There will come an end

It's tough. You walk around feeling lifeless. Living day to day. Going through life one moment to the next. Passing by people and hating them for no real reason. Hating your surroundings. Hating what your life has become and yet, having to put on a facade. An act put on to try and convince yourself that your life means something. You try to be okay. You try to distract. You try to make peace. You try to convince yourself that things will be okay. You try to pray. You try to live. Yet that loneliness. The feeling of isolation and desertion. That never goes.

On nights like tonight I can't help but hate myself. I grew up alone. Yet I was happy. Then she came along and showed me what company could bring. Now, alone. Forever. Lost. Lonely. Helpless. 

I don't deserve her. I never did. But the pain of needing somebody who you may never talk to or even see again is just getting unbearable. The time will finally arrive when I truly cannot live without her. I try to convince myself day to day, that I'm ok. That I'll survive. But deep down I know that day will come. And when that day comes, I know I have no one to turn to. 

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Happy Birthday S

I look up at the moon, from whence she came,
The angel with the flowing hair,
A voice filled with sugar,
A smile made of pearls. 

I look up at the moon,
I see her there with me, 
Far away she may be, 
But within my heart she resides. 

I look up at the moon, 
Longing in my heart, 
Forever in my thoughts, 
No matter the distance between us.

I look up at the moon, 
To wish you a happy birthday S, 
Have a wonderful year, 
Forever I am yours.

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I am Peter Parker

It's a tough life, being the quiet chap sitting in the corner of the room, observing everyone around. The guy who prefers nothing better than to spend his time alone, watching the latest sporting event. It's tough to live with yourself when you'd rather talk about stuff with a bunch of people on twitter you've never met, rather than go out and actually meet people. It is the worst, when you hold your phone in your hand and realize that no one is ever going to call you, and worse still, you have no one to call (outside of your parents of course).

I'm probably an extreme case. Even now, I choose to write here than find somebody to talk to about this. But why?

I watched "The Amazing Spider-man" recently. Half an hour into the flick, I realized something. I'm Peter Parker. Yes, that sounds crazy, but let me explain.

Peter Parker (the character) is shy, quiet, a bit nerdy. But it's not just these characteristics that make me feel like him. Love. Love for the girl I've always believed I can never have. Love for the girl that makes me hate myself beyond anything measurable. Damn, do I know how that feels!

I was in school many years ago, and shamelessly in love with the prettiest girl in school (I still am), indeed the prettiest I'd ever met. We were friends. Good friends. Yet I had not the courage to tell her so. Peter Parker in the beginning of the movie, has a wallpaper on his computer. A photo of Gwen Stacy taken secretly.

Me? Once upon a time, *she* had dropped a playing card at my place. I never returned it to her. 7 years on, that playing card enjoys a pride of place among my possessions. The 2 of clubs. It rests in my wallet, close to me, as I try to hold on to her. Yes, I realize this makes me sound mad.

Anyway, I have lost her. Twice, actually. The first time was in school itself, when I seemingly lost her friendship. I lost her to exams and rumors that can circle a teenager. I suffered. For one and a half years. I would cry for her everyday. I would curse the Gods that took her away from me. I would beg no one in particular to return her to me. I forgot what happiness was.

Then, one day, fate (which I never believed in till that moment) reunited us. We became close friends. Closer than ever. I wanted to tell her I loved her. So badly. It burnt me inside. One day, I decided I would. I walked up to her. She smiled. I lost my voice. I lost my gut. She left for home. I beat myself over it while I realized I could never tell her to her face. Then I sent her a text. I poured my heart out. Through a freaking text message. She rejected me. But not convincingly. 3 months later she was mine. Mine for life. Or so I thought.

For four and a half years this Peter Parker was Spider-man. I had the world at my feet. Well, I had the pretty girl from school. But aren't they much the same thing? To me, at least they are. I was invincible. I was proud. I was happy.

Everyday, the best moments would be our phone calls. Our little texts to each other reminding us about our love. Those stolen whispers at the middle of the night while everyone around was asleep. Then there were our stolen glances. Quiet little meetings in the coffee/dessert place a few hundred metres away from home. Everything was amazing.

But somewhere within Spider-man, Peter Parker lived on. Scared. Insecure. Afraid. Deep down I knew I wasn't good enough for her. Maybe it was an unfair assessment of myself. Maybe it was completely warranted. But I was always afraid of the day she would feel the same way. The day came.

It's been nearly 7 months since she left. I begged and pleaded with her for much of it. But eventually I realized there's no sense in both of us being sad with our lives. So I let her go. No, I can't stop loving that dame with that gorgeous smile, but at least I can keep out of her life for her happiness right? How about moving on, you may ask. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you might say. That's not within the realms of possibility. Why?

Like I said, I'm probably an extreme case. I don't know for sure. As I sit quietly in my room alone everyday, I miss her. I miss the one person I always trusted. The one person whose company I craved, I enjoyed. It's not all about love and flirtation. She was... No. She is much more than that to me.

There are a couple of friends I do have, who talk to me sometimes. And neither can understand why it's so difficult to move on for me. What they don't understand is that I want to move on too. I want to forget. I want to be like any "normal" person. But I'm not. For much of my childhood, I was happy by myself. As a kid I would set up my stumps on the street outside my home every evening and just bowl at the stumps. Playing with other kids, just wasn't in my DNA.

But she. She was different. The moment I saw her, I wanted to know her. I wanted to talk to her. I craved her attention. I craved her company. I felt for her the way I'd never felt for another human being before. The connection I felt with her was far beyond romantic. For the first time in my life, I wanted a friend. For the first time, I felt that not having one had left a void in my life.

Today, I feel that same void. Nothing, and nobody but her can fill that void. For an introvert like me, it's tough to even talk to somebody. I often sit and watch in envy when I see a guy in big group joking, laughing and having a good time with a big group of people. Instead, I'll be the quiet guy nobody notices sitting alone in the canteen, eating his lunch. Peter Parker. For a guy like that, a guy like me, to want to even talk to somebody, is a massive deal. This is something most people don't seem to understand.

Today the Peter Parker in me is all that's left. Spider-man is gone. Gone with her sweeping hair, her expressive eyes, those skinny cold hands and that loving, almost caressing smile. I retreat everyday, further away from people. Further into the arms of those of you reading this.

I pray to the Gods to have mercy on me. I pray to have her back. Indeed, the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness has turned me, once again to the Gods. I tell them the truth. She has never just been a person I wanted. Instead she has always also been the person I needed.

I want to be able to climb the walls again. I want to be a hero to the downtrodden. I want to love myself. As I lie in bed, the Peter Parker that I am, writing this, I miss my Gwen Stacy. I miss my Mary Jane Watson. I want to be better. I want to be worthy of her love. I want to be good enough for her and more.

In short, I want to be Spider-man again.

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The Angel from the Moon

Down he walked,
On the pitch dark street,
Shivering with fright,
Cowering in fear,

Suddenly she came down,
From far far above,
An angel sent,
By the moon herself.

Joined her she did,
On the path of darkness,
Her radiant smile,
Leading the way.

Her beauty it struck him,
Her eyes, they floored him,
Her smile, it warmed him,
Her voice, it calmed him.

Her hands were so cold,
Yet in those soft hands he felt,
A warmth he'd never known,
Yet one that felt right.

They talked,
They shared,
They hugged,
They laughed.

The darkness around,
It never went,
With her around,
It was never felt.

Then came the sun,
To bring brightness to the world,
Light and happiness,
It all spread around,

But for the angel,
The time had come,
To spread her wings,
To fly away.

He wept, he pleaded,
For her to stay,
I love you so much,
He said in pain.

Without turning back,
She flew away,
To her he had meant perhaps,
Nothing at all.

As the light spread around,
And the happiness spread,
The darkness spread,
In his heart instead.

Love her did he,
From the bottom of his heart,
Without her his life,
Meant nothing at all.

To this day he walks back,
To that pitch dark street,
Looking up at the moon,
With a tear in his eye.

Till eternity will he wait,
For that lovely angel,
To come back to his life,
To make him happy again.

Dedicated to the angel from the moon in my life

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The one

Life is like a revolving door. People come. Some linger. But almost all of them eventually leave. It's one of the unchanging facts about life. For most people, there is just that one person who lingers, a constant in a life filled with variables. That one person who means everything to you.

I had that one person. With me. By my side. But she now wants to leave, be among those moving in and out through that revolving door. Do I stand by, watch her walk away, into the distance, never to return? I could. I could lose her. Forever.

No, I can't do that. Not her. Never her. That smile on her face, that god damn hauntingly beautiful smile. It makes one feel light on his feet. Makes him hear the fluttering of the wings of a butterfly, the chirping of the birds and the cool breeze fluttering through the air. Above all, her smile makes the world seem a nice place, full of hope. Full of dreams.

She places her hand on the handle of the door. Pushes at it. The door begins to spin. I feel a cold rush in my stomach. Like someone unplugged a drain in my stomach causing my insides to swirl around viciously. Begging and pleading. That only makes her run away faster.

Easier, it would be, if we could just erase our memories. We've even had a movie dedicated to that idea, 'The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'. But in the movie, the protagonist, as I refused to let her go, that one magical person.

Now, you may ask, how? How do you know that she is that one constant? A simple enough sounding question. A difficult one to answer though. You could give in an umpteen number of answers.

As a rule, my first reaction to people is to dislike them. I know, it's not very healthy, but some character flaws are just that. Anyway, you wonder why out of nowhere, I pulled out that seemingly random statement of fact about me. Well, it's not random, it's quite relevant.

She was the first person, nay, the only person ever, who instantly charmed me. I didn't need to talk to her, I didn't need to hear her voice, I didn't need to spend hours with her. It just happened.

But hours of our childhood we did spend, talking, laughing, joking. As you might have guessed, a person who's instinctive reaction to people is dislike, can get pretty lonely sometimes. But till I met her, the loneliness never bothered me. I liked being aloof. I liked keeping to myself, in my own world, far from the matters of the world, that I found trivial. But she got me, hook, line and sinker.

It takes a lot to pull an introvert out of his shell. It takes a lot to make a distrusting person, trust on sight. She has that for me. That gift. Like a magnet she sucked me out of shell.

But. Sometimes, people can be undeserving of that one person. Undeserving of love. Undeserving of happiness. Undeserving, of the right to be happy. As I run after her into the night, praying for the best, deep down I know, that I am among them.

I see her smile floating in everything around me. The breeze carries the gentle waft of the smell of her sweet hair. I hear her laughter ringing in my ears. I feel those cold yet soft hands, waiting to be held gently. I run after her, relentlessly. Giving up is not an option. Not with her.

Not, the one.

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She was the one

It was a warm sunny morning. Nice, some would say. Only for him, it turned out anything but. "We should end this" said the text message. First thing he saw after waking up. Confused and paralysed he slowly replied saying "what?"

Fear was slowly taken by panic. The hands shook. The lips trembled. The eyes reddened. What followed was a series of begging, crying, negotiating and anger. But nothing would make her budge. Nothing.

They'd been together a long time. Some could say the distance between them had driven a wedge between them. But no, he told himself. They spoke everyday. In fact they'd even spoken last night. She sounded fine last night, he thought to himself.

Some might say he'd taken her for granted. Maybe he told himself.

He began pleading, asking her for one last opportunity. This time she wouldn't respond. He called. She wouldn't pick up. Tears trickled down his cheek. For a guy of little emotion this was a lot. He sat in shock. He didn't eat, but wasn't hungry anyway. Food wasn't what he wanted. She. She was all he wanted.

Grief struck him again. He curled himself almost into a foetal position, and cried. Cried like he'd never cried before. He tried to think of how he could win her back. All he could think of was her smile. That bloody gorgeous smile. That smile that he could stare at all day long. More tears.

That lovely laugh that filled him with warmth. That excited chatter. The impatient "why didn't you reply?" for the message she'd sent a minute ago. He was never going to see those again. He couldn't stop the whimpers from escaping his lips. He couldn't breathe. Grief had seized him.

The stomach was queasy, the throat was stuck. The eyes were dry, yet tears kept trickling down. The numerous phone calls. The hundreds of chat messages. The millions of I love you's. Her mischief ridden voice. All gone. Forever. His head hurt. The sky was falling on his head. All gone.

Amongst all the thoughts of her beauty, her intelligence, her personality. One thought echoed in his mind. She was the one. And he'd lost her. Forever.

All characters are purely fictional

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Why Waves??

Three and a half years had passed since I joined BITS-Pilani Goa Campus. My last day as a BITS Student in Goa was passing by as I sat on the beach in Baga. A friend sat beside me (Chummi), one who I'd worked with for Waves on many an occasion. Somehow in our quiet reflection we remembered our times at Waves. I had already in the past mentioned how it would be a dream come true to be able to one day help Waves from the outside, and this came up for discussion. In that discussion, he brought up how he felt that now it all seemed so pointless, so fruitless. He asked me, what is it that entices you so much? Why Waves?

It was a question that I'd have thought would have an obvious answer. But right there at that moment I had none. Why Waves? Really what was so special about that festival? Was it the amount of fun I had working for it? No not a strong enough reason to explain the attachment. Was it the joy I got from seeing the festival grow? Well, maybe, but usually such strong bonds are formed when there is a selfish reason involved. This isn't one. So what was it?

I spent the next day thinking about it. Why Waves, why waves, why waves?? Why I hated quark was an easy one to answer. Quark always seemed to do everything possible to make life difficult for those of us organising Waves. (Especially when they refused to shift quark to the 1st sem, forcing us to; thereby making sure we had to fight rain every damn time). My liking of Spree also had a good solid selfish reason attached to it. I love basketball. Seeing a platform where excellent teams compete is something that's well worth it. Which once again brings me back to "WHY WAVES"??

What is it about something that makes us feel so deeply attached that we struggle to ever break free. What is it about Waves that holds me so tight, and yet I have no logical explanation as to why it is so. No logical explanation. There is none. I would be the first one to admit that. Yet, I worked and fell in love with the festival. I know deep down Waves may never be a Mood Indigo, or a Saarang. But Waves for some odd, illogical, unexplainable, undecipherable reason, will always be my beloved WAVES. Don't ask why, what if or anything else. It is what it is. In the words of Rajnikant in the movie (FAIL) Baba, "Ghatam Ghatam". Continue Reading »