Forgotten Moments...

           The exam was dreadful as usual. As I scribbled in “Chronicles of Narnia” on an electronics exam, filling up as many pages as I could. The silence was irksome and the heat was scorching and with three students on each bench, it was really steamy. The only little noise that echoed in the hall was a rattling old fan at the back side of the classroom. I felt a small bump against my arm. I looked to the right, finding her head against my arm. But she quickly got back to writing. I concentrated on more of Narnia when I noticed her head drop almost onto the paper. I looked at her writing and it was all twisted and off the lines. I concluded, she was damn sleepy…!

I gave her a nudge in the arm to make her wake up. She looked frantically at me, trying to find out what the hell I wanted. She probably hadn’t realized that she had fallen asleep. I whispered asking her not to sleep, she nodded and got back to writing. I rewinded from then to a couple of days ago, a similar exam when I had seen her the first time, but she was in the bench ahead of me. My junior Vipin sat beside me then. He talked to me about an article I had written earlier and we connected into friendship. This was our first exam together and to my delight, he was as blank as I was, in terms of answers. We looked at each other and I encouraged him to copy from some girl sitting next to me, offering to give him some answers. But he seemed a neat fellow, didn’t want to write that way. We talked, laughed, talking about supplementary exams and stuff. I persisted on asking who the girl in the first bench was, she was his classmate but I decided to put it for later.

Now watching her nod off was fun. I’d never seen a girl sleep off in the exam hall. All too soon, the 2 hours for our internal examination ran out. It was leaving time. I left her a word saying “Do sleep well at night”. She smiled as I walked outside the exam hall. I hung about with Vipin, getting to knew her name. Let’s call her Sarah (for safety reasons). I had only a memory of her face and a name to keep in my heart. No, I wasn’t in love! I knew nothing about her. But there was something, something I didn’t want to tell anyone. Life had been a rush. Last year in college had its toll to take. But I remembered always trying to get a glimpse of Sarah every time I walked along the melancholy corridors. Somehow, chronicles of Narnia seemed to vaporize and I started writing proper answers, when she was around in the hall. She seemed a good luck charm.

I would see her rushing along the corridors sometimes, probably coz she had loads of programs to host or something. I went into an essay writing competition to just get to look at her. I would sometimes hang out by her class to see her. Sometimes watch her from the window of her classroom, standing at the Milma canteen  nearby.  :) Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t stalking her. There was something about her. Her soft spoken voice, her pretty  smile, the bold looking face, the neatly plaited hair, the pretty eyebrows and the never give up attitude that she portrayed; all added to her beauty. Looking past just her beautiful eyes, it reflected her struggle to become something in life, along the struggle and tension stricken path to excel. The calm composure and polished mannerisms that she carried with her was heavenly. Sometimes her eyes were tired, sometimes upset, tensed or weak of running herself rash in the race of life, she would walk around slightly looking down. I would watch from a distance, wishing I could tell her it was going to be alright... Her smile would brighten my day, would lighten my life. She was down to earth and respected good friendship. She would care for her close buddies and be there for them. No one ever told me, I simply knew. What I knew, her eyes told me…

Time pushed by, I saw less of her. Sometimes just batting of eye lids when we saw each other in corners of exam halls, or smiles exchanged across the corridors... Sometimes she was nowhere to be seen... I didn’t want to bother her or anyone related to her, with a conversation. I believed that somethings remained beautiful when left unsaid. But it was a face I couldn’t probably forget. I never had a reason to express my feelings, for I could never justify them. The gates were closing behind me and the rest of my batch as we were leaving college. Some were relieved, some of us were sad… Our shirts bore the signatures and best wishes of friends and well wishers. I looked around for her as I got on my bike and drove away from the campus. We all had our ways to go, there was no probable meeting again. A bus pulled in right in front of me which I almost collided into. I realized I wasn’t concentrating. I wanted to see her one last time. I looked around the bus stop and into the bus... At the ladies seat, I caught a glimpse of her talking to her friend. She was beautiful... A smile dawned on my face.

Past exam halls and classroom windows, past assignment submissions, canteen and library visits and rushing along crowded corridors where I no longer belonged, she had become so special to me. Invariably, a part of me…

Smiling to myself again, I rode off, memories shifting in a blur in my mind, revving my bike to my journey home...

                                                                                                               (Images Courtesy: Raiden aka Vineeth A.C)

The Noise...

There is a sound of a violent chainsaw blaring into the room. It seemed a bit distant but now it grew louder. I closed my eyes tight trying to brace some impending danger. Something soft touched my hand. The sound was still loud but the touch was so soft and warm, I had to open my eyes and look at who it was. She smiled at me, still holding on to my hand. She was my cousin’s one year old daughter. Now wide awake, I realized the source of the noise was the kitchen blender. Alongside, the pressure cooker seemed to be huffing and puffing like the old steam engine and my cousin's wife seemed to be watching the worst music program on earth and to make matters worse, she was singing along. (Now that could wake the entire neighbourhood!) Giving the little one a small pat on the head, I looked at the time. It was just about 6 in the morning. The blender and the accompanied noise seemed to silence behind me as I walked in to the bedroom to use my cousin’s parent’s bed. Luckily they wake early.

The world goes out of joint. Everything vanishes as I curl up in the soft bed that was so much more comfortable compared to the sofa set in the front room. There is a sound of the door handle being twisted. And even though I’m fast asleep, my eyes brows crease and far more than ever, I have been made fun of the next fact that I am to do; putting the pillow over my head instead of under my head. Though it addled everyone as to why I did that, I have never tried counseling them the fact that no one likes the tube lights switched on when hanging on to some dear sleep! Grrr!!!

I’m still asleep but there is a lot of brain activity and speculation about what is gonna happen next. Why has the subject arrived in the room? Since eyes are an immediate sense of the five, its sealed and will only open when I want it to. What you say is not gonna open it! Got it? There is a sound of water dripping. Hmmm… No one uses  this bathroom coz there are 3 other bigger bathrooms in the house. Ha! Got ya. The subject is trying to operate the washing/dreadful machine. Though the machine is not very noisy and a good make, it’s got a retarded buzzer indicating the maximum of 15mins on the tunable dial is over. So for the next 15 mins, sleep is definite. The person leaves but forgets the tube light. Pulling on the bed sheet over my head, I block out as much light as possible. Oh God, they are gonna tell me I sleep in weird positions… Before I can even consider the awkwardness of my sleeping position, I flow into a higher level of sleep. The unregistered one!

Boohooo!!! There is the machine crying out saying its done what it had to for an entire minute. If I cried out of my sleep, it would have sounded louder than the buzzer. The retarded machine stops. Hours slip away. I am not woken for breakfast since they know I need to sleep. But the washing machine is a pre-requisite even if they had the entire yesterday evening to do it. 10:30am… Jesus! What will they think of me? Oh no! I jump out of bed and walk out to the hall finding the baby girl sleeping with uncle on the couch (not exactly a couch by the way! More like a hinge bed with the hinges right at the centre and pokes ur ass when you try to sleep at night and if you move too much to a corner it won’t hold your weight and will topple you on to the floor).

A smile dawns on my unwashed face, trying to hide the embarrassment of sleeping till late. Luckily uncle is napping. I walk back into the room and in another 3 minutes, I have washed my face and cleaned my teeth (The duration seems very less to them. Yes, I do not disagree. All the while, growing up in my locality back home, I have seen people walking around the streets with the brush in their mouth or sitting by the gate with the newspaper and even talking with the brush in their mouths to people who are on the way to their work. I’m sorry, but it takes just a few minutes to clean up my teeth and I do brush well! OK?).

Lord! I exclaim as I see uncle waking up from his nap. He looks at me with disgust. Aunty is sweet, she brings tea and breakfast for me. I hog as fast as I can so that I don’t feel embarrassed for eating breakfast at 11. :) (its still morning though!  Buhahahaha!!!)  A few more minutes and I’m done. The little one wakes up after her nap as well as uncle switches on the TV. She is gorgeous. Aunt takes her away to feed her. I set myself down at the computer in the hall. Time to do some “studying”. (Yes! Its studying!)  I take a few minutes brushing up with what I studied till 2 am yesterday. And uncle seems to ask something, “Don’t you have anything to study? Why do you spend a lot of time in front of the computer?” 

                “LORD!” There goes my second exclamation. How do I explain to him that I am learning HTML and CSS at the moment and learning theory from a book ain’t gonna cut it. I need to use the pc and practically work things out? My dad used to think the same, “Computer is a play thing. Anything more and it’s a type writing machine! And with no printer, its no use typing on it” Disclaimer: (I am not insulting the older/elder generation. You are the best and our guides for life. Only that something’s are new. Pls understand) I sit silent and have a smile pasted on my mouth coz I had nothing to say. Uncle clearly takes it as me being a disobedient spoilt brat. The TV blares into my ears as I’m trying to make some sense out of the document scribbled in front of me. “Uncle! Please reduce volume na?” I add the “na” in the end so that it won’t sound rude. He follows suit but unfortunately each channel has its own volume on this TV and uncle is an awesome channel surfer! That anyhow disables me from even taking a peak at the TV coz I am not a fan of channels being changed so fast. Anyways, I ain’t a TV freak!

Time runs and the volume is unbearable. I fancy superman who had laser light thing (whatever they call it) in his eyes. He could sit here and blast the TV and no one will understand what happened! I walk back into the bed room and look around in my bag for earphones. I stuff it into my ears and the buzz of the TV disappears. Somehow the music is not very disturbing though I enjoy silence while reading. “When the going gets tough, the tough gets going!” LOL! I push a few pages and do some studies and its about 12:30pm. The little girl comes around my table looking at me. She seems to find the screen amusing and laughs when I show her pictures which I had clicked earlier. She loves the funny cables that are running behind the computer and wants to give them a nice bite! Or the cell phone charger that’s got my phone plugged in. One pull and my sony xperia will be sony expired!  I love her so much though. She is such a sweet kid. A few more times she comes closer and I want to carry her. I cant stop myself. I grab her and walk around the hall, take her to the kitchen where she loves pulling things down. Aunty is busy making lunch. A few more minutes and I glare at the watch thinking it should stop working! It’s 1pm! Now that’s time for my classes. (Yes! Probably the institute knew that I am a dreadful sleeper, they kept classes for me from 1pm to 6pm- Java programming! ~which is the reason I am staying at my cousin’s house!)

I rush to class after a hastily eaten lunch and aunty always says I have lost weight after coming here. She’s a sweetheart. Always the perfect homemaker and though she isn’t the very educated type, she is one dedicated and loving person. A lot of love flows along her, just like my mom.  I manage to tell her that I would probably sleep off in class if I eat too much, which is true. Rushing and sometimes taking an auto even though I know that’s a purse ripper. I reach the class and say hi to my friends. The guys Jeeju, Vishnu, Bimal, Jeffin etc are already settled for some fun! The only girl, Asha, out of the total 16 students smiles and greets. There is a good feeling seeing her face. She always seems fresh and happy and she’s always before time, at least before the time I arrive! Lol! Time goes on… We all push through the time. We do some quarelling with our sweet teacher and she comes over and explains again. We push in some other topic once a while and we’re all talking about something else sometimes!  :)

I am drained by the time I walk out of the class. With the music on, I walk home twisting and turning in my way to the house. I sometimes do an occasional dance step to the music, though I really don’t know any step. I just feel free. I watch as people walk on, rushing past me in cars and bikes and on foot! Thousands rushing home... My pages have been like any of those people who walk past me. A spurt of the age, and enough laziness to go along; the lack of acceptance to common belief’s and traditions; a heart dying to prove myself; a mind that seems to convince myself that I have seen pretty much of life but of course you always learn new things no matter how much you have seen (mind you, am way past teenage!); memories of tragic love; a heart that tries to return as much as love as I get from my parents; a heart that never tends to tire, never ceases to believe in myself and people around me. Sporting a personality that I would not blame, not coz its mine, but I believe I am not bad.  I have seen enough  to fret or cry over small things.  I do sleep and wake late. I do not have a specific timetable. I do not have lines drawn for paths to follow. I have wasted money.  I have been naughty at times. I do stare at girls. I have a million crushes. I have loved unconditionally and cried uncontrollably when I have lost. I have walked a million miles alone. I have known what it takes to step over the line. I have done all those things I’d wanted to do. I don’t know, like the so many around me, I simply just am… myself…

The night set in as I walked home. Uncle opened the door for me. I was more than sure he didn’t seem to like me much. He had his points, I had mine. He was spending days and months locked at home since they had to take care of the baby while her parents were away. The only freedom he had was to watch some TV. And to a person with not much experience on a computer would probably consider it equivalent to a TV. That would explain why he didn’t believe I was studying. I smiled at him as if I had some heavenly realization in my head. “I had an awesome day today…” I said to him as I walked towards the baby girl. Studying was left to midnight when everything in the house would go silent. I lay down by the sleeping little girl and held her close. Her breathing seemed sweet and peaceful. The rest of the night went as routine and we all joked and laughed as we always did. My days here were coming to a close soon. They are a great lot, I should say and I will miss them while I am gone… For what they have been to me...  

The next morning, my sleep deprived eyes were partially closed and taking as little light into my eyes as possible, I sat at the table for breakfast at 8:30am... A smile dawned on my face as I heard the washing machine blare its buzzer from the bedroom. My cousin asked me why I was smiling.

“Nothing… Being awake at this time feels special…!”

 Uncle looked at me and smiled…  

I'm Busy...

            DISCLAIMER: This article does not refer to those who are really busy working their asses off! :P  Yet, read on…

            The heroin is tied up at the chair. The villain stands next to her with a gun to her head and waits for the hero to arrive. A heroic rhythm follows the hero’s footsteps as he arrives and there’s a sudden sound “Pling”. And his next step and there’s another “Pling”… “What the??  Oh damn, facebook chat, again!” You pause the movie and glare into facebook. “Oh this guy eh?” You hate facebook chat for two things, it doesn’t have a ‘busy’ status (as far as I know) and it’s totally retarded sometimes. The blessed “X” at the right top corner is clicked and there facebook plummets away… You hastily go over to gtalk and put the status to “busy” avoiding further irritation…

It’s fashionable to open up facebook and gtalk the moment you jack into a pc connected to the net, though you are in just to edit a word file or watch some movie. And, it’s equally fashionable to put up the status sign “BUSY”  Reminds me of people wasting a ‘bit’ of the expensive food they buy when they go to big restaurants. It’s simply ‘fashionable’ not to finish the entire thing.

***

Ok ok… coming back… There is someone who argues “I don’t want to be pinged while I’m doing something” Yes, I could agree with him. But why not simply log off instead? The guy gets pissed, “It’s my wish!” 

***

A good old classmate goes “I’m busy” on his status and I believed I had enough freedom to ask what he was busy with, since I was pretty sure he was jobless at home. He doesn’t seem to reply. I bug him and bug him and he goes, “Hey @#$%^, can’t you see I’m busy?”  I swallowed the jibe and asked him what he was busy with, “Farmville” (For those who don’t know, it’s an online game on facebook).

***

“I waited all this while thought you would ping. What are you doing?” And there she goes, “Ooooooooohhhhhhh... I didn’t see you… Sorry” And for those who use your own pc, you have the excuse that gtalk loaded itself with its saved password. If you plan to lie to someone that you were busy and didn’t notice that gtalk (oh that lil devil!!!) went online, you should consider that he/she might have noticed your change from ‘Available’ to ‘Busy’… Well anyways it doesn’t matter coz you really don’t care.

***

“Hey” from a girl who has never seemed to be able to shift off the busy status and has never bothered to reply.  I take my time giving a ‘hi’ trying to give an impression that I was least interested. “Ummm.. Could you do me a favour?”  Yup, I knew that was coming and I ask what she wants. “There is this guy stalking me online, Can you talk to him and ask him what his problem is?” I agree almost as soon as she says it but I ask her for a little favour “Can you remove that busy status and make it available so that I can see it just this once?” She gives a “hahaha” and then changes it to available. (My mind goes “yippee”) 

(Hmmm… That’s very friendly. See how opportunist people can be?) Then I go,  “You know, I kinda have better things to do… Oh btw, I added you to increase the number of friends on facebook… Not coz I wanna talk to you! Sheesh! Guess you’ll look better in my blocked list. Next time bother to get friendly before asking a favour! BYE B****!!!!” :P :P   

 Somewhere in the back my mind there is an evil laugh and a dialog that goes, “Stand up so I can kill you again!”

***

            The net has always inspired us to be fake, hooded behind a screen. It definitely cannot be ruled out that there are really busy people busy with other conversations or some of us like some privacy online. But how many of us just put the status “busy” to show off we have things to do when you’re just almost snoring away in front of the screen waiting for something extra ordinary to happen? How many times have we simply got irritated and went offline instead of just telling the guy, “Dude, I really don’t want to talk to you now or anymore” We find an excuse for not being direct, saying we’re busy, we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings etc etc... If there are strangers bugging you, you probably let them into your friend’s list in the first place! 

            It is customary for us not really bothering about people we do not know or who are far away from us. As the old saying goes, “Out of sight, out of mind…” Things can be solved by a block button or the simple status that goes “Busy” Nobody ever did question your freedom to do what you feel like, simply, you question yourself, for being fake… A prompt answer would be, “Simply, coz that’s the way everyone is…”

 It’s funny the way things are. We have status messages and buttons like ‘like’, ‘poke’ etc to speak for us… We hide behind them, as we devoid ourselves of expression… The problem of stereotyped stuff is that they express only a part of what you feel and rest is left for the other person to guess and sometimes even misunderstand… Say, someone you don’t know ‘poked’ you on facebook. You probably poke them back out of no interest but just to get rid of the thing. Bingo! They get a different meaning there.. 

 Time would probably come when we’d be busy or rather sometimes lazy enough to employ buttons that store whole big sentences, simply coz its fashionable…

            Again, reminding you of the escape clause I left for you in the beginning of this article. You may be included in the list of the really busy people or you may continue to convince yourself and everyone you’re busy. It’s all yours…!!!

 :)  Keep reading guys!!! 

This is Vijay Velayudhan Signing off!!! 

Reflections of Longing...

     You come to, amidst the wreckage of your own making. You toss and turn over for some shut eye, hoping to see the dream again. But you are awake…

    The twinkle of her soft eyes as they look at you, simply out of a motionless picture, fills your heart. Somewhere along the twisted strangeness of emotions you realize you’re feeling different. You stretch out and try keeping awake till she says goodnight or have you fallen asleep before? There’s a sweetness of her voice in your mind, maybe since you have never heard it before. But you know she speaks from the heart. That’s where it all matters. You sit before her for hours at a stretch and feel you haven’t had enough. You pray to go for a walk at the dead of the night with her, deep in the moonlit night, to tell her, you have invariably fallen in love with her.

    Touching one’s soul was a difficult thing to do. Rather easier in a dream, when you want to fall asleep just to see her. Every time you dreamt, she was just a dream, nowhere to be real; nowhere to be half as possible. You touch her face and she seems to be a doll, a doll of your own imagination. But her eyes are full of life, like you know them for a thousand years. Her smile brightens your day. And when she weeps, the day darkens and glooms behind the shadows. You talk to her portrait; her lips seem to move in reply, her eyes twinkle in the encore of your words. Her softest arms are around you when you cry, your sobs lost in the ruffles of her hair. You tend to want to share everything and want her to see everything beautiful that you have seen; to show her what she meant in your life; and a promise that you would always be there. Everything in life, becomes a surreal reflection of her. 

   And then it shivers, like a candle shivering out from the wind. The sprouted wings are stepped on. The air suddenly becomes painful to take in. Your chest is heavy. Your eyes open, unfocussed, looking weirdly about, at what caused the commotion. It was a dream. Past the point of no return…!  

You come to, amidst the wreckage of your own making. Dreams simply had a nasty way of going bad when you’re not looking.

 But you are awake...!

The City that never sleeps...

The coffee was getting cold, steam rising from it in large swarms. A table lamp shaded its warmth alongside its plight to light its space. The silence of the room was suddenly disturbed as she crumpled a piece of paper and hurled it to where a herd of them lay. Something seemed to annoy her as she tried to work…

She stood up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and stretching her hands. The numbness was getting to her. Walking over to the window she looked at the street below her. From four floors up, everything seemed miniaturized. There was a storm raging outside the window, cold and merciless. Yet, it did not seem to disturb the preoccupied people, except the inch of desperation to reach home. She looked lazily at the table, bringing work home was the last thing she wanted to do. But deadlines stared at her from the small yellow papers stuck on the wall next to her table. And the coffee she had made to keep her warm, oh, she never had time for it. Every morning she would have to pour it down the sink, making a mental note not to repeat it again…

It was the city that never slept, she knew…  Busses and trains literally groaned under the weight of the people crammed into them, taking them to their diverse destinations.  Every eye reflected the struggle and passion to succeed.  Just like hers, when she had vouched for journalism. Being a reporter, she loved the spotlight, the risk, the travelling and sometimes, putting her life on the line. The thrill was enchanting. But as they say, everything in life came with a price tag. From tall towers touching the sky that glimmered with lights like as though a million candles were lit in mid air, or the dark eternal stretch of roads, or cars speeding away with blaring flawless engines; to the selfish, heartless people masked in pleasantness, they had all imbibed the spirit of soullessness.

She was amongst them, the crowd of hollow men. Though every time she would find herself wanting to do what she had almost forgotten to do, trust. But pain was always a consequence, searching her soul in the past, among lost relations, among sleepless nights, bewitched work timings, strangling deadlines, a bit of jokes and happiness under the hood, thoughtless adventures, a list of things on the purchasing list, countless acquaintances and camera flashes, mindless dancing, alcohol and smokes, heartbreaks and scars…

Sometimes, some choices in life always caught up to you. It was a matter of time if you’d see yourself regretting the choice or you fight with it along the years and look back a day and find nothing but the struggle. It was just a question of which day came first. But somewhere in that struggle lay all her life. There was no changing it. There was no looking back. That was all a couple of years, triumphs, sorrows, and failures ago…

 

 The storm raged on, inside her. Yet, tired with work and fighting off emotions, she fell asleep with her head on the table. The cold coffee lay forgotten…    

23 years and Counting...

Life kick started with a certificate. A birth certificate...

 A carefree baby. A carefree yet curious toddler. Lot of doodling and playing. And before I know it, I assume the glorified role of the whining school boy. I am taught how to write, read and some behavioral aspects. I'm good to go. For my ability to write ABC and 123, I still remember, I was given a certificate in UKG-G. More like it was for mom and teachers who taught me all of it... Oh and I still remember the maths teacher comparing a girl's round and sweet looking handwriting with the narrow and broken one of mine. I slapped the girl later and got punished for it. :) And yeah, she's my best friend now.

Fast forward a few more years. The competition, pressure & tension started... Though I don't remember much of it now, there I was, wanting the "honour roll" certificates for good marks. I also had a load of friends obsessed about it. One night before exams, I sat by my dad's favourite music player, playing with its volume knob. I had a Hindi exam the next day. Mom came up to me and asked me what I was up to. I told her I studied some poem by-heart. Then she enquired about the second which was the last one left. I smiled at her, still playing with the volume knob and said, "No mom. That poem won't come in the exam. I've told God not to let it come" Well it did come and my total was a bit low, I missed honour roll again. :)

When I was in 5th grade, I was suddenly so motivated. My teacher loved me. I always managed only a 70% in exams till then. And 80% was silver honour roll and 90% was gold honour roll. I played less, carried more books in the bag on my shoulder, slept less, crammed my head with more. But sometimes it really got to me. The previous night of the results day I sat awake all night with a calculator and question papers thinking on how much I would get. The results day tided away. I walked home with the progress report with an 81.4%. And it was the first time I was gonna show it to dad first and not my mom. Coz when marks are less, mom will sign :)  And the day finally came when I was standing on the stage, sturdy and proud. My first honour roll!

Years passed. I was writing the board exam for 10th grade. My hands were shivering like it never had in my life. A teacher came up to me and tried to tell me it was ok. No it was not ok. This is the end of my life if I don't get a honour roll... And this time it was gonna be gold. Or else what was everyone going to think. All those who were hoping and praying for me. It's my life on the line. I don't remember anything much between the exam and the time that I walked into class one day a few months later and my friend Umar was annoucing my marks. I simply hadn't had the nerve to check it online. I had made it, my first gold honour roll.

And a few years and a disastrous 12th grade (hehe!!), I was there like a fool in an entrance coaching centre darkening bubbles for answers of questions. (1)-a, (2)-c,(3)-e and so on... And well it wasnt too good but there I was in an engineering college. 4years of notes and assignments, exams and presentations, lecture and harassment, shouting and screaming, attendance and proxies, leave's and fake medical certificates, fun and fun making and yeah, CERTIFICATES... Loads of them!

It was all over for the moment. A break...After 23 years of my life. I sat by my bed looking at all the certificates in my life. Papers that defined what I was. Papers that shaded evidence on my conduct. Papers that showed my nationality. Papers that showed where I belong, that showed how good or bad I was at a subject or how lucky I was at the exam. 23 years of my life was in those pages. These were the pages for which I,  faced all those frost nosed teachers (not all- just some of them who think we were a pile of shit in front of them), spent lots of money in colleges, tuitions, places to stay, food and  also lost most of my sleep, faced people's ego, wrath, sometimes even cried... These pages were what I lived for.

Though everything else along the years is a funny thing to think about. Friends, the good times, love and a lot of beautiful things... Its something that the final page of the file I was stashing the certificates wasn't decided. Tests were yet to come and so were certificates. Even failure was a certificate added. Along each certificate is attached a lot of memories of all the incidents before getting it. I guess the path was always more enjoyable than the destination. The destination was after all just a certificate. Be it in someone's heart or a small piece of paper neatly stashed in a file...      

Smiling... I thought... "The birth certificate... Thats where it all started..."

The Predicament...

I've pondered long for how this write up should be. Give it a third person perspective and I could express more. But I guess I have to be myself for this once. Life's been a race and sometimes you have to wear a mask. It's not to prevent yourself from getting hurt. Its coz you dont want anyone to see you, or you dont wanna open it up and look yourself in the face. Coz you know you're living just a big lie. You can't accept the fact that you are stuck, knowingly or otherwise...

Happiness is a moving target, maybe coz you have seen and lost something greater in the past, or probably you were so content with it, that you can never let go and accept anything else. It was her. I know I may have mentioned, and may have bored people with the story. But this is my story, I cant get tired of it.

I had once read a forward text on my cell phone. Love just happens once and everything else you feel is your mind trying to get that old love again. You look for her in others eyes. You look for her in the broken bits and pieces in the shackles she has left you in. I'm not saying that you can't move on. I have, in fact. Like another million dreams that have been persuaded to be pushed down in the gutters of the mind, she lays there. But its just that she has a voice. She has a temper. She still loves you... All in the depths of your mind. She taunts you and life becomes a surreal reflection of the past. Every moment of life reminds you of her, like a bad replay.

Sometimes when I walk to faintly lit rooms of my house, I can find her waiting for me. I touch her hand and she's gone. I have a long list of friends, most of them who are really close. I talk to them, accept them for what they are and support them whenever they need me. And I never hurt their feelings. I get a lot of love and attention from my female friends. Probably coz of what I am to them. But sometimes I feel, I'm just filling up the emptiness in me. Getting some love and attention from lots of people, and searching my lost soul in it. At least my soul glimmers in the happiness of the others around me. When I love again, I search for her, for the words, the kindness and everything I got from her. Its nice to cower behind something and try to be someone your not. At least life is a fantasy and you're a third person to everything, u can think, postpone, come back to things as and when you want. Further more, dreams and fantasies are beautiful places to live in.

 It becomes a memory that I simply cant change. A set of dreams in this labyrinth that I entered once and have been forbidden not to leave. Sometimes I feel that its just me,  I cant leave coz i dont want to.It is one of those things even I cant do anything about.

Simply coz I wish to and another side of me, wishes not to. I feel hollow sometimes, wondering who or what I am.

Maybe just a mere memory, who's soul has long ago ceased to exist...