Mahi

Countless stories go unheard, these are just ones I want to tell.

[rainbowink]

Fear

Fear is a funny thing. Most of us, no, all of us are always afraid of something. The fear isn't specific as well, it's every thing at once. There is a fear of heights so while everyone else stands at the rooftop and wave and dance, the fear holds you down from that height. There is also a fear of darkness which prevents you from looking into it because the dark seems engulfing. And then, some of us have extreme fears-- fears that make you hide away from everyone, fears that make you hide from yourself, fear of crying, fear of never crying--being numb all over. Fear of breathing.

We usually tend to compare the fears and hold them against someone else's and because the fear becomes the most captivating thing in life, we find ourselves struggling to make it seem bigger than others. After all, how can something that can shake you to your core be smaller than someone else's. How can their idea of dark be more fearful than your idea of light?

We scoff when someone reveals their fears because our mind screams at us "they know nothing of it." How can they? They had never experienced the rush of intense terror you feel go through yourself at even the thought of that one thing. That one horrendous thing.  But, the truth is, they do. They walk the same hallways of the fearful school that you do.

[rainbowink]

Sometimes

Sometimes the sadness is too much.

Sometimes all you do is light up your cigarette and breath into the smoke that surrounds you, killing you slowly.

And sometimes all it needs is just one unattended cigarette and you wake up in a room filled with smoke, asking you to inhale again and again till you feel the sadness in your lungs as a reminder that even though you went to sleep, 

You never dreamt.

[icantdrawbutdontcare]

[A drawing of a black silhouette surrounded by fire and a burning tree, underneath a grey text that says: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” -Winston Churchill]

[rainbowink]

Dangerous

I can't help but wonder why she finds herself dangerous. As I sit near the bonfire I can see her for what she is-- a girl in pastel pink sweater, yes she told me what the difference is, who can't help but play around with the grass that surrounds us all.

Tell me, if she were as dangerous as she says she is-- why do I want to get up and go to her instead of everyone else who is sitting around this fire?

I can't help it if my feet move on their own and the next thing I know is her sweet fragrance surrounding me much like the orange light coming from the fire. I sit next to her and I can almost hear her sing to herself. I can't recognize the song, of course, we don't have similar music taste. While I prefer cool rock that keeps me awake she prefers the sound that puts her to sleep.

"You are not as dangerous as you claim." I interrupt her singing the unknown song.

She looks up from the ground as if she didn't notice me at first and then she smiles. Oh, that beautiful perfect smile. The only thing dangerous about her would be that smile-- how could it not be? She has perfectly shaped white teeth and the perfectly shaped red lips that form the perfectly sha- you get it.

"And why do you think so?" She whispers.

I wave my hand around because it is so obvious. "Look at you!" I stated. So obvious. "You are sitting here in front of the fire and singing god knows what and you are smiling your smile and... "

Her smile widened and somehow sweetened. "And?"

"And I wish other people weren't here so I could pretend we are on a date together."

I grin as she throws her head back to laugh at the sky. She never laughs without throwing her head back-- maybe because she knows that we mortals can't survive the beauty of her face while she is laughing so the only one who can witness it is the one in the sky. The one above us all. 

"You don't want to date me." She chuckles. 

"Of course I do!"

"No, no." She puts her hand on my cheek. Her delicate soft hand that spreads warmth all around my face. "You don't want to date me. I am--"

"I just proved that you aren't."

She grins. "Look around. Do you see her?"

I look, not because I want to see what she is showing me but because I can't help it that I want to look. Her words hold magic in them, her sentences are like sweet honey dipped orders that you have to follow even though there is no fear of punishment. Only love. 

"She is an artist." She says. "If you date her, she will draw you everyday. She will show you what you look like in her mind. She will capture every movement of yours in that mind of hers and then she will put it all out on a piece of paper to show you an image of yourself that mirror can not provide."

"Now," She grabs my chin and turns it in the opposite direction of the artist. "See her?"

I nod against her hand and she lets go of my chin with a chuckle. "Her. She is a singer. You will wake up every morning with a sweet voice singing in your ear-- not one day will start off bad. She will sing in front of thousands about the way you walk and the way you love her. A guitar, a piano or a drum, you can give her anything and in the end all she will sing about is you. In fact, all she will sing for is you. You will never live in a lonely silent world ever again."

I let her grab my hand as she points it to another girl sitting away from us. "Her? She is pretty isn't she?" I nod silently because I am afraid that if I disagree, she will stop talking. "She is a photographer. All she needs is a camera and there will never be a moment in your life that she won't capture. You won't ever have to worry about missing something ever again because you will know that she will have it for you. She will show you the world through a lens. She will show you yourself through a context."

"And now," She turns my head and I stare into her eyes. People always say eyes are beautiful but she proves them wrong. If you look at her eyes alone-- they are ordinary but on her face they shine brighter than the sun on a bright afternoon in march in Delhi. I know, very specific, but that is the brightest thing I know. Apart from her eyes, that is. 

"Me," She says. "I am a writer. I know that you will think it would be perfect to talk to perfectly constructed sentences and have poetic idioms be written about you but you forget that I am dangerous."

I sigh and decide to finally ask her. "What is so dangerous about you?"

"I can make the world hate you." She shrugs. 

"What?"

She turns to look at the fire in front of her and then turns back to me as if she had collected her thoughts. "I control what you look like. I control how they will see you. I can write you as an overly affectionate creature or as an abusive bastard and they will believe me. They will believe me if I say you have a tiny nose or if I say you were the physical manifestation of the grinch. Your reputation, I can destroy it in one second because I know how to tell something to make people believe it. I know how to make everything seem real because I know how to tell a story."

She comes closer to me and smiles. "Am I not dangerous then?"

"What will you make me out as, then?"

I shudder as she turns back to the fire and shrugs. "I already did."

[rainbowink]

“I can give you the world!”

“No, you can not because you don’t even have it yourself.”

[rainbowink]

Beautiful

A word that in itself is enough to define every desire in the world. We go through life looking to be beautiful—inside, outside, everywhere. We want ourselves to be beautiful. We want our life to be beautiful, we need ideas to be beautiful. We chase the beautiful around with wounded feet, hoping that it can provide the cure for all the problems.

We look at beautiful and call out to it with hushed whispers, afraid that someone else might steal it if they hear it. We spend out whole life with tear stained faces as we walk through the world of lies in search of beautiful.

Beautiful is a word that is, in itself—beautiful. Words have that power, unlike humans. Humans need to dig deep in every corner of the world to find beauty. They need to jump high with their hands out to merely graze the beauty. But, words. They simply exist to be beautiful.

I mean, words are always beautiful, aren’t they? They are like a light shining from behind the curtain, peeking into the room to say “hi, I am beautiful. Be jealous.” And we are, jealous. We are very jealous. We envy the beautiful, always.

But, why do they hurt then? If they are so beautiful—why do they poke? Why do they make us cry? Beautiful things don’t hurt. They don’t make you scream or scratch or go numb. Why do words?

They hurt because all the beautiful words are melted together to form a big sword of evil. A sentence. A sentence that is meant to stab you over and over again until you are left bleeding from your soul.

A sword of sentences, dripping with poison and venom and maybe, cries of words. Words beg, words plead to not ruin their beauty but the sword is never meant for any other purpose but hurting. It is impossible to save the beautiful, the sword almost grins as it drips more—the beauty dripping out and fading.

So, next time we go around chasing the beauty—we run with bleeding feet over world made of blades of lies and cruelty. Just stop and sit down. Wash your feet and grin at yourself. Comb your hair, change your clothes, walk back to your home—leave the chase in the middle. Save yourself, be smart, be bright. Be anything but beautiful. Remember what happens to the beautiful. Remember how beautiful words hurt. Feel how the sword stabs. Hear the cries of words trying to save the beautiful. And be grateful.

Because, here, we don’t ever savour the beautiful. We burn it till it turns ugly.

[rainbowink]

“Since when are cigarettes aesthetic?” “Since people started understanding the beauty of death and the cruelty of life.”

[rainbowink]

Rain of lies

She closed her eyes as she felt the wind rush past her into the oblivion. Her hair covered her eyes as they blew in different direction but she couldn’t be bothered to remove them. Her hands felt heavy to move and the task pulling her hair back felt like a big effort.

She saw his silhouette coming closer and hugged herself. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy. How could she have thought that she had walked out of the room easily and that was it? It was never one way with him. She knew that. He always needed to have the last word.

“You are leaving,” He panted out. He needed to breath, she could tell because he was easy to read. The frown over his eyes and his flaring nostrils told her whatever she needed to hear. He wasn’t a man of much words but his face was.

She breathed out. “Yeah.”

“Just like that,” He gestured towards nothing in particular. She just watched him with silent eyes as he bent down to catch his breath, heaving out heavy breaths. “With just one goodbye.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to—no words would have explained to him how she had felt. He wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t the one who had stared at the broken mirror and spent hours trying to fix it. He wasn’t the one who got the cuts from the shattered pieces of the glass, he wasn’t the one who had cradled the broken pieces to his heart and cried with hope that if there was a God, he would fix it. He wasn’t the one who had realised that he didn’t matter without her. He mattered, he always mattered. She didn’t.

He walked forward and held her shoulders. She hated the way her body shivered with just one touch and the way her hands begged to touch him—hold him. Even if it was just one time, she needed to feel his chest against her, feel him breath against her neck. How would she ever survive a life without it if she couldn’t survive an hour?

“Please,” He whispered. “Come home. We can fix it. Whatever happened, I will fix it. I promise.”

“But you can’t.”

He shook her head and his grip tightened. “No, I can. I will fix it. I can.”

She stepped closer and closed her eyes. “You can’t undo it.”

“What did I do?” He was close to tears. She could tell. She couldn’t stop as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She needed to remember it all. She couldn’t let go just yet.

She grabbed his shirt, feeling the fabric under her hands. It was silk—something they had both bought together. He had never liked silk but she had told him he would love it. And he did. Of course he did. She knew him like he didn’t know himself.

“You didn’t.”

He shook his head and hugged her. She inhaled. Her hands wrapped behind his back and she felt his hands in her hair. She couldn’t open her eyes even though she wanted to. It was as if her body had asked her to feel the moment, not see it. Feelings, we forget. Images? They stick.

“I don’t want to let go.” She whispered, tightening her hold on him. She felt his tear drop on her neck. He was crying now. Why wasn’t she? She owed him that much.

“Then don’t,” He whispered back. “Please. Don’t let go. Just stay.”

She smiled sadly at the request. “I can’t stay.”

“Is this revenge?”

She laughed. She felt her throat closing in. Her head pounded due to holding back the tears she knew needed to fall out. Why was she acting strong? Because one of us has to be, she thought.

“You are perfect,” She held on tighter. “You are so perfect that I sometimes start to wonder if perfect could evolve to be something better that can define you.”

He choked back a sob. “Please don’t leave me.”

She moved her head away from his shoulder and looked at his face. His eyes were red, so were his cheeks. His lips shone in the summer light. She looked into his glazed over eyes and smiled lightly, watching as another tear dropped down.

She moved her hand and wiped it away, holding his face in her hand. He had soft skin. Even though she had touched it multiple times, it still felt new. She was going to miss the softness.

“If I stay here with you,” She spoke slowly. “If I don’t leave now. I will lose myself.”

“No, you won’t.” He hurried out.

She smiled, caressing his face with her thumb. His eyelids fluttered against the touch. “I will. I am a part of you. I don’t know who I am as an individual. I need to go so I can love myself.”

“I can give you space,” He said. “I will move out. I will move my desk, my work. I will change everything. I can make this okay. Please, let me.”

She nodded. “I know you can make this okay. But, I don’t want you to.”

“Why are you giving up so easily?”

“I am not,” She whispered. “I stayed for as long as I could. I can’t anymore. I love you. I love you very much.”

“But?”

“But I don’t love myself. I need to leave so I can love myself.”

He leaned forward. She waited as he inched closer. His move had caution in it. She saw as his eyes shut, letting more tears flow. She closed her eyes as well—waiting for him. Feelings we forget, she chanted inside her head. Feelings are never remembered. Only images stick.

His lips touched hers and she gasped. She felt as the tears flowed out, getting mixed with his. She was wrong. She won’t ever forget this. She couldn’t. She grabbed his shirt between her fingers and tilted her head. She could feel his hands in her hair, grabbing onto them.

The kiss was desperate, sad and miserable. Yet, it was everything she could have asked for. This was worth crying for. He was worth crying for. He deserves the tears, she thought as more tears fell out of her eyes.

“I am sorry I wasn’t enough.” He whispered against her lips.

She pulled away, letting her forehead stay against his. They breathed out—the moment stayed in between their locked foreheads. It stayed and felt warm. Parting would mean letting the moment go and she wasn’t ready yet.

“You were everything I could ever ask for.” She said. She worried for a moment that he wasn’t able to hear her but he did. She knew because she heard his sharp inhale. “I am going to miss you so much. More than I can express.”

“And,” She opened her eyes. Her eyes took in his panting, tear stained face. He looked beautiful even when he looked like a mess. “I am sorry for leaving. I am sorry that I couldn’t fight anymore.”

“It’s okay,” He nodded. She wondered if he was refusing to open his eyes to make it easier. “I will let you go on one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“You come back to me when you are done.” He finally opened his eyes. His eyes shone with his lips. He blinked. “When you are finally you. Completely. The ‘you’ you love. Come back to me so I can love you as well.”

“I..” She felt the tears get back. He just wanted one thing, she should give him that. But, false hope sucked more than no hope. She would rather leave him with no hope than false hope. She couldn’t. “I..”

“I know,” He whispered. “I know. But, please. Lie to me.”

She brought her hands up to his face and traced his cheeks with her fingers, remembering the shape of his face.

“I love you.”

“I wish it was raining.” He chuckled wetly. She looked up at the sky at the shining sun and the white clouds. The blue expanded through the whole sky—almost watching down at their moment.

“I think,” She looked at him again. “It will rain.”

“It will?” He grinned against the tears.

She nodded and wiped them away. “It will.”

He smiled sadly and let go of her hair. She stumbled as his weight left hers and she was left alone, standing with her hands out—hands that inched to hold him again. It is too early, she cried inside her head. Please, two more minutes.

He sniffed and nodded. She could feel it. She could feel the moment slip away slowly. She could almost see it leave and merge with the blue of the sky. The moment was leaving and so was she. He knew they wouldn’t return and she knew that he knew. Maybe the sky knew as well.

“You are good at lying.” He whispered.

“I am sorry,” She cried out. “Please. I am sorry.”

“I hope it doesn’t rain.” He said as he turned out and walked away.

She hugged herself again, feeling the tears drop from her face onto the pavement under her. Her knees buckled as she fell on the floor, watching as he walked away. His silhouette disappeared from her view and all she could do was stare at it go away. If this was a movie, it would have rained. It would have rained and he would have come back—they would have preserved the moment for a little while more. They would have stayed in the rain and she would have apologized for thinking about leaving.

But, it wasn’t a movie because as she sat on her knees on the pavement, the sun laughed at her and the blue reflected off of her.  

[rainbowink]

They say we shouldn’t exist

The wind was very cold and I couldn’t help but wonder if being outside was a wise choice but before I could get up,  The sound of the water flowing hit my ears. It felt almost worth getting a cold.

Another shiver passed through me as I tied my hair back. “Are you cold?” I turned to look at the person next to me.  “We can go back if you are cold.”

Her otherwise dark hair appeared to have developed a golden brown tinge like strayed afterthoughts. I almost raised my hand to check if they were real or just another part of my imagination. She raised her hand, her red nail polish shining brightly next to the glaring sun, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Her voice blended perfectly with the scenery, almost as if it was the wind that was passing by on that calm day. The voice touched my face gently, whispered in my ear and then blew away into oblivion.

“You know,” I said, voice merely loud enough so she could hear. “They say we aren’t real.”

“What?”

“People..They say we aren’t real. What we are doing is wrong and shouldn’t exist.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. I wondered if she heard me. She scooted closer to me, making the sand gather around her ankles. Her hand came forward to hold mine and I blinked in confusion but didn’t say anything. I trusted her.

“Do you feel this?” She said as her thumb traced my palm slowly. I felt the warmth of her hand against my cold one and nodded, afraid that my voice might just betray me by cracking.

“What about..” She leaned forward and hugged me. I felt her heartbeat. “Do you feel this?”

“I do,” I whispered.

“And,” She let go of me and looked into my eyes. I could see all the details I never noticed about her, like the brown that circled her eyes just rightly so. They weren’t brown... they were everything beautiful.

“Do you feel how much I love you and how much you mean to me?”

I gulped and nodded. A warm feeling spread throughout my body, enough to make me forget about the cold. All that I felt was... her. “I feel it.”

And then she smiled. The smile that made her eyes crinkle at the end. “Good.”

“You see,” She shifted away and I couldn’t help but just stare at her as she moved away with her warmth. “At one time, the day will end and the moment will end. We will have to go back to our normal lives. But,”

I waited as she turned towards me again. “No matter what, we will always have this. You will always feel and so, we will always exist.”

I didn’t know what to say apart from the fact that I knew they were wrong. This wasn’t a wrong that felt right or the night that felt like sin. This was us, in daylight, with feelings like everyone else. We were right and they weren’t. And so, I smiled.

“We will always exist.”