Nahi Tera Nasheman Qasr-e-Sultani ki gumbad par.
Tu Shaheen hai, basera kar, Pahadon ki Chattanon par....
Saturday, 27 June 2009
"Another day has gone
I'm still all alone How could this be You're not here with me You never said goodbye Someone tell me why Did you have to go And leave my world so cold"
- Micheal Jackson "You are not alone"
He sat by the candle in the room and opened the letter. The open window let in cool air from the nearby lake and ruffled his hair across his face, pushing them aside, he proceeded to read his best friend's letter.
Sometimes I think to myself, who am I? whenever I ask myself that question, Its probably a sign that I have spent a considerable amount of time alone and silent. And that some things have happened which make me go into one of those pensive moods that I have come to loathe. The moments where I write to TRY to express my feelings. But Never get them across. Maybe its because I have never turned my heart inside out to anyone, save maybe one or two people.
When I feel that amount of lonliness, the first instinct inside me makes me want to run to someone I could hug and cry. And 99 times out of 100, I am in no position to run, financially or geographically or maybe just coz there is no one to run to. When I say that, it means I cant run to anyone who could listen to what I have to say.
In my entire life, people have meant the world to me. So much so that I have loved each more than the previous. I heard a line in a movie once, which stuck with me, it went , "Give so much love, that it never falls short...." to which the protagonist adds, "But it always falls short."
At the time I heard it, it was just another moronical filmy line. But as I went through life, I for one felt that line embodies a lot of spirit and truth in my state of being. Maybe its just the way I am made, or rather, the way I have made myself.
Some people say I am sensitive, some say I am mad. I say I am both. I guess it just happens that I love people so much that I make myself an integral part of their lives. It goes worse when they like me back. This is where it goes wrong, at this juncture, I expect the people to make me an integral part of THEIR life. Well its better now actually, I dont go nuts totally, earlier, if someone I loved even a little lied to me, even if it was to protect me, I would go beserk. Now I dont, Now i just give it time. And I feel at times it doesnt work. So even though I still love them, and they love me, after a stage, I break. Its become so much that it has formed a forever repeating cycle with me. I thought I came to terms with it when I got life's biggest shocker. But i guess its one of those things you never get used to, no matter how hard you try.
I asked my friend why it is that I go down the throes of disappointment in such scenarios. He said that it is because I am meant to love and not to be loved. And if i looked at life that way, it would be much simpler and much more nicer to deal with. There comes a time when you look deep inside your life and you feel that its a life you dont want to live. You analyze the day and how it passes, and you dont want to live it through. You look forward to what is about to come, and an omnious voice inside you says it wont be any better. At this juncture, you do what I am going to do.
To all the people in my past and present, I love you, and I always will.
Forgive me for any wrong I have done to you, it was not intentional.
Monday - 9:30 pm
He closed the letter and felt his eyelid let go of the one tear that always escaped his eye. As the tear rolled down the cheek, he whispered to himself, "You should have given me one chance to reply to this letter my friend. One chance."
He folded his best friend's last letter and put it back in his wallet. He extinguished the candle and put it back in the shelf. He walked out of the very room where his friend had shot himself 2 years ago. He had read the letter every monday at 9:30 pm. He closed the room with his left hand, and wiped the lone tear with his right.
The above story is a foray into the mind of a pyschologically disturbed human being. Inspired by a story I had read a long time ago.