all this, with its crooked smile, looking at me as if saying “Remember me from this morning? Where is your cape, superman?” Before it could mock me any further I looked at angel and said ‘endless possibilities’

She: What?

Me: Yes, that is what comes to mind. I think sky symbolizes vast never ending possibilities. Its stillness can encourage hope and guide you into peace. Look at it, there is an unknown calmness.

She: You really think hope can guide you into peace?

Me: I don’t know.

She: Look at the sky closely, it is full of randomness and is constantly moving, you cannot tell what is what. But, when you look at it as a whole, it seems peaceful. It is chaotic and peaceful at the same time; it’s just a matter of perception. You are exactly like the sky; you can take in all the chaos and be peaceful at the same time.

By the time she explained why I was like the sky, the bus had reached the college and the driver parked it in front of the main gate. People arranged themselves in a line and started exiting the bus one at a time. We were still in our seats waiting for the entire crowd to clear out. I stood up; she leaned in over my shoulder from the back and whispered in my ear, “Why won’t you kiss me?”

I couldn't come up with any response and settled with “Why won’t YOU kiss me?”

To be honest, kissing is a big deal for me; I cannot just go and kiss a girl if I don’t have feelings for her. But, I did have feelings for angel, so, what was keeping me from kissing her? I guess, somewhere in my conscience I knew that if she is really not that deep into the relationship as I was, she wouldn't find it intimate or for that instance just perfect. For that reason, the thought of kissing her always eluded my mind. And for some reason, most of the time I thought of ways through which I could show her what all feelings she was missing out, always thinking about what was going to happen rather than focusing on what was happening. She was always afraid. Always. Sometimes, I just wished she would take my hand and never look back. I can try to pull her through her fears. I even extended my hands, both metaphorically and literally, but she was not able to look past her phantoms. It needed more time than I thought.  I believed that a kiss would mean nothing unless she is free of fright-shackles. Yeah, I know I am a Dreamer, but, I suppose, only a dreamer is obsessive enough to see to it that his dreams have met what they meant all along. I mean, isn't it the final answer? To have your hope rewarded? This was why I was not able to kiss her. However, the way she screamed my name hemorrhaging the air, that was surely a crack in the wall and I saw the fear escaping. It seemed kiss of love was the answer that I was looking for.

At my response, I saw the light disappear from her eyelids. She pushed me; I landed in the 3-seaters I was standing in front of. Luckily, there was no one there, as most of the students were off the bus.

“Hey, that was uncalled for.” I said standing up.

“You got exactly what you deserve, well, minus the kick on the butt.”  She said looking away as she approached the bus door. She tried to hide her mischievous smile from me but failed.

I stood up and ran behind her; we were almost at the bus door. Before she could take another step away from me, I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back, with a jolt, she was in my arms, her hair slid in front of her face and she looked down at her palms resting on my chest. My heart brushed itself against her fingers while pounding. I raised my hand and pushed the hair away as back of my fingers caressed her cheeks. I looked around the bus one more time, no one was there. Even the bus driver was missing. Oh boy, this was perfect. I leaned in and felt her warm accelerated breath on my neck. She closed her eyes and longed for my lips to finally touch hers. I inched closer, and heard a loud scream ‘SANKET’. It was a manly shout.  Upon gazing in the direction of the sound waves, I saw a perverted dude, peaking on us through a draped window of an adjacent bus. Angel pushed me away and sat on the nearby seat. This dude ran up to me and asked ‘What is going on here?’

Me: Well, the plan was to kiss her so passionately to create a buzz in her head that would last a lifetime.

He (asking angel): Young lady, do you have something to say for yourself?

Me: Now, who the fuck are you and why the heck is this your problem? What we do is none of your God damned business. I don’t know how you know my name but, you better leave with your creepy eyes before I pop them out.

He: You better watch your mouth; you are talking to your new lecturer.

I swallowed my tongue, pressed my teeth shut and zipped my lips.

Angel: What subject and stream?

He: Mechanical, multiple subjects.

My jaw muscles buffed up.

Me: I think you should leave; you have no power here.

He: I can make your life living hell.

Me: I would like to see you try.

He: I am going to report this to your HOD. This is outrageous.

Me: For that you would have to leave here, which is what I am trying to imply since my last three sentences.

He left, well, for the moment, cussing me in his thick voice. Angel gave me a short lecture on my behavior towards the professors while tying her hair. I ignored and proposed a bet, the 1^st one to kiss the other before end of the day would win. She inquired about the stakes. ‘Whatever the winner says’ I suggested. She agreed. I tried ‘Should we seal the deal with a kiss?’

“Sure, why not? ..oh you almost got me there.” She teased as she rolled her eyes to the obvious.

We went to our respective classrooms, formulating our plans.

More in the next post. Thank you.

Hold On And Never Let Go

Something called love. There is this one thing that keeps bothering every human mind. Fascinating as it may be along with lifelong curiosity to feel it or rather embrace it. For those of who think love is some kind of butterflies in the tummy feeling, well of course you are wrong morons, its crush. You’ll get over it. The hard part is after that, not love but lust. Well to define love, it is the thin line between crush and lust, that’s why it’s hard to find, and hence the misplaced concepts. To put it in a honest to God way, its fucking confusing and gets more confusing while you go along. Like shit happens, same, love happens. And for that you have no one to blame, curse or even regret. Its up to you for what you make out of it. You can either let it destroy you or you can let it embrace the life in you. There’s always a choice in anything you come across. You just can’t see it yet. Not until its too late. Good guess is our only option. Just like the solution to your every possible problem is there in your head you just need to figure it out, given a little commitment and a fucking lot of obsession.

Keep your actions clean and intentions pure. Pure as not in the opposite of “sick” way, cause there’s not much left of a man if he doesn’t fantasize. Love is the purest form of element available in abundance around us, we just need the eyes to see it, senses to feel it. And loving your BF, GF is not the only kind of love, it bears many form, motherly warmth and caring is the best example, to be exact.

I’m not telling you to believe in “love will find you” kind of bullshit, cause I never did, well atleast not before I met her. I never thought we’d come to this. Standing by each other. I won’t lie to you, its tough, even more than tough, its fucked up. There are times you just lie in your bed at night not feeling a single goddamn thing, tears rolling down your fucking face and there’s nothing you can do about it except to accept it. The shit hurts, for days. The funny part is you cant even let it go, not even a bit. All the pain it brings is just a consolation. It’s a package deal, pain included. But when things look up, there is no better felling you could be filled with in your entire life. All the pain vanishes into thin air and leaves you crystalline solid happiness.

We’re all frustrated Indian youth, every second word that comes out of any teenager starts with a F and ends with a K, and trust me it’s not facebook. The thing is, the life of today, you really don’t know what to expect out of it. They say smoking kills you slow, let alone drinking. But the thing that needed to be understood is that life will kill you, its heavy..but to be honest life gives a fuck about you only if you don’t give a fuck about it. Yeah, the concept of ignorance works great, more than you ever could expect. But the thing I want to tell you is that we’ve all got one life and that, unfortunately, is not so long. So love is the only way that can pull us through and make the most out of this fucking life. And even if you beg to differ, smoking pot also gets the job done, partially. But who knows, I just a sick delusional lunatic on a lease. Let your heart explore what exactly do you need. And for those of you, who were offended by my recent writings, all is want to say is Fuck You.! Cause I’m back and I’m gonna write the shit out of this thing.

I don’t exactly think that this story had a great beginning and sure as hell not sure what to expect from the ending bt one thing that I’m damn sure about is that I gotta try. I don’t want mysylf looking back after 10 20 years from now and realizing that this was the best thing ever happened to me and was worth a shot, worth trying for, worth dying for. I don’t believe in chances , coincidences , all I know is that I believe what I see, or at least what makes sense. But its love that makes me believe. I don’t know what hope means or anything close to that but the thing I’m sure about is that love teaches you to hold on and never let go, because when it’s true, it’s hard to walk away. And this goes for everything, hold on and never let go, don’t it?

Fucktards

Dealt with break-up. Free, I was free, just like any other single being out there. There were no constraints or boundaries. No more to care for. Its said that most awesome moments of life are best experienced when single. I thought as Barney said..an engineer, I build something out of nothing, just like God. And no one is hotter than God, so, any girl would fall for me. But why the hell I wasn't feeling that way? Why in the world do I keep punching myself with: dude its over, you are nothing more than the dirt in the dusk. You can never be what you were, and maybe it was true and now I know it is true once you step in this world you are never the same as the day before. Your older version is buried into the night and a new one arises with the morning sun. The things you do or don't decides your future. The choices you made don't just leave you alone. They follow you till the very end. It revolves around you time to time. The deja vu you witness on regular basis is just a glimpse of the choice that you didn't make. An alternate parallel universe exist for every choice you ever made and also for the road not taken. And this whole thing lead to a single dark hole known as abyss which, no one of us can ever escape. More importantly, at the moment I didn't had a choice. I thought I was approaching abyss. The pain was silent but able enough to kill at any instance. I lost my way of thinking, observing as well as talking. Confidence was long gone, and no where near returning. The only thing I can think of was the way my break up was executed by the so called God. The only talked about supreme being. And so, I am going to talk a lot about God in this particular blog. It was just 12th day and I had started loosing it. This break-up was getting on my nerves. I was really loosing it. Soon the magic in music was fading away. Everything that once looked beautiful to my eyes kept getting uglier day after other. But her face somehow kept getting much prettier day by day in my not much left conscious. And the desire of getting her back was off the rooftops and I feared that it might explode any second. Now it was over a month, I hadn't seen her for real. Moreover, I was most afraid to show her my face. I don't know why this kind of feeling housed me. But it kept punching me down deeper in to the ground. I stopped showing up at the collage. I locked myself into my home and hoped never to get out. I thought, by now everyone would've assumed that I was gone for good. My every moment passed wondering what she'd be doing? Would she be remembering me this very moment? Or is she over me and had all the memories flushed out of her system? What was going on her mind when she dumped me? Or did she really dumped me? Or was there some really messed up reason for us to part our ways? These all ridiculous questions bugged me throughout my healing process, which, is hard to refer as healing. But for the sake of this story lets have it this way.

Break-up with angel assured my break-up with my beloved cell phone which had become my second girlfriend ever since. And sooner we weren't sharing the same bed, nor it was found in my hands for more than a minute. I deliberately started missing each and every call appearing on my cell. My only communication link to the outer world was the old land line phone. Only a few of my friends had that number , yeah, obviously angel did too.

To take the edge off I registered on Facebook, currently the mother of all social networking websites. Finally, I had found a temporary remedy to suppress this hurt. I stayed logged in for almost 24 hours a day. Insomnia had hit me like a shovel, left me bleeding from head to toe. I always kept my chat status offline, in order to avoid any outer world contact. Thank God, I found 'Farmville' and 'Mafia Wars' , the small addictive games on Facebook that kept my mind functioning in such brutal situations. Yeah, I love games, each and every kind, from the yellow headed Pac-man to the bloody World of Warcraft. I spent most my time saving Mario's girlfriend when I was a young boy. After all video games are a poor substitute for life. Obviously, its better to have a poor substitute than to have none. All I needed was just a push from behind by some kind of inspiration. It would've been much better if it was to be a kick on the ass to give a jump start. But, when you need a thing the most, its never there.

There's one incident I would like to share with you guys, hope it helps you or rather inspires you in one way or the other. It helped me time to time, when I'm in a dark cold place.

Some of my school friends gathered to cheer me up. A lot of them didn't know what had happened since we all had been away. Many of them didn't even know I got committed in the first place. All that they knew was that I was feeling a bit low for some reason. And that is all they needed. Rascals somehow convinced me to go out for a movie giving me all “ for the sake of friendship” crap...notanki sale. And of course, I bought it. Dhrumil, was about to pick me up at a meeting point near the railway tracks, its close to my home, moreover, it was the farthest I can get if not on a vehicle. I slipped my chickeny legs into a dark black denim and threw on an off white short shirt, which I partially stuffed into my denim, leaving the upper second most button open. Which reminded me how angel always used to ask me or rather shout at me to button up that below collar button. Furthermore, I took a comb in my hand and looked at it for some seconds. I thought I had totally forgotten how to use this gadget. This also put angel's face in front of my eyes. I missed how she used to comb my messed up hair with her bare fingers. At the same time I felt a bit angry at myself for letting her go, being unable to stop her from leaving. So, I took the the comb and ran it through the barren land of my hair follicles over my head in a single breath. At times it made me scream as the comb teeth progressed through the cemented scalp. After a while, before leaving home, I felt like canceling the plan, but I didn't want to give fucktards any reason to scold me afterward. We all friends are so close that we always greet each others with a set of insults. So don't get any other out of the picture idea. And yeah you heard me right, “Fucktards” Is the word I used to refer to my school friends. In fact, my whole school friends group should be referred to as Fucktards, including me. Retarded in our own special way. Every single being on the group is only one of its kind. This made me take a trip down the memory lane and think of how crazy were the times we all had when together in school. Until this collage crap came and made us all move away. This seemed like a more appealing reason to meet up the guys. So I followed the plan. Unfortunately, my 4 more besties were away for some reasons. Tatla aka Nikhil was in jaipur preparing for his endsems. Gahlot aka Harshvardhan and Jambhale aka Abhishek were off to college and were not able to come. Bevda aka Bhajju aka Shivam was at his college in baroda. His nickname bevda does not suggest that he is a drunkard but its because of the facial effects he is capable of pulling.

Anyways, as soon as Dhrumil arrived we headed to Shakya's (aka Siddharth) home and then to Malu's (aka Anant). We were to meet up rest of the friends at the multiplex. Drumil was somewhat aware of my case, as he was a local, and we used to exchange some formal chitchats via texts. But he didn't ask me upfront, I thought its because it would screw up my mood. We were on time, for the first time I guess, as Sanchit and Aakash aka Khambha were smiling at us as if teasing us for being on time. I was feeling good to finally see my friends after a long time. We started chatting, cracking jokes, laughing, insulting, pulling each others legs, giving each other shit for not staying in touch, etc. I don't remember what movie it was but did remember every single bit of the fun we had. We got six continuous center seats, and every single person around those 6 seats was in deep shit. We all had a lot to talk about, that we whispered to each other in between the screening movie. Sometimes the voices got so loud that some of the faces directed towards the screen were forced to deflect towards us. But today as everyday, none of us gave a shit. The term Shakyan Laughter was coined after Shakya's laughter. Usually, laughter in a normal person is a normal phenomenon. But once set off in Shakya, I don't know exact time or thing that inhibits it. There's no way you can avoid or prevent it. Its meant to happen. This laughter is also known for getting us all in to a lot of trouble. But, it felt like I was back, the same as I was before, and among the same friends who were so special not a single thing felt wrong at that moment. I felt relieved . Everything was normal and the way it's used to be.

Khambha as ususal talking about girls. Khambha has only two things to talk about: 1:girls and 2: girls only. He is the largest girls database in a biological form. But I can tell you the feeling that I was experiencing, knowing that nothing is changed. And after that, it was official, as always me and Malu were talking about music and movies, we also discussed some new bands. Sanchit also joined and added a more good topic to the conversation, it was games, my favorite. Shakya as always added good humor and spread some awareness regarding new fancy computer stuff. Dhrumil was distributing free advise regarding what-to and what-not-to do when you are committed. Yeah of course, he was committed and yeah that to in as strange way. Which I am not going to state, cant disclose this much. But the thing for you guys to know is that it was complicated. And he too had problems, something common for us guys to talk about but, I preferred not to rush into it. Movie was soon over. We rolled to vishnu and stuffed ourselves with vadapavs. I didn't eat much, cause it made me wonder if angel was taking her meals regularly. From that moment onwards the whole amazing day was fading away in the dark. The darkness was pulling me to it. I started feeling like crap again. I didn't know why it was happening, the only thing I knew was that it was happening so fast that I cant adjust to it. I felt like calling her in the middle of everything. Keeping aside all the pain, the hurt, the friends, and my dead brain. But my cell was nowhere to be found. It was a very important as well as wonderful day which was turning into a bizarre nightmare. The pain was coming back strong than ever. Hurt was in full swing. And I was dusting into the ground. It was getting late so we finally bade goodbye to each other and jumped back on the vehicles screaming to each other “Contact me Rehna Haramio” .

It was me and Dhrumil now. He was driving the bike and I was in the back seat. And it was about time when his never ending questions started. I tried to answer them with best possible explanation I got. Than he started with his love story. Soon we arrived at the meeting point near the railway tracks. I got off the bike and started walking giving Dhrumil a look of goodbye but he asked me to stay and do a little catch up. I thought “oh, hell this is going to be great”. And the conversation went something like this..

Me: Why? Whats there to catch up?

He: You'll feel a little better if you'll just talk about how you feel.

Me (in my mind): oh yeah. Lets see, my heart's ripped out, my brain's a dead weight, me soul's torn, my spirit is worn, top of my head is killing me and I feel terrible about this plan to open up to you. I'll rather tie a rope around my throat and pull it until my tongue lays flat on the ground.

He: C'mon dude, I too have problems, it felt good when I talked to you about it on the way here. Okay just tell me exactly what happened and the words she said. I've been there. Maybe I can help you in some way.

This made me remember that on our way back he had told me his story and of course the great deals of problems he's going to go through. But I kept okaying and didn't get hold of any single scenario he was presenting. A good thing about Dhrumil is that ; he will keep continuing with his matter of talk even if we don't okay him in between or ask him any particular queries. He wont stop for anything until he says what he has to say. This help me a lot, in conversation, to take long pauses, and he didn't even mind it.

Me: Dude, seriously, there's nothing to talk about. If there had been something I would have told you guys. But honestly dude, it's nothing, I'm fine.

He: Okay, let me see your palm, I can read palm to some extent. I can tell you what awaits you or rather waits for you.

Me(in my mind): holy shit, man, is this day going to end anyway. First the pain and then this palmistry crap. Dude, you better lay it off before I get really pissed. And this hurt had made me really cranky so I can't guarantee your safe return to you home.

He pulled my hand. It was the first time I had looked at my hand after splitting with angel. She used to take both of my hands and join them flatly and crack into smiles looking at them. When asked why, she would say: here the uppermost horizontal line of both of your hands when joined make a shape of a half moon, it means you'll marry the love of your life. And yet here I was not with her even for the sake of her words. I got mad as well as angry.
He took my hand and started describing various things, which didn't interest me at all but suddenly the word suffer fell on my ears...

Me: What?

He: Every single line on your palm is distinctly visible and clear. And you have lots and lots of it. This indicates you have a lot of sufferings in life and in future too you will suffer a lot. Life is not going to be easy for you. You have to try a lot more than harder, in order to achieve what you desire.

So on and so on...

Me(in my mind): Buddy I'm already stoned. You are peeing on a stone. Its only going to shower back on you. Even numb can be said better compared to me.

He: You recently had your heart broken. And its so hard to mend that you blame all around you for it.

Me(in my mind): Dude I'm right on the edge, don't push me or I'll choke your throat with my bare hands and drag you to your grave.

He: You need to bounce back.I recommend baby steps at the beginning.

Me(in my mind): And I recommend baby kicks to your groin. From beginning till you scream out load “no more”.

He: The bump below your thumb on your palm makes me think you have a good sexlife.

Me(in my mind): Dunce, at the moment I don't have a life. What the hell makes you think I give a damn about my sexlife.

He: Of course, only if you have a girl in your life.

Me(in my mind): A word more and my fist and your face are going to do the talking.

He: and yeah, you'll never run into a good amount of money.

Me(in my mind): That's it, it official, Dhrumil Shah, you, as a human being no longer deserve to breath in a single molecule of oxygen, run like hell before I produce a pistol, cock it and pop it up your ass.


This torture was not over and we saw an old looking man coming our way. He was on a cycle. As he approached towards us, he was already on the ground holding the cycle by one hand and other to cover his mouth as he was sneezing. His eyes was moist and looked mostly like an ordinary man. But his aura was so soothing. He turned to me and asked..

Old man: Do you believe in God?

Me: Ya sure, I also believe in cyborgs, sent to earth to destroy homosepians.

Old man: Son, its not a joke. Do you believe in God?

Me: At this particular moment I don't have any good reason to justify if I believe in anything.

Old man: You can't be both angry and not believe in God at the same time. Believe in all the spirits and God and he'll solve your problems. You just have to trust him today.

Me: You can believe in all the Gods and spirits you want but when it comes to this world, don't be an idiot. Because on a busy highway, when it comes to crossing it alone, I know you look both ways. This is not something that you can talk me in to. You'll have to try harder to get me to believe something out of my perception. At this moment even I don't believe in myself , let alone all Gods.

Old man: Your friends trust you.

Me: Then, they are headed for disappointment.

Old man: God trusts in you.

Me: Even if I'm more of a recruiter of the other side.

Old man: Yeah, he loves every one of you, the way you are, selflessly.

Me: why did you say “every one of you”...what about you.

Old man: Here, take my hand and let me show you.

Me: Whoa, step back old man, don't even think of touching me.

But before I could do anything he held my hand and asked me to close my eyes and listen to every single word he says, very carefully. I don't know why but, his hand was cold and it spiked a rush of calmness through my veins. He started:

Don't waste time hovering upon your hurt, take chance, be brave and dig up to the core and there my friend you'll find all your answers you are looking for. Never doubt yourself, you are always right, cause you always listen to your heart. In life always know what you want to do or what you want, and how far are you willing to go for it. Your destiny is never pre-written. It's not something to write. You are the architect, design it the way you want. And always remember, God helps those who fights and helps themselves to outshine among the others. Fear is your worst enemy. Never be afraid of it, instead try and put a face on it, so that you can know what you are afraid of. And once you put a face on it you can beat it or better use it. Its up to you to make yourself special. Son, this is why a green leaf floats and yellow sinks in the water. And Its never the end of anything, if you want it more than anything, it will be yours, but be pure at intentions, they are your only assets who can justify your actions in any situations. Never mourn. Always fight back.

After this session of weird things I bade Dhrumil goodbye and got back home. I was lying in the bed and said 1 thing to myself, you exactly know what you want, only problem is you don't know how to get it, but unless you get up and get a heads up, you will be stuck in this stinking hole for the rest of your life. I love her, why afraid of it. And I think if I try she'll know it too. I took out the notebook she had given me and read it all over again and again until I felt that it cant hurt me anymore. And most of all I found a way to fight back.

Even today, when I feel depressed I hold on to that note book and think that nothing can get worse than this. You'll surface this sooner or later. I don't know if there exist a God or not, I don't even have any view on it, but guys the incident that happened that day was life changing.

Then I found my cure in words and literature. Whenever I read something inspiring I was at top of my mood. Nothing can spoil it..some lines that can inspire you..

Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark,
in the hopeless swaps of the not quite, the not yet, and the not at all.
Do not let the hero in your soul perish,
in lonely frustration for the life you deserved,
and have never been able to reach.
The world you desire can be won.
It exists.
It is real.
It is possible.
And it is yours.

Thank you all..
and most of my thanks to my dear friends for being so amazing characters in real, everything around you guys is an adventure out of this world.
Dedicated to all my School Friends ...love you guys...:)

Metalhead

Whom would you call a Metalhead? Yeah, Metalhead. The word itself makes you think of a dorky white kid roaming around in his low bottom waist cut denims, long bleached or rare maroon straight hair hovering all over the face, more than 1 parts of the body pierced, dim witted, adequately drunk, screaming rage tattoos from head to toe, high on drugs, who just can’t get enough of his headphones and had got no religion other than to listen to the most heavy metal bands. But in reality there’s more than that in that guys, the only thing that makes them different is their perception towards life, love, hate, music and every other thing that we can think of. I want you guys to know what a true Metalhead is all about, cause I’m one of them. All above written things are bullshit. Metalheads do not follow a specific look or all listen to the same bands. According to Urban Dictionary, What's considered "metal" is so diverse and open ended that there are tons of different types of Metalheads. You've got your mainstream nu-metal/metalcore, thrash, death, black, power, grind, all of that kind of stuff, and everybody enjoys different kinds of metal outside of the mainstream Metalheads and perceptions of them. You don't have to exclusively listen to Slayer, Metallica, or Cannibal Corpse. Hell, you don't even have to like any of the "classic" bands. You don't need to be a long haired, dim-witted delinquent either. Or drink/do drugs. You can dress however you want; you wouldn't be able to tell some Metalheads apart from people who despise metal because they look the same. As long as you like some form of the metal spectrum, it's all good. Cause that’s how you actually relate your life to something that makes sense.

Sorry guys I had to waste one para telling you all the above crap. it’s just because I want you guys to be a Metalhead for this post, don’t try to judge, have a wide perception, I don’t want you guys to be narrow minded. Because as soon as I begin this story you’ll start taking sides. So, I wanted you ‘all to b very clear that sometimes you take some decisions not because it will hurt someone or other in any way but because, at the moment nothing else seems right. And also it’s never too late to let go off the mistakes you had done. Because sometimes, plain reality is not plain enough.

Metalheads coexist with normal humans, just like the parallel universes, they are not allowed to socialize with normal humans. It’s against the rules of Mother Nature. Apparently, I was the recent Metalhead who not only broke out but also got committed. I was the one disturbing the balance between parallel universes. And as you all know Mother Nature’s a bitch, my sins were going to come back and bite me in the ass. And finally one day my leash expired. The day arrived.
Since we got together things were going pretty great, except some misunderstandings here and there, but all together manageable. One morning, I felt like my bed was shaking like hell. It got me to wake up all of a sudden. After gaining cautiousness, I realized it was my cell not the bed, which was vibrating breathlessly. Yeah, this is one of the bad habits of committed people; they think of their mobiles as their loved ones and can’t let them out of their sight for a second, and even sleep next to them. I stared at the mobile screen for a while, it said angel calling. I wondered why she was calling. Though, every morning she used to leave me a good morning message. Of course, she was the early riser. She made sure that my every morning begins with her good morning message. It’s a wonderful feeling. It fills you with strength to fight through the day. Nothing else feels good. It changes you faster than you can think. You always expect the person to be the same; you don’t want anything to change between you. The way she looks at you, the way she makes you feel, the way she cares, talks, listens, you want it all to remain the way it is forever n ever. But the truth is people changes, if not for always than at least during certain circumstances. I don’t know how many of you out there are in love, and if whether any of you have noticed that music feels more magical than ever. You can literally listen to even the single vibration off the guitar string. You will even love the power packed high hat drum beats. Your observation power becomes so powerful that you can even apply to be a special agent working for the government. And then when you try to get used to it, life snaps you out of it just within a blink of an eye. Anyways, it was her 8th call this morning. I stood up, dialed her number as fast as I can. She picked up the phone and answered:

She: Where the hell have you been?

Me: In bed, why, what happened?

She: nothing, God, next time I’ll prefer waking up kumbhkaran rather than you.
Yeah it was an outdated joke but I don’t know how it made me smile. I guess it is the morning atmosphere; or rather it was just her.

Me: so how come you are calling in these hours of the day? Isn’t it the busiest hours in your house?

She: yeah, it is if my parents are around. But today it’s just us kids home. I’m home along with my sisters and some of mine cousins have paid a visit. Mom and Dad left early this morning and are not returning till night, so we’ll be chatting all day long. Isn’t it great?

Me: yeah, awesome. Looking forward to it.

She: I wanted to meet you but, I think rain has other plans. And also I can’t get out of the house saying nothing. I hope it’s okay, sweetie.

Me: yeah it’s okay. Just one thing.

She: yeah.

Me: I gotta pee.

She: euww...go pee. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.

Me: love you too.

I dealt with all my morning business and then waited for her call. She called around 12 in the noon. We had a long lovy dovy chat, which I’m not going to present. She ended the call saying I’ll call you later. But there were no more calls that day. I called her like a thousand times. Texted her, But no replies. Late in the night I got a text from her saying ”I’ll be giving you a notebook in the college tomorrow, it’s about my life, please read it”. I tried calling her but she switched off her cell. I got scared. My mind went into an endless loop of thinking over every past life possibility known to man. It’s too obvious to say I didn’t sleep that night. Kept turning from side to side. There were times where I fell off too. I tried listening to music and lighten my impulse. But the strange thing was that music didn’t help at all. Oh my God, what m I turning into. What’s happening to me? It never occurred to me that music can’t calm my head. It was the worst nightmare I witnessed while I wasn’t asleep, and it kept getting worse.
Somehow I survived through the night and packed up some strength to deal with what was going to come my way. I stepped into the bus and started waiting for her stand. It arrived and so did she. She didn’t had the courage to look at my faced but surely managed a smile while looking towards her feet. I walked up to her and asked..hey.! Is there something bothering you? You can tell me its fine. She looked at me trying to say something but was able to put ”you didn’t get much of sleep last night”. Yeah, but her eyes were red too. I offered ”how come you didn’t sleep?” she replied: look there something I need to tell you, I don’t know how to tell you face to face so here this notebook, take it and read it. And I hope you’ll understand. I was like oh my fucking God. This was definitely leading to a break up talk. I mean who are we kidding. “I hope you’ll understand”. Who the hell talks like that? I didn’t say a single word on my mind to her but was certainly freaked out. She slipped out a less than 100 paged notebook out of her backpack. She handed that to me, and signed me to leave. Every single hair on my body was standing at that particular moment. My mind was bragging about ”you should have stayed single ” crap and my heart just won’t stop bouncing. The book had some spooky faces at the top and some description about the caste and all stuff. I’m sick of these guys, they are even putting these stuff on notebooks. With my right shaking hand I opened it. It had some of its starting pages torn off. Clearly a sign of “ she was not good at break up letters”. Second thing I noticed was a never ending strings of Gujarati alphabets doing the “your are screwed” dance. I lost my calm. What the hell. Is she trying to give me a stroke? She must be out of her dang skulls. Who the hell knows how to read Gujarati? I don’t have time to take this over to the chemist so that he can somehow crack the message encrypted. I felt like throwing it out of the window. But I had to know what was in that. I thought Gujarati is just like Hindi minus the over lines. But it was not, and I didn’t realize it until I finished 18 pages of explanation. Every single thing in Gujarati. And these incidents followed a complete nervous breakdown. It was something like this:
After I talked to you yesterday, I found that one of my elder cousins was listening to all of our talks and later he talked to me or rather warned me that if I ever go against our family, it won’t be good. You forgot what happened last time. Yeah Sanket, I wanted to tell you this earlier but didn’t have the strength. I had a friend , a boy but not boyfriend, and sure as hell didn’t love her. But I had a feeling he had feelings for me. This was back in 12th class. He was in 1st year college and lived in my society. There was nothing more than some exchange of books and outdated study stuff but he decided to let me know that he loved me. One day he borrowed my maths book and then he put a chit inside it saying 143. I was so stupid those days I didn’t even knew what 143 meant. The idiot planted the chit in my maths book and handed it to my little sister to pass it on to me. But that night the book got into my cousin’s hand and he disclosed this to my parents without even asking me what was going on. Everyone thought that I was having an affair. Moreover, I dint get to explain myself. That night my father made it very clear that if I’m with any guy anyhow, the next thing I was gonna witness is my father’s grave and I don’t want to be a killer, and I can tell you, he was not bluffing. The chest pains were real. So whether you like it or not I can’t continue this relationship any further assuming everything will be fine. Because I remember the look on my father’s face, every bit of it. It haunts me in ways you can’t even imagine. I’m glad that I ran into a caring and loving guy like you and won’t forget you for the rest of my life but we can’t be together anymore. Take good care of yourself. You are a nice guy. Just don’t hide your emotions behind your witty humor, and not yourself behind the jerk you pretend to be, every single girl can fall for you. Last but not the least, I’m not in a position to say I love you or even I don’t love you because its better you don’t get even the slightest idea of it because I know you don’t give up easily. You’ll find your answers in music this day or the other. I know you won’t forget me. But I hope you forgive me. Wish you a happy life ahead. Bye.

I stepped out of the bus and ran as fast as I can towards the college’s main gate. I needed to pass out of there as soon as possible. But the bloody watchmen wont let me. I had to go to the class but I didn’t. I bunked a series of lectures, until I got a text from angel saying: Where the hell are you. Get into the lecture right now or the H.O.D will slice your head off. I replied: you meant of what’s left of it. Then I got couple of texts but I didn’t read it. Felt they were meaningless compared to my current situation. I was at the terrace of the main building. I was feeling droopy. I skipped breakfast this morning and didn’t have anything to eat and it was 2 in the noon. I was starting to feel my stomach shrink. It made various sounds. I just wanted to go home. Didn’t mean to create a scene. But you can’t have what you want. Most of my friends came to know. Everyone was out there looking for me to convey their condolences or to just rub it in my face. But after some time I got a call from angel, she said: hold one seat for me in the college bus in the 2 seater. We will talk on our way home. I didn’t listen to her and hung up. But as I made my way into the college bus she was waiting with an empty seat next to her. I freaked out but as every other seat was taken I had to sit somewhere. I took the spot. She said what you eat? I remained silent. She continued: I know you are upset and you have every right to be. But just think about it. There nothing I can do. Even if I’m able to convince my father, it’s not it. We are a joint family of four brother’s including my father. Every decision that is to be made has to run through the each four of them. And they won’t allow us of anything they refer to as stupid. They can harm you and your family in many different twisted legal ways. And I don’t want that for you.

I interrupted with: do you love me?

She said: it’s not about if I love you or not.

I hammered on “do you love me?”.

She : I think you need to ask that question to yourself. Do you think I love you? Cause it’s not about what I think. It’s about what you think and will it change under any circumstances?

Me: What do you mean?

She: Nothing, you’ll have a better life with me not in it.

Me: But it won’t be the life I want.

She: Think of it as it was never meant to be. We can’t outrun these worldly things. You have to let me go.

Me: I mean it to be. And I never said we had to outrun anything. I just want to be with you. Have you ever seen me smile like I smile when I’m with you? Why do you think a guy like me who gets bored yawning waited this long just to hear you say out loud the word he never imagined would come out of your mouth?

She: That’s the part you don’t understand. The way you feel with me and I feel with you will always remain exclusive. The moments I shared with you, they won’t repeat themselves with anyone else. That’s the beauty of it and I don’t want to ruin those moments by endangering our relationship to any bloodshed that love will bring for us. There will never be anyone else, but you. I love you. But I can’t be with you.

Me: So, that means I’m the guy, but according to you can never be the guy for you.

She: The memories you have given me will not fade in time. You’ll always be the guy I’ll be thinking of when the sun rises and set.

Me: What memories have I given you? We haven’t been on a single date, not even a movie or small walk.

She: It doesn’t have to be that way. It doesn’t have to be official. Doesn’t the small walks to the canteen and bus counts?

Me: Yeah they does but, I have so many memories to make yet. I always dreamt of walking right next to you in the rain holding your hand. Your head resting on my shoulders. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been there. It all feels so real. I can’t give up now. I’ve gone too far. I can never go back to my old life. It will never be the same. I can’t even think of a life without any good morning message from you.

She: I’m not going anywhere, at least not until these college years. I’ll be there for you every time, as your friend. All I’m asking is that please don’t expect anything from me. I fear I’ll end up hurting you. And good morning messages are not going anywhere.

Me: Today I know exactly what I want from life. This break up will soon turn into patch up. Love stories are stories until you try and turn them real. All it needs is a try. Cause I don’t wanna end up crying over my past and regretting not trying. And when I’m done convincing you, we’ll think of something to try and convince your father and other family members. I love you.

And that was the last thing I told her while grabbing her hand when she was about to leave as her stop arrived. I was ready for the healing to begin but, it’s not as simple as you think. When I reached home I switched off my cell, and landed on my bed thinking of what I was going to do. It was a week since I've been to college. For past few weeks I had practically lived in my denim. Mom and Dad were so upset. But I had nothing to say that could cheer them up. They kept on asking is there anything bothering you at college, and I kept denying. Then, along came Eminem. He’s seriously a fucked up dude but at the time exactly the one I needed. It always help you, when you know that there’s someone else in the world whose life is even more fucked up than yours. Eminem was the kind of hand I needed to pull me through darkness. I have literally listened to his every song. It makes you feel better. And moreover made me the Metalhead I am now. It made me realize, there are so many different ways you should look at life. Don’t be so narrow minded, and sooner I realized angel did what she had to do, and I had a very clear idea what I had to do. It’s never been so clear before. Soon the pain was going away, not the memories. But for the time it was best for me.

Weird is what makes you different.

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Have you ever taken any chances? Never thinking of what the outcome may be or how will it affect the lives of the ones you care for, or even life of your own, exactly knowing what’s on stake and what’s not, what you deserve and what you will get. Love is one of the greatest chances you can ever take in your life. Of course, it’s a long shot but you’ll catch up just fine. You will surely come to know why love is called the feeling that outweighs happiness. For those idiots out there thinking that love always brings pain, are all dickheads. Also if you feel that it doesn’t have anything to do with pain, think again. Pain is the most aspiring as well as inspiring part of love you hold for the significant other. Cause it has the potential to inspire you in ways that your other feelings cant. Secondly, it provides experience. Just think upon it, the experience you can extract from your darkest hour of pain will out sum your happy hours. I’d say pain is the reason we live through happiness, better yet feel happiness. It also helps you realize the true colors of your soul. What actually you think about any person. After all a strong man is measured by the decision he makes in tough times. Also it’s very important that you find the right person, it’s like the post I’m writing, I can load it up with any fancy English crap, but what good will it be if I don’t communicate.

Computer Students' minds are all twisted. And I was the special kind (at least I thought so). For instance, in examination hall if I can’t recall anything, I try to remember the song that was playing in the background while I was reading that topic. Yeah, sounds weird, but the really weird thing is that I can recall what I was trying to remember. If it’s so hard for you to deal with, then you can’t imagine what my angel, yeah now it’s okay to call her angel, my angel, would have thought. After all she’s just a simple girl, didn’t have a brain that can roam on such places to seek answers. Not even close. She was just awesome. And in true means “Way out of my league”. We had to keep our thing a secret as far as the college was concerned. That’s when I thought of Murphy’s law, it says if anything can go wrong, it will. We agreed on not telling anyone about our little secret. Clearly, one of us was not able to keep their end of the bargain. Okay, it might have been me, but what else do you expect from me I was new to this thing. I had disclosed this to couple of close friends, apparently one of them sold me out. Anyways, this night we had our very first fight. She got so pissed, she hanged up on me and called it off for that night. Again I was up all night. She said “how can I trust you with anything else let alone my life”. And she was true in every sense; I was the idiot who never knew what to do. I wondered if she is ever going to forgive me. Later that night she did but the thing was she can’t trust me with anything now. She didn’t say the words but what idiot won’t get that. Even more important was what I thought that she would have thought. You might have to read the previous line again. We’re dealing with love here, it more complicated than the recent lines. I thought she thinks of me as a guy who couldn’t keep his word. It was the first night I was experiencing the pain of love and was so stuck in it that I didn’t even thought for a moment that she was in that too. Whatever was going on in my mind, much worse was going in hers. And it was all because of me. Only if I hadn’t been idiot enough to rat it out. I kept texting her till her inbox blurted out ”please no more”. Later that night, though it was 3 a.m in the morning I’d prefer to call it night, I got a text from her asking was it supposed to be this way. I knew what she was up to, I mean it’s not even a week and I’ve already planted a bomb at the foundation. I didn’t know how I was going to clean up this mess. Suddenly I realized why not try the truth. I wrote: sorry, angel I didn’t mean to hurt you but it was my first dream come true, the girl I loved in my life loves me back. And I couldn’t keep it to myself. It meant nothing other than that. Tonight you are hurt cause of me, it would have been much less of it if I was not there. Pressed the send button and next second regretted mentioning the last sentence. It sounded more of melodrama rather than an apology appeal. In between I got a text from her, it read: you are such an idiot(my heart raced, now what). I myself choose to be with you. It so little compared to the feeling I get when I see you or when you are with me. You won’t be able to change it in any way. And yeah, you are such a drama queen. It put a smile on my face, but I knew this incident was going to leave a stain on her heart. I decided to be more cautious when dealing with this kind of delicate matter. But I am as god made me, meant to screw things up.

Now there was this day I had assembled a football team to play against the DA-IICT team, of course at DA-IICT, our college don’t have a football ground. And the team was assembled in last minutes, don’t get your hopes high thinking if we won the game. So anyway, on my way back home I way with my school friend. He’s been my friend now for over 6 years. Nice guy. Meanwhile, angel invited me to her home. It was 8 sharp in the evening. She said come soon I’ll introduce you to my mother, twin sisters and a younger brother. I asked what about your father? She said "he’ll be home soon from work. And remember it’s just a friendly visit. Be nice." I was like..is she out of her mind? I smell like shit. Sweat has left its geographical marks on each and every part of my body, the only thing I needed then was a bubble bath with soft shampoo pouring down my head. But as philosopher Jagger once said, you can’t always get what you want. So there I was VISITING my sasural the very first time, soaked in sweat. Even the blowing air could fracture my bones. I was tired to that extent. And what about my friend, will it be okay to bring him over. After a couple of thoughts I decided to take him along, as it would add up to so called friendly visit. And further, we decided to leave soon as possible. She was waiting at her Gate. She was dressed up in a light orange night suit irresistibly beautiful. I can actually see her eyes glow orange in the dark night. And I can tell you those eyes can work wonders. And they were on me at the very moment. I felt she could see through my soul. She paused for a second and asked me are you okay? I said what exactly are the color of your eyes? She was confused. Guys this is the ability of a girl that we can’t hold them accountable for. The ability to behave as if nothing is going on, even if there is. According to them a little bit seduction is okay. She smiled and escorted us to her home from there on. A pulse of fright ran through my body, can’t tell you the adrenaline rush. I stepped into a giant sized hall marble floored, attached kitchen to the back. Two single beds placed adjacent to each other by the corner. A T.V in one corner, I guessed it was not used for a long time. Everything was spotless clean and neat. Unlike my home. Everything was in the place where it belonged. Her mother greeted me from the doorstep and invited me in. She didn’t look that much aged. Most of the facial features was more of my angel. Her eyes scanned me for over a minute, I feared that next second I would be teleported to scary place the one from my darkest dreams. It was creeping me out but she was simply analyzing whether I was the good boy or the other way around. I put myself together, hardly. Next member I was introduced to was her younger sister, unfortunately I didn’t get to meet her other twin but it was okay. At least I had managed to meet her mother, it in itself was a great achievement. And in the beginning it’s necessary to take baby steps. I guess it went too cool. As far as I know, but of course I had to hear what her mother thought about me. In middle of my thought her mother came out of the kitchen and served us fried rice with little peanuts and kadhipattas in it. My angel came and placed 2 glasses of Rasna (mango flavored) beside the plates and whispered “I have made it for you” …enjoy your meal. Sometimes I’m driven with this strange momentary madness, and the moment was there, I took the glass in an instance and drank it to empty the other. I don’t know what caught me, I think it was just because I was going to drink something that has been made by my angel’s hands. Suddenly all jaws broadened. What the hell was that? This guy is surely a basket case. I felt embarrassed but somehow began eating. It was getting late and there was no sign of her father. My phone rang to its full volume. Metallica’s “The Memory Remains” flooded the quiet room. Point to be noted: Always turn vibrate on when in your g.f’s home. It was mom, she asked: dear aren’t you coming home, how long is it going to take? I managed: I’m on my way home, will be there in 15 minutes. That was the signal I can no longer wait for my sasurji to arrive. So I bid my goodbye to all and left with my friend. Angel said I’ll see to it that next time you meet daddy. I said I’m looking forward to it, but I was not and you’ll know why.

Exams were near and we planned combined studies, of course at her home, an excuse she made for me to meet her father. I reached her home at 8:00 a.m sharp; again her father was not there. She said he’s out working will be home anytime in noon. I was new soldier on the battle field, it was far better to wait for slow death than to be exterminated at once. She said lets study. I was like ”Yeah right, like I can study now”. She was serious, but according to me combined studies was a disaster. I thought it was just time taken out to be together. But apparently it was not. Nothing else is more difficult than sitting beside a girl and to think only about studying. Frankly it was the first time I felt like kissing her. But something inside me said. Go slow tiger, we’re not there yet. She’s too sensitive and you too are not ready. I somehow flunked the thoughts and concentrated towards the book. But with no background music I was unable to do so. I kept looking at her time to time, as I hoped she didn’t knew what I was doing. She suddenly burst into giggles as if she knew all the way about my sneak peeks. She said you’re cute, and a lot weird, but I guess weird is what makes you different. I said: Please, don’t push me, I’m right on the edge, I’ll end up kissing you. Speaking of weird, her father showed up in middle of the conversation, first example of bad timing. I gave out random smile at him. But he seemed aghast, like he was not happy about something. But why take it out on me. I certainly got the feeling, he was not that friendly. I was in enemy territory, and the war was on. My smiling peace proposal was desperately rejected. I had to take steps. Instead, I didn’t speak another word until I was compelled to. It’s what happens when you don’t get a smile in return of a smile. He was knocking me down. He came close, I was literally shivering. I thought he’ll ask my name, so I kept on practicing my name in my mind. he spoke…: What caste do you belong to? I said: Sanket. Second example of bad timing. Then realized, its not what he asked for. I quickly managed: sorry?. He asked again; what is your caste? Clean headshot, there was no further discussion. This man was clinically insane. I had lost the battle without even firing a single bullet. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t come across this kind of awkward situation in my whole life. I was a student of a school where these matters were of less concern. It hardly came up during my schooling year. Angel was my life saver. She said daddy he’s a student from central board, very bright and even more helpful, he has come here to help me with maths, truth was I sucked at maths even more to what this conversation was leading to. He said, “so I’ll take it as you don’t know your caste, I suppose you can at least tell me your surname or your father’s name”. Another headshot, this one pushing the previous bullet out from back of my head. It was turning nasty. The man was asking for all the things except the one I provided, my first name. I replied uncle, its Sanket Banker. And its better if you just grab it as Sanket, cause that’s the one you’ll remember after 4 years. He felt my words and responded: what are you going to do? I said, score good in exams, so you’ll remember my name and won’t ask for any other details. My marks will speak for me. But I hope you all know what I really meant. He was silent for the first time, after all, the soldier was not dead yet. Anyhow he survived 2 headshots. Last thing he said was “we are xyz”. Xyz is some caste. Sorry I can’t disclose it right now. It’s not the right time. I have just 1 request to you guys please, help me spread this message. If you love someone, not of your own caste. Recommend this blog, recent and upcoming posts, to your friends or anyone you like. But please see to it this thing don’t get unnoticed. Help me spread the awareness if you think what’s happening is wrong. Because its what we do, when something don’t make sense, we pick a pen and put sense into it, so that it mean something to someone, anyone. I was going to write my break up story but I thought this story was meant to be told. The thing for you guys to know is, we are together, and always will be, moreover, the feelings that we share today is truly out of this world, even if it will seize my existence, I’ll die fighting for it. Because this is as far as it gets. No more castism.

Special thanks to all my dear friends for being with us. God bless you all. And I’ll be writing more just need your support. If you like this post, even a bit of it, please leave me a comment. It means a lot, I’ll take it as a blessing.

Love You All. :)