Just by an accidental thought.

Serendipity

What happened that night is a vivid memory,

Hazy, but permanently stuck in the heart.

I was dressed in red, he wore a black cape,

This was destined right from the start.
It was the after affect of a tragic shock,
The hearts felt active, the minds were locked.
His last night in our city,
or should I call it serendipity.

He took my hand and swept me away,

He was to leave to very next day.

To me t'was wrong, but to us t'was right,

when for the time of then, world went out of site.

Just the shudder and memories of that night,

a dark tunnel, and then came light.
Took every fear, oh that shameless hour,
But the last goodbye couldn't have been from afar.
We wept together, each to their fate,
Life had bought us both to a sorry state.
Love that dropped from puffy eyes,
A short night before a big sacrifice.

He rolled around me like a venomous snake,

He bit me dead, for my own sake.

He coiled around me, I was still awake.

I knew we'd made a beautiful mistake.

He picked his bag, not a tear in his eyes,

but I knew he too was broken inside.

He went away to fulfill his promise,

And I stood silent, awaiting a final kiss.

He mustered the strength, but mine broke,

He pecked my head and boarded the coach. 

Never to return, never to meet,

As my eyes followed his feet.

The wheels turned, breaking my broken heart,

And our story played from the start. 

In a white land there existed a brown lad,

and till today, he's all I ever had.

...and just like that, I was his forever!

The Nothing of Yesterday, The Everything of Tomorrow

What Ayesha thought. Part 10

                                                             

It was all going fine. It had been two months since we'd spoken. We never crossed paths, never had the opportunity to exchange unpleasant, uneasy awkward looks. Our friend'd knew never to get us to the same place, what they didn't know was why. The tension could be sensed just by a mention, I refused to talk about him and I guess he never spoke about me or what he felt for me to anyone. In the concrete jungle of a university, where news spread faster than a forest fire, our little rendezvous remained hushed and buried behind a million layers of emotion.
Soon, the time to party, sneaking in tequila on freezing winter nights, the late night sheesha sessions followed by gala rounds while beating coffee and sugar to make creamy cappuccino, they all passed and all of us 'cool' people who'd never suffered going to that place called library, tried finding solace in our books. I was living my life, rather drifting through it. I'd kept my broken heart safe inside a locker, and switched on the best of my brain for exam time.
His brain too, I guess, was working over-time on books. It was his year of graduation after all. It was his time to puke everything he'd learned all this while at uni, on the exam sheet that would prove weather or not he'd done justice to all the effort his folks at put in and he did it. He scored well, got good grades, earned a degree to go back home and fetch himself a set-up family fortune and a good wife.
And therein, came the night every senior waited for, and every fresher wished to be invited too- The Graduation After Party!
Being a senior's pet finally paid off, I got invited to the ball. And so Cinderella left no stone unturned to look smashing enough to mesmerize her oblivious Prince Charming. Too bad, my Prince charming wasn't my date that night. Ironically, it was my Prince's best man, his best friend.
Why had I put in so much effort for that one night? Lets just say, I'd given into my heart, my misbehaved, irrational, pathetically love-stuck heart. It was time to get him back, and keep him safe, away from the entire world, with me. He was one egoistic man, but I liked his toughness, and everything else about him for that matter.
So the Ugly Duckling finally wore her cape of make-up and the prettiest and most expensive clothes she'd ever seen, and transformed into a swan, and quite a sexy one I must add. I was loving the aura of seduction that followed my blood-red gown, and the smokiness those painful stilettos fetched. It was all super worth the effort. I did make oodles of heads turn, some just shocked to see  'Lady Dude' transform to 'Miss Ahaa!' and some in genuine appraisal.
And then I saw that face, the one that had driven such hard work, the only one worthy of  treating his eyes saw me walk in.
Why? Why did I want him to see me look good. Wasn't I the shunner who'd shunned him, dismissed him for being affectionate? But this heart is surprisingly weird, it asks for queer things, tells us to do queer things, who has ever made sense with the heart?
So i looked at him, being the one he desired. Being the one he couldn't avail. Pinching him in the heart, maybe that's what I wanted. For what's love with a bit of venom?
But the clock struck twelve, and the ugly truth was announced. It was time for me to leave the ball, because it was time for him to leave the town. And the country as well.
He was going, and for good, my date casually informed me. Right then, I didn't know who to get mad at. The nincompoop of a best friend he had, who'd announce his departure like a piece of cake. Him, for fidgeting with my heart, preparing to slaughter me. Or myself, for meta-morphing myself to look desirable for someone who's desire was subjected to time?
That very minute, a wave of realization struck me. Realization, not of the fact that I might never see him again. But of the truth I was in love, and I couldn't, rather wouldn't live without that retrieving man.
And so I went, to that bench we'd first met on, to share that on last fag we both deserved and sat there waiting for him to follow. Something inside me saying he'd come no matter what, and he did.
I don't know when I got engulfed by those dense wafts of smoke, all I remember is that I swayed, breathing his smell getting a buzz by those warm gushes of breath, capturing every move, treasuring it as the last memories of him.
 And then the sadistic sun rose, making fun of me, laughing at me, telling me it was time to bid adieu. To the last star of a calm night, to the last breath of peace, to the last smile, and to him...

Disclaimer

Dear Readers,
Just a reminder, it might seem so, but neither is this blog nor are any of it's posts dedicated or related to anyone. This blog is completely fictional, and any resemblance to a person living or dead is coincidental.
Thanks,
Aakriti Sahdev 

Our Broken Peices

What Ayesha Thought

Part 9

I ran, ran like I'd just found my way out of prison. I ran till I was far far away from him, from where all this had started, I ran till I reached a place I didn't recognise. I'd begun panting way before I'd begun running. The university felt like a desert in december, like there was sand everywhere, as if I was pacing through a sand storm, struggling to proceed, struggling to even breathe. It was the coldest night, I felt the cold wind sting my skin, and yet I felt numb within, like nothing could affect me, not even a dagger plunged through my chest. Nothing could kill me more than my own actions, my own words that I'd just uttered. I'd been a snake, eaten my own egg, broken the heart of the one I love the most.
Omar, why did he have to do this? I know it was the result of my silent prayers, but I didn't expect them to come true, they never did in my case. So why now? Why today, when there can be no tomorrow? Why was god being so graceful, when I'd accepted defeat with grace. God and I have never been the greatest of allies, haven't quite been his favorite 'child'. Perhaps because, I've been the favorite soldier in his version of chess. Being Indian was never going to be an issue in my love story, for I was never his type. So what if he was Pakistani, it didn't matter because he would never love me, we were just friends, and would always be. I should've known it's a going to be a nasty game the day I fell for him, but I tried keeping my peace, knowing what I was wishing was one of my inconceivable dreams and quite honestly, I was happy the way things were.
Yes, I'd wondered if there could be something more, but then I'd curbed my stupid thoughts, thinking I was no Bollywood heroine and he was no prince charming who would tackle all obstacles, fight all demons and come rescue me. For one, I was just the opposite of the girls he usually ran after, besides I was Indian. But this silly little heart of mine, and all it's unconscious demands. I don't even remember when I ended up sending God a signal to help me, and since when did he start tracking my signals?
Now that my rant and mutter is finally over, I guess I should finally reveal what's left me so restless (Restless? Did I just use that understatement?). Omar is in love with me, or so he says. He says he wants me to be his girl forever, like that's possible. I'm the friend, the boy trapped inside the carcass of a girl. I was the 'buddy' he shared his fag with, the one he'd talk to about hot legs and mighty assets of the 'chicks', and quite shamelessly. So how could he? I mean, did someone tell him about my secret obsession? Or did he smell smoke come out of my ears while he talked about them girls?
I don't know, I don't understand and quite honestly, I don't wish to understand. This is all too complicated for me, and as much as I love him, he can't get any more of me, not even as a friend. Not anymore...
It's better we curb ourselves before any of us slips deeper into this swamp and the other one decides to come after. It's better we kill this demon while it's just a child. It's better we break now than later when none of us might have the strength to collect the broken pieces.

What the stars say...

My mom always told me the sky is a big canvas, we can doodle anything we want on it. Write our stories with chalk on black clouds, make little friends with stars, smile at the sun and hold the rain that falls from up above. She said, there were answers up there, simple solutions in complex constellations. I never took Ma seriously. All this sounded too filmy to me. She never got me into believing there's someone up there watching over us and yada yada yada... All this was still gobbledygook to me, but stars still fascinated me. There just was something soothing about those luminous shiny plasmic dots that calmed me down. Every time I stared at the stars, I found myself getting hypnotised, lulled into an unknown rhythm that came from nowhere. And it was during these trances that I took most decisions for me, made the biggest of commitments to myself and join two and two to make four. These trips I took to the sky and back often left me numb and speechless, it was exactly like taking in big warm wafts of sedating smoke that settled into the chest for a few seconds and then traced their path back out to diffuse into thin air. A moment of confusion- a trip to fantasia, and everything seems calm.

But tonight I lift my head up while walking back from Omar's room. All I see is darkness, and a patchy sky, the shades of grey and ugly blue. There are no stars, no numbness, no answers...just confusion and Omar Khan...

An Un-balanced Equation

What Ayesha thought...Part 8

The birds cooed once again in the chilly British dawns. Ironically enough, it seemed like they too had caught a chill just like me. They missed a note here and a note there while I croaked a 'Thank You' to Omar Khan who'd just made me a hot boiling cup of 'Indian Masala Tea'.
Yes, we were back to sneaking under his filthy stinking blanket, struggling to be warm and snug, fitting two big masses of flesh in a bed made for one. I never got to know who she was and what she meant to him, and honestly, I don't think I wish to know either. It's none of my business. When I first fell in love with him, I had't signed an agreement with my heart calling it a two-way transaction. Love isn't a balancing statement. Love credited, might not always be debited. So, I feel I have no right to know who she was, is, or might be for him. My love shall be unconditional, untouched by the fact that he doesn't love me back, that there might be someone else somewhere, who Omar might love, like Ayesha loves Omar.
You feeling better now?", he stroked his fingers through my hair.
"No, you make horrible tea." He honestly did make really bad tea. Too much sugar, too much milk, uncooked, just churned into boiling water from the electric kettle and into an unwashed mug that looked like it's been specially imported from the International prisoner's jail in Pakistan.
He smiled.
An unexpected beep on my cell phone get us both surprised. It's my friend from Uni, and his old friend.
He introduced us, and we've been talking since then. I find myself smiling, and him peeping into my phone.
"Who is it?" he asks, as if threatened someone would steal his bait.
"Dhrup, he's such a silly guy, keeps texting all day." and with that I get back to fidgeting with my blackberry.
"Dhrup." he pauses for a mili second and continues, "he's on your BBM now?"
"Yeah, why?" I ask, rather nonchalantly.
"Nothing, I'm going off to sleep." he says, pissed, and turns his back to me while hiding his face under the duvet.
"Night night!" I sing to him and get out of his room.
On my way back that night, I swear I walked with my chin help high up in the air. I smelt something burning. What did I set on fire? A heart, or his ego? Don't know, but whatever it was it felt nice.
Possessiveness, I realised, always feels good to a girl. Even when coming from a friend. And he wasn't 'just' a friend to me. But why was he jealous? Did he love me? Probably no obviously no!
But... A girl can dream, can't she? 

Answers...

What Ayesha Thought Part 8

"Running away, huh? Ayesha Talwar, the Great Indian Tigress. The fearless one, the strong one. Talwar, is that really you? Running away like a coward? And there I thought I knew you!" He mocked me, knowing I wouldn't resist replying with something rather snide. I just had to be nasty, he'd tampered with my ego. And that's exactly what he wanted- me to get into an instant argument with him. He sucked fun out of it at times, me being sharp and snapping at everything he'd say. I knew he found it rather hilarious- my inability to ignore and not react. It was like trying to get a pig out of mud. In the end you'd just be dirtying yourself, whilst the pig enjoyed getting itself and you covered in filth.
"You knew me? You're stealing my dialogue Omar. This is what I should be saying. I thought I knew you." I didn't see a reason arguing, nonetheless, not counter attacking didn't seem to justify my character. So I went on, " See dude, I don't wanna fight, or argue or even talk to you right now. You've done enough for me. Now, I just need you to do me one last favour- stay out of my way!" and with that, I turned around and began to move again.
"God! Aesh, stop it now. Enough is enough! You see what you want to see, you believe what you wish to believe, you think what you want to think and then act the way you wanna act. Have you ever thought of anyone apart from you? I do't even fucking know why you're so angry." He stopped to breathe and let out a warm sigh on my face. He held my shoulder's, that was his 'let's talk' position, and continued, "Aesh,  At least tell me where'd you go? Did you go back home? Where you on a holiday? Where were since the past two months?" I eyed his hands on my shoulders with disgust, not knowing where I'd mustered all the slyness from. He let go of me.
"Omar, what part of 'I don't wish to talk do you not understand? It's simple english, should I translate it in Hindi for you?' I barked at him.
"Fine, don't talk. But I want to talk, and you will listen because this isn't fair." He let out a thin nasal shriek. "It's like one minute you're in front of me, and then poof you're gone. Disappear into thin air. I need answers Ayesha, and you will answer each and every one of my questions, I'll make sure you do." He begun hyperventilating.
I didn't respond. There wasn't much I could say. I had answers to every single question in his mind but right then, those answers seemed to sound like kindergarten justifications for spelling right words wrong. I could react to every single complain, but none of the reactions I'd calculated a million times in my head made sense now.
Why was I angry? Because he had someone girl in his life who might've been more than just a friend? or  was it because he never told me about it? So what if he didn't, who was I to have known that. Just a girl he'd met randomly at some fair six months ago. Just a friend? He must've had a thousand friends, at least have of which were girls. I was just one of them, no one special. I didn't deserve to know his personal life, his love affairs just because I loved him. He didn't even know i had the 'wrong' kind of feelings for him. Suddenly, I had nothing to say. I no longer had the upper hand, I couldn't accuse him of anything for I was the one who had wronged him. So I lied. Stupid isn't it? I lied, very conveniently. To hide one truth- that i loved him- I killed a relative, flew all the way to India without telling him, stayed there for two months breaking all contacts, and now I was back.
I sounded bonkers to myself, leave alone him. I knew he was doubting each and every word I uttered, but hell, was I born out of Bollywood or what? I convinced him.
The pestering, I knew would never stop, cause I sounded like a kid telling stories of farfetched galaxies and unicorns. Nonetheless, I got back what was mine- my friend, my heart!