Hey, you, my first kiss(if it counts)…

kiss

Hey,

I will start with a wish. That I never met you. That summer day on the staircase. And now that I had met you, I wish I wouldn’t have fallen again for the dancing hair, that reminded me of someone (Maybe that was a reminder to me, one which my innocent self, back then, ignored. Kids really are clueless, huh?). And for that chirpy voice, with a laugh on the face, as the Sun. So? Long time no see. And how long has it been? Since we last talked. My guess is somewhere between 9-10 years. Its hazy. Just like the kiss we shared… (aaahh… it’s still embarrassing), okay, maybe we were just caught up in the act we were playing. And maybe it was just normal, what followed. However, I remember many other things about you, apart from that kiss. *sigh* Okay. It was childish. We were barely seven then…

You had short dancing hair, probably because you were dancing around 24 hours a day. Always dragging us out, into your pretend games (Hahah. You were a lousy secretary, by the way. :P). Crying at smallest of things. Arrogant. Competitive( we got into fights a lot for that…) We got along the best. And so did we fought. I remember once we didn’t talk for a whole week, because you had taken my favorite exam board( Wow! We seriously had favorite EXAM BOARDS, huh??). Uncle had to resolve the matter by trading my exam board with your exam board and a big Froggie eraser. (I still have them both, and the eraser still has its sweet smell, like your memories, just that time has added a bit sorrow into it.) We were closer after that one week.

Haha! Time flies, as they say. It was the summer of 2008, I think. That we shifted. After the construction of your house next door completed, and we had fulfilled the games of hide and seek in it for almost an year. One summer day, we finished packing up, which stretched since a month, and the house was so empty, that we could hear our breaths reverberated. It was sad. Sadder than leaving behind our then school. Sadder than losing a toy, with which we grew up with. Sadder than coming last at the sports festival race. But not sadder than saying goodbye to you. And definitely not sadder than meeting years after, with your eyes through me, as if I was thin air, non-existent. I think you cried back then, when we left. And so did I. And maybe, we waved hands at each other until the turn separated us visually. What’s funny is that I grew up thinking, that the turn separated us only visually. Hah. But that wasn’t true, was it? That separated us. Severed everything about us. I wish I was also affected by it. That crossroad. But I wasn’t. I carried the scene of that sunlit staircase everywhere, every time… what a fool I was. Expecting too much. I still wonder where did all that vanish away. Your feelings from then. That cheerful glee, and those sparkling eyes. Is that what life does to us? Erases things, as easily as mistakes off a whiteboard? I don’t think so. I wouldn’t be writing all this (in self-pity?? I don’t know anymore.), if that was the case. Or maybe life didn’t do all that, what it did to you… somewhere within I still pray it’s the latter. But that look in your eyes, it defies all my prayers. I wish I could wipe it off my mind, like a mistake.

Maybe that’s how life goes, unpredictable, disappointing… I think I couldn’t say I love you, even somewhen if I did… After all everyone have things they can’t say to people, haven’t they? Maybe we are bound to carry some regrets forever, and some nightmares… because sadly, but in fact, life is not a whiteboard, with mistakes on it. Some accept the mistakes, some die trying to correct them, and some ‘change’ correcting them…

I’ll rephrase my wish:
“I wish I hadn’t met you. At least after all these years. And now that I had, I wish I wouldn’t remember your name…”

Yours,
A whiteboard mistake, which you corrected.

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Hey, you, my first girl ‘friend’…

Hey,

 

It was as earliest as I can remember that we were friends. Maybe, because one day our ball crossed your wall and you came running down to give it back to us. It’s curious how we know sometimes who is going into be in our life at the very first glance. Maybe we both knew it then. I do remember us smiling.

 

You were my first girl ‘friend’. In the age we didn’t even know about ‘girlfriends’. Haha. How funny, they haven’t got any different word for friendship between a girl and a boy. But I don’t mind going with this one. Maybe we were something closer than that. Soul-mates? Best friends forever? Haah! It’s amazing how time ignores such words. Such bonds we form. Time doesn’t even respect bonds of blood. It was obviously just a childish wish to think we would remain together… Even so, I will hold these memories dear. As long as I can.

 

To start with, you were like the summer wind. Wild and carefree. Hah! I remember you, trespassing a home nearby for the mangoes its backyard tree offered. Haha! It was a wild struggle to get away from the mad watchman! Then, you were a bit too hard on my introvert self. Dragging us out to play, and introducing me to your friends. (I knew since then, that I am allergic of crowds…) You had a glittering gaze. Like every child does. A contagious glee of smile. And a brain full of pranks.

 

There’s so much more I want to remember, like your voice and your face. But the aging up has eaten it all. Though, I am grateful to the time that it has spared me your name. Maybe it’s something that Time has left behind. Out of pity. Also, I remember that day. When we first when to your house. It was a shock. How one can smile, when they are sad. It was that day I knew about it. You just had your Granny with you. Your Granny told us how you lived here, with her, away from her parents, for the sake of studies. It was at that instant, at the mention of your parents, I saw you sad. For the first and for the last time (Little did I know, I wouldn’t ever get another time to see you crying…).

It was almost amazing how you never displayed that face ever afterwards… though I wonder, would you have cried, when you left home. When your Mom and Dad called you back. Would you have been happy or sad? Or angry at them?

 

When I returned to the city after the summer holidays… I didn’t know about it. One day. Two. Three. Four. I wondered whether you were sick. You always caught fevers. Mom replied vaguely. And so one day, I went up to call you. I remember, the gate was locked, and everything was dead silent. I came back, assuming you would have gone somewhere in summer vacations. I waited. A month passed. School started. And one day I heard it from the neighbors. That they had left the city. I should have been sad. I should have been crying. The problem is, I don’t remember how I felt back then. Nothing of it. This forms my regret with you…

 

I wish I could say goodbye. And made that selfish, childish promise to meet you again someday. Heh. And I wish the most I hadn’t met  a certain someone, who reminded me of you. And again had that cycle repeated…

 

Yours,

Boy ‘Friend’

You, the one who owes me a regret…

Hey,

I never got to know how you are, or how you’ll be. It all happened in the racing sands of time. And in the innocence of childhood. Heh! It always surprises me how I still remember it…remember you… And I can’t remember which people I was with that day…which friends I had…

 

Maybe, one of the reasons to still remember it is that we are meant to carry only the heaviest of burdens for the lifetime… Maybe no amount of time can change that. Another reason could be that I resolved never to forget it…after that very instant.. After those words left my lips.. That’s why I didn’t get the scar removed, that’s why I still carry it, on the right side of my head, above the eyebrow… I carry it as a reminder to myself… as a creed to be good always.. As a redemption…  as a curse to myself . For never being able to apologize. For lying. As a compensation, futile, as it may be, for maybe destroying your childhood, and maybe your life…

 

Maybe right now I’m letting all of it out, to ease out my burden, and probably it is a futile effort… but it’s better than living in these regrets.. Caged by them. So, wherever you are, wherever you may be, probably hating me, to the point of killing me, please forgive me. Forgive my words, my blames, my accusations. Forgive all of it. I remember you begging on the ground, as I was carried back home with that fresh wound, unconscious, your tears mixing with the dirt, your pleads… I still wake up at nights hearing those screams, when I know there isn’t anyone now. Maybe you weren’t at fault, or any blame for that push, and for this scar. I realized it that very instant, after my finger pointed to you. After I saw those eyes… innocent, and fearful…after you burst into tears, after you were on the ground, asking for forgiveness.

I never saw you after that day. To tell you that it was I who needs apology. It was I who should be crying. It was I who should be blamed…

 

Since that day, I have tried my best, to be nicer, to be more honest, to be someone who isn’t hated, hoping that when we meet, you could forgive me. Forgive my sin. But, if you don’t, I’m prepared for the punishments, for the cost…I’ve prepared myself for them over the years.

 

Maybe if all of it happened some other way, things would have turned out different.  Maybe if the push had turned me a bit left… We could have been friends. We could have played our childhood out. We could have laughed, going home together. We could have cried parting our ways. And maybe, and I wish this the most, you wouldn’t owe me a regret of lifetime, and I my life to you…

 

Yours,

A prisoner of regrets

 

 

 

Hey, the you who vanished…

 

How you doing? Far from here. Away from here. Apart from the memories you made, with here…

It’s been five and a half years now…since you left. Forgive me for stirring up your life. For turning up like a shadow that you have been avoiding all these years. I would have remained silent. Away from your life going on wherever it is…but I just couldn’t forget one question…it’s funny I’ve forgotten your voice, but this one question that arose since you vanished, this one question, I haven’t gotten over it. It has eaten me all these years…

 

So all I want to ask is: Have you gotten stronger now? Now that you ran away from all this…?    

I know it was hard on you, hard for you… for anybody to stay here, in the mess it was, even more so for you… I know that too. I know, getting up in the car, and while it drove away, you would have hated this city, despised it, resented it, maybe everybody in it, everything in it, involving me maybe…

But, did you become stronger? Did you feel stronger? By running away?

 

I wonder what do you wake up to every night at 2 am, unable to sleep…is it questions? Is it regret? Is it nightmares?…

I hope you find peace, in your world, like I did… it will not be easy but you will finally get used to it…we all do. Sometime, somewhere in our life, we all do. I hope you find it sooner, and if you have to forget here, forget me, to do it, then don’t you flinch a bit. Don’t turn back to shadows. Look up, ahead . And never turn back. And if you want to face it, hey, it’s all here.

 

Yours,

A Shadow

 

S U I C I D A L

 

Set my timer, and sat down to enjoy the show,

It’s almost dark, and a few lights glow….

But they give me no warmth, no hope, no security

I’ve strayed towards the malice, far from purity….

When I close my eyes, I see faces,

Hollow, with no traces

But they have a voice, blaming

It’s me they are shaming….

And then I see others, disappointed

Have no faith in me, unsatisfied

No matter how I’ve changed,

No matter how hard I’ve tried.

And then, there’s some remains I see,

Looks like me, buried in the wreck.

Its struggling I see, but I know,

It won’t survive much long, heck…

And so I’ve decided I won’t save him,

Not a shred, not in this world…

Where Sadness overrules,

And I just shiver, broken, curled….

Tick, Tock and Trrriingggg, its time

The timer beckons me…

An unworthy son, a monument of patheticness,

Say goodbye to me, now I’m free.

 

A Suicide

‘ A jump ‘ , said the news tab,

“from the seventh floor”, it stated

The police found a last note,

and a ‘poor-marked’ result sheet, freshly dated.

 

The room was gloomy, “like he was”

his father stated, “and now he’s gone”

The mother cried, not for what she had done,

but for what she couldn’t do for her ‘unworthy’ son.

“The room was full of books he never loved,

and his mind stuffed of things he feared.

one step after another,

to his Death he neared.”

“Pills after pills he took,

just for the liberty to sleep.

But now we know, every night

all he did was weep.”

“So, tell us, Officer, who should we blame?

Who should we resent? Who should we hate?

Is it us? is it him?

Or should we curse the fate?”