Sunday, November 30, 2008

Are you okay?

Tensed. Uptight. Anger hurled at myself as much as anger hurled at you. Ego. All the forces humankind calls feelings that did not let me speak with you all this while. All this while, I held on to my silence as my armor and my weapon, angry at the unfairness that after coming so far and so close, we had to say a goodbye. Angry enough never to talk again. Invisible self-created barriers and self-inflicted rules that would stop me from asking or thinking about you. I told myself I had moved on. But then I heard of the blasts. I heard it, saw it, and felt it all around me. My first thought was – “Are you okay?” I worried about the X and the Y and the Z people I knew in Mumbai, hoping that they are all fine. You are the only one I wanted to speak with then and there to make sure you are fine. For the first few minutes, I could actually feel the sinking feeling deep down. I looked at the pictures of places burning and charred flesh scattered, and my heart shuddered at the thought that you could be in one of them. I drifted back to the memory of the conversation I had with you a few years back. A futile one if I must say, for you never did listen to me. Why live in Mumbai? I had asked. Why not come to the US?
-
Because this is where I belong. Curt. Simple. To the point. A lot was left unsaid. We went our own ways. Our ways never crossed again. “If only…”, I thought. I would not be worrying about you this way today. I left voice messages. I sent emails. All I cared about was the assurance that you were fine. Selfish and dastardly though it may sound, your safety was my first concern. I had 10 school friends, 18 college friends, 8 friends from social networking sites, and 5 blog acquaintances over there, give or take 10 more. Yet the person I learnt to stop caring about was the first one I wanted to know about. Suddenly, it seemed unfair that you should be in the midst of chaos while I should be vacationing, enjoying my thanksgiving dinners, and sightseeing Philadelphia. A simple “I am fine, thank you” was all I longed for. “Yes, I am fine, thanks for asking. I am in Singapore”. Oh Singapore? As far as it could get away from the trouble zone. I am glad. I feel happy. I said a thank-you-God. 

And then it resurfaced. The pain, the bitterness, the agony. It is amazing how a distressful news connected me to you, unselfishly, even though momentarily. All I cared about was the assurance that you were fine. And now that I knew you were fine, all my bitterness resurfaced. I had my hands crossed against my chest. They said it was a body language showing defensiveness. “Am glad that you are fine. Have a good life” “Can’t we still be friends? Why the animosity?”, you were quick to ask. “No, I don’t think we can be friends” Signed out. I wondered, why such care and concern if the hostility and the defensiveness had to resurface once I knew all was fine. It’s like not wanting to see him hurt, but reserving the rights of hurting him in my own way. Sometimes I have difficulty in understanding myself. I told myself all this while that I did not care. But I think I did. Maybe not enough to want to stick around in your life, but enough to want you to stick around here in this world. Safe. 

 sunshine.

10 comments:

GenericIPguy said...

NOT all 'WHYs' have an answer... or if the answer can logically fit all aspects of the 'WHY'

Time does not heal every thing... it only clogs our memories with newer 'files'

Rosh said...

Good post! Pain and Life go hand in hand.

Cheers,
Rosh(http://roshabraham.blogsome.com)

Pavi!!!! said...

Such is Life!

n u've proved...ur HUMAN!Pat on ur back!To have cared n worried over whether the foe/enemy (for lack of a better word) is safe..takes a Big Heart n u have that!

That Girl said...

hmm.. sounds like you need to forgive, sometimes even forgive yourself if you have done anything caustic in return.Even if you do not keep in touch ever again.

chin up babe.

Gazal said...

Hey I can totally identify with it.
Do you want to try writing that using third person.
It will make a good short story.

And its really hard to totally move on. Just a sign that what you had was real, even though it did not work out. Or may be, it did not work out because it was real. It would have become ordinary had it worked out.

Gazal said...

First installment of my take on moving on in case you are interested.
I wrote this first and then read your post. Thats why I suggested writing that short story :-)

http://tearsndreams.wordpress.com/2008/12/01/meant-not-to-be/

How come your blog never lets me comment from my word press account?

Dreamcatcher said...

That was so honest. And really moving.

kd said...

Hate is Love seen through the distorted vision of anger. When one is there, the other almost surely is.

Anonymous said...

In all wat i read, the only line were i relate myself is ...."reserving the rights of hurting him in my own sweet way as long as he lives".
Kasam say...sumtimes u feel very bad for doing dis..but cant help it...and it continues.
Tell u one more thing...stop reading/reciting/repeating/re-reading those lines on chat.
T.C

sunshine said...

GenericIPguy- Wow-- that's a geeky but a nice way to put it.

Rosh- Sure they do.

Pavi- No big heart, but just the fair share of human emotions- both dark and otherwise :)

Grafxgurl- :) Chin up !!!!

Aarzu- Umm -- I don't know about the wordpress thing. But what's there in writing stories about your own miseries? And hey, thanks for the link, though if I wrote anything more on this topic, it won't be anything like that :)

Dreamcatcher- :)

silcador- That's a beautiful thing to say -- seriously !!

Sari- :) Wish you could relate to more