A Walk To Remember

Water, it is everywhere. Right behind the place where I live, there is a magnificent sea where shades of blue shine with yellow glitter dust of sun rays. Sometimes, fresh fragrant breeze cushions the sun and delicately wraps it in the blanket of clouds. While sometimes, showers of fresh water purifies the surroundings.

I wander at the beach and get lost. Lost in the sadness of sea waves that travel all the way to the beach and slowly crawl back. Lost in the roars of sea waves that strikes the rocks in fury and make me think, why are the waves that reach at the beach so calm and why are those which strike stones so angry ? I don’t know. I don’t want to. I just know that I have to find myself between this calmness and fury, somewhere between sand and rocks.

While searching for my lost self, I walk through life with hands tucked in pockets. White trainers imprint stamps of my past over the sand of my present while I stare at the void of future. I stare with -4.00 shortsighted astigmatic eyes, at the blurry line that tends to join blue and white shadows. The enchanted beauty of this place overwhelms me.

I see a lot of people on my way, taking a walk with their dogs. I see them loving and caring for their dogs as if they are their own children. I feel the connection and I can understand the reasons. Everyone has his own way of getting over life after all. But I don’t know why, every dog barks at me and tries to jump over me. Maybe they see me as an ugly alien or may be they are racist, reality is tough both ways !

Their is a brown colored long bench at one corner of sea front which I can call as my happy place these days. It has a wall build all around it and a roof which makes it appears like a small dark room open at the front. There are names carved on this bench and at some places a sign of heart appears to be drawn too between two names. I don’t understand why people would do that, and then I find myself doing the same. It feels good to be a part of crowd sometimes.

 

I sit there and breathe. Breathing is new to me, I held it inside myself for too long and it aches at times to let it out all at once. With an empty mind I absorb soothing silence inside me. Thousands of seconds pass by and time stops. Or may be, it repeats itself in endless loops. Past, present and future flow somewhere along this loop.

A mobile beep brings me back to reality, where my husband waits for me at home to give him lunch. I have to go back, but this walk… I will remember forever.

Topic Inspired by Weekly Challenge.

 

 

 

 

The Realistic Fiction – A Memoir

One of the other gloomiest nights wears on to a morning. She rolls her fingers over her already half-opened eyes and pulls her husband’s arm softly aside to get out of the bed. After a while, she was fastening the laces of her pink Nike trainers and ready to jog ! She knew, she’d run so hard today that her feet would feel wounded and her legs would hurt like hell. Her breath would feel irregular for hours and her heart would beat in her ears for long. And after all that, she won’t still stop. She’d jog until all the energy inside her body would be drained out. And today wasn’t different from the other days that had been creeping slowly.

Why such torture on her own self ? She had no concrete answer.

With his head filled with confusions, he turned the page. He had started reading this fiction written on a beautiful white leather covered diary but after reading only the first page, he felt some things strangely familiar. As if, he actually knows the heroine of this story…. As if….

May be, to trick her mind into thinking about her tired body rather than her ruptured heart full of fears of the future and guilt of the past. May be, to get rid of those painful anxiety attacks and depression disorders. Or maybe, just to distract herself from her own self. Sometimes, the un-satisfying reasons you give yourself are not important enough.

“I can’t have a child. I am not able enough to bring a new life into this world. For all my life I have done nothing but to hurt my loved ones. I can’t be a parent I am a total mess”

For years, these small sentences were often followed by painful cries while she’d go to sleep at nights, with needles tingling all over her body and rapid breaths getting out of control. Her husband would sit aside holding her hands and pushing her head against his chest. Sometimes, silent presence of a loved one is better that a thousand empty words. He was her doctor, her friend and her faith.

The day when their baby was born, her eyes smiled while staring at his eyes with pride. The pride of winning the battle against anxiety and depression while fighting together, the pride of loving and being loved innocently and purely — and most importantly, the pride of being a Mother !

He couldn’t find himself strong enough to read another hundred or more pages. This fiction was not a fiction, as this diary was not just a diary. 

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I am sitting in my bed today watching Mother’s day programs on Tv. He comes rushing towards me and hides himself  in my embrace, as he used to do when he was a kid.

“I love you, Mama ! I won’t be able to thank you for the priceless love you have given me in all these years, and I want to tell you that you are important to me more than anyone in the whole world. Everyone loved you mama, they just didn’t express their love the way you needed. I don’t want to be like them“

Saying these words, he hands me over a copy of this famous magazine. I open that half folded page in curiosity and there I see, my 25 year old story published in a neater version with my name.

I recalled, I was scared of writing diaries because the thought of getting exposed and judged frightened me. That’s why I started giving my daily anecdotes a color of fiction.

He understood my ‘fiction’ when nobody could. I wonder, how many more strange habits had he taken from his father ?

Inspired by The Daily Post.

Somewhere

Photo Credits : CHINESE CAULDRON

Somewhere, there is the tall guy boarding a plane

who once used to lay down and see her asleep

while she’d open one eye secretly to steal a look

of his worry-less face and worried eyes wide-open

staring at his temporary present through a distance

of miles between them.

Somewhere, there is the girl feeling hot dusty clouds

floating in her lungs as the pile of ash gets soaked

in those salty little drops which never fell anywhere

but on the tall guy’s finger pores and  that long stick

burns with the nerves in her mind as the pressure of

her blood lowers down.

Somewhere, there is the small hut on the hills

which echoes with the crying silence of the wishes

of people who made it. There is this couch there,

where no one sits to watch tv together and a

stove on which no food is cooked but the song of love

can still be heard from miles.

Somewhere, across the sleepless nights and

nightmares, there is a branched path like the

lines on one’s hand, telling them to start counting

number of sunsets they have to see without each other

while holding hands with the soul mates that were

always meant for them.

 

The list of nouns : The tall guy, the girl, the small hut, the hills,  the sleepless nights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Red Letter

“No-way, this is not possible !” She screamed…..

Her soft breaths gradually converted to heavy fast storms. Her heart beats were drumming in her ears as if they’ll tear apart her ribs. She could feel uncountable needles stabbing in her head. She fell down……

“Not again, No” She was crying and shrieking hysterically.

“What happened Mama?” Her 7 years old son, Ali, came running towards her.

She looked at his face, she couldn’t. Grabbing his hand she pulled him towards herself and embraced him in her arms.

“Nothing My Love, I won’t let anything happen to you” Gazing at the red letter in her hand, she sighed.

————————————————–

Rachael was drowned in the valley of thoughts while Ali was sleeping right beside her. Windows were closed and the room was dark and silent. Sometimes a gust of frosted wind would scatter the silence with its whispers.

They were a happily-ever-after family 7 years ago. Ali wasn’t born by that time. Her two sons and beloved husband shared the same house where today, silence regulates.

When Rachael received this red letter for the first time, she was unknown of the consequences. She came to know when the very next day, her husband met an accident and he passed away.

She was scattered. She would never have related the death to that letter if one by one, both her sons wouldn’t have passed away in the same mysterious manner.

She was sure there was ‘something’ behind all this. Something esoteric, something inexplicable.

And now she had received that red letter again. Her baffled mind started freezing with the weather.

——————————————————–

A sound woke her up. She felt like she had heard a whisper. She checked Ali, he was sleeping. She checked the time, it was 2 o’ clock at night.

A sudden sharp cracking sound outside the window startled her. Her heart beat and pulse rate were at a race. She slipped towards the window slowly and peeked through the glass. She couldn’t see anything. It was dark and calm.

She took a long sigh.

She turned back. A panic-stricken scream welled up and burst out of her mouth. Her eyes bulged out with shock and dark condensed clouds blocked her mind.

The bed was vacant, Ali was gone.

A furiously loud knock at the door drummed in her ears……

To Be Continued……….

Pages From Diary Of A School Girl

Ghosts Of December

December 23rd, 2005

Dear Diary,

Today was a bright day, partly because the sun was bright and partly because I got my results today. My class teacher who is the sweetest person I’ve ever met, gave me the certificate and first prize. She kissed my cheek in front of the whole class and said, “Congrats sweetheart”. I blushed and smiled. My friends were happy for me. Everyone loves me.

My mom gave me my favorite chocolate brownie for lunch today and after eating that, I played hide and seek with my friends. It was the best day ever.

December 23rd, 2007

Dear Diary,

I am taking the final exams of my fifth grade in school so I have to study hard. My mom says I am a grown up girl now so I should behave well in public but I don’t know how to behave well. I still love running away after ringing the door bells of houses and telling stupid jokes to my friends and laughing out loud.

I sometimes feel awkward when my friends keep admiring me because of my beauty and looks. But this is fine I guess. They are my best friends. Life is good.

December 23rd, 2009

Dear Diary,

Tears have blocked my throat as I write this. I am alone in this dark silent room scared of my own shadow. My friends don’t talk to me and people around me hate me. My smiles are abandoned and my life is a living hell.

It all started when last month, on my way back home my car met an accident. My face was injured badly. I heard doctors saying that these big black scars will fade away in some years. When I saw my face in the mirror I hated it and smashed the mirror into pieces. After that I cried hysterically scratching my face with my nails.

My mom has removed all mirrors from my room now. Doctor says that I am in depression and I should not look at my face. I am tired of listening heartbreaking comments from people. They HURT me. I feel like I am dying.

December 23rd, 2011

Dear Diary,

Life has become cruel. Are LOOKS everything ? I keep wondering in my lonely December nights sobbing in my bed but I don’t find answers. I never caused any harm to anyone nor did I think about anyone negatively then why do people hate me ? Just because I am not beautiful anymore? Why don’t they see my heart ? It is the SAME.

My vision just got blurred with tears but there is no one to wipe them. No one to pat me on my back and say, “You are beautiful, I see your beauty”. But I have decided to be strong. What if I look ugly, I am not ugly from inside and I will make people see my heart.

December 23rd, 2013

Dear Diary,

A new flower blossomed in my heart today and I am filled with its fragrance. Today was my best friend’s birthday who was not talking to me since my accident. I made a card for her with my own hands last night and in the morning when she got it laying on her chair and read it, I saw her crying. She came to me and gave me a hug saying “I am sorry !”. I smiled.

I made 10 birthday cards with my hands this year and now all of my friends love me again. One of my class fellows got sick for weeks. I gave her my notebooks so that she can complete her work. Her smile has filled my heart with calmness and peace.

I have never felt that happiness before that I feel now by making people smile. Every time a person smiles because of me, a flower of peace and happiness blossoms in my heart and I pass on its fragrance to others. I have learnt a lesson, living for others is the real way to live life.

After all, Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.

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Image credits: Google.

A post written for Weekly Writing Challenge: Ghosts of December 23rds Past

Weekly Writing Challenge: Collecting Detail |Hunger

Image credits: Google

My children managed to eat a good meal today and got their tummies full after a month or two. I have got three sons and two daughters. We along with my wife live in a small hut of 1 room. There is no separate space for a kitchen or anything else. My wife has made a corner of this room a kitchen. Our kitchen consists of a single brown stove whose every inch is rusted now. This stove is not in our use from quite a month or so because we hardly get anything to eat daily. I look at my children sleeping on the ground at night in torn old filthy clothes with empty bellies daily and my dreams for their future break into tiny little pieces like shards of glass and hurt my soul leaving it wounded. I wake up every morning with a new energy and hope and till night, this energy eats me up. I may be a bad father and a bad husband but I love my family and I die once everyday feeling hopeless for them.

However today is my day. I am watching my children having a good meal. The smiles on their faces have turned my guilt into a peaceful happiness. I close my eyes and suddenly a flashback took me to the place where it all started today….

I was walking on the road in search of some work like usual. Everybody was in a hurry to perform their duties. People with cell phones attached to their ears, people with briefcases ,  people wearing nice suits and people wearing filthy torn clothes like me. Cars;big and small were occupying the road as if they own it. Small children with blue, red and pink school bags , holding each other’s hands , smiling and giggling, just passed by in a line. A thin middle aged school teacher wearing glasses was teaching them how to cross a road. A cool breeze was blowing and giving me shivers. The sky feels so blue and relaxed…. silent like the silence after a big storm passes. When suddenly the silence was torn apart by a loud horn followed by a blast. I stopped and looked backward. A gold colored shining new car just got hit by a huge gigantic black truck and caught fire. I rushed towards the place where the accident had occurred and all of a sudden a huge crowd was gathered around the place. Truck driver was fine but car was all bashed and driver was wounded badly. I pulled him out of the car with the help of some people. His head was bleeding badly and tiny drops of blood started gathering around his head on the road. He had wounds all over his body. His face which may be fresh before a few seconds felt all pale and weak now.He was alive but unconscious. He was wearing a black suit which seemed to be very expensive. A gold watch could be seen on his wrist and an expensive mobile phone was hanging out from his pocket. People were calling the emergency now.

Sitting there suddenly my mind got all blurred with the faces of my children. I had always wished a wonderful life for them like this man was having and they are striving to live and for food everyday in spite of enjoying the luxuries. My heart was filled with anger and hate for myself and at once a thought triggered my mind. I looked at his watch and cell phone and thought about my children and their innocent faces. Hunger blocks your mind and you forget who you are. I was forgetting myself too.

After a few minutes an ambulance came. People dragged that man and put him in the ambulance. A black suit was all that was left on his body. I moved towards my home with a full pocket and a blocked mind and heart……where my children were hungry and waiting for me.

This story is written in response to Weekly Writing Challenge: Collecting Detail.