The Epitome

A life in rewind

“Babe, I don’t mean to tell you what you already know, but maybe you need some more nutrition, hai na? I know you’re more than capable of eating for two on a good day, but you know you have to do that every day, right now na?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but obediently pulled the plate closer again. “But this is boring food! There’s no taste to this!”

“Haan na, baby, itna teekha tum kha sakti ho, baby thodi khaayegi…”

“Why? I’m sure she’ll love some achaar… Let’s try na?”

He dropped his head into his palm and laughed, “We’ll try tomorrow. For now, eat.”

She grumbled and picked up the spoon, turning towards him for another complaint, but he was too quick.

“Mmm, now you can take your time with your food, and I’ll get a nice nap” he settled comfortably on her extended legs, a pillow between her thigh and his head, “Go on, take your time.”

She sighed, sniggering to herself, and got down to finishing her food.

***

‘The mornings came too quickly these days’ she thought to herself, as she stretched and heard him already putting on his belt. The unmistakable clink of the buckle told her she’d missed the morning banter.

“You’re not coming back in, to bed?”

 He glanced at her in the mirror and smiled at the routine they’d carried on for years “No, sweets, it’s late today. Gym mein thoda zyaada time lag gaya. But I’ll come home early, and we’ll do coffee and Bournvita”

“Can I have beer?”

“Can I first have my baby?”

“Take her now only, she’s a bore, just like you. She wants to go to work.”

“Just like me, or just like you?”

“I’m a lazy ass, you’re the one who won’t come back to bed.”

“Mommy darling, you’re dying to get back to work, and you know it. You’re probably already drafting an intro mail for your daughter and setting her task list up. Okay, I’m off. Kiss?”

“Ew, no! I need to brush.”

He leaned down and kissed her belly, then grinned up at her “I wasn’t asking you.”

She began to laugh.

***

The door opened and his perfume drifted in to her before his voice did. He was on the phone.

“Hunjee, abhi ghar aaya hoon. Just got in.”

She mumbled into her pillow “You can get off the phone now, at least.”

His voice smiled out from her earpiece, and his breath tickled her shoulder “But then I won’t hear your pretty voice say ‘I love you’ over the phone na?”

She growled in response “I love you”

“Okaayy bye…”

His hand was rubbing her back now “What happened, bad day?”

“No. I’m just surrounded by idiots who don’t know their hands from their feet.”

“So, bad day.”

He was making noises with glasses and all.

“No, no! Wait! I’ve made you filter coffee. Thandi hai, bas thodi garam kar do.”

He paused, and turned to her with a frown “Why are you making me coffee at night? Don’t tell me you have work to do yaar…”

She grimaced. He wasn’t going to be happy “Not much… Just a little…”

“Yaar toh din mein kar lete na, why would you leave it for after I get home?”

“Arre abhi shaam ko aaya…”

“So, we’ve talked about this na, why would you take up a project at night?”

“It was important…”

“No yaar, you do your project, then I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.”

He walked off, cup of coffee left on the table, a plate of food in his hand.

“Scoot.”

He looked up at her “Jaldi kaam khatam karo, and sleep. Don’t waste time. Again, you’ll stay up late, and be tired tomorrow.”

“No, I’m done.”

“Done with work?”

“No, work is there, I’ve pushed delivery time to tomorrow evening.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to spend time with my husband. He’s quite sexy, you know.”

***

“Pastels look gorgeous on you”

She stole a side-glance at her almost-husband “You know what a pastel is?”

He nodded, under pretence of straightening his glasses “Like the signal is a green, the pista ice cream is a pastel green; I remember.”

She stifled her laughter as her father gave her a look from across the mandap. Probably not the best time to get in touch with her sense of humour.

“Babe, suno na…”

“Hmm?”

“Aapko mujhe prompt karna padega. I have no idea what anyone is saying. Thoda distracted hoon na. Those pastels and all.”

“Damn it, I was hoping the fam would do that bit. Mujhe ghanta pata hai, what to do…”

They both stopped laughing as the pandit gave them a dirty look this time.

***

“Listen.”

“Hunjee?”

“If I quit my job, pick up my Rani of Jhansi sword and come off to your city, and convince your family, would you seriously consider spending the rest of your life with me?”

“Sure. But where would you get the sword from? And who would pay your rent?”

“Arre that I’ll manage. And rent maane, I’ll take over your business, siphon off funds as expenses, and make it vastly successful within the financial year, so you’ll never find the money taken out.”

“Oh, accha. But market down hai, and regulations are against us.”

“Haan, but I’ll probably pull a Richard Gere from Pretty Woman. Have you seen Pretty Woman?”

“What is the Richard Gere reference, but?”

“You’ve not seen Pretty Woman?”

“I HAVE, I don’t get the Richard Gere reference.”

“Oh. He basically buys big companies that are floundering and sells them off bit by bit.”

“So, you’re buying me out and selling me off?”

“Not you ya. Your company. And I’m not buying, I’m going to seduce you to sign it off to me.”

“You know it’s not really MY company to sign over to you.”

“Older people love me. That’s my concern, not yours.”

“Aight. Let’s see. My signature will come last, if you succeed in the rest.”

“Haan, but then you’ll spend na, rest of life with me? Even if I dissolve the company?”

“Kyun nahi? Raja ban ke jeeyenge.”

“I’m serious.”

“Huh?”

“I’m serious.”

“About?”

“Will you consider marrying me?”

“Babe, we talked about this…”

“I don’t give a fuck. Do you want to?”

“Yes”

“BRB, getting my sword.”

***

 

She packed up his shirt, and his t-shirt. And the note he had sent her when she’d won her major milestone. And the box from the chocolates. And put them all the corner of the cupboard.

The house still resonated with his voice. The city still threw scents of his presence at her. Her phone was strangely lighter now, and her inbox strangely empty. The ding of texts wasn’t as fun to hear anymore.

Maybe it was a coincidence that the rains had started when the final page of their storybook had been turned. Perhaps some lucky little girl in the future would read the child-friendly, happily-ever-after version of their story. Their original story was more like the German old wives’ tale version, with a gruesome ending. At least, it was gruesome for her.

‘It’s not like you’re a mermaid or a secret princess, really, what did you expect?’

She shook her head at her momentary lapse of practicality, and mentally put away the silly flights of fancy away with the clothes and the past few mementos she couldn’t bear to throw away.

Scents fade away faster than people do. But they hurt more. Scents remind you about love in a weird, integral way that kicks you in the gut and lifts you up, at the same time.

The collar, crook of the arm, and mid-torso of the shirt in her hands no longer smelled of him. It no longer reminded her of being engulfed in the protective bubble of their fairy-tale.

***

“Suno na.”

“Hmm…?”

“I think we need to talk…”

#AboutLastNight

Liquid courage, they call it;
A swig is all you need
To take life by the balls
And to chase your dreams.

One swig
And you'll stop being scared
Stop wishing you'd dared
That one time
When you ran away.

It's fight distilled from adrenaline

It's the balls to say what you mean.

Liquid courage
One swig and you're super human;

You're doing stuff they said you can't
You're breaking rules
You never believed in
You're saying words
You rehearsed
A hundred times in front of a mirror.

A sip to remember
That you're the boss
That it's your job
To take charge
Send that mail
And goddammit, ask for that raise!

Your best friend
Leading you to the dance floor
That lying bastard
Who says you're a bomb
When you're probably more a nunchuk
And that REALLY shouldn't be
Your song.

Your wingman
Who hates to see you crash and burn
But knows she's so damn far
Out of your league
That you probably shouldn't even dream of her.
A swig is all it takes

For "Hi, what're you drinking?"

That idiot
Who told you "You have a dream""
"You have a gift
Damn, you should perform your poetry
It really speaks to me"
Except they've been swigging
Pretty damn hard themselves.

Aged for years
With wisdom imbibed from
Oak casks, and brewing tanks
Microscopic bubbles of yeast-fuelled logic
Pushing their way into your mind
Telling you what you already know
Just don't have the impetus to go for.

Liquid fucking courage.
Because for some reason
Without one swig
You have a duty to suppress it
You know what you want
But you're denied it
Flight fights back
Flight comes in first place
While you cower in the back
"Bhai daaru lao..."

Almost There

I’m not perfect and I don’t expect
To really ever be
I have endless flaws but that’s just how
I know to be me
I’m a fighter, undercover
As a quiet soul
Perfection bides away its time
Till it's unleashed upon the world.

I’m not perfect, not even close yet
And I’ll never be
I’m a warrior, undercover
Till something deserves me
It won’t be perfect, I can’t expect
Anything to be
But I’ll fight if I’m convinced I should
And that this fight, I fight for me.

I’m flawed for sure, I can’t deny it
But I’m almost there
The flaws are mine to hold for life
Not something I despair
I’ll find a flaw I can complement
And then things will be perfect
But till then I’m almost there
I’m not perfect yet.

How to Meet New People After Half Your Life is Done

As a product, you're a problem
A long-term investment
No guarantee
Prone to short circuits
And hell for maintenance.

But even the battered defects you own
Have been accepted by some
But when you grow, you meet many more folks
With whom you have to make things work.

Of course, you come with an instruction manual
But that's buried deep in packaging
Which nobody will try to open
Unless you're doing some tagda marketing.

So let's try to make sense
It's an easy enough process;
Just a few steps.

Step one.

Get out of your corner

And try, na, once, to talk?

You’re fun sometimes, you also acknowledge,

So, can a tentative introduction go too wrong?

Step two.

No, don’t run away just yet

You’re human, not on a final shoot for Seinfeld

Don’t let the raised eyebrows daunt you

You’re a star, your new friends should flaunt you

Step three.

Okay maybe that was a lie

Human beings never grew out of the playground

We were annoying little shitheads as kids

And there’s still enough of us around.

Step four.

But remember, you have some friends

And you’re fairly certain they’re going to stay

So maybe take some courage from that

And make the stage fright go away?

Step five.

FYI, they’re really not worth it

You’re not fighting the playground mafia here

You won’t get bullied now, if you don’t find a group

You won’t find that you’re out of the social loop.

Step six.

Who am I kidding?

No, this isn’t a commentary

Imagine, me?

Confident, stage-smart, street-smart, will-talk-to-clients-at-a-meeting

Me?

Commenting on introvert society?

What is this pseudo-sympathy?

So what if my ears are red right now

And my palms are sweatier than the last time?

But honestly

Have you seen those photo-series?

Behind the scenes of perfection?

The background to every airbrushed video?

The “seedy underbelly” of the show?

Did you wonder if that could be true

For people walking all around you?

Because here’s step seven, from behind the scenes.

Weigh your idiosyncrasies

Find which are okay with society

And if you play your cards right

You’re not weird, but quirky.

Which brings us to step eight

Wherein all you can do is wait

To either be found by, or to find

Someone who is of like mind

But this isn’t cause for celebration

Because then things hit new escalations

With step nine, you tread with care

You’re worried just how much to share

You’re mentally flipping through 25+ years

Of complexities, oddities and fears

And as you introduce each one

You’re fully prepped to see them run

Because you’ve watched these oddities take shape

And even you know you’re a little strange.

Step ten is for those lucky ones

From whom the audience didn’t run

Because now you can finally rest

You’re in the presence of one of the best

And you’re free to embark

On the next monumental task.

Step eleven is what we call sustenance.

It’s what forms the basis for everything else

Piece by piece, you build up on

Each step which has come and gone

So your marketing strategy is now in place
You're ready to launch; complete, with game-face...

But did anyone ever bother to ask...

Why do I need to strategize to ensure I get to socialize?
What even, are you offering as a prize?
The right to interact?

Where did it begin to go wrong?
How are we letting this go on?
Who gets to decide
Which person fits, and who is better off on the outside?

May I hazard a step twelve?
I've been using it, and it's treating me well.
Don't bother.
Really, stop.
Why should you market yourself at all?
Especially to just MAKE a friend
Because that's a beginning, and not the end.

Don’t bother with making a case for you.

You’ll find your niche, like back in school

You’ll find that one other little girl

Who finds it fascinating to be in your world

And you in hers, and that’s all you need

Don’t  bother to bring her up to speed.

You’ll find each others’ oddities

Before you find the normalcy

Ideally, one day, we can all move on

And leave the marketing wars to Flipkart & Amazon

Because we're all broken

We're all oddities

Without a return policy

And why shouldn't we be?

Nobody cares what happens to perfection

It will be fine, it's programmed to be

We're all looking at the flawed

Because that is where there will be magic to see.

Falling in Love More Than Once

Love seems to come & go as it pleases
Looks like it listened to you
And those pointless & super cheesy
Dialogues you continue to spew:

"If I don't leave, how will I return?"
A pathetic attempt to soothe the burn
Of the departure I struggle against
Of the long wait that lies ahead.

Until I see you the next time
And all the love comes rushing in
Like the crashing waves of the incoming tide,
A tidal wave set of from within.

I guess it's worth the wait again
Till you find a way back to me
And I fall in love all over again
So many times now, I gave up counting.

Recipe: Breakfast

Two mugs pulled sleepily off their hooks
Fingers fumbling where closed eyes can’t look
To see just where the kettle sits
Deftly concocting the perfect mix
Of coffee, sugar, doodh aur paani
Differing from mug to mug fractionally
Carefully chosen breakfast spread
Of a thousand dips to eat with bread
And then settle down quietly;
Two mugs, sister, toast & me.
The lull before our daily storms
Begin to rage & drag us along.
As a ritual for keeping calm,
Add some judgement, if you want
There’s no one listening in on you
Coffee, food & just you two.
Or three, or four, as per taste
But don’t add too many, or it’s a waste
Of the carefully crafted simplicity
Like with coffee, sister, toast & me.


A friendly tip; for best results, consume this mix repeatedly.

OCD

Routine to see.
Shudders from you
At my style
Which I refuse
To match to yours
Because I’m all odds:
Odd Socks. Odd Laces
Odd Rhymes
Odd Timing
Oddball Furball.

And your structure
Causes torture
Too fixed
Too matched
To match to my desire
For oddities
Among symmetry.

Straining
Against what we are, inherently
Built so differently.
Obsessive in our own degrees;
Your even keel & my extremity
Both out of sorts
With all humanity.

But we’re calmer
When we’re together
Because when two halves make one
They must fit
In symmetry
In equality
And here we agree perfectly
With each other.

Fitting cracks into cracks
Where we both broke
In unison
Where equal hurt
Rests quietly
Complementary
To the capacity
To heal

Till we’re fixed
On one reality
That obsessive-compulsively
We must be
You & Me.

Starlight is Only the Reflection from Stars that Died Light-years Ago

Everyone notices shadow
Very few notice light.
Shadows were what light probably came up with
So people would love what it did.

Because light, na...
Light is the Indian Wedding in the form of energy
There's always something to complain about.
You screw up your eyes when there's too much
You squint when there's too little

YOU, though.
You wear dark glasses
Till it's too dark outside
To see the depths they hide
Till you're steeped in shadow
And what lies beneath, we'll never know
You're like light...
You've seen everything you need now
From the safety of your shadow.
You've traversed the depths
And as you sit there
In the light you like
The time reserved for postmortem starlight
You make mirrors out of all of us
In a strange defiant salute to physics

Your light
Calls to our light
And your solar-powered persona
Crafts planets out of us
Orbiting your sun
And we feel it

That slight buzz of energy
Rocket fuel to the personality

But nobody notices
The increasing grey
The deepening shadow
Night falling behind shadowed eyes
Because we're too busy shielding our eyes
Against the light.

Narrative

You see & I see
Almost exactly the same things
What could be, or may be
But we’re never in sync
You’re half full, I’m empty
And neither of us wins
You say & I say
We see such different things.

What you saw, I missed out
I looked the other way
And by the time you turned around
My frame had already changed.
But this was your world and mine
Not a worldwide release
That you & I saw differently
Was an issue for you and me.
Your truth & mine
No longer what we meant it for
A connection for two
Not a skype call with the world

The world knows what they see
A unit despite disparity
You & I separated
From the common story.
What they read into me
And what they read into you
So different from what we know
So different from our truth.

But who can keep the world away
When they’ve picked their sides?
Now it’s about who saw it right
And picked the winning guy
You saw what I saw
For the first time, aligned
What absolutely could not be
No two ways around this time.
Both glasses half empty
A part empties away
As the world counts their winnings
And our story fades away.

Beating Retreat - An Empty Apology

Do me a favour & let go
Not of the love
Not the love, ever
Let go of the fight
The constant ceasefire
The battle scars,
The lost men,
The open wounds,
Let go!

The constant reminders
Of how we could be better
The recaps, reviews
Let's put it behind us.
The armies are tired
Weary & worn
Battered, bruised
Beaten & torn.

So let the wounds heal
Though the scars remain
Let every heart beat
Wash away the fresh pain
Let the skin stitch
Where we broke it
Let things go back to the flow
Stay away, heartbreak.
Please, just let go.

Take Flight

Steps.
Rhythmic, periodic
Like pendulums ruled by formulae
Hypnotized, hypnotic
They never question; on they sway

It doesn't matter what time of day

You'll take off and land anyway

Just follow what the uniforms say

And if you'll please step this way..

Step by step like they are told
Isolated crowds though they fly alone
A social parody, a dark comedy,

Run without a flaw
Check in, security, the final boarding call

Willingly strapped
Into a place not of your choice
Hushed & Muted
Scared to make a noise
And break the sound barriers set in place
Unspoken rules of airplanes.

Someone else's flight plans
And some other man's rules
Veiled do's & don't's
That you "Choose" to don't & do

Step by step
Filling into stiff packaging
Conveyor belt compliance
Disguised as travelling

Or travel reminding you of airplane-discipline-life
Where pretty faces & authority guide you through the skies

A prisoner of pseudo independence
As you fly & feel "Free"
Periodically strapped back in
In the interest of your safety
Suggestions politely made
Cannot, do not, I'd suggest you don't
Of course you have a say!
The final 'choice' is all your own

Only do remember
If you fail to comply
The tinfoil prison you're in
Could combust mid-flight
And God-forbid the structural hit
And the sheer volume of loss
All because you failed to listen 
And pay attention to us

As you subside into your seat
In willing submission
The slow lethargy steps in
The stagnation of oppression
Fly by night and close your eyes
Dream of when you'll be free
One day you'll close your eyes like this
And head to an epiphany

Structure & Rules work for a start
But once you're in the air
Fixed, unmoving guidelines
Are better off not there

Once the doors close & you're wished a safe flight
Just how you land

Is in your hand
A perfect 10 
Or a blaze of light

Borders

Borders
Don't matter
When you're two beers down.

Borders
Stop existing
When you walk in & sit down

A drink or two
A smoke to share
And you're on your way

To a fleeting conversation
That's here to stay.

Share a light
A fry or two
And there's tales to tell
Borders
Will stop existing
And nations as well.

Borders
Don't exist
When you're two beers down.

Borders
Lose their meanings
Where there's real meaning to be found.

*Disclaimer:
This has nothing to do with political conflict. This is about the IDEA of borders.

Asleep

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
When we curl up to block in the heat
When arms touch arms and chest to cheek
New rhythms awaken as we breathe.

I wonder who listens to that new beat
Lungs expanding & contracting peacefully
Fitting into crevices like they were made for me
Arms tightening around you more securely

I wonder who reads my mind just then
And knows what hasn't been spoken
I wonder who slows down time a bit
Without either of us realizing it

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
Who sees me struggle to keep
My eyes shut tight a little longer
Determined that morning will not conquer

I wonder if there's a way that they
They could find a way for us to stay
Undisturbed a little bit
Curled up together just like this.

2016

Date & Time

I frantically scrabble through dusty dates
Boxes and boxes, crate upon crate
Memories of evenings on remote hills
Memories of dim bars and split bills
The taste of Chivas, the first whiskey I liked
The first local train experience of my life.
I dig for the dates, although I remember the times
I dig to find the red letter days of my life
Broken numbers come to the top
Of a box filled with more than a lot
Dates disjointed, waiting for a reunion
Thrown aside to look for the box I put you in
Because the dates I have for you don't match
They can't be the dates I have in my hand
They tell me it's a dream
The love isn't have, it's has been
So I'm looking for something I know I've seen
Anything to erase 1991-2015

Strains

I'll play your songs till my ears start ringing
Till I can hear nothing but the echoes
Of the last time you sang them.
I'll play your songs at unsafe volumes
Till everything is silenced
And I can't hear them tell me
You'll never sing them again.

Long Distance

Have you met love?
Love is mankind’s hero
It defeats all evil
Transcends all barriers
Brings people closer
And charts the quickest paths from A to B

Love takes two buses
Dives into rush hour traffic
Then hides until the coast is clear
 
Love travels to wintry, rainy, cold, uncomfortable places
But love… Poor thing
Is no match for distance

Nobody likes distance
Distance is love’s worst nightmare
Only pretends to make the heart grow fonder
And all the while making love’s job harder
With every trip
With every mode of transport
Love never gets closer, only further away
Because distance is winning today

Love isn’t about togetherness
Not anymore
Love is stuck with a phone call
Or a text message
Today, a voice note
Or a wall post
Love is a bunch of words on virtual paper
And a very, very long distance

Love fights a constant battle
A cartographer’s worst nightmare
Charting maps on demand
Building bridge after bridge
Spanning countries and cities and area codes
And career choices and homes and walls

And continuous business
To internet service providers
Because love is shared sunsets
Over skype calls
And a rousing discussion about movies
Watched separately

How can love catch up with us?
We’re not making things easy
Because we won’t stand still
We move on and on and on…
Your life, my life, different lives
You wouldn’t understand
You don’t get it
You had the be there…

But here’s the thing.
Sure there’s a story you’re not watching live
But every voice note lets you in on someone’s life
That wall post, the social media updates
That’s not compensation, that’s information

Your auto ride & OLA cab bills
Aren’t money, they’re investments

Love is standing on this stage
Walking into a room
Smiling like your jaw will split
Love is the hug and the dimly lit nights
Love is savoring every moment before the next goodbye
Heightening the feeling of each other’s arms
Love is laughing about sharing a beer in person
And forgetting the pain of drinking it alone
Love is the bus-ticket, train ticket, empty bank account
Love is a paper napkin in the back of your book
A memory card full of photos you had to laugh about together
A joke you had to be there to understand
But you get it anyway
Because you can see it happen in your head

Love is a vague notion
Every time something goes wrong
That you know who can make it right
It’s not having to be there to make you smile
It’s a cat video shared on your wall
A text wishing you happy birthday
Love is the last dance…
Late night conversations under streetlamps
Because who knows when you’ll talk like this again?
It’s talking like that again
And again
And again…

The empty space next to you isn’t taunting you
It’s giving you strength
Because there are people out there filling it
Right now
With their presence
You just can’t see them

The space doesn’t defeat love
The space reinforces love
Reminds you every day
That there’s love out there
That empty space is your catalyst
Pushing you for that weekend trip away,
Every new map of A to B
That’s love.

Love trumps distance
Because Love is not just the goodbye
Love is the welcome back.

Happy Old Year

There's nothing new about a New Year

Same messages, different number

Same resolutions to be broken later

Different settings on New Year's Eve

Same condition in which you'll leave

The year has gone, it's throwback time

To what you did with yours & I with mine

Did plans, resolutions & reality align

Different people, different friends

But it's the same. Every year ends.

It's not about the future at all

The turn of the year is nostalgia's call

To think of the past while you're enthralled

By the shining light of an unknown tomorrow

Your mind looks back on joys & sorrows

There's no other time for you to turn back

Once 1st Jan begins, you'll be back on track

Not that you don't want to, it's time you'll lack

So 31st at midnight, you look up to the sky

And think back to the year that went by

As cheers of Happy New Year ring out

It's a toast to all you thought about

A salute to the old, without a doubt

Because you would not be where you are now

Without the 365 you lived through somehow.

Inked

You'll be safe here
A memory. And a reminder.
Pencil fades, ink washes off paper
Ballpens... Seem to go on forever...

But soon we'll run out of ink
Papers will wear out, will rip
But you'll be safe, I know this
Because I can make your memory stick

I can't trust pen & paper to keep you safe
For years I tried, but always failed
Memories inevitably fade away
So I'll keep you safe in my own way.

This won't wash off, this will stay

Losing you now would mean
Ripping part of my skin away.

Why Didn't You Call?

"You know the bald dude? Gandhi? Father of our Nation and whatnot..."
She looked at him, upside down, sitting in the sky next to her, as he sniggered and nodded "Yeah, the bald dude..."
She ignored him "Yeah, him. Did you know he tried all the shit they warn us away from? He ate meat, drank and all, had women, and bro... BRO! He and a friend tried suicide once, too!"
She sat upright, in her excitement, looking at him through the haze and the hair falling into her eyes. He seemed to be tripping on something else completely.
"Hello?"
His eyes snapped back to her, looking at her silently for a second. "They should teach us that shit in schools and all. They teach us that we should be perfect like these people. Discipline, dedication, perseverance, blah, blah... We're programmed to fail and hate ourselves for it."
She stared at his face for a minute, trying to quell the rising urge to tell him things she shouldn't be telling him at all. Her brain wasn't as sharp as it should be, the haze was making it hard to think straight. She shook the cobwebs out, slightly and pulled the easy grimace back to her face. "You're just scared. Not like you haven't taken a chance na..."
He shook his head at her "That's not what I'm saying. Failing is not an option. You can't try and not succeed otherwise the bald dude will be disappointed."
She flopped onto her back, looking at the dim ceiling. "But we know he wasn't a saint. So we're good na? We know the inside story."
She blinked at a sudden shadow over her face "Why're you blocking my light, bro?"
"Move off, shorty, your tiny legs can handle sitting on the ground now. I'm getting cramped."
She squawked as he tipped her off the bed and took her place "You just shook the buzz out of me, you idiot!"
He sniggered at her, enjoying the indignation on her face.


I never expected to be standing here. I'm not sure if not knowing was a good thing or a bad one. I knew myself enough to know that if I'd known it was coming, I would have avoided it like everything else I avoided. One little lie, one quick exit and another evening alone.
Sometimes being alone was a good break, although the social side of me rebelled against it with everything she had. Sometimes I worried that there were too many conflicting parts of me and some day they would pull me into different halves. Today, I stood there, wondering whether I would've canned in this case too. There was more than people and society at stake here... And my brain was too occupied with flashbacks and other disturbing creatures. That night stood out... That was the last time we had chilled like that before life came along and made me this recluse & took him all over the country for things that caught his fancy. He'd made so many points that night which stuck with me, that my aim of staying away from him was basically moot. I ran as far from him as I could, but always ended up returning to that night. I ran through all life's failures keeping that night & its hazy life lessons in mind.
Now, as I snapped between past and present, I couldn't believe where I stood. His six foot something frame used to tower over me, and he took particular pleasure in leaning on his 'minuscule table'...
My mind couldn't imagine how that frame had let him fly like they said he had. How had one measly fitting taken the weight of his height?
How could all that laughter, all that intellect, all that sheer life have been reduced to this? One urn, a handful of dust, and empty space...


Thinking back, if they'd told me that they were bringing me here, I would have made the same old excuses and stayed in my corner. Because in my corner, there was no murderous fan, no tightening curtain, no empty spaces. In my mind, there was that night, and the one moment I let slip. There was a scared girl telling her oldest friend how she felt, and not one with a hollow space echoing with the fateful "What if".