He is not a hero, but he definitely has that heroic soul, whose presence he himself fears to admit. From my understanding, I can say that nothing worse than this can happen to a person. It is Aakarshan to whom this misfortune happened.
He is silently invaded by a disease called self- defeating personality disorder. This disease is actually a vamp in the guise of a saint. It can appear kind and benevolent to others, yet it is as equally brutal and malignant to the one who suffers it. To say, it is more lethal than a severe myocardial infraction. This disease doesn't ceases your breath; it grabs you by your neck and forces you instead to breathe in something dark and menacing.
The disease is not contagious, but it actually chooses the persons whom it finds worthwhile to be with. Those with exacting dreams, exalted spirit and uncanny goodness is highly prone to this disease. The cure for this disease is still not known, but in few rare cases a-, few fortunate souls have lived through it, have survived it as they encounter that rare catholicon and that too only at its initial stages. There are so many others who are not among those few fortunate ones. And Aakarshan was among those so many others.
There are certain points enlisted in Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (DSM) III-R as the diagnosis of the disease, which are as follows:
Self-defeating personality disorder a pervasive pattern of self-defeating behavior, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts. The person may often avoid or undermine pleasurable experiences, be drawn to situations or relationships in which he or she will suffer, and prevent others from helping him, as indicated by at least five of the following:
1. Chooses people and situations that lead to disappointment, failure, or mistreatment even when better options are clearly available.
2. Rejects or renders ineffective the attempts of others to help him or her.
3. Following positive personal events (e.g., new achievement), responds with depression, guilt, or a behaviour that produces pain (e.g., an accident).
4. Incites angry or rejecting responses from others and then feels hurt, defeated, or humiliated (e.g., makes fun of a spouse in public, provoking an angry retort, then feels devastated).
5. Rejects opportunities for pleasure, or is reluctant to acknowledge enjoying himself or herself (despite having adequate social skills and the capacity for pleasure).
6. Fails to accomplish tasks crucial to his or her personal objectives despite demonstrated ability to do so-, (e.g., helps fellow students write papers, but is unable to write his or her own).
7. Is uninterested in or rejects people who consistently treat him or her well-, (e.g., is unattracted to caring sexual partners).
I am working on my first extended work in this very subject since last few months. So, I apologize for my apparently long absence over here.
Aakarshan's story tells us how the disease makes its way through his life and finally consume him. I couldn't help but to write it. The story didn't come to me like an epiphany in some darkness of the night and at some constrained loneliness of my being. It was something that made its gradual progression in front of me as I was walking through some interesting phase of my life that had both the darkness of the nights and brightness of the days.
I seek your best wishes for the work to be completed soon.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The sister
She had completely sunk into the memories of her recent past that had thoroughly bedraggled her from the defiled gratification and embarrassment, unpleasing as it had always been. She felt as if her otherwise weighty and trenchant words had turned hollow and pompous that provoked not a thoughtful attentiveness but a carefree rowdy laughter in her audience causing her to believe that her remarks were rather absurd than witty. She smelled the scent of mockery in the air she breathed while in an auditorium hall. After she was done with her messed up speech, as she believed it was, she found the audience clasping their hands to produce the sound of derision at her shaky, erroneous and empty rhetoric. Her conscience was decisively invaded by the robust discomfort that ruled her every instinct. It was beyond her ability to escape the scheduled speech and had became too unyielding for her capacity to push away those elusive scenes that kept haunting her mind incessantly. All the time while she was uttering her words on ‘societal awareness’, her mind was murmuring with her self the disgust it met.
Mind- broken, for heartbroken she hadn’t long been, she left the hall as soon as she got finished, walked the hasty steps down the alley and entered the same sparsely visited archaic museum that had two galleries; one with images and the other with idols of rare qualities but very few in frequency. She entered the one with the idols for it had enough cozy space to lye down comfortably and without much disciplinary awareness. She rested her bag and climbed up on her usual seat by the side of the window that was aesthetically craved and shrewdly perforated to form an interesting pattern. From that window she stared outside and was again forced to watch the same diabolic picture that kept haunting her since the day before. Tired she was, she got even more for much of her energy was vested on the stretching of her cerebral muscles. The tension produced was shockingly enormous. However, she still was enduring it for she could not drain it out of her mind. It had been a long time that she had sheded tears and it seemed totally awkward to her about the idea of doing so. Anxiety had hardened her face and turned her body stiff. Vague and bizarre emotions had turned her judgmental conscience defunct.
She was confined by the nature of bond she shared with that other lady. She forgot everything about what was right and what was wrong, what was amorous and what was not. She was blown away by that unruly tempest of ignorance. She didn’t mourned at her looted conscience for she didn’t had enough consciousness left for it. Anger and agony had shrouded her completely and she saw nothing except what that shroud constituted of. Though the view they held were way too harsh, her eyes still kept blooming with that regular kind feelings. Her decisive mode of presence was her unique and interesting feature that caught the passerbies' sight. No visitor would pass by without having at least a cursory inspection of her being. Her perturbation and inner commotion had turned her visage even more beautiful; she looked even more enthralling without that fatal smile, might be because the anger was genuine, true, just and in accord with the emotions she was filled with. The naive wrath of hers had colored her face pink and the intensity of the hue kept changing with the switching of the scenes, of the pictures from mild to devastating. The pictures of her elder sister, of that guy and of both being together, few that were and few she imagined that might have been kept projecting themselves incessantly in the screen of her mind. The images were ruthlessly itching her mind and eating her wisdom. At one moment, she felt as if to go straightly upto her sister and slap hard on her bony cheeks and at the other moment to again go up to her and embrace her so tight that she might end of crushing herself and remind her to stop short the blunder she was uprising. However, at every moment she thought of not letting her beautiful and intelligent sister debase her majestic aura by melting along with the essence of such lowly, subordinate creature. Her brown, deep almond eyes, his pale, nerved, bulging ones; her smooth and slightly concave small nose, his bulky and sufficiently convex nose with big nostrils; her finely shaped thin pink lips, his twisted, thick and blued ones; her spacious forehead and his congested one; her jolly, majestic face and his bourgeois, wrathful one; her round and elegant neck, his irregular and lengthy one- the one like of an ostrich; her feminine curvy stature and his not masculine and quite incongruous one; her thin long sensual legs and his short flabby and disproportioned ones; her dignified conduct and his reckless one; she kept gauging the compatibility factor between her sister’s belongings and the guy’s and every time the result she incurred was null. She found absolutely no trace of compatibility between the two of them. She didn’t even realized what it was to be biased and what it was to be just; what was true and what was exaggerated. She actually had no desire to have realized. She saw things near and far, right and left, clearly but in a way she wished to rather than they actually were. It wasn’t the projections she saw of the things that were; it was actually she saw before her the projections of the pictures that were in her psyche. And not all the images in her psyche matched the real pictures. She could in no way imagine the guy and her lady together; she was determined not to. Her determination was so firm, so solid that it should break down only with the breaking down of her own.
The heat from the vigorous reactions her emotions were undergoing made her sweat severely. The gentle wind blowing through the window made her wet self feel cold. Without a second thought, she took out from her bag the remaining last long and thin cigarette stick, smoked it and blew the thick fumes out of her nostrils. She felt a bit composed and appeared a bit discomposed. Her stiff and motionless body started making the moves. After a while, she was alarmed by the alarm she had mistakenly set on her cell phone to buzz at 5 p.m. instead of 5 a.m. It was also the time for the museum to be closed. She gently lifted her self, got down the seat, wore her straw-weaved slippers, picked her bag up, carried it on the right shoulder alone and made her still not awakened feet move briskly towards her abode gazing at those very pictures which kept manifesting themselves on the screen of her mind..
Mind- broken, for heartbroken she hadn’t long been, she left the hall as soon as she got finished, walked the hasty steps down the alley and entered the same sparsely visited archaic museum that had two galleries; one with images and the other with idols of rare qualities but very few in frequency. She entered the one with the idols for it had enough cozy space to lye down comfortably and without much disciplinary awareness. She rested her bag and climbed up on her usual seat by the side of the window that was aesthetically craved and shrewdly perforated to form an interesting pattern. From that window she stared outside and was again forced to watch the same diabolic picture that kept haunting her since the day before. Tired she was, she got even more for much of her energy was vested on the stretching of her cerebral muscles. The tension produced was shockingly enormous. However, she still was enduring it for she could not drain it out of her mind. It had been a long time that she had sheded tears and it seemed totally awkward to her about the idea of doing so. Anxiety had hardened her face and turned her body stiff. Vague and bizarre emotions had turned her judgmental conscience defunct.
She was confined by the nature of bond she shared with that other lady. She forgot everything about what was right and what was wrong, what was amorous and what was not. She was blown away by that unruly tempest of ignorance. She didn’t mourned at her looted conscience for she didn’t had enough consciousness left for it. Anger and agony had shrouded her completely and she saw nothing except what that shroud constituted of. Though the view they held were way too harsh, her eyes still kept blooming with that regular kind feelings. Her decisive mode of presence was her unique and interesting feature that caught the passerbies' sight. No visitor would pass by without having at least a cursory inspection of her being. Her perturbation and inner commotion had turned her visage even more beautiful; she looked even more enthralling without that fatal smile, might be because the anger was genuine, true, just and in accord with the emotions she was filled with. The naive wrath of hers had colored her face pink and the intensity of the hue kept changing with the switching of the scenes, of the pictures from mild to devastating. The pictures of her elder sister, of that guy and of both being together, few that were and few she imagined that might have been kept projecting themselves incessantly in the screen of her mind. The images were ruthlessly itching her mind and eating her wisdom. At one moment, she felt as if to go straightly upto her sister and slap hard on her bony cheeks and at the other moment to again go up to her and embrace her so tight that she might end of crushing herself and remind her to stop short the blunder she was uprising. However, at every moment she thought of not letting her beautiful and intelligent sister debase her majestic aura by melting along with the essence of such lowly, subordinate creature. Her brown, deep almond eyes, his pale, nerved, bulging ones; her smooth and slightly concave small nose, his bulky and sufficiently convex nose with big nostrils; her finely shaped thin pink lips, his twisted, thick and blued ones; her spacious forehead and his congested one; her jolly, majestic face and his bourgeois, wrathful one; her round and elegant neck, his irregular and lengthy one- the one like of an ostrich; her feminine curvy stature and his not masculine and quite incongruous one; her thin long sensual legs and his short flabby and disproportioned ones; her dignified conduct and his reckless one; she kept gauging the compatibility factor between her sister’s belongings and the guy’s and every time the result she incurred was null. She found absolutely no trace of compatibility between the two of them. She didn’t even realized what it was to be biased and what it was to be just; what was true and what was exaggerated. She actually had no desire to have realized. She saw things near and far, right and left, clearly but in a way she wished to rather than they actually were. It wasn’t the projections she saw of the things that were; it was actually she saw before her the projections of the pictures that were in her psyche. And not all the images in her psyche matched the real pictures. She could in no way imagine the guy and her lady together; she was determined not to. Her determination was so firm, so solid that it should break down only with the breaking down of her own.
The heat from the vigorous reactions her emotions were undergoing made her sweat severely. The gentle wind blowing through the window made her wet self feel cold. Without a second thought, she took out from her bag the remaining last long and thin cigarette stick, smoked it and blew the thick fumes out of her nostrils. She felt a bit composed and appeared a bit discomposed. Her stiff and motionless body started making the moves. After a while, she was alarmed by the alarm she had mistakenly set on her cell phone to buzz at 5 p.m. instead of 5 a.m. It was also the time for the museum to be closed. She gently lifted her self, got down the seat, wore her straw-weaved slippers, picked her bag up, carried it on the right shoulder alone and made her still not awakened feet move briskly towards her abode gazing at those very pictures which kept manifesting themselves on the screen of her mind..
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Ultimate Exemption
The night was tardly gaining the darkness. The brightness of the street lights appeared haughty on its augmenting predominance. Also the lighting from the few vehicles that were still running on the highway aided to the proofs of the fact that it had been a bit late, a bit more late. His, the man's feet appeared to be suffering the strenuous obligation to move fast, faster and fastest. One would easily fear the soon to occur muscle spasm when observed his mode of being. Behind him was walking his woman with whom he had shared the marriage vows few months over a decade ago. Actually, the wedding never took place; they had eloped together, for their union appeared nearly impossible to them to be approved socially. There was a slight difference in the hierarchy of the castes they belonged. Well yeah, she, the woman was accelerating as well in the efforts to reach her man. The heavy plastic sack she was carrying was impeding her speed. Her speed, his speed, the strain, the impedance; all the forces were so uniformly balanced that there maintained an exact meter long spacing between the man and the woman.
In that whole course of race, the most pathetic condition was endured by her, by that sweet little girl of seven or so whose sweetness always lay hid inside the guise of dirt and pollution. She was firmly holding her mother's sari towards the right side. The girl appeared to be running. The apprehension of missing the hold of her mother was clearly perceived in her sighs that penetrate the heart too deep and cause the wounds of compassion. All of a sudden, the girl halted and screamed. Her father thwarted his motion. Taken aback, he turned back and approached his daughter, rested the massive load of unsold stuffs and bent down. The woman got down as well. Both the parents seem to have been shaken by the grievous scream of their daughter. They looked on to her and found that her left toe was hurt severely by the stroke of her foot to the slightly raised portion of the one of the stone slates covering the drainage above which the footpath laid. The woman spitted over the injured toe to stop it from bleeding. And soon, again they continued their way. This time a bit slow; a bit more cautious. The retardation of their motion caused them a feeling of cold in that moderately cold night of October. The woman stopped; untied the thin woolen shawl she had tied in her waist and wrapped it around her torso. The girl had already been wearing slightly warmer full-sleeved skirt unlike her mother who was dressed in a half-sleeved thin cotton blouse and a cotton sari. Still, the light from the vehicles when fell onto the girl would clearly show the goosebumps in the exposed portions of her legs. She kept shuddering in at times.
This time the all three were walking parallelly along each other, finding the time to discuss their day that had just been lived. The woman initiated the conversation by asking her man about the net business he did during the day. Man, in a very low tone that sounded much like a loud whisper replied to his woman- “I lost a note of 500 rupees today. I searched everywhere and all in my pockets but could find nowhere; didn't wanted to tell you about that..but you know, hiding things with you is just not possible for me. All these years I've been unrestrained about my thoughts, my feelings, my whims, my desires, my stories of failures, of agonies with you..and it has kind of become a habituated action which I can't help with..I'm sorry dear for my inability to wipe off the torments or at least to lock them safely inside my own..I'm fortunate to have you as a part of me and equally guilty to have made you a part of my sorrows as well that are so adamant not to leave me..that have in a way became my essence, an undesirable essence..I'm sorry dear!” He burst out flowing the stream that seem almost nonterminating through his eyes. The veil of night had finely covered his swarthy complexioned face. Still, his ashamed and timid countenance that was ruthlessly drowned in the vale of tears didn't lay hid from his woman. She got very near to her man and gently stroke her head to the man's shoulders. The touch was so subtle, so beautiful, so kind, so genuine, so soothing, so unconditional and so many more as such. He breathed a long breathe. The very moment stood as the realization of an eternal truth that the ultimate salvation is achieved from the merging of two basic cosmic counterparts provided that the whole phenomenon results from the turbulence caused by the tempest of love. And that very instant she felt for the first time the kick of a baby that was growing in her womb. She breathed a long breathe. Both of them nearly at the same instant gazed at their daughter who was finding a bit difficult to match her parents' pace.
They had planned to admit their daughter to the school the coming day. And so were sparing a certain amount of money in a regular basis for her uniform, books, admission fee and the rests that were essential for the one going to school. It had been two years that they had planned to do so. But the fund spared would be spent on the curing of the girl herself as her poor health kept making her sick at times. She was born prematurely as her mother was just 17 when she gave her a birth. But this time, even though the significant amount of money had been lost, even though they were very much sort of money for the survival alone, they were determined to educate their daughter beginning this academic session. Both were pondering about on the ideas for the immediate monetary source. The woman had a pretty much good connection with her neighboring business colleagues; one a vegetable vendor, another a soap-seller and the other a juice maker. She believed that they were good human beings who had helped her once when a fraudulent customer had tried to cheat on her. But this time, it was a matter of money; she kept wondering if anyone of them would trust her for the money they had earned with much difficulties. Similar was the case with the man as well.
The man and woman had both outgrown their ages, may be from the pain that had been perpetually casting its agonizing gloom over their existence. They both appeared marred and disfigured out of misery. Also the ambiance rhymed with their state. The otherwise beautiful October night had turned kind of irksome that night. Even the cold appeared to be teasing them; mocking them at their situation, at their insufficiency. It wasn't that they hadn't worked hard; it was actually, the succession of failures never failed to loom around their life. The woman had two miscarriages after the birth of their baby girl. It was the man alone who seem to possess a sound physical health. However, he was slowly developing the epileptic symptoms like forgetting the things he wasn't supposed to. And few many times, he was robbed while returning to his abode in the similar nights when it had been a bit late, a bit more late. All the whiles, miseries kept calling for the entities of same kind.
With the life that had ruthlessly been tied up with difficulties, they were marching towards their congested abode carrying the hopes of freeing themselves someday and breathing in the air that is sans the constituents of melancholy when Swiftly did the swift ran onto them. The miseries swiftly fleet away without letting them any previous hints of departure. They were all set free within a moment from the ties of unbound difficulties. They proclaimed their freedom with the loud scream that soon got lost without any recession. Nobody acknowledged the vanishing of their existence amid the deep solitude, in the dead of night. It was as ordinary as the not too cold and not too warm night of October; it was as ordinary as the silence of deep night. Neither the wind blew nor the rain fell to mourn their closure. Not even there occurred a single thunder abuzz with the celebration of their liberation. Their wraiths kept riveting around their lifeless remains, watched the ambiance and disappeared after a while wearing a delicate fit of wonder at how beautifully the surrounding matched their cessation.
In that whole course of race, the most pathetic condition was endured by her, by that sweet little girl of seven or so whose sweetness always lay hid inside the guise of dirt and pollution. She was firmly holding her mother's sari towards the right side. The girl appeared to be running. The apprehension of missing the hold of her mother was clearly perceived in her sighs that penetrate the heart too deep and cause the wounds of compassion. All of a sudden, the girl halted and screamed. Her father thwarted his motion. Taken aback, he turned back and approached his daughter, rested the massive load of unsold stuffs and bent down. The woman got down as well. Both the parents seem to have been shaken by the grievous scream of their daughter. They looked on to her and found that her left toe was hurt severely by the stroke of her foot to the slightly raised portion of the one of the stone slates covering the drainage above which the footpath laid. The woman spitted over the injured toe to stop it from bleeding. And soon, again they continued their way. This time a bit slow; a bit more cautious. The retardation of their motion caused them a feeling of cold in that moderately cold night of October. The woman stopped; untied the thin woolen shawl she had tied in her waist and wrapped it around her torso. The girl had already been wearing slightly warmer full-sleeved skirt unlike her mother who was dressed in a half-sleeved thin cotton blouse and a cotton sari. Still, the light from the vehicles when fell onto the girl would clearly show the goosebumps in the exposed portions of her legs. She kept shuddering in at times.
This time the all three were walking parallelly along each other, finding the time to discuss their day that had just been lived. The woman initiated the conversation by asking her man about the net business he did during the day. Man, in a very low tone that sounded much like a loud whisper replied to his woman- “I lost a note of 500 rupees today. I searched everywhere and all in my pockets but could find nowhere; didn't wanted to tell you about that..but you know, hiding things with you is just not possible for me. All these years I've been unrestrained about my thoughts, my feelings, my whims, my desires, my stories of failures, of agonies with you..and it has kind of become a habituated action which I can't help with..I'm sorry dear for my inability to wipe off the torments or at least to lock them safely inside my own..I'm fortunate to have you as a part of me and equally guilty to have made you a part of my sorrows as well that are so adamant not to leave me..that have in a way became my essence, an undesirable essence..I'm sorry dear!” He burst out flowing the stream that seem almost nonterminating through his eyes. The veil of night had finely covered his swarthy complexioned face. Still, his ashamed and timid countenance that was ruthlessly drowned in the vale of tears didn't lay hid from his woman. She got very near to her man and gently stroke her head to the man's shoulders. The touch was so subtle, so beautiful, so kind, so genuine, so soothing, so unconditional and so many more as such. He breathed a long breathe. The very moment stood as the realization of an eternal truth that the ultimate salvation is achieved from the merging of two basic cosmic counterparts provided that the whole phenomenon results from the turbulence caused by the tempest of love. And that very instant she felt for the first time the kick of a baby that was growing in her womb. She breathed a long breathe. Both of them nearly at the same instant gazed at their daughter who was finding a bit difficult to match her parents' pace.
They had planned to admit their daughter to the school the coming day. And so were sparing a certain amount of money in a regular basis for her uniform, books, admission fee and the rests that were essential for the one going to school. It had been two years that they had planned to do so. But the fund spared would be spent on the curing of the girl herself as her poor health kept making her sick at times. She was born prematurely as her mother was just 17 when she gave her a birth. But this time, even though the significant amount of money had been lost, even though they were very much sort of money for the survival alone, they were determined to educate their daughter beginning this academic session. Both were pondering about on the ideas for the immediate monetary source. The woman had a pretty much good connection with her neighboring business colleagues; one a vegetable vendor, another a soap-seller and the other a juice maker. She believed that they were good human beings who had helped her once when a fraudulent customer had tried to cheat on her. But this time, it was a matter of money; she kept wondering if anyone of them would trust her for the money they had earned with much difficulties. Similar was the case with the man as well.
The man and woman had both outgrown their ages, may be from the pain that had been perpetually casting its agonizing gloom over their existence. They both appeared marred and disfigured out of misery. Also the ambiance rhymed with their state. The otherwise beautiful October night had turned kind of irksome that night. Even the cold appeared to be teasing them; mocking them at their situation, at their insufficiency. It wasn't that they hadn't worked hard; it was actually, the succession of failures never failed to loom around their life. The woman had two miscarriages after the birth of their baby girl. It was the man alone who seem to possess a sound physical health. However, he was slowly developing the epileptic symptoms like forgetting the things he wasn't supposed to. And few many times, he was robbed while returning to his abode in the similar nights when it had been a bit late, a bit more late. All the whiles, miseries kept calling for the entities of same kind.
With the life that had ruthlessly been tied up with difficulties, they were marching towards their congested abode carrying the hopes of freeing themselves someday and breathing in the air that is sans the constituents of melancholy when Swiftly did the swift ran onto them. The miseries swiftly fleet away without letting them any previous hints of departure. They were all set free within a moment from the ties of unbound difficulties. They proclaimed their freedom with the loud scream that soon got lost without any recession. Nobody acknowledged the vanishing of their existence amid the deep solitude, in the dead of night. It was as ordinary as the not too cold and not too warm night of October; it was as ordinary as the silence of deep night. Neither the wind blew nor the rain fell to mourn their closure. Not even there occurred a single thunder abuzz with the celebration of their liberation. Their wraiths kept riveting around their lifeless remains, watched the ambiance and disappeared after a while wearing a delicate fit of wonder at how beautifully the surrounding matched their cessation.
Friday, June 3, 2011
The fright
Her face was glowing in that peach cotton t-shirt. The garment was beautifully complementing her pale white complexion. Lips that looked very much like the petals from light colored purple rose were tightly stuck together. The curled lashes were quivering frequently. The soberness in the eyes was augmented by the kohl with a tinge of brown worn in the outer half portion of lower eye lids. Her eyes appeared larger than usual. The nose, slightly concave in form was reddened at its tip even in such scorching heat of mid- May. She had finely done small forehead that looked the same every time. Even her frequently changing coiffures could do nothing to it. Her cheeks appeared flattened that day, quite surprisingly, causing the cheek bones to appear sharp and haughty. And the feeling that emanated from her visage at that moment was somewhat treacly, somewhat inert, a bit timid, a bit rigid. Though the emotions reflected were vague and hard to decode, her countenance distinctly denoted the utmost discomfort she was enduring at the moment. She had never even imagined that the sudden stroke of realization would be so intensely constrained; the heaviness was outweighing her own weight.
He stood there in front of her. He was sweating arduously. The blue shirt he had worn was wet severely under the armpits. The sweat droplets were shining brightly in his forehead. Even the eyes were sweating, but from the fire that was burning inside. She had grown numb and he had cultivated enough sensitivity. She was hard and brittle and he was as pliant as the finely kneaded dough. He was discomposed and she knew no any composure. He was continuously draining through his eyes and she was diabolically dehydrated within an instant. The pain was persistent, adamant not to depart for they both lack the idea on how to resolve, how to dissolve; reiterate to the past or set a new itinerary. She was petrified all at once by the shocking surprise her own self granted her. It never occurred to her that someday, sometime she would be deceived by her own tender core of heart, by her own belonging in a manner as such. There was no any hint of forerunner to signify the arrival of such painful deceit. I tell you, it was all of a sudden she felt for him, she fell for him. All those years, they had remained just the friends, just good friends. She had never felt any sort of awkwardness to do any sort of awkward things in his presence. She laughed widely, she cried severely, she quarreled whole heartedly even though he might be around her. She cared not a bit about how she looked and how he looked while being together. Moreover, she would grow even more lackadaisical in his company. There was absolutely no desire in her to charm him, to propel him, to attract him. His killing smile never succeeded to threaten her. She however, found his chiseled frame inordinate but not exceptional. She had seen him grow from a child to a guy but never cared about how handsome and masculine he had grown. Withal, it wasn't the case with him. He had witnessed her growth from a sweet darling doll to a beautiful and majestic diva. And pondered about how wonderful the courses of change had been. He had equally been amazed by her juvenile laughter that showed off all the teeth except the frontal upper two which were plucked at that time as he is now amazed to see her wide youthful smile showcasing the pearly white teeth. He loved it when she would get cozy in his company. He admired her kind gestures, her cool and easy postures, her sympathetic and empathetic heart and a mind that was sharp and shrewd but rarely manifested those qualities. He would get mesmerized on listening to her low soft voice. Her wishes were his commands and her dreams were his desires. She was his muse. And he loved her, but he didn't realized nor there occurred any obligation to have realized.
She would share with him, with Shagun, the stories of her crushes, about how she was infatuated, how she felt when walking along with her guy, how madly she loved him when he stared at her eyes and did nothing and so on and on. He would listen to her and would smile but only the god knew how much did he meant that. Also the accounts of her heart-breaks, of the betrayals she incurred, of the torments she endured never hid from him. She told him all and everything. And her shrieks caused him heart sore and astoundingly, it would be the lady herself who would mitigate the situation. She knew that he loved her but in a sense she would want him to. He knew that she loved her, may or may not be in a sense he would like her to. He was uncertain of what she meant to him. But all of a sudden, everything at once, things altered; feelings evolved manifesting themselves violently. Without any anticipation, the time came when the awareness occurred. Life appeared way more easier in the realm of unconscious. The moment came when she was to bid him adieu. He was leaving for The United states in the course of his education. And he had came to see her the last time before he left when the truth bizarrely unfolded itself before them. Both acknowledged that confounded state. Both exhibited the confusions silently. Both confessed the turbulence, the shudder, the truth in their own unique ways.
Her benumbed self started to rivet around. Her eyes shut themselves up. Clear images of the infidelities she was forced to accept casted on her mind. She empathized with her past self that was badly cheated upon. She felt pity at her own when her generous self, her virtuous being was taken for granted. She remembered the face of her shy and timid lover that had turn hard and condescending by the treatment of her passionate love. She remembered the vows she took in front of her own self when her love was reprehended for lust. The words she had given to herself that she would never ever fall for anyone again, began to cast clearly in her mind. Her self was just began to melt when it turned resolute all again.
She turned abruptly and walked slowly without turning to look back at him draining the memories out that had suddenly begun to inundate her..
He stood there in front of her. He was sweating arduously. The blue shirt he had worn was wet severely under the armpits. The sweat droplets were shining brightly in his forehead. Even the eyes were sweating, but from the fire that was burning inside. She had grown numb and he had cultivated enough sensitivity. She was hard and brittle and he was as pliant as the finely kneaded dough. He was discomposed and she knew no any composure. He was continuously draining through his eyes and she was diabolically dehydrated within an instant. The pain was persistent, adamant not to depart for they both lack the idea on how to resolve, how to dissolve; reiterate to the past or set a new itinerary. She was petrified all at once by the shocking surprise her own self granted her. It never occurred to her that someday, sometime she would be deceived by her own tender core of heart, by her own belonging in a manner as such. There was no any hint of forerunner to signify the arrival of such painful deceit. I tell you, it was all of a sudden she felt for him, she fell for him. All those years, they had remained just the friends, just good friends. She had never felt any sort of awkwardness to do any sort of awkward things in his presence. She laughed widely, she cried severely, she quarreled whole heartedly even though he might be around her. She cared not a bit about how she looked and how he looked while being together. Moreover, she would grow even more lackadaisical in his company. There was absolutely no desire in her to charm him, to propel him, to attract him. His killing smile never succeeded to threaten her. She however, found his chiseled frame inordinate but not exceptional. She had seen him grow from a child to a guy but never cared about how handsome and masculine he had grown. Withal, it wasn't the case with him. He had witnessed her growth from a sweet darling doll to a beautiful and majestic diva. And pondered about how wonderful the courses of change had been. He had equally been amazed by her juvenile laughter that showed off all the teeth except the frontal upper two which were plucked at that time as he is now amazed to see her wide youthful smile showcasing the pearly white teeth. He loved it when she would get cozy in his company. He admired her kind gestures, her cool and easy postures, her sympathetic and empathetic heart and a mind that was sharp and shrewd but rarely manifested those qualities. He would get mesmerized on listening to her low soft voice. Her wishes were his commands and her dreams were his desires. She was his muse. And he loved her, but he didn't realized nor there occurred any obligation to have realized.
She would share with him, with Shagun, the stories of her crushes, about how she was infatuated, how she felt when walking along with her guy, how madly she loved him when he stared at her eyes and did nothing and so on and on. He would listen to her and would smile but only the god knew how much did he meant that. Also the accounts of her heart-breaks, of the betrayals she incurred, of the torments she endured never hid from him. She told him all and everything. And her shrieks caused him heart sore and astoundingly, it would be the lady herself who would mitigate the situation. She knew that he loved her but in a sense she would want him to. He knew that she loved her, may or may not be in a sense he would like her to. He was uncertain of what she meant to him. But all of a sudden, everything at once, things altered; feelings evolved manifesting themselves violently. Without any anticipation, the time came when the awareness occurred. Life appeared way more easier in the realm of unconscious. The moment came when she was to bid him adieu. He was leaving for The United states in the course of his education. And he had came to see her the last time before he left when the truth bizarrely unfolded itself before them. Both acknowledged that confounded state. Both exhibited the confusions silently. Both confessed the turbulence, the shudder, the truth in their own unique ways.
Her benumbed self started to rivet around. Her eyes shut themselves up. Clear images of the infidelities she was forced to accept casted on her mind. She empathized with her past self that was badly cheated upon. She felt pity at her own when her generous self, her virtuous being was taken for granted. She remembered the face of her shy and timid lover that had turn hard and condescending by the treatment of her passionate love. She remembered the vows she took in front of her own self when her love was reprehended for lust. The words she had given to herself that she would never ever fall for anyone again, began to cast clearly in her mind. Her self was just began to melt when it turned resolute all again.
She turned abruptly and walked slowly without turning to look back at him draining the memories out that had suddenly begun to inundate her..
Friday, May 20, 2011
The meeting
She stood there. She sat there. She gazed underneath the water from there. She lifted her eyes to the archaic mansion that held the flirty waves of projections from the agitated water that had acquired the motion from waggishness of the fishes over there. It had been an hour that she had been transposing her positions and postures for innumerable times. Until then she was in an eternal composure solemnizing the sempiternal truth she had not long ago discovered. The composure was eternal for it possessed the quality of eternity; it seemed as if that composed stance of hers had got onto her since the timeless era and for the time that wont cease. Yeah, before she appeared to be disarrayed, she had been pondering about, focused on, that answer of all the riddles, that simple and viable truth most of us care not to reach.
The patience had now begun to take a test upon her patience. Her efforts to prolong its limit continued for a while, but soon she lost her grip from those efforts. Her tender self woke up and felt the urge for some nasty smelling yet kindly behaving fumes that blow off the heavy desolating air of loneliness. She unzipped her bag, took out the cigarette case, picked one, held it, lighted it, inhaled it and exhaled difficulties that was causing her heart sore, headache and all other relative pains on everything that constituted her. With the long thin cigarette in between her fingers, Wide opened eyes, tightly shut mouth, heightened cheek bones and fierce expression that emanated from the combo of all these, she was waiting and waiting and doing nothing else. It had became actually, a kind of meditations where one's consciousness is replaced by the intensely insane energy flowing all over one's self that which would dissipate only by the charge of his sane presence. Her fossil digital watch displayed 14:28 indicating that more than two hours had passed since her arrival and yet, there was not a sign of his. Still she kept the hope alive and endured arduously the pain from the madding energy with the fear of exacerbating it.
Nothing was functioning properly except the tender core of her heart which was acting at its best. It had been five days over a month that she hadn't seen him. And in the case like this where seconds feel like hours, minutes like days, hours like week, days like months, week like years and months like, my god eras!;she was so so desperate to see him, watch him, feel him, meet him and acknowledge him after the distance of more than an era. Her being was maintaining the same deceiving stance, (deceiving for it faked composure while in an disturbed condition) until when the burnt leftover of the cigarette she was holding, alarmed her. She shook, meaning every part of her body shook, even the unfathomed shakes took place. Her fingers seem to march involuntarily towards the cigarette case and yet again she repeated the process. And tried herself to push in her preceding stance but failed, pathetically. Even the cigarette fell from her hands on the water. This time no desire spoke for her to again lighten one.
She was exhausted by the tiresome flow of heavy energy flowing inside her. Her knees began to weaken and it caused her to sit in the brick walls enclosing the passage which went across that small still water body. She then unzipped her bag, and well this time it wasn't the cigarette; she took out her cell phone, dialed his number and then cut off before she made a call. She held on for few minutes. She had already ringed him for may be five or six times beginning just after her arrival at 12 or so, all of which had ended up unanswered. She then typed some text, read it twice and deleted it. She bowed her head and rested it on her folded knees. Faint pictures of his head resting in her shoulders begin to cast around her presence. The boundaries of her divided selves were getting more sharper, more vigorous. Her two halves had developed enough tensions to create a fine enmity. One half seem to stand upright haughtily but in a positive air of pride at her virtues, uncompromising to surrender and abase her self. The other half lacked rigidity and would swerve along any course which would lead her to lose her imposing potentials; that knew no any esteem nor any awareness of her being, and all that it knew was surrender to moderate her self.
It was 18:2 in Rumi's watch. Her guy came. Sat beside her. This time as well, there appeared no any logical reason for his being late. His existence said it all. His clever touches ( clever for they faked accidental but were intentional) dissipated her peaking energy and added sensuality instead. She melted slowly. Her latter half won and the former hid somewhere. After all, we all are a bit more vulnerable to mediocrity. Neither she stood erect nor she broke. She bent slowly with a delicate muse in her countenance and yeah, I didn't found that beautiful.
The patience had now begun to take a test upon her patience. Her efforts to prolong its limit continued for a while, but soon she lost her grip from those efforts. Her tender self woke up and felt the urge for some nasty smelling yet kindly behaving fumes that blow off the heavy desolating air of loneliness. She unzipped her bag, took out the cigarette case, picked one, held it, lighted it, inhaled it and exhaled difficulties that was causing her heart sore, headache and all other relative pains on everything that constituted her. With the long thin cigarette in between her fingers, Wide opened eyes, tightly shut mouth, heightened cheek bones and fierce expression that emanated from the combo of all these, she was waiting and waiting and doing nothing else. It had became actually, a kind of meditations where one's consciousness is replaced by the intensely insane energy flowing all over one's self that which would dissipate only by the charge of his sane presence. Her fossil digital watch displayed 14:28 indicating that more than two hours had passed since her arrival and yet, there was not a sign of his. Still she kept the hope alive and endured arduously the pain from the madding energy with the fear of exacerbating it.
Nothing was functioning properly except the tender core of her heart which was acting at its best. It had been five days over a month that she hadn't seen him. And in the case like this where seconds feel like hours, minutes like days, hours like week, days like months, week like years and months like, my god eras!;she was so so desperate to see him, watch him, feel him, meet him and acknowledge him after the distance of more than an era. Her being was maintaining the same deceiving stance, (deceiving for it faked composure while in an disturbed condition) until when the burnt leftover of the cigarette she was holding, alarmed her. She shook, meaning every part of her body shook, even the unfathomed shakes took place. Her fingers seem to march involuntarily towards the cigarette case and yet again she repeated the process. And tried herself to push in her preceding stance but failed, pathetically. Even the cigarette fell from her hands on the water. This time no desire spoke for her to again lighten one.
She was exhausted by the tiresome flow of heavy energy flowing inside her. Her knees began to weaken and it caused her to sit in the brick walls enclosing the passage which went across that small still water body. She then unzipped her bag, and well this time it wasn't the cigarette; she took out her cell phone, dialed his number and then cut off before she made a call. She held on for few minutes. She had already ringed him for may be five or six times beginning just after her arrival at 12 or so, all of which had ended up unanswered. She then typed some text, read it twice and deleted it. She bowed her head and rested it on her folded knees. Faint pictures of his head resting in her shoulders begin to cast around her presence. The boundaries of her divided selves were getting more sharper, more vigorous. Her two halves had developed enough tensions to create a fine enmity. One half seem to stand upright haughtily but in a positive air of pride at her virtues, uncompromising to surrender and abase her self. The other half lacked rigidity and would swerve along any course which would lead her to lose her imposing potentials; that knew no any esteem nor any awareness of her being, and all that it knew was surrender to moderate her self.
It was 18:2 in Rumi's watch. Her guy came. Sat beside her. This time as well, there appeared no any logical reason for his being late. His existence said it all. His clever touches ( clever for they faked accidental but were intentional) dissipated her peaking energy and added sensuality instead. She melted slowly. Her latter half won and the former hid somewhere. After all, we all are a bit more vulnerable to mediocrity. Neither she stood erect nor she broke. She bent slowly with a delicate muse in her countenance and yeah, I didn't found that beautiful.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Compatibility
Day was melting down mildly. It appeared beautiful every time, the melting hue of bluish sky into dark to darker one. And soon, the twilight would acquire absolute serenity, would rest peacefully for some time, for time she would be there. The day was similar to the bygone ones in most respects. Pace of sun, race of life, gush of attitude, toss of fate were perpetual constants. Only few minute details appeared responsible to add differentiating shades to the passing days. So, yeah, the day indeed was getting darker and she was setting faster, faster than her usual rapidity. The quick motion her hands acquired would hold the attention when watched over. Her swift bodily movements were the subjects of fascination. They represented her intrinsic timidity and flaunted her extrinsic rigidity that was still in an infantile stage. The season was winter and hence the sacks mostly occupied the cauliflowers, then cabbage and broccoli. The vegetables appeared larger and massive for her wide and long hands as well. Still, it didn't affected her velocity. And soon, she installed before her a shop that boasted fresh and clean appearing vegetables. Within a while, people flooded before the lady vendor to buy her items for sale. The loud sound produced by the horns of vehicles would turn earsplitting at times causing her to urge her customers for numerous repetitions of their words. Embarrassment with its lightest shade would color her countenance. still, her newly acquired confidence in its blazing apparel would rule most of the portions. The seemingly unaffected composure of hers possessed the quality of deception, of beautiful lie, of disastrous betrayal. It looked too real for people to even suspect at her poise. And that was what keeping her there in spite of the lethal beauty she was instilled with. Even the harsh winter days conspired against her; they had cruelly sprinkled the shades of pink and crimson over her tip of nose and apples of cheeks that had sharpened her beauty, her foe, strengthened her possession that worked more against her than in her favor. Though, it might had helped her to collect few more customers, her status had actually overborne her stature. She had cried; she was hurt; a lot until recently she exhibited her esteem. It had just been few days more than a month she had left her village for the capital and she had already ventured a new way for her life to proceed. Her stance hinted the distance of her new craved path; one would easily affirm to thousands of miles when proposed. Her determination revealed that she would definitely go long. Her eyes seemed to acquire even more depth with each passing instant as if optimism from the single earth opted to settle on them.
So, yeah that day, that was the day when he, Arun, an architect by profession, first visited her; first time stood before the cubicle space she occupied. Though, he frequented that street at least once a day around those transition hours, that was the first time he got to notice her presence. However, it had just been a week. May be that's why it was still to hold his attention. Well, when it held the attention finally, it did that magically. He was helplessly confined in the fetters of her charm; of her grace; of her elegance; of her stance and most probably every thing of hers. First day he asked for vegetables alone and second day for her name along. “Hima”; he kept uttering even after he returned to his place and every time he uttered, he sounded as if he was scrutinizing the compatibility factors between her name and her persona. Third day onwards, he increased the level of discourse. It wasn't the name alone of her home-town ; he got to know quite a deal about the inhabitants, life, culture, assets and needs of her place. The discourse appeared much like a questionnaire. He would place before her the question and she would return the answer in limiting words. However, her pithy answers were not in any way misleading for people to infer her generosity to be sparse. Her each cell spoke for her instincts; she was so giving and she possessed no any kind of negativity or hard feelings towards anyone, anything. Double ears and single throat amplified the effectiveness of their purpose of existence in order of their frequency up to the maximum in her. Her continuous sharp attention towards his words clearly explained it. The conversations were getting more intense with their increasing frequency, with the passing of the day. The sweet aroma coming from the incense sticks burnt at nearby meat shop would add more desperation to the intense discourses between the two. The abstract attachment between the rifts of the two was mildly merging the differences between them. Her colors began to cast on him and his onto hers. They appeared glowing with similar hues; the colors had uniformly confederated and so evolved the similar shades in both. She was slowly getting to understand the biology of her physiology and the impact it would cast on psychology. Well, to be more clear, it existed no longer, her carefree attitude towards her cleavage that showed up most of the time. Feminine shyness would govern her countenance when her regular red shawl would appear to slip down in at times. And while he observed such stance of her, a smile with the essence of romance would get settled in his chiseled and elongated face. Love was budding and romance was everywhere, in everything; in dalliance, in silence, in disagreements, in approval, in lateness, in exactness. A turbulence would evoke in her when he wouldn't show up in some occasions and the other of its kind in him when she would be too busy with her customers. No any prerequisite, no any norm, no any code of ethics, nothing was under surveillance of their association. The bond was as limpid as distilled water, as beautiful as liberty, as comforting as embrace. It appeared, in fact, it was actually one of the very few incidents that consisted truth amidst the bulks of falsification all around. And, also it was the most genuine among the multiple facades of Arun's life. The fabricated passion he had build up for his profession; the toils from the strenuous and hectic days and nights; the madding desires of his obsessive lower-half; sympathies and empathies for lives in turmoil; no other dimension of his life intermingled with the strings of bondage between the two.
The tie-in was as easy and as strong as truth. All sorts of derived incongruities from the lives of both were absent. The decisions of hearts flowed smoothly by mind causing no any hindrance. The feelings transposed and casted themselves in screens of reality. Meanwhile, they sighed together in each other's arms. He had never before found such carnal proximity so near to soul. Even his first intercourse was left far behind to ignite him with few memories, though faded. The night became a canvas to hold with regal air, the rare yet real portrait of love manifesting itself with the colors of solace rather than perturbation, colors of longing rather than need, colors of determination rather than desire, colors of unconscious flow rather than conscious limit, and colors of truth lacking even a trace of lie. Next morning, he escorted Hima to her place. He was finding the walk difficult; difficulties from the unfamiliar night, difficulties from the unexplored feelings, and difficulties from the genital bleeding..well, yeah, may be from the prolonged sex, from those soft tender feelings that made it hard for the detachment. He bled almost continuously the whole day. The intensity was increasing. so, the other morning, he saw the doctor and the doctor showed him with the shock, ransacked his worthy consciousness, extracted sweat from his cells, shackled him in chains of immense dread. In addition to the normal check-up, he had had his blood tested. The memoirs in red light began projecting in his mind. Day turned night abruptly. He saw nothing in the ambiance. He could only feel the torment from those disastrous penetrations of past that would converge his near future to a dead end. He had just began to love his life, had just had few glimpses of truth when suddenly the satanic reality casted its umbric shadow over his present leaving no space for future. '
Meanwhile, the doctor declared Arun as diseased, a HIV positive. Blazing agony got settled in him. It was one of the happiest countenance of sorrow that reflected from the Arun's life. After about a week, he was instilled with the reminiscences of hers, of Hima's. They appeared so ancient, as if the reminiscences were from his past life, life before the current one. Holding along with him the antiquated memories of Hima, he went to her dwelling to see her and to confess his crime. She wasn't there. Someone else was. The dumbfounded state didn't existed longer than few seconds; he asked about her with the person living in that room. The guilt had outshone the sorrow at that instant. But all of a sudden, it wasn't just that she left for her village that he knew. The hard adjective that preceded her name introduced him to the disguised persona of hers. He knew, that she had been serving the lustful and frenzied desires of vagabonds like him. Shock had already lived through him; nothingness restored its prowess from that very instinct he felt at that instant. Everything melted into void. Emptiness got the ascendancy. He marched towards the royal emptiness in the vacant road lifting the load of his null self..
So, yeah that day, that was the day when he, Arun, an architect by profession, first visited her; first time stood before the cubicle space she occupied. Though, he frequented that street at least once a day around those transition hours, that was the first time he got to notice her presence. However, it had just been a week. May be that's why it was still to hold his attention. Well, when it held the attention finally, it did that magically. He was helplessly confined in the fetters of her charm; of her grace; of her elegance; of her stance and most probably every thing of hers. First day he asked for vegetables alone and second day for her name along. “Hima”; he kept uttering even after he returned to his place and every time he uttered, he sounded as if he was scrutinizing the compatibility factors between her name and her persona. Third day onwards, he increased the level of discourse. It wasn't the name alone of her home-town ; he got to know quite a deal about the inhabitants, life, culture, assets and needs of her place. The discourse appeared much like a questionnaire. He would place before her the question and she would return the answer in limiting words. However, her pithy answers were not in any way misleading for people to infer her generosity to be sparse. Her each cell spoke for her instincts; she was so giving and she possessed no any kind of negativity or hard feelings towards anyone, anything. Double ears and single throat amplified the effectiveness of their purpose of existence in order of their frequency up to the maximum in her. Her continuous sharp attention towards his words clearly explained it. The conversations were getting more intense with their increasing frequency, with the passing of the day. The sweet aroma coming from the incense sticks burnt at nearby meat shop would add more desperation to the intense discourses between the two. The abstract attachment between the rifts of the two was mildly merging the differences between them. Her colors began to cast on him and his onto hers. They appeared glowing with similar hues; the colors had uniformly confederated and so evolved the similar shades in both. She was slowly getting to understand the biology of her physiology and the impact it would cast on psychology. Well, to be more clear, it existed no longer, her carefree attitude towards her cleavage that showed up most of the time. Feminine shyness would govern her countenance when her regular red shawl would appear to slip down in at times. And while he observed such stance of her, a smile with the essence of romance would get settled in his chiseled and elongated face. Love was budding and romance was everywhere, in everything; in dalliance, in silence, in disagreements, in approval, in lateness, in exactness. A turbulence would evoke in her when he wouldn't show up in some occasions and the other of its kind in him when she would be too busy with her customers. No any prerequisite, no any norm, no any code of ethics, nothing was under surveillance of their association. The bond was as limpid as distilled water, as beautiful as liberty, as comforting as embrace. It appeared, in fact, it was actually one of the very few incidents that consisted truth amidst the bulks of falsification all around. And, also it was the most genuine among the multiple facades of Arun's life. The fabricated passion he had build up for his profession; the toils from the strenuous and hectic days and nights; the madding desires of his obsessive lower-half; sympathies and empathies for lives in turmoil; no other dimension of his life intermingled with the strings of bondage between the two.
The tie-in was as easy and as strong as truth. All sorts of derived incongruities from the lives of both were absent. The decisions of hearts flowed smoothly by mind causing no any hindrance. The feelings transposed and casted themselves in screens of reality. Meanwhile, they sighed together in each other's arms. He had never before found such carnal proximity so near to soul. Even his first intercourse was left far behind to ignite him with few memories, though faded. The night became a canvas to hold with regal air, the rare yet real portrait of love manifesting itself with the colors of solace rather than perturbation, colors of longing rather than need, colors of determination rather than desire, colors of unconscious flow rather than conscious limit, and colors of truth lacking even a trace of lie. Next morning, he escorted Hima to her place. He was finding the walk difficult; difficulties from the unfamiliar night, difficulties from the unexplored feelings, and difficulties from the genital bleeding..well, yeah, may be from the prolonged sex, from those soft tender feelings that made it hard for the detachment. He bled almost continuously the whole day. The intensity was increasing. so, the other morning, he saw the doctor and the doctor showed him with the shock, ransacked his worthy consciousness, extracted sweat from his cells, shackled him in chains of immense dread. In addition to the normal check-up, he had had his blood tested. The memoirs in red light began projecting in his mind. Day turned night abruptly. He saw nothing in the ambiance. He could only feel the torment from those disastrous penetrations of past that would converge his near future to a dead end. He had just began to love his life, had just had few glimpses of truth when suddenly the satanic reality casted its umbric shadow over his present leaving no space for future. '
Meanwhile, the doctor declared Arun as diseased, a HIV positive. Blazing agony got settled in him. It was one of the happiest countenance of sorrow that reflected from the Arun's life. After about a week, he was instilled with the reminiscences of hers, of Hima's. They appeared so ancient, as if the reminiscences were from his past life, life before the current one. Holding along with him the antiquated memories of Hima, he went to her dwelling to see her and to confess his crime. She wasn't there. Someone else was. The dumbfounded state didn't existed longer than few seconds; he asked about her with the person living in that room. The guilt had outshone the sorrow at that instant. But all of a sudden, it wasn't just that she left for her village that he knew. The hard adjective that preceded her name introduced him to the disguised persona of hers. He knew, that she had been serving the lustful and frenzied desires of vagabonds like him. Shock had already lived through him; nothingness restored its prowess from that very instinct he felt at that instant. Everything melted into void. Emptiness got the ascendancy. He marched towards the royal emptiness in the vacant road lifting the load of his null self..
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Gloomy Sunny Day
She was there, all of a sudden, in front of my eyes. I was shattered. I was emptied; I was inundated. I knew it was her, yet I managed to try the failing efforts of denying my own. No, I didn't wanted it to be her. I couldn't figure out exactly what ruled me at the instant; the hormones secreted were aliens to my being. The gloom that got me in was weird; unknown; unanticipated. Desperation tied me up and I began to shiver in the scorching heat. Ears reddened and so did my flabby cheeks. Shackled by my morbid emotions, I could do nothing but watch her helplessly in utter stillness. Her denuded reality stood infront of me in the guise of her bare existence. A supposedly opaque red colored blouse that was transparent enough to perceive the insight hung in her upper- self. The blouse was unbuttoned, may be it hadn't any. Her emaciated chest was showcasing her ribs coated with nothing but too thin a layer of skin. Her wrinkled breasts hung loosely and her nipples pointed towards the south. Her stomach was pushed inside as if one does it perforce. But her lower abdomen seemed to jut out a little with loose muscles causing it to acquire a fitful up-down motion while she walked. The scratches and rashes along with too deep a navel over the abdomen were even augmenting the crude vulgarity nature enforced on women's body. Her lower-half was covered with ragged and dirty petticoat torn in at places. The color of the garment didn't cast in my mind hence, I couldn't remember any hue of it. Her firm and florid cheeks were substituted with skinny and pallid ones transmuting her from chubby to chiseled. Her shoulder length curled hair was rough and dry making her appear uncouth. With such attire she was walking back and forth barefooted on the footpath nearby the highway.
She was in her early thirties, I knew, because mom once told me that she had delivered her first child while she was only sixteen, a month before my younger brother was born who is now seventeen. But hardly would anybody agree with me. She looked like the women in their late forties. Miseries had mercilessly swallowed her times. I could still recall those scenes from my past when I and my friends used to play for hours in the barren land that was much like a play ground which was located very near to her house, Durga aunt's house. It wasn't the fun alone; those hours instilled on me the implacable despair as well. Empathy was practiced on me since my early days. Slaps and kicks, jerks and whips, tirades and shouts; she endured them all. She lived through all her raucous man's brutalities. Ironically, she always seemed robust; she always behaved composed. Yeah, it amazed me every time when she found the reasons to smile even in the dearth of happiness. She was actually the earth personified; it always happened to me.
I was sure that it wasn't the small grief that had succeeded to agitate her, that had looted her senses, that had muted her conscience. Only a violent devastation could destruct her so; only a filthy attack on her dignity could have shaken up her so. Her dignified conduct still reflected in her madding acts. She would curl up her petticoat to hide her visage whenever she felt as if someone is staring at her bare upward. The view petitioned the tears on my eyes and I was obliged. Silent streams rolled down causing noisy turmoil inside me. She was non-existent in her existence. The apathetic actions her hollowed self performed were penetrating me too deep to perceive the depth. She was composed in her perturbation. She kept moving around, nonchalantly for a while and left me disturbed in my seemingly calm stance. Her departing footsteps filled my heart with the agony of the doomed, hurt me like the wounds of the burnt and shattered me like the trust of deceived lover, that dark and gloomy sunny day..
She was in her early thirties, I knew, because mom once told me that she had delivered her first child while she was only sixteen, a month before my younger brother was born who is now seventeen. But hardly would anybody agree with me. She looked like the women in their late forties. Miseries had mercilessly swallowed her times. I could still recall those scenes from my past when I and my friends used to play for hours in the barren land that was much like a play ground which was located very near to her house, Durga aunt's house. It wasn't the fun alone; those hours instilled on me the implacable despair as well. Empathy was practiced on me since my early days. Slaps and kicks, jerks and whips, tirades and shouts; she endured them all. She lived through all her raucous man's brutalities. Ironically, she always seemed robust; she always behaved composed. Yeah, it amazed me every time when she found the reasons to smile even in the dearth of happiness. She was actually the earth personified; it always happened to me.
I was sure that it wasn't the small grief that had succeeded to agitate her, that had looted her senses, that had muted her conscience. Only a violent devastation could destruct her so; only a filthy attack on her dignity could have shaken up her so. Her dignified conduct still reflected in her madding acts. She would curl up her petticoat to hide her visage whenever she felt as if someone is staring at her bare upward. The view petitioned the tears on my eyes and I was obliged. Silent streams rolled down causing noisy turmoil inside me. She was non-existent in her existence. The apathetic actions her hollowed self performed were penetrating me too deep to perceive the depth. She was composed in her perturbation. She kept moving around, nonchalantly for a while and left me disturbed in my seemingly calm stance. Her departing footsteps filled my heart with the agony of the doomed, hurt me like the wounds of the burnt and shattered me like the trust of deceived lover, that dark and gloomy sunny day..
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