Extent of irony February 14, 2008
I love you.
You know that I love you.
I know that you know that I love you.
And you still want me to say it?
The Breakup October 17, 2007
The air smells the same. Salty as always, it strikes with the same intensity. The ocean on the right is the same. Strong as always, it sends the waves gushing on to the rocks. The crowd on the left is the same. Agile as always, they indulge in drinking and merry-making. The lights surrounding the place are the same. Dim as always, they glow with a slight radiance adding intensity to the exuberant faces. The noise is the same. Loud as always, it mixes music and voices into itself making a nice blend. The wooden table feels the same. Rough as always, it matches perfectly with the surroundings. Where lays the change then?
You are not yourself today. As you gaze at the ocean, your eyes no longer have the usual twinkle. Your hair seem carelessly tied and no longer look attractive. The smile is gone forever. Your hands are clasped together on the table, very distant from mine.
Thirty minutes of dead silence. Not a word exchanged. Over half a dozen cigarettes puffed out. You turn your face towards me. In contrast to your gloomy appearance, I have a smile over my lips. In contrast to your depressed soul, I feel cool and comfortable. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table to look at you more intently.
“Is that it for us?”. You speak to break the silence. Your voice is no longer the same. The sweet, soothing tone is replaced with a tensed and stressed cry.
I don’t want to speak. I don’t want to waste these last moments in a conversation. I observe you to retain as much of you as I can. You still want an answer and I response with a grin. That is it for you. You get up and leave and I still carry on with my observation. The grief makes its final blow and you start to cry. I see you take quick steps and move out, wiping your tears on the way.
I don’t want to leave and don’t have a reason to. I lit another cigarette and rest my back comfortably on the wooden chair. After my sole source of interest gone, the surroundings catch my attention. I begin to look around again. Life moves on.
She October 15, 2007
This is someone I randomly met and randomly lost….
I engulf the whole bottle of invisible potion and step into her house. I confirm my invisibility at the entrance mirror and grin at my newly acquired power. I reach her room and silently enter. Although it’s passed noon, the slumber shows no signs of sending her back to the real world. Perhaps it’s better if it does not. I look closely at her face and see the dark circles around her eyes. She’s been up all night again. Anyone would have pointed the intensity of these to her, yet I am convinced no one has. She’s been noticing them every morning in the mirror and feeling the pain of how ignored she is.
I bend a little further and see a shiny object sticking out beneath the pillow. I lift it up to find three un-smoked Dunhills and over half a dozen smoked buds. These have been up all night too. Although she talks about how much she misses cigarettes, I am convinced she doesn’t like the taste at all. Moreover, she does not even inhale them. She doesn’t smoke to look cool nor does she do it out of a need. There’s a different reason that attaches her to these puff sticks. May be she finds companionship in them. Perhaps the exuberant glow they generate when she puffs them convinces her that they are alive and responding to her thoughts. Besides the packet lies a half-empty strip of tranquilizers. Although it wasn’t used the night before, the faithful companion was present to render its services to her.
On her right lies her laptop with the cover open. Her hand unknowingly rests on its keyboard almost cuddling it. This has been her companion too for the night.
I wait around in her room till she wakes and dresses herself. She gets up in the usual depressed mood; something that has become her eternal partner now. As she ties up her blonde hair in the mirror, her face glows with the bright sunlight. Despite the weariness and gloominess eminent from it, it looks beautiful. She gives herself the usual prolonged stare in the mirror, as she runs through different thoughts.
She walks down for breakfast and greets the elderly figure sitting in his corner with the newspaper. He replies back with the usual greeting and says no more. How she longs he would say more. If she could think of things he could say, why can’t he think of any? She gobbles up the breakfast and retreats back to her room.She stares at the pile of books on her bed and makes a firm resolution to study. As she turns the pages she recalls her school days and how enthusiastic she was about her studies. Although the gap has just been for a year, she’s lost all the interest. She turns on the laptop and starts playing Iron Maiden.
The day passes away and her solitary confinement ends with her trip to the dinner table where she accompanies her grandpa again. The whole atmosphere at the dinner is the same as it has been since ages. She’s convinced it would be the same forever. How she longs for some change.
Getting back to her room, she logs on to the internet and opens up an e-book to read. She does not find any interest in it, yet she continues to scroll and skim through it. A friend drops in a ‘hi’ message and she blocks her up. She browses through different universities websites but soon feels bored again. She reaches her pillow and lifts up a cigarette to smoke. She grabs the pills in her fist and lies on the pillow clutching them. She takes in a deep puff and stares at the glow. Ah, yet another lonely, painful night.
