I have often stared at my fears
straight into its epicenter with unwavering eyes. It has sometimes given me the
strength to deal with my share of disgrace and has yet sometimes nursed my
broken heart and my bleeding ego. In all, my fears have sometimes done good
things to me. To this fact, my memory testifies about one inadequate man whom I
chose love forever for a little while.
This inadequate man had the habit of meeting me at some scarcely crowded/empty
coffee shops so that no one would
know, no one would see and no one would ask. After he made his
pre-planned and brutal exit from the flow of my every days, I made it point to
visit those very coffee shops very often. Order the same drink. Occupy the same
seat and may be even wear the same clothes. Incidentally, each time I went there
alone. It was a strange masochism that I practiced on myself. My bruised heart
writhed in pain, it fluttered with its already clipped wings and pleaded before
me with an almost disgraceful helplessness. But I dismissed all of them. I was
as tenacious as a wounded tigress. Day over day and again for years I did this
to myself….then one day it stopped mattering. The withered heart became numb.
It didn’t hurt. But it didn’t please either.
I have now taken up on myself to
do the same thing all over again. To go back to that state where I need not
please or hurt myself. Where I can be laid back and fill up this void with a
dark nothingness. So this also about another inadequate man whom I chose to go home to for a little while. I decided
to repeat the brutality again by reducing every moment I lived in that make-shift
home into words. In the process I will reminisce everything….the time I nonchalantly saw him for the first time and looked away…the moment when he carelessly
waved an inconsequential ‘Hi’ at me….the day when we exchanged numbers..the
afternoon when he said “you are beautiful”…the night when I said ‘Can we talk
for some more time’ and that morning when his sleepy voice said ‘I love You
baby’.
I will open a box where I have
stored the only thing he ever gifted me. He gifted me a fragile and “never to
come” tomorrow. Not just an ordinary tomorrow it was..it was special one for it
was only thing that I can call as being ‘ours’
even if it only existed in only my imagination. It was a bright, sunny day,
there was a river, some trees and a hill and then there was a long road that didn’t
show its end. There was also a gentle wind that brushed on the drops of sweat
on my nose and it felt good. The air carried his smell. And each part of my
womanhood danced to the tune of his heartbeats. That was my home. Just that like
most beautiful things it was a not real.
May be in the process of this
exercise, I will find a moment where there was love bereft of betrayal, where
he was my man and no one else’s and where he possessed me intending to hold on
to me until we saw that tomorrow together. Or may be in this process I will vanquish
these horrific memories and learn to live with them.
I have often found the turmoil of
not knowing what I want scarier than that of not getting what I want. This time I
have stumbled upon something more horrific. This time I had an incorrect
knowledge as to what I want. All this while where I lived with his poisonous
presence my soul revolted and my mind rebelled. I thought he doesn’t love me
and I craved for his love very badly. I
thought that was the worst part. But now that I chucked him out of my life, I realize I don’t have
anyone worthy enough to love and that is even worse.
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