Category: Scribble

Delve into our vibrant canvas where personal narratives, discussions, and candid rants coalesce. Explore real-life encounters, reflections on love, growth, resilience, and conversations that challenge norms.

  • SHE FOUND HER SKY

    She is beautiful. Always has been.

    The shoulder length brown hair with a streak of red are just first mark of distinction. The milky white complexion inherited as a gift reminds me of a porcelain doll. So fair, that if you are lucky enough to be up close, you’ll clearly notice where the red comes from on her cheeks. Her blushing explains what writers and poets want us to visualise when they say “rosy cheeks”.

    She blushes, and then she smiles a perfect smile. Pink lips slightly curved and you are stuck. You won’t be able to shift your gaze from that smile so easily, but trying to do so, don’t end up looking in her eyes.

    You will fall for her..

    Those eyes hold everything she has. The feelings deep buried in her heart which she hides with the feminine efficiency, surface in her hazy brown eyes. They reveal her.

    They reveal the pain which has scarred her heart millions of times. The pain which this beauty has cost her. The pain of being judged for being a girl.

    She does not demand anything from anyone. She gives all she has to people she loves.
    You would want to heal her, take her pain away, hold her in your arms so that nothing could harm her anymore. You want to do it all for her. She deserves happiness.

    Now she has her own sky. Finally she is free to live a life on her own. She has learned that the key to live a happy life is to live in the present.

    I am happy for her. She is a woman now.

  • LATE GOODBYE

    Shikha,

    Hey.. How have you been? Sorry we couldn’t talk these days. I am too busy I guess.

    Actually not.

    I was going through that scroll you gave, few moments ago. The one with those glued up prescription pad pages of yours. It was a fun ride of the days back. Sitting here today now, when every step taken is intended to a future I don’t know what shape would take, it feels very refreshing to look at the rear-view mirror to have a glimpse of what just passed by. Jeez.. How did you ever get the idea of that scroll??

    Anyways, I just felt like telling you some things which I would have wanted to hear straight if I were in your place.

    I still remember the time when you left for college. I had many friends before who went to different colleges in different cities, but I never felt a fleeting sensation of insecurity, which hit me when you left. It didn’t even happen with my best friend. I was feeling restless, calculating time intervals to find that perfect hour on the clock, when calling you would reach you as very normal. I didn’t want to know about your new friends because I felt jealous. Obviously, they were having more of your time and attention. You were busy all of a sudden. All I did was listen to you, your college stories, problems, wonders, ambitions, on phone. But then friends are supposed to do all that.

    Now I am in your place. But we still are different. You might want to know what’s happening with me, and I am not sharing much. I am not calling you to tell my college stories. I know you are not jealous of the friends I have. Because friends don’t get jealous, right? Might be a bit cross with me due to my low responsiveness. But you are clever. Somewhere, not pretty deep, you know I am intentionally doing this. God! It’s difficult being friends with an intelligent girl. Loving her is a different ball game entirely.

    So, I’ve met some great people here. People who share my tastes. People who share my thoughts. People who make you feel good just by their presence, like thank God there are people like them and the planet earth is still not doomed.

    But I always find some space in between them all and me. I tried to measure that space just so I could chalk out a plan on how to fill it. It equals to the space occupied by one person to be precise. On detailed calculation it was revealed that that space is equal to the space filled by a person of average height, maybe 5.3 or 5.4 ft. Body structure is quite variable, could fit both thin and thick. The “space” supposed could accommodate a pair of glasses too.

    Anyways, I feel I am not same as before. Feel like I am turning insane. Not saying I was sane before. But a no-good insane. I adore people in love, people who found love, and feel jealous. I feel like gutting the people who just suffered breakup. Bunch of cry-babies, like they actually believed things will work out. Did you see? I am turning negative and it’s getting bad. My sarcasms are getting worse. Not in content but in emotions. I feel like the feeling called love has seeped out of me and empathy and patience are next in line. But don’t worry, it is not effecting my work. Neither it would ever. It’s just that, I am not the me I like without you. Though you were the one to talk on and on and on and gibberish on that matter, and I was the one listening and smiling to myself on this side of the phone. For God’s sake, we have played Indian Idol on phone. Crazy things you do for love.

    I sometimes wish things were not so jumbled up. I wish the feeling would have been mutual, either mine or yours. Because if there is someone up there in the sky, keeping an eye on us all, even He would be smiling seeing how my heart beats when you laugh. It’s magical. And He would also smile when you catch me low, just by the fluctuation of my voice on the phone. These bonds are rare.

    I am on a path the destination of which is unseen. I am changing but don’t know into what. I like surprises but not at the cost of my own originality. You were the anchor which held me down. One who helped keeping me myself. But then you need to be yourself too. I heard somewhere that if a friendship survives seven years it lasts for eternity. You’ll be here for eternity, in my writings.

    I’ll flirt with you, fight with you..
    grab popcorn and ice-cream to see movie with you,
    I’ll sing for you, dance with you..
    I’ll gaze all night at stars with you..
    I am going to keep the promise anyhow,
    One way or the other
    I am going to grow old with you..

    – Aalekh

  • HAPPY B'DAY MAA

    “I am many things, but I am not many. I am yet to be many.”

    It was my mother’s b’day few days back. I’ve been thinking of a gift for her for quite long. Could have bought her something but I am pretty picky about gifts. Didn’t find anything that could convey my emotions to her..

    So I decided that it is better to convey it directly..
    I always felt you near me and maybe that is the reason why I never said it, because I thought you could read me. But this distance feels increasing now and I need to say it all loud to bridge it. So that you could still know what I feel.

    I love you.

    I have loved you as long as I can remember and have rarely mentioned it. Not because I can’t, but because it felt odd saying it out loud to you. Because we never do. And I never felt it necessary, because it is there, visible in our talks, your smile, in everything. However, it feels its not that bad to elaborate a little every now and then.

    Whenever I see myself, try to break myself down into parts which constitute me, to the qualities which collectively define me, I could see it all belonging to you and papa. There is a lot of you and him in me. A portion of you both, which due to its unique proportion in quantity, turned into a mixture, one of its kind, i.e. me. It grew on me pretty late. But slowly I started realizing it, that my responses to several situations are an exact replica of what you would have done. People around me think I am a good listener, that I help them solving their problems, maybe, that I am a good human being. But all I do is do things I have seen you both doing. Nothing new. And what I did try new have proved to be epitome of doltishness.

    All the good part in me is from you both, my originality needs work. I have a pretty decent memory on some of the incidents of childhood. They are like snapshots saved at the back of my brain. Once I said jokingly, that mothers are not needed to bring up a child, and tears started rolling down your cheeks. That was pretty wry sense of humour, which I thought was funny, but looking at you made me realise how wrong I was. And how could you have expected from a child, maybe 6-7 years old, to reply something sounding so obnoxious.

    There was this another time, when I was running down the road just in front of our house, and an uncle stopped me and asked to call you from inside. You two had some discussion, while I stood at the door trying to get what it was being discussed. Later, there was a thrashing ceremony for me, as that uncle uttered some things to you, about letting your son run on the road like that. Though it was a good beating, I wasn’t mad at you at all. I was furious at the uncle who thought it was your fault, whereas actually it was all me..

    Be it the scandal I did, when I hid my incomplete copies and blamed it all on my classmates, in front of the principal, just on the day of final exams, or the dare devil stunt I pulled off, off the second floor hanging and swinging mid air. You have always been there. Though it’s not strange for mothers to do so, but it is essential for children to etch it all in their memories too.

    I remember it all. Your words “mehnat rang layi” when returning from the PTA meeting after topping the class in Class 2, glancing through a small notebook in which you maintained a diary, reading your short story “Rakhi”, my small hand written sorry notes to you, the handmade Koala greeting card on Mother’s Day, you trying to make apple kheer which turned into something else entirely, be it the first password you put ever -“sunny”. I remember the day you received the news on phone that naniji was no more.

    I have seen the supermom turn into a human mom. The transition from “mummy” to “maa”. From the mother who knows everything to the mother who asks a lot. From the mother who tells, to the mother who shares. From the mother I love, to the mother I love. The reason I have an illogical respect for any girl is because of you. While writing this I’ve realised I never have been any good with the spoken words. That’s why I write. That’s why you write. I even got my writing from you. So I am using this skill of yours to tell you that you made me the human being I am, the best side of it.

    I don’t know what else to say. I decided not to use any fancy words but just the snippets of the memories. And the recent ones are of us all sitting in the dining room together going through a laugh riot, with Bruno sitting in the center, sleeping his wagging tail off. This is what I live for. These moments. Everything else will happen, pieces will fall in their places. But these moments are my treasure and my gift to you on your B’day.

    Happy B’day Maa.

  • NOVEMBER 16

    Humans are gullible creatures.

    Selfish. Self centered.

    It sounds pretty crude and harsh, but it is the truth. And once you sit and think about it, you will realize that we all have known it all along. Acts of selflessness are what surprise us, elate us, bring a smile to our face, just like a fairy tale with a happy ending does. Because we know these are not well thought plans properly executed, but some accidents, they occurred. They don’t have anything to do with practical life. Mere anomalies. And it is nothing to be depressed about either. Because you and me are not selfish because we want to. It is the way how we are meant to be. Sometimes it is situational, sometimes we don’t see the entire picture. The list of things which can be held accountable for this selfishness etched in our genes are, well, innumerable. After all, we have the tendency to build up a logic for our conveniences too.

    This guy realizes it all on every 16th of November. Goes through this self-realization each year. And the cycle still continues. Though nothing special happened on this date. Typical childhood crush story. Everyone has them. He had it too.

    —————

    Class 3. First period.

    Class teacher is taking the attendance.

    He is sitting on the first bench itself.

    Studious, Class prefect, Snob.

    Repeating the names loudly after the teacher is unheard in the morning murmur. He remembers them by heart. And suddenly he finds himself shouting a name he has not heard or shouted before.

    “Juhi”

    His head tilts towards the voice which responded.

    There stood a cute girl with short curly hair, dimples on her cheeks and brown eyes with a sweet voice.

    Nobody noticed when his heart skipped a beat.

    When he did not repeat the rest of the names.

    When he had his first crush.

    —————

    Class 5. Recess break.

    He is talking to her. They are ‘good friends’ now.

    He asks her if she likes any guy. He is trying being sly. She is simple, but she gets him.

    She said she likes him.

    He is dumbstruck.

    She smiled.

    He smiled.

    She left the school that year.

    —————

    Class 11.

    He tracked her down after all those years. Conveyed his feelings via letter.

    Old School.

    She asked him to meet. He is anxious. It has been 6 years.

    He saw her.

    She saw him.

    The 6 years were forgotten. But it was the date he won’t ever forget.

    November, 16.

    —————

    Feels dreamy? Even he felt so. Realities could be. But then they have a cruel way to make it a zero sum game.

    This was where the crush ended. Now it was something substantial. Something that could bloom. Something that could rot.

    He pushed his luck too far. Drove her away in pursuit of something else. Thought he would get her back, as last time. He became selfish.

    Funny thing, he forgot that she could be selfish too.

    You are robbed as much as you are gifted, it is what you are able to fight and save what you are worth of. He could not save anything. He had no choice but to let her go.

    But he did gain something.

    Now he knows that humans are gullible creatures.

    Selfish. Self Centered.

  • WAS IT LOVE?

    There are very rare occasions when a man doubts himself. “Man” doesn’t doubt. He has a justification for everything. And they are perfectly reasonable too. But these rare doubts question his existence. Something unjustifiable shatters the plinth his self is built on.

    A girl asked him a question.

    “How can you say you love me?”

    “How can you say it’s true. Not an infatuation? The forever love.”

    “How are you so sure about it?”

    He could have said a hundred things to convince her, and he did try. But somewhere inside started a turmoil. That was a valid question. How could he prove it to her?

    He thought about it. Read about it. Researched about it. And I am not joking, He did all of it. But not one scientifically proved test. Just psychological tests but even they don’t guarantee the proof of “forever love”.

    And I must tell you. That girl is the most hard headed girl he has ever come across, except his mother. Adamant. And not the throwing tantrum kind. The silent logical stare *shoving it in your face* kind. She won’t budge without getting the proper answer to that question.

    What could you do when you can’t prove what is there in abundance. Its frustrating. I recall the story of the guy who reached the land of blinds. He knew what it was, yet an utter failure to prove it.

    I mean, a guy listens to you all the time whenever you talk, he’s a good listener.

    A guy tries to solve all your daily life problems on the phone, he’s wise.

    A guy tries to tell you what real world is like to his best knowledge so that you could be mentally strong and be prepared for it, he’s practical.

    A guy fights with you and reconciles with you even when you are wrong, he treasures you.
    A guy gets jealous when you talk about other guys and tries to hide it, he’s cute.
    A guy gives you handmade gifts, he is creative.
    A guy runs to you no matter the distance just because he thought you needed him, he’s caring.
    A guy cried in front of you, he considers you best friend.

    A guy goes through this cycle for years, even after he’s been told there’s no hope as a response to his confession, he’s stupid.

    Stupid he was. It doesn’t prove it’s eternal.

    And one day, the sad truth suddenly hit him.

    She won’t budge ever.

    Not because he couldn’t prove it. But because she doesn’t want it to be proved. It was he that needed her. If he walks away from her life, she would lose her best friend. That we all do, at all stages of life. His pain would be, painful, if nothing else. And lingering. But she’ll move on in her busy life, in her ambitions, in weaving the world around her the way she wanted.

    So he decided to do so, walk away, one step at a time. He decided to give her what she wanted from him, a best friend. He acted the way he was with his friends, except one thing. He couldn’t share his true feelings with her ever again.

    They were bound to grow apart.

    They did.

    They have been in different cities all time, now the connection grew distant too.

    What’s left is him staring at her WhatsApp profile “online”, her Facebook chat color green. And hoping each time she changed her display picture to something he once said he liked, that she’s remembering him.

    I don’t know if he did right. I personally believe that if he had gotten rid of that self doubt, he could have kept clinching and it could have been either way. He should not have doubted himself.

    But not doubting meant he believed that it was the true love she asked about.

    Was it?

     

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