Month: January 2016

Door.

You left the door open, and I shut it.

You left for your morning walk, I prepared my first cup of tea. I opened the window and let the pleasant winter wind ruffle my hair and refresh my senses.

Again, you left the door open, and I shut it.

You returned from the morning walk and changed into your formal attire to go sit once again in front of the computer screen. I prepared your lunch.

Once again, you left the door open, and I shut it.

You took your daily cab to office and I was now free. I switched on the TV, changing channels, not being able to decide on one, eventually shifting to the newspaper.

Your usual afternoon call didn’t wake me up from my nap today, and when I did wake up, I was hungry and late for cooking your dinner. The grocery shopping remained forgotten.

I prepared dinner in a haste, glancing at the clock tick-ticking on the wall with one eye. You would be here any moment.  In fact, to my luck, you were slightly late.

The door bell rang and I expected you to come in, leaving the door open for me to shut it. But when I called out and asked who it was, I only found out that this time,

You shut the door so firmly, I could no longer open it.

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Divergent, yet similar.

I was walking along this beautiful road

But it abruptly came to an end,

Like all beautiful things do.

Beyond this, the road had two different paths

Divergent, yet similar.

One, adorned with yellow roses,

The other, red ones.

Each was equally pretty, each equally inviting.

How could I choose? Oh, how could I?

I couldn’t.

Just as I was about to

Turn back and go home,

Planning on keeping the sweet hours

Spent on the road

Jailed forever in my heart

And

Ignoring either of the paths,

The path with yellow roses

Seemed to cry out loud.

It wanted me.

The red one though,

It was indifferent,

Or so I thought.

I couldn’t decide.

The red path with its fierce egoistic winds

And immense self respect

Somehow seemed to push me off towards the other path.

For it, this ego went above everything else.

That’s when I sensed the rivalry between the two streets.

Yet the winds pushed me on the path with yellow roses so harshly

That I was left with no choice anymore.

And so,

Abandoning the red roses

I walked on the yellow rose street,

comforting myself by believing,

‘The thorns were too many near the red roses.’

And so I walked and walked on,

Not once looking back,

But still deep within waiting for the red path to call me,

Embrace me.

A slight, a very slight and tender invite did call me,

But it went as soon as it came.

The two roads, opposite to each other, rivals, expected me to choose, but how could I?

Eighteen.

I’m going to be eighteen in a month. In the words of the world an ‘adult’.

Since a very early age, I have been mesmerised by the prospect of becoming one. Yet as the time nears, the tag also scares me. To be an adult is to take care of life head on, to not rely on mom and dad for every single thing and also, for me, it means the end of high school.

My last day in this school would be somewhere around the end of this month, and then I have my CBSE board exams, and I don’t know where my life would be headed right after that.

Eighteen. It sounds so cool, damn. All these years I have wanted to be eighteen but now, I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but I want time to freeze. I want to relive all that I have already lived because the stigma that comes attached with the age of eighteen is, “freaking” me out, in very casual terms. Oh my god,  18.

Time when I can finally get a license and learn to drive, when I can finally go out and vote in the next elections and do everything I have wanted to do as a child and restrained myself from doing, waiting for the big day, the eighteenth.

Excitement and fear are killing me, oh lord. Do I make any sense?

You’ve changed.

You’ve changed, best friend. You’re not the person you were, or the person I wanted you to be. You’re no longer available whenever I want you, no longer at my behest.

I remember those days when you spent all your time with me when I barely paid you any attention, I used to feel special you know. It’s really mean of you to realise your own importance and leave me alone. How can you make new friends? I was your one and only, wasn’t I?

You’ve changed, best friend. You no longer behave the way I want you to. You have stopped trying to impress me. I remember how hard you tried, while I always had other people to stay with. I can’t talk to you anymore.

You’re now talking to other people, other people who care more about you, who keep you happy. I don’t like it, you really just abandoned me. I hate you.

You’ve changed, best friend. I want the old you back. The old you who was there for me whenever I needed, the old you who never complained that I’m busy whenever you need me. You used to understand that I have a social life, yaar.

I can’t bear to see this new, confident version of you who readily releases her inhibitions. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see your face, go, go talk to your “new” friends who were actually always there, but you used to ignore for me.

You’ve changed, best friend.