Bottom of the Ocean

She was sinking, sinking deep in the pools of her despair,
She was alone, so alone.
No one to talk to, to laugh with, no one to lean on while tears silently dripped down her cheeks.
Everyone had ‘their person’. Who did she have?

She was taught that sharing is good. But she didn’t want to share anymore. She was so tired, tired of it all. All she wanted was that one person, that one friend, who would, for once in her life, put her first. Let her occupy the top ledge.

She didn’t want the illusion anymore, ’cause everytime reality struck she was toppled off from the top ledge and she went hurtling down and crashed into the hard ocean bed. She was broken. It cost her too much to  bring herself up from this. With iron manacles shackling her down to the ocean floor, she was drowning, drowning in her own pool of misery. Weighing a ton, it was a struggle to the surface every single time.

And yet she learned her lesson not. Because she let herself hope. Let herself be swept away in the fantasy. Because in the fantasy the lead role thrust upon her, it made her joyous. Joyous but forgetful as it would seem she’d forgotten her struggles all together until she came tumbling down again.

How does she put a stop to this, she knows not. It’s too late to look for that person, yet never to late to learn from her past endeavours, that she’ll never come first. All she needs to do is stop living in the illusion, to open her eyes and accept reality.

That’s all anyone can do in life, really.

Because the Night

Are you a night owl or are you the early bird? What’s your most productive time of day? When do you do your best work? The Daily Post

“At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.” said Jawaharlal Nehru in his rousing speech ‘Tryst with Destiny’. 66 years ago, on the cusp of Freedom this is what Pandit Nehru said. Little did he know that 60 odd years later a generation would be born who would thrive after twilight when the rest of the world sleeps. When insects and birds, creepies and crawlies retire and only the soft hoot of owls keep you company.

Like the rest of my peers, I come alive during the late night hours, or er, really early morning hours if you will. There’s something about the tranquility and peace that comes with that hour. Everything is calm and quiet. There’s no shrill whistle of the pressure cooker going off, or the continuous honking of cars, or the grinding gears of the blender. No chitter-chatter of people around and no more construction work. It’s that calm and sense of peace that helps me focus and get my work done as humanly fast as possible. And then there’s always the lull of sleep enticing to work and finish it so you can let your senses be engulfed by the sweet dreams sure to come.

The Unknown

What is it about the unknown that intrigues us so?

It didn’t take much to excite me. Your words were all I needed really. But would you blame me? Being born and brought up with impeccable language skills, although growing up in a place where very, very few people do justice to the language, I guess it doesn’t take much to fall for someone’s words. Or maybe that’s just me and my inner Frost. Either way, all it took was a few words here and there, and a genteelness you unknowingly portrayed that ignited a spark in me.

You ask me if it’s a full-blown fire raging? No, not yet. That might have something to do with the fact that neither do I have a name, nor a face to go with said name which I don’t know. Aah yet, there’s something about The Unknown, which sings out to me. The mysteriousness makes me pine more and more everyday. A quenching thirst is what you evoke in me, a curiosity so deep, I’m pretty sure it is going to get me killed. And all for a name. That’s all I want really. Your name, to satisfy, myself, to quell this thirst and maybe, just maybe pine over you.

But isn’t it the mystery itself which makes it so much more appealing? For now you could be my Prince Charming, the eternally good-looking fellow who can serenade me with his lovely songs or charm my pants off with his words. You’ve built your own identity and although I may claim I dislike the British accent, you still had me at the fact that you were British.

But are you really? For all we know you could be my junior. And that would be horrifying, something I really don’t want to think about. But then again I guess I’m just one of those people who needs to know it, irrespective of whether it’s pleasant or mighty unpleasant, I’d still rather know who you are and deal with what I know than ponder over days on end and still not find out who you were. And I guess it doesn’t help that not only do you come across as a nice human being which has become a rare breed in itself but that we might share similar interests.

Gah. If only we could have everything we wanted in life though. But I will find out a way to find you. I guess it’s a good thing that while I am highly curious I do have a pretty strong will power when it comes to something I want.