A STORY GONE AWRY

Words fail me and thoughts elude me. I have been staring into space trying to crystallise my thoughts to pen them, but success eluded me. Every one who has read my blog has commonly complained that I do not write about myself. So I decided to give it a go. And here I was trying my best, chewing the pencil, writing down my thoughts.

Being the modest person that I am, I wanted to write down my life in black & white. But then no one would be interested to know the bland details of my life, and being the vain person I am I wanted this to be my pièce de resistance, a coup de grace. So I had to be a hindi film hero with his demure failings who gets his girl in the end.

Girl … there again I was stumped. I haven’t been as promiscuous as some or as innocent as others, none the less I have to admit the failure I am. My first crush, hmmmmm, I still get those goose bumps when I think of her, was my neighbour. A beautiful, intelligent (as intelligent a girl can be) and an amazingly wonderful person. Who still manages to tingle my emotions, whenever I think of her!! . A person with such a rare enthusiasm and vivacity for life, that she smote me. How could I resist her rustic and earthly charm? Me an earthling, with this heavenly beauty around, how could I be safe. And I fell head over heels in love, but then I was too tongue tied to tell her. I was ogling at her and talking to her everyday and secretly wishing that I could go up to her and tell her what I felt. But all along, I thought it was a crush and like all crushes I thought it would wear out. But I was wrong and it grew on me. And one fine day she come up to me in her charming way and says that she’s engaged. Thud & shatter went my heart. A thousand fragments splattered across. I managed a weak smile and wished her all the luck. She got married and unfortunately I went to her marriage. There she was in the most gorgeous red dress and I was agape. I rue my decision still, cause that image of her is still with me and haunts me. I used to wish that she gets a divorce and comes back so that I could marry her. But it never happened. And in the mean while I finished college and moved on. I met her when she had her kids, two of them a boy & a girl and as cute and bubbly as their mother. And the third time I met her my world broke around me. She wasn’t the person I was in love with anymore. The world and its cruel people had got to her. She had lost that joy for living, and she was a shadow of herself. I was shocked and happy at the same time. Sad to see the ravages of time and life on a dear friend, happy to be rid of the demons that had haunted me for so long.

So there I was again beginning with a clean slate and a slightly troubled conscience. I met other girls and came to know them and understand them, but none matched the first crush. I always ended up comparing the girls to my first crush and I was never satisfied. Like they say u only fall in love once and rest is a compromise. I guess I was personifying it to some extent.

So there again my story fell flat. How could I continue and paint a drab picture of myself. For my blog to be a success I need people to read it and say how good it was and return back to read more. This story never could ensure me that. A paradox really as to how could I spice it up?

Sleepless nights, gaunt looks and tons of caffeine later I decide to write about some funny incident about myself. Bang I thought that I had hit on the secret formula to make my blog a secret and to address everyone’s needs. Sadly being the joker I am, I never realised how hard a task that would be. It was like looking for a one eyed fish in a shoal, whilst u didn’t know how to swim. I mean my life’s been a joke in itself. My parents can vouch for that, or for that matter my umpteen relative’s and friends too. Of no fixed address and of no sound moorings, I am as lost as a drunk in the desert most of the time. Why drunk??? Don’t ask me. I just feel like a drunk most of the time, never stable and always whimsical. I have been called names all along my life depending on the then current situations. “Bhageera” in line with the panther in Rudyard Kipling’s “Jungle Book” a take off on my surname. “Hyperactive”, my teacher’s coinage, describing my high energy levels, along with other inane and mundane ones. The most recent one being “pookie”. Garfield readers would be able to identify that with his pet doll, but believe me it’s not as flattering. Pookie means a fart in “Tulu”, a language spoken in Managalore in south India. And that exemplified the chatterbox that I am and a person who sweet-talks his way around. So kindly do not take it in the literal sense.

But again I was facing a blank wall. Who would want to know all the measly names I was called. I was back where I belonged and I needed to do something, to begin somewhere. I needed to take off somewhere and I decided to do it the typical Hindi movie istyle. I wanted to begin on a tragic note, and say how I emerged unscathed out of it, just like how gold comes purified out of fire; I wanted to show how I came out of tragedies. How I contemplated suicide, how I became an atheist, how I rebelled?? But would anyone want to know that?? Aren’t people burdened enough with their grief’s and sorrows, without me having to add to it?? I wasn’t looking for sympathy here. I was looking for viewer ship.

So that’s when I decided, like all good things in life, my idea of writing a coup de grace, had to end. It was a tragic painful and an ignoble death of a great dream.

KUDOS TO A FRIEND

I stifled a yawn … hmmmm … it was getting late. I dared to check the time, and my watch read 3 am …. Yawn ….. I was tired, but I still had a long night ahead. I had to complete my assignment at all costs … yawnnnnn … there I go again …Mercifully my friend drops in and invites me for a cup of coffee, he was a life saver.

I stretch myself on my way out and my joints crunched under the effort. I made my cup of cappuccino and he brewed his usual strong tea. I needed the caffeine to keep me awake. We start to chat, at which I am adept, in the students lounge. It was that time of the day when u tend to be a bit melancholic. The tone was just right to discuss LIFE. We start talking of a recent class assignment we had done, where we talk of our life in detail and all the phases we went thru.

The sleep, the melancholy and the time led us to drop of our individual façade’s and be ourselves. The rampart, which we build around ourselves to protect us, was broken. Rid of the pretences we shared our life. And suddenly I realised how much grief my friend had in his heart. Ensconced deep within him, shrouded from the world. The magnitude of the suffering, know only to him and for me to guess. A shudder ran thru me as I tried to fathom his grief. If you knew my friend, such grief could never be attributed to him. He’s ever smiling, cheerful & gregarious. I was awestruck that someone with so much grief could be so outgoing, smiling & ever helping.

I guess that showed me the true strength of the human spirit, the will power. An entity never considered nor given the due it deserves. Our inner strength helping us overcome all difficulties and soldier on in life.

We as humans have this amazing gift to rebound from failures. The tenacity, the courage and a never ending flow of optimism, which drives us on. An obstinacy to defy life and demure failings underline the paradox that we are. It showed me that we could choose the way we want to be, and not let situations govern us. I realised that it is up-to each one of us to plot the course we want to travel.

Like they say “if there is a will, there is a way” and my friend exemplified this adage. And thanks to my friend, i will never wallow in self-pity or grief ever again, because I know that tomorrow is always there. And there are people who grieve more than I ever will.