It might sting!

Is it taboo, to express concern over another’s excess caffeine or unhealthy food consumption? If one doesn’t mind telling million times to get through and make the other listen to their request for attention over the issue, does it show love or the ‘need to control’? Is the constant telling the problem, or matter of expressing is itself a problem? Is it prescribed that one should only remain calm, when witnessing another’s error of judgment in a matter of life and death? Is self hygiene not a must? And in those cases when it is missed, if reminding that, makes one arrogant and superior, then is it not unfair? When does the concern cross the line to become control? Since when did caring and over-powering get mixed up? Was it when indifference and ‘giving the needed space’ become synonymous? Is a slight variation from the state of ‘giving free rein’ directly take one to ‘dominance’? Where is the elusive harmony? If being flexible and accommodating makes ones a loser, then that is an obscene sense of sense. Even more offensive is mistaking control over concern. But the winner in this odious category would be the word-proof attitude – “Say all you want. Watch me pretend to listen and see me do what I feel like doing. You’d rather, save your breath”. When one craves for another to hold hands and enjoy the magical full moon view from the air plane, with no questions asked, but just soaking in the moment, is that a tall request? HOW does that fall into the bucket of ‘Don’t try to change me from the person I’m into someone I’m not’? YOU ARE EXPECTED TO CHANGE. ATLEAST MAKE AN EFFORT. How does prompting one to improve their quality of standard, for personality improvement, make them to feel claustrophobic? Does anything dictate that one should just witness the stagnation and be content with it, rather than to raise a voice and speak? If that’s so, then all beliefs and notions, about relationships, are passé! Then there would be no hope for growth and development, any further! Just passion would not sustain interest, through and through. Is it too much, to expect, from another, the same amount of crude concern, in all areas? Does demanding the same interest as expressed by one, from another, too much? Really, how much is too much? I don’t understand.

english-tamil

I think.
நான் நினைக்கிறேன்

I think you think.
நான் நினைக்கிறேன் நீ நினைக்கிறாய் என்று

I think you think I think you think.
நான் நினைக்கிறேன் நீ நினைப்ப‌தை நான் நினைக்கிறேன் என்று நீ நினைப்பதாய்

Do you?
நினைக்கிறாயா?

Do you think I think?
நான் நினைக்கிறேன் என்று நினைக்கிறாயா?

Do you think I think you think?
நான் நீ நினைப்பதாக நினைக்கிறேன் என்று நீ நினைக்கிறாயா?

Do you think I think you think I think you think?
நீ நினைப்பதை நான் நினைக்கிறேன் என்று நான் நினைப்பதை நீ நினைக்கிறாயா?

I do.. Just chekin'
என்னை போலா நீ?

In the background: Concept

Sincerely..,

என் வாழ்வில் நீ வரும் முன், நான் எவனோ ஒருவன்
நீ வந்ததால் நான் ஒரு பண்பான மனிதன்
உன்னாலே உன்னாலே இன்று நான் பறக்கும் மனிதன்
ஆம், உன் நினைவுகளில் மிதக்கும் பறவை நான்~

Drought is destitute, but I had the dew..,

.....Something profound stops me from my next words. One of these days, I will not stop at this juncture. My pledge to you will not hold me down and I will let the world know what transpired in that letter. Well, perhaps, tomorrow.

That tomorrow has indeed arrived!

My dearest,

I don't know what I want to write, and I’m only half aware about what I'm writing. But I'm writing this nevertheless, because I wanted to talk to you and tell you about all this and I know that if I don't do it now, then it’s going to be never. This is not a postmortem of the events or eulogy to it. Just feel like saying it. That's all.

The past two months had been like a dream. And today when I'm looking back at what has happened I'm feeling as if I'm being somebody else. What made me say all that I said, what made me want all that I wanted, I still don't know. When I was all lonely and lost, you shone on me like a beacon. It was as if magically confounded by the glow of that friendship, I began trusting you, deeply, blindly. And one day, when you said what you felt, it was as if like a wake- up-call, awakening my senses, rousing me off my dreams into the present, consciously realizing what I had know all along. You were the resonance in my veins. You were my sunshine. You were singularly special. You were specifically lovely. You were one of the sweetest of hearts I knew. Though only for a few days that it lasted, I felt wanted, I felt comforted and protected. I felt nice. It was a kind of chill feeling, something new and something different. I smiled, I rejoiced and I lived in harmony with my self and the world. I thank God, for those days. However short-lived you may claim your emotions were, I know and I wish it were true and sincere.

You were my main.

But the wake-up-call became the knell. And now that I have walked past the beacon, my darker side precedes my every stride. Threatening shadows all around me. May be the “yes-angels” heard your 'No's more than they heard my 'Please's. Things changed in rapid succession, in a gruesome way. Whom I though would be there to wipe off my tears, made me cry my heart out! It pained and it still pains me so much, thinking about how my life would have been with the person I dearly loved. You dismissed a heart that loved you, that thought you were indulgent, elemental and life. Sure, you have pushed me to extremes, played me with words, confided my very personals-only you ought to know stuff -with others, neglected, insulted and chided me. I know, I have let you treat me in the most demeaning of ways possible, but I let you do that anyways, because I believed I loved you. I have spent some tears, not lamenting on my love not being reciprocated, but for the pain I'm putting myself through with all the drama. But my heart was like the soft rubber ball you throw away from you. However harassed and humiliated the ball might feel, it will dutifully came back to you. So did my heart. And sometimes when I think that I'm the most pained one on earth and there is no more pain one can feel, I remember your story and instantly my heart aches and cries for you. And that made me believe in my love, even more so. Your denial was a kind of chill feeling, something new and something different, in a varied sense all together. I cried, I struggled and I lived in total dishonesty with my self and the world. I thank God, for those days. However tough it was, it was the most precious, humbling and enlightening experience for me so far.

You are my void.

I treasure the memories - your tiny eyes, the dark rimmed glasses, those lovely cute smiles, the accidental touches, those blushes, and the undeniable truth - hard and bitter. They say love is a slow poison, a silent killer. If I believe that, then the poison you induced in me, of which I still feel I have traces left, will one day be out of my system. The poison now scorching my being to the very core and soul will only go on till it has something left to gnaw upon; and it will eventually leave me, right? Then, I will smile again. Some stray chords will remind me of these days and what I potentially might have lost. In memory of that memory, as a respect, will spend few tears and some silent moments. Life will go on, but every minute I will realize, I'm poorer without you. I have let go of you, as the person I loved, as the person I wanted. But to have you as a person I befriended, I have exerted myself beyond myself, but I'm not sure how successful I'm and how comfortable I'm with this new phase.

Our friendship was pure. Belonging was true. You are the best, one of my best. I loved you. I held you dear. Your name will be in all my silent prayers. I thank God, for you.

You can reply me back with your silence, or you can choose to tell how you feel, but please never say, 'sorry'.

I would love to keep in touch, not to remember, but to forget.

Love,

Me

In the background: Tune

We left us thus..,

I once wrote a letter. It was my wild endeavor to hold my right; my degradation, my pride, my happiness, and my anguish. I wrote about when I felt, what I felt and fairly how I felt. I wrote that after an unfortunate day when I got to know, what there was to know. It was not meant to be a full stop, we were not history, not yet, but in a twisted way it was a mixture of both and more, as the premature abortion of a certain affection was mutually acquiesced. Where do I go from a dead end, alone? Only logical to retrace the steps to a point, where there was relief to the suffocation, where there was enough strength to pick up and plough through, or so, one might say. Can I ever reach that cross roads, with all heart, mind and soul? I had an inch of doubt. What was making it so tough to let-go of the phantom was beyond my comprehension. That was until yesterday. Now, today, I know what to do. The driver for change in attitude is either I subconsciously, know the cause, or simply I don’t care anymore. I decide to sever some of the ties that entwine me to that particular past. I now dare to bare a tiny piece of my soul to others. A rash act of inviting strangers into the ambit, only one had tread. This is purely in the light of the search for that final, absolute closure; to lose the ghost of the past, in an attempt to win it back, morphed into a more pleasing confidant. Here, my ghost, I’m ready to break the promise and go against all your prior confrontations. But you be comforted, knowing that I’m in a better place now. Reliving those ethereal memories one more time, and then I will be done. What a consternation of soul was mine that dreary afternoon! How all my brain was in tumult, and all my heart in insurrection! Yet in what darkness, what dense ignorance, was the mental battle fought! I could not answer the ceaseless inward question--why I thus suffered; now at the distance of--I will not say how many years, I see it clearly. Something profound stops me from my next words. One of these days, I will not stop at this juncture. My pledge to you will not hold me down and I will let the world know what transpired in that letter. Well, perhaps, tomorrow.

(Italicized from Wuthering Heights)

In the background: Tune

Diversity in unity

(W is just getting back from work)
H: Hey, how was your day? What took you so long?
W: Day was okay. How was yours? Looks like you came home early
H: How did you know?
W: (looking around at the slightly messy room)
H: (seeing her look around) Well, yeah. (Smiles and hands over coffee)
(Later, at the dinner table)
W: How do you manage to make such mess in this short time?
H: What mess? You mean this (waving around the room)? This is not messy. It is okay!
W: (murmurs)No, its not!
H: Hmm?
W: Why don’t you keep the things back from where you took them?
H: I don’t know! I don’t need to, for I can perfectly find my things from wherever I put them (Gives her a mocking look).
W: (stares) No, its not how it is supposed to be. That attitude makes you more slovenly.
H: Pst! It’s perfectly alright. This ‘supposed to’ thing is all made up by us, rather you. We can bend that around, whenever we want.
W: That’s not the only thing.
H: (Walking with the dishes to the kitchen)What?
W: (Cleaning up)We are so different in many aspects. Don’t you see?
H: Yeah. That’s cause we are two different individuals...
W: ... who are together. Okay, let me ask you this, how far do you plan the future.
H: To ask, ‘What’s for lunch tomorrow?’ I don’t plan as far as ‘Which college would our kids go to’
W: Not only that, but we are fundamentally different. While I prefer being a home pigeon you roam around like a wild bird.
H: (walking back to the living room) Hahaha. This is fun. I got one. You relax with your music and books while I unwind with sports.
W: (following him into the room, with a little sad look) I have expressed so many time that to me words and expression matters, while you argue ‘it’s the thought that counts’. Difference!
H: (hooking up the laptop) So? Even in this discussion, see, you are getting emotional while I try to ‘bend and survive’
W: (bit confused)Well, yeah I seem to be resisting.
H: Hmm hmm! (Settles on the couch and starts playing some archived match)
W: What do you conclude?
H: (distracted) ... hmm ... that we are rooted together, branching differently?
W: I would say, we are exclusive in all our interests.
H: (without looking up)You could say that.
W: That doesn’t bother you, the way it bothers me? Well, I think you don’t care enough to feel this way.
H: (mutes match, looks up to see she is upset) Come here. Come here!
W: Hmph!
H: Lookey here, now, if I act, react in the same way as you do, who will be there to console you? (little seriously)If you too are like me, who will be there to pull me back when I go overboard with some of my choices?
W: Hmm!
H: These slight differences are those that make our lives easier. They give us enough spaces to grow... new choices to indulge in. These variations are what attract us toward each other.
W: Hmm! Blah... blah... blah (evidently satisfied)
H: (winking) Else, who will love u the way I do…for all your eccentricities
W: Overkill! (hugging)
H: (smiling) Okay... go... its time for your CSI.
W: (teasingly) Why, your match resumes after break?
H: Yea... that too!
W: HMPRHHH (walks away smiling)

In the background: Tune

Always together, forever apart

She was standing there, as if frozen, looking at the entrance, in the hope, that her continued staring would make him come back, bring him back. It was mid-afternoon, long time after the flight carrying him had departed. Yet, she stood there transfixed, focusing on a spot on the ground, where hours before, perhaps weeks and years before, he had been, before leaving from her life forever. That flight was transporting someone, whom she never would see again and the one whom she wished to see every minute of her living time, or the very least, see him in life and soul, just one more time. Just once! It did not matter, anyway, as they had, in their relationship, have gone beyond the point of no return, a day before his departure. She hated him for that; for leaving her stranded; for abandoning her. It was beyond her comprehension, the reason for his abrupt leaving. No words were spoken, no feelings expressed and he just left, plainly. Things were going so well between them that she couldn’t convince herself of one explanation, for why he would want out. She found it hard to believe. She felt tired; physically and mentally. It appeared as if all her strength and her will to live had boarded the plane along with him. All the while she was harboring a slight, foolish, hope that he would surely come back, though deep down, knowing that it was not possible. It was surreal and she didn’t want to accept it. Since the day that she had known that he was leaving, or more accurately left her while in presence, she was like the way she was there that day, distant and detached. She had thought, that maybe all that had happened, would take some time to sink in or perhaps would hit her unexpectedly. Right then, she realized that, that all these while, that was what she was waiting for, her final closure, seeing him leave, seeing him taken away from her. Numbness had gone, to make way for the feeling of desperation and insecurity, which seemed to grip every nerve. She felt almost lonely. She reflected back on the past, on their times spent together. Remembering the spoken words, the shared thoughts and the life lived, made her acknowledge that they would all be just memories, ghosts of the once wonderful life. An acute chill seemed to spread on her. But, she knew, however small and short lived that might have been, they have shared something hugely significant to both of them. And that small glow helped, to some extent, to dispel the pressing gloom. She needs to plough through. She needs to overcome it. She felt nauseous. She knew it had nothing to do with him leaving. It was due to something, a part of him, he had left behind, with her, in her. After all, he did not abandon her entirely.

In the background: Tune