Midnight Love...

I silently watched the family of four squish themselves onto the seat of a motorcycle meant for two. I watched as people turned their faces away at the sight of a poor woman knocking on the windows of their cars.  I watched as the old man carried the heavy bag down the road, the endless road.

Grim faces, slumped shoulders. It was 12.00 a.m. I should have been asleep and yet I found myself spiraling down, deep into an ocean of thoughts, growing extremely aware of my surroundings. 

It's been terribly long since I've read a book my eyes refuse to peel away from. My fingers frantically turn the pages of 'The Zahir' because I identify with the author down to every sentence, every word. Every page makes me stop and wonder, look around, look inside, within me what I hold, what I treasure.

12.05 a.m. I must sleep, my eyes feel heavy and my heart too. Too many words trapped within. But this wasn't the moment to let it out. 

'When will the moment be right?'

'Perhaps tomorrow, in a year's time, or never, and if that were the case, then we would have to respect that decision.'

The days seem to have frozen or rather I seem to have been frozen in a time different from now. I watch you walk upto me with love in your eyes but whose to say that's what it was. There is a thin line between love and hate and I seem to have overstepped. 

' But I will fight till the bitter end', she said. She lost. But was it really her loss if the man she loved was happy even if without her?

'All I know is that even though I can live without her, I would like to see her again, to say what I never said when we were together. I love you more than I love myself. If I could say that, then I could go on living, at peace with myself, because that love has redeemed me.'

Redemption and peace, Isn't that what we are all looking for? Paulo Coelho seems to agree.

The Invisible People

Oh the atrocity! This being my last semester in university I suddenly notice the attitude of various people changing towards me. Or maybe it's just me growing older and being able to see beyond the fake facade that people put up. Whatever it might be the past few years have opened up my eyes to the outrageous behavior of people that hides behind the great word, "tradition".

Just the other day I was talking to my mother about a girl I knew who was getting married to her long time boyfriend. To this my mother replied saying apparently she wanted to get married before her elder sister( her elder sister at that time was resisting the idea of marriage, no surprise). So I asked the obvious question, Why didn't she then? The simple answer, tradition. Younger siblings do not get married before their older ones, brothers do not get married before their sisters. When I asked why it was so and who said so, my mother gave me an answer that, well I kind of did expect.

She said the answer to both those questions were people.

People that are nowhere to be found when I need encouragement. People that are nowhere to be found when I need help. People that are nowhere to be found when I want to share my happiness. People who are nowhere to be found when I cry in sadness.

Who exactly are these invisible people?

I for one have always been known as the rebel against hard and fast traditional rules in my society. Why am I supposed to wear flowers that I hate on my head for my wedding? Why am I talking about my wedding anyway, when I'm only twenty one years of age?

These invisible people seem to be directing my life since the day I was born and sworn to be an engineer because anything other than a being a doctor or an engineer would make me less appealing as a person. Somehow, me being a doctor or an engineer determines the purity of my soul.

Most people are afraid to rebel against such atrocious rules designed to suffocate happiness. And I know if any  aunties looking for a prospective daughter in law happen to stumble across my blog, will deem me as being "unmarriageable" and "outspoken". So be it.

It's important to remember that the question was never, is it traditionally acceptable or not, the question is and always has been between right and wrong.

And it's somehow traditionally acceptable to be wrong.

  

Lessons learned, goodbyes delivered.

Days seem to race past while paranoid me tries desperately to hold onto them. Revel, enjoy the present moment while anticipating the subsequent.

Honestly, I'm not a dreamer. I don't spend much time enjoying the present which is why I find many moments in my life have passed by receiving no appreciation whatsoever. And suddenly as I sit in my balcony, the cool breeze grazing my skin and feeling my hair relishing the moment, I begin to dream.

I stare at the open sky, blaring music fills in the silence, silence that reminds me of friends made and lost. Loss, regret, pain, sadness, words I never want to think about. Too much time is wasted on the negative, on trying to escape from our own personal traps without realizing that the escape leads to another trap.

But it's these very words that make my fingers tap on the keyboard, that bring out a surge of emotion that I can't seem to control. 

I've realized in this one year that has passed by that people are better at a chameleon's job than chameleons themselves. And I get it, you change colors according to the surroundings that you are placed in. That is the only way to survive, I've learned the hard way.

Right now I feel like that house in the middle of the woods that is surrounded by tall pine trees, hidden but seemingly noticeable to a tired traveler. A house where people find solace for a brief moment, say their thank-you's and leave. 

That is the thing about these houses, nobody ever stays behind.