If I could, I would - II
Monday, April 12, 2010
Click here to read the Part - 1
"You are early today. "
He says, not exactly meaning it to be a question.
It takes all my will power in that split second, to stop myself from replying with a "It’s none of your business, is it?"
I can almost see Ma shaking her head in disapproval, annoyed to see her daughter acting so rudely.
Instead, I go on auto-pilot. My eyes meet his, I smile, nod and then, I turn back towards the road, hoping that he will get the message.
When did I become like this?
Why have I become so cynical that every unnecessary conversation seems to be a direct path to confrontations?
Having to draw a boundary so that no stranger becomes a part of the routine.
No saying "Hi" every day. No talking about weather. And certainly no explaining if and why I am early on any day. The freedom of walking away from people and relationships.
There is disappointed idealist behind every cynic, they say.
Why do I run away from even the slightest hint of a bond?
It has been ages, yet, I can still hear someone say - "when was the last time a stranger broke your heart"
Strangers indeed don’t break your heart, as long as they stay strangers. He wasn’t a stranger. And see where I am today. I wait, I will for the phone in my pocket to ring.
I wish, I pray that he would call. Just to hear that voice again. Even though ...
Have you ever had your heart broken by someone you can’t bring yourself to hate? Even when they scar you for life? make you wary of everything you get attached to?
Have you ever loved someone so much, that all you can remember is the rhythm of their heart beating as they hold you in their arms.
The actual feeling of their being? Being able to just close your eyes and trace them with your fingers? Even when years have gone since you sat next to them...
Why is it that we can’t bring ourselves to stop loving someone even when we hate them for showing us exactly how vulnerable we are, we were.
Some say love needs sacrifice. Sacrificing our wish for someone else’s.
But is there anything that can be termed as sacrifice?
All we make are choices. Sometimes we like to sugar-coat them, calling it a sacrifice.
If I am ready to give my life for someone, then obviously I would rather have them living than myself. How can it be termed a sacrifice?
You are willing to stay hungry to feed your child, because that makes you happier.
A soldier dies for his country, because his honor is dearer to him.
We are selfish to our cores.
We always do what we ultimately want to do.
Breaking someone’s heart, or getting our broken.
If I was writing a story, I would make myself shed a silent tear. But then, crying is so damn tough. Blessedly, the skies open up and rain comes lashing. I hear people scrambling to get under the meagre shades.
I stay put, feeling the heavenly droplets washing away the death off me. Death of a part that will always be mine, even when it starts festering
Still wishing for the phone to ring with that familiar tune.
Still wishing I could call.
But then, if I could, I would...
To be continued ... soon... or may be not...
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©2010 by Chhaya. All Rights Reserved
PS: kindly read this just a piece of writing. Nothing personal about this one :)... and yes, the image is googled.
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