Steven C. Greene and I

There are times when you feel infinite, those moments when you feel like there's nothing which stops you from being what you truly are when you and your significant other are surrounded by happiness and love and all the right things, those moments of impact, and of true love. Moments like these are rare and they help fix us all, one piece at a time and with Steve, I've experienced each one of these moments. When all we have is love in between the little air surrounding our bodies, when we are looking at each other, feeling the energy between us and wishing to get lost in the immense happiness.
It is funny how meaningless the same surroundings become when the person whom you spent those moments with is not there, and you involuntarily start looking for them around, beside you or fetching you some food to eat, walking by your side, hand in hand, or sitting at the table on the other side. When your eyes search for anything familiar to the person, for the chairs and tables you touched while you were together, the smell, the heavenliness which their aroma gave you and the strength they had, the healing power, the catharsis. 

Such is the love between us. Some people have a notion that love is consuming and all you do is spend your resources without a proper return, that you 'fall' in love. I have never felt it happening to me, for I've always risen, risen in love with him. He is the early morning breeze which freshens me up, he is the moonlight which guides me at night, his love is the support which helps me get up after facing failures, the smile on his face motivates me to be happy, his words make me confident about my dreams and aspirations. There's not one moment I can recall when I've fallen, when I've felt less of what I am, of what I want to be. 

Steve has been the most resilient support I have that I can recall from the time I started understanding the nuances, ways and beings of an undergraduate student's life. Helpful, kind and empathetic, he has always appreciated what all I did and used to do and he still does. Never has one day gone when he doesn't try to lift me up by cheering me through my bad days, by motivating me to believe in myself if I'm feeling low. He makes sure he brings coffee for me if I'm feeling cold and reserves half of his sandwiches for me when he comes to see me, he turns up at the most unexpected moments to surprise me with nice songs and leaves no opportunity to introduce me to some of the nice things of the world. His touch sends shivers down my spine and the warmth of his hugs make me less tensed about my work. He has those gleaming eyes which look for me in the crowd and the smile which reaches his eyes. His expressions tell me that I'm the only damn thing which will ever matter to him. He doesn't need to meet me, or listen to me every passing hour to sustain the love, one smile from me is enough for him to do that. 
I can clearly remember his heavenly scent making me utterly happy, I can almost touch the edges of his lips, the curves of a very lovely face and how the one freckle on his forehead makes me want to kiss him. How he becomes sad about his receding hairline and how sad he is about his inability to lift me up. But that, that matters the least to me. All that matters is how one day I slept on his lap while he smoothened my hair, how he held my hand to make me okay, how he shows his affection for me by touching my cheeks with his fingers, how he calls to check if I have reached home alright or not, how warm and safe he makes me feel like, and how infinite I am in his presence. How his hugs assure me about my work, how his words inspire me to try on for more leadership and how his eyes motivate me to face challenges head on. And he still drives me around the city to the most beautiful places and all I can do us love him in return for all that he does for me. 

Forgiving and kind, he has shown me the power of love. He has shown me what it means to be the significant half of your special someone and he has empowered me to become more and more for my own self. And even if we have lots of responsibilities on our heads, and we don't get to spend as much time as we deserve, but I know, there will always be an idiot who is waiting every night for a young fat little girl to tell him how much she adores him and loves him so that he can retire for the night and sleep happily. And I know he wishes that she'll come home soon to kiss him good night every day. And I know that he knows all of this. 

Of Emotions and Life in General

All my life I've been living under the impression that being emotional is a weakness. You know, something that you associate with the frivolity of character, lack of maturity, temperament issues and bleh. So whenever someone says “Hey, you’re so emotional” you counteract the person by saying that you’re not and that that person should get the hell away from you. 

But today, this moment, right now, I've come face to face with the fact that it’s not a weakness, it is power. It's having immense power to care, to feel things to a whole new level, to love, to be kind, to help, to learn, and to grow. Not all of us lesser mortals are endowed with this power. Some are so devoid of it that they sometimes forget to even appreciate the fact that being emotional is being more human.

I have been called dramatic all my life but hey, that's just how I am and that's how I think I'll be in future. That's a part of me. So there are days when I just start crying for reasons amounting from getting no chocolates to getting a thousand hugs from the people who love me, and some days I just become so happy for no apparent reasons that I can recall. I also try to make sure I smile at the people who help me by offering me a seat to me in the usually filled metro or passing my tickets in crowded buses or the kids who find they’re very likeable if you smile at them. I have been told on several occasions that I live on extremes, either by being too sad, or too happy, or angry or being kind and passionate and that there's nothing in between for me. 

I have actually stopped caring about most people's opinions of me these days, not all people though, for I also believe that we should at least consider the opinion and think about it, we might find it useful or at least we would know that what they said/wrote was utter crap, but we should give their opinions an honest thought, just like I wrote in another blog entry of mine, but I digress.

So days as such, I find that the fire in me gets rekindled for whatever reasons and I try to become a better version of me. The one which makes sure that she doesn't cry for the same reasons again and improves the bad things in herself, the one which makes sure she does more of things that make her happy (things include listening to my playlist, talking to people, encouraging women to do whatever the heck they want to do and spending fam time), the one which makes sure she is kinder and more helpful. I think trying to be a better version of yourself counts really. That's how you actually know you're growing by being more of a human, more sensitive and more you.

And I think if all the people used their emotions as their strength, more people would try to be a better version of themselves. And the world would be a better place to live, maybe. (Is this my ending catchphrase?)

Sometimes

Sometimes, just sometimes I can hear my heart craving freedom from its cage. Sometimes, I can hear the crackling of my bones collapsing under the weight of the lives that I chose to live, and sometimes I wish to just let the fall take over me.

This is one of those times when I feel absolutely shattered, and it has nothing to do with anyone here. It's just me, trying to cope up with the lives I have chosen, and the struggle that I have to go through every day because of that. Some people see that, and try to ignore it, and the rest are just deceived by the mask of happiness that I put in front of me. 

It's not easy being me. No, I am not a girl with a red cape who tries to remove world hunger and is probably trying to bring world peace, No, I am not even doing some community service. I am a simple woman with much simpler aims. 

Some days I try to lead a team with the most irritatingly cute members, and on other days I need to make sure that I am sane myself. Some days I make projects within hours, and on other days I am not sure I have any "skills". Some days I find it hard to believe that I have actually advised someone to do something and it has turned it all in their favour, and on other days I need to re-read my own advises just so that I can work back again. 

Some days I laugh so hard at the jokes that I crack, and on other days I can feel the wetted bedside sheet below my eyes. I am that sort of a woman who spills milk on her clothes and can still go on talking about my interests and passions at length in front of a huge audience. Someone who can not eat well on a few days but can still swallow sachets on sachets of ketchup. I am the woman who loves her soulmate beyond anything but still wants to take a recluse. Someone who wishes that all her loved ones are cared for but sometimes  forgets to love her mother and father like they should be loved. I am the person who becomes the strength of her family and friends and can go to any extent to support them, but sometimes my legs are so weak with facing all the burden together that I fall and can't get up.

It's difficult being me. 

Someone who comes home to see the darker side of a family she wishes to leave and feels sad at the same time on the thought of it. Someone who wakes up in the morning with to do lists which only grow with each passing day, who wishes to climb the ladder of learnings to solve the issues she has been feeling for since she started understanding the world. Someone wishing that she can love the man of her dreams with all her heart and leaves aside her work with just one tiny hope of spending more time with him, even when he leaves in the next five minutes to attend to someone or something more important. Someone who just wants to do so many things at once but isn't sometimes able to remember little things like her bag, her wallet or even the umbrella on a rainy day. But well, I am not a girl with a red cape.

And it has nothing to with the family, or the house, or the people in my life, or my special someone. It is me, and waking up every day to see yourself struggling with these little things is not a pretty sight to behold. But it is not hard you see, pretending that everything is okay when your own self is ripping you apart, in front of you. Not something I would want even my arch enemies to face. So I just put that mask up in front of me and try to be "okay" with things that are tearing me into bits and pieces and I try to face the challenges head on. I go through the same melancholy day, the same farce with unending energy and never fading smiles. But the doors in front of me are always closing in. And when they do, I can hear those deep cries emerging from deep within me which some people ignore, and some don't even see. But the next day, I rise again only to be stronger than yesterday and more cheerful than I had ever been. 

But sometimes, just sometimes I can hear my heart craving freedom from its cage. Sometimes, I can hear the crackling of my bones collapsing under the weight of the lives that I chose to live, and sometimes I wish to just let the fall take over me.

~ Kath M. Embers

True, Fundamentally.

I was born in a family where I was taught that you can eliminate all the darkness with just a spark of light, that all the negativity can be erased with one streak of positivity and all the ignorance can be eradicated with continuous flashes of knowledge.
I have been a true believer of this, and it forms the fundamental way of my very living. I believe in truth above everything else and this, this I feel is something that's universally true. A flicker of light can guide a lost wanderer to his destination and a flare of spark can lead two people into a forever rising love.

But today I felt an elemental doubt rising deep in my heart that questioned the most basic truth. What if the sea of negativity is limitless and the positivity, just a little speck? What if the intensity of darkness is so enormous that it overwhelms the glint of light?

"I am proud of you, you little asshole"

It wasn't meant to be funny or full of humour or a smart response that I had given for some task deftly done. It was borne purely out of love and sincere emotions towards Steve and had contained my awe for him, for the things that he does, for the brain that he has, for his thinking process, for his skill-set, for the adroit ease he shows while doing the mightiest of tasks and most of all, that he is not vain of all these things at all. I am just so proud of him but I probably failed to transpire my actual emotions into well-picked words that would show him all the things that I wanted him to see.
"And also stop calling me by such names. It's not really funny always."
Well, on the hindsight, it does seem cheap of me to call him an asshole, but he is quite an asshole at times, however, this time, it was out of admiration. It was a sarcastic way of showing my love, my affection for him. Ah my fault entirely,  and I am happy Steve brought it up really because this means that we're frank and that's very important I think. We're true to each other and this is important.

But, it led me to a tiny conclusion that a little negativity sometimes crushes positivity. A simple "asshole" was enough to send the "proud of you" into deep and dark corners where its effect almost lessened so much it perhaps died out. To be terribly honest, it did sadden me up because I thought he was happy that his "precious" Kath was so very proud of him, that his "significant other" was so fond of him and loved him for all that he does. I may have used the wrong words but they were all stitched together with good intentions. Perhaps it was because I have never faced two things antagonise each other so much before this. Perhaps this is the lesson of the day, and a learning for a lifetime. But isn't it a good thing that he actually thinks I am worthy of knowing little things about him and how he feels? 
Yes. I think it is.

Yet, I still won't let my heart accept this. Because this isn't true. Even if it left me sad, it in spite of that, made me feel good about the fact that we're still true to each other. Even if I had somehow disappointed him but it meant that I could improve. And that's how I know truth alone triumphs. 

The truth that negativity can sometimes mask positivity but it never, never traps it. One little vent and truth comes rushing through.

Similarly, the road of our love may be blurry and cloudy but it is what's visible on the outside. It may be full of hardships and difficulties but it stays strong nevertheless. And I shall make it more meaningful, more significant and purposeful. If he is the soul, I shall be his conscience. If he is the mind, I will be his reason. If he is the heart, I will be his spirit. And if he is the vision, I shall be his perception. If he wishes, I shall be his judgement, I shall be his existence, I will be his mirror. 

All of me for all of him.

That's all I know. That's all there is to know, I guess.

Forever yours, and yours alone

Ms Wrong Word but Good Intentions

June 1, 2016: Day One

So I must start writing now, been sleeping for a lot of time lately and I should wake up because I think it is important. It's important that I share my experiences with the people in general about the general people I work with. And hence, I must get up from my post examination hibernation and should start writing now.

Well, it wasn't off a good start with my heels breaking and waiting at the gates so they could process the data with their HR. But at the gates I saw "My LG My Pride!" and everyone around me seemed to mind their businesses. Nonetheless, I stepped in to see the humongous world outside of my college and get some real life experience, oh yeah.

I entered and the entrance cards were using RFid technique which was shocking, to be honest. And the mini fountain only in K Block (HR Dept v fun) and the 5 ft TV was also a sight to behold. I am listening to their podcasts and the webcasts about their smartphone division and just outside my room there are HR and MS (whatever MS stands for) and Finance people. Sitting with me are "potential" employees and one interview just took place by a Korean (looked Japanese but what do I know?). One has been welcomed to LG. 

So this guy comes here and tells me some "Points to be noted and rules to be followed"

        1. Formals only (funny because he is wearing jeans). You can wear casuals on Saturday because 'Casual Saturday!'

        2. No 'B.Tech-ing' around. (Okay, you're good people but we know shit too, alright? I think I shouldn't pester this HR anyway so I keep mum)

        3. No internet here. High-end security area.

        4. The day starts at 8:30 am and ends at 6 pm (Well, I am going to spend quite a lot of time here)

        5. Breakfast, lunch, cafeteria at your disposal (Oh yeah, free food! Hail LG)

        6. Corporate buses for travel are provided (V. cool really, had a really bad time coming to this place in the morning)

So earlier this day, I met some of my fellow interns and interacted with them. There's a girl from The University of Newcastle (or not?) and there's one guy from Thapar University, Alex (changing names, because privacy!), and this other girl, very hippy but still genuine and sweet enough with short hair and long height and probable tattoos, is from NIFT Delhi.

Anyway, I would take leave now. I am excited and I pretty much hope I learn some stuff here alright. Make the most of your opportunity, they say. 
Aye! Let's see how it goes.

Steven, Dear.

Love. It perhaps is the purest word a man possibly will ever mutter in his entire lifetime. It is something that would give one person the strength to hold on, and another the strength to let go, helping him to get through the difficult times not essentially with someone's assistance, but with someone's constant support. Something divine. Almost holy.

I think I experienced it. The last four days were like a delusionary dream. I never thought it would actually happen to me, the strangely ordinary old me. Nothing was making sense at all but it all seemed to fit right. As if I was living in a trance and had no control of what was happening around me, whatsoever. I was never more happy and carefree. All the stiffness, the tension, the stress was starting to vanish every time I heard that four lettered word. It started out, I remember, in a meeting, a proper networking meet and I was there, with my bunch of friends. The first time I met him, it was a different kind of an experience. The good kind of different. Our arguments on every diverse topic seemed to mismatch unlike our interests, which oddly and peculiarly matched. I never thought it would all make sense today. I never thought I would find my friend, my competitor, my teacher, my supporter, my beloved man in one single person. Not that I needed someone, I am quite self-sufficient in my own little ways, confident and independent, but it was good to want someone nonetheless. Someone for whom I wouldn't count the separation days for. Someone who would listen to me blabbering about random stupid stuff without complaining.

I was sitting in the roadside local cafe with Steven Curtis Greene last Tuesday with the thoughts of denying everything altogether and sipping the most favorite Latte. 

He kept on observing me, his glare trying to dig everything I was about to say from beneath my eyes, my unspoken words and the little random expressions I was giving. The thing about this stare was that it was the deepest stare anyone had ever given me and yet it was not uncomfortable at all, rather assuring, something about it made me feel safe. 

But I wasn’t here to surrender to his words and wishes, but rather tell him that I was resistant to any kind of love. I was afraid that I might let my parents down, they never would want me to be someone's someone and they had prevented any such attempt in the past. They were just too cautious where I was concerned, it wasn’t their fault. And I was afraid of how things would turn out, with my expectations and his hopes, and I didn't quite have the time to make any commitments. It took me three long sips of the drink to finally come out of my reverie, and I finally said, my words a calculated paraphrase of my thoughts, "I cannot".

And two hours later, I was sitting in Steve's car, my head on his shoulder, thoughts somewhere else, and hands just touching his arm, for I had finally complied with my heart, instead of my mind,  with a "yes". My plain ancient heart defying the good efficient brain, a work of art indeed. I got up, stretched my arms in the air and got ready to get out of the car and into the Tube station to go back home, when he finally stopped me with his hand on my arm, the firm hold of his hand that made it difficult for me to even move. That moment, with those continuous currents of hot blood flowing in my veins, with adrenaline engulfing my whole system, and emotions filling up all of me, he took me by a surprise and hugged me real hard and must've said 'I love you' about 50 times over making my whole body attentive of his breaths and his words. I closed my eyes, just feeling the rush of excitement and energy in every atom of my body and smelling the faint metallic smell from his neck. I still hadn't said 'I love you' because I wanted to say it at the right time, when I felt like I truly could give in all of me to this intelligently spectacular innocent boy. Maybe. 

And now it has been four days since and I still recall getting almost lightened up by his expressions, saying "You're mine. And I love you” and the way he was looking at me like I was the only damn thing that will ever matter to him and his eyes saying he meant it all. Yes, it was that special. 

But I understand that a passion that burns that ferociously isn't meant to last. 

Four days is all that it took to us giving up on hopes, and giving in to our own circumstances. Maybe things are so meant to be. Maybe first love teaches you like nothing else. 

How it is so pure and untainted and it afflicts the innocent you and how you’ve never actually faced heartaches before it. How the times would never be the same again, and how you’ve changed from the first time you met your affinity.

 How I will always remember the times I spent with him, however small. The times during the four days when I almost cried and he held me and made sure I was okay. I will still remember the spontaneous gush of energy his hugs gave me, and how special they made me feel, and how they made every inch of me aware of all the sensations that were passing from him to me and how my stomach almost left my body flying when he surprisingly and unexpectedly lifted me up and held me even closer until all my tensions just vanished away. 

He would probably never know how he made me feel, but one thing for sure is, it was a lifetime worth of love that I experienced in just the four days we were together. It has made me stronger, and given me the strength to summon up my courage to achieve bigger and better things for myself. And it has made me believe in miracles and I would always choose to be trapped in those memories of love and life and strength. And maybe we are just like the sky and the earth, living together, existing together but still unable to truly meet each other. And I wish to be with him again, but I can never be, I would never be allowed to be. 

We would just be like the syllables and the mouth that they come out from, joined together for the shortest period of time but that moment of impact, that moment of chaos finally defining each other's existence before they both separate only to never meet again. 

~Katherine Melanie Embers

The Object Of My Affection

It is as though I am living in the eyes of other people, with their opinions, perceptions and judgements about me, my food and oxygen. “Maybe we’re cut from the same cloth, only you’re a little stern” and “We could be great friends if you were a reader”. I don’t see the point. I’ve always said that the opinions of people about us are important for this and that reason but that doesn’t change the fact that it still hurts. I am not a person anymore, my character is what people have assumed and supposed me to be, their thoughts and beliefs of me. It is what they think I should do when I am not doing something important. It is the work they think is beneficial for me. It is the food they consider healthy. And how I should not be asking for someone’s favourite songs just because I should’ve been doing something better according to them. 

Should there be a time, occasion and a setting to ask something and celebrate the precisely exact dates as some sort of a festival so that people can just be allowed to know each other without being entreated to mind their own businesses all the same?

To me, it seems like I have long lost my personality and my character and what remains is the object of someone’s judgements and which is seeking their attention even if I don't choose to. And it has all been terribly redundant. The horrid long outlandish opinions keep coming back like the fruits of the deep-rooted ancient forgotten deeds that I did. I don’t even recall how I identified myself before. 

In the process of understanding people’s point of views, and coherently adapting myself to ‘fit better’ in their surroundings, I have lost my own views. And with them pretending to know everything under the sun about almost everything under the sun and becoming lord Buddha in their minds, I doubt myself and maybe if I dig deep enough I would eventually find out my mistake. And the world is weighing me up in machines to know my worth and then feeling terrible for me, for being the little insignificant beloved person and person.

And all I can think of standing in the first shower of the mid-September afternoon is that we’re all in the budding stages of our lives when we thought that rainbow consists of seven colours and we were ignorant of the fact that a million shades of colours are breathing inside the seven shiny cotton comforters of the primal shades of art, but our eyes get snapped open when the truth comes back flashing before our eyes. Maybe we’re all ignorant and keep doing what is expected of us. 

A soft breeze of cool air strikes at my face and currents of deep sensation are sent through me. Meanwhile, all the people keep weighing hearts and minds and the sapien souls keep thriving in the eyes of their counterparts. I wonder how many people are thriving in my eyes. I think I am going to let them come out and breathe the fresh air that’s flowing right now. 

Perhaps they realise what they’ve been doing all these years, shutting themselves off slowly, hour by hour, minute by minute, and basing their ideas of themselves by being biased to their objectified images drawn completely unknowingly by other humans which is congesting and suffocating for their souls. 

And perchance other people will open their gateways too. And see the person as a person and not an object to be paraphrased and understood. I think that understanding ourselves is more important without any prejudices to other peoples’ ideas of us and without being narcissistic at the same time. And even though what people think about us matters, but it only matters to the extent that you consider it and give it a thought, and not unknowingly wreak your brains over it and modify yourself to ‘fit in’ in their idea of you.

 I hope people feel this cool breeze of realisation too. 

Probably

I suppose it is all right to feel weak sometimes. 

You've stayed strong for such a long while and it is okay to feel vulnerable. 

I think that makes up for the human part of each individual.

But this is numbing weakness. I don't know the reason. I'm just very tired of all of it. Societies, studies, peer groups, people who bring you down, people who take you up, people who keep talking and never listen, and people who just keep listening, people who never make meaningful conversations and the people who are always philosophical, people who only live to ask women out or the women who live to dress.

The world is so full of activity. Ticking clocks, breathing people, in and out, talking, eating, working, making, baking, and walking. 

It just never stops, you know? 

The world is great and gigantic. 

And the world is mean. Not just to me, the world is mean to one and all, alike. 

It's like I want to change it. I want to make folks realize that being mean brings the whole race down. But I'm also trying to follow it, I am trying to not be mean to people myself. 

People say that life isn't fair. But it is not fair for anyone. 
Perhaps I am an illustration of the fact, one more example of the dogma. I had a group of friends. We were four friends. Parker, Daisy, Yonda, and I. Parker and Yonda are my closest friends. But Yonda was closer to Daisy. They kind of clicked together. That was when Parker was still at Norfolk High. He is my best friend. We don’t converse much, but we still are best friends. I have no idea why, there isn’t any motivation behind the relationship, there wasn’t any. We were just closer to each other than we were to anybody. And we developed in each other’s’ company and my spending time with him became habitual. Now he has gone to countryside and lives there. And ever since Daisy has gone into drugs she has made new friends. She seldom visits me now. I work most of the times so I am not available to talk anyway. And I don't like troubling him when he's chilling with his peers.

I feel alone. Just like how I felt the day Parker shifted to Massachusetts. It was a month back. Summers are still here though. He would be working during this time just like me to earn a living. I got admitted to Harvard Business School but I would only leave after summers. I plan to work here in Norfolk County. Parker occasionally visits. His leaving for Massachusetts was the second lowest point in my life. The lowest was when my sister Angelina went to London Business School, and she only comes once in a year. And when Yonda doesn't visit, those days are also very sad.
And I am tired. Of people's expectations, of people's habit of procrastination. Of thinking about the future and how I would change the world. And how I would like to be successful. And about family issues. About Angelina and about Parker. I am not the same around him these days. He gets upset very easily. I have to be cautious before speaking, walking, talking. And Yonda is just the most remarkable person I have met. He is funny and smart but he is just very complicated. So I prefer listening than talking even when I was the most talkative of the four of us. 

So I feel lonely. There's just so much pressure. And I think about the people who would listen to me without cribbing too much. But Parker said he had work and I was hurt, just a little. But I somehow manage to push those watery streams aside and concentrate on my own work. I work in the Norfolk County library in the weekends and help people sort books out. I love the work and sometimes when nobody’s watching over me, I sneak in to read ‘Crime and Punishment’ by Fyodor Dostoevsky or some business magazines. Apart from that, I also work in Hersheys and Co. as a Junior Accountant on weekdays, and in Devonshire Associates as a Consulting Business Analyst. I am a control freak and when things go out of my hand I get tensed very badly. This is what is happening right now. I have just gotten myself into every job I could find and was proficient and skilled enough of doing. But now it is becoming hectic, not unmanageable but hectic. And my colleagues are so expert in finding silly excuses for not working and taking leaves. I have to do everything on my own and I can't talk to anybody about it. I feel very sad, depressed should I have the liberty of saying. I try to fight the sorrow back by memories. Good cheerful memories. Like the sunny days we sat down in the lawns and talked endlessly. Yonda Parker and I. But the blues are finding their way back into my mind. I just can't forget them. I could talk to Parker about it but he’s busy as he should be. 

I presume Parker and I sacrificed each other on the path of success for him and work on mine. It is just irreversible. 
I receive a phone call from the director and my shift in Hersheys and Co. begins. The thought is distressing. I pack my things in the duffle and swipe my card in the library exit. I think I might want to pass out for a while. But I wouldn't miss the chance of forgetting it entirely. That why I work. To forget the thoughts, the dreams and just work. Dedicatedly, passionately and zealously. 

I guess that's why people keep working. And the world doesn't stop. Everybody is trying to forget whatever they miss and whatever hurt they've been through. As a means of self-escape and to become oblivious of the surroundings.

I wish we were stronger. And I think I know that. I think we are strong enough but don't realize it. And I want to tell people this and let them know that is all right to feel weak sometimes. That it makes up for the human part of us. I want to bring about a rational change in the way we perceive things. In the way we understand emotions and in the way humanity works.

I think I can.

I might.

Probably.

Remembrances and Regrets

"Stop! You're going to hurt yourself! Wait for me, I am right behind you, and you know I'll catch you." said my uncle running after me in my maternal grandpa's house. 

"Would you make food for me then? I don't like aunt's cooking." said the seven year old me. 

"Okay, and I will also put henna on your cute little hands, now stop, will you? Uncle is very tired!" 

I was prepared for my maths exam, and nothing could stop me from getting a perfect hundred. I was going to make everyone proud of me. It was a calm cool spring morning, and I was getting ready for my Mathematics board exam of tenth standard. Suddenly my papa received a call that my uncle who was braving the accident in the hospital, had died. 

I did score full, but there was one less person to make proud. 

And I didn't even visit him. And there wouldn't be anyone who would cook delicious chaat for me back in nanaji's house now. Nobody would spoil me like him anymore. I remember the day when he hugged me and I shrugged him off because hugging was so uncool. He would never come back now. 

A similar thing happened with me in last year's November. I lost a good friend and just a week later, my maternal granddad died. I seldom visited him. I last happened to meet him at a family gathering where my aunt was tying the sanctified thread of marriage. The moment he would be fading, I ponder, he must’ve been contemplating about how I don't care about him and never visited him and don't love him. Most probably not, he was just so loving. But no, I just didn't have the time to talk to him.  My friend would be discerning the same thing. And my uncle too. But I was just too busy with my own life, right? 

I was making, learning, doing things that would make the folks I love the most, proud of me. But never was concerned to really talk and discover it out. How ironic. 

I didn't even see them when they breathed their last breath and they would never know that there was one more person on earth who cared for them. And I would never get to tell them this. They would never know. How would they know unless I tell them? But how can I tell them when they're gone?

I would've been the same Keerti for them.  The Keerti who didn't even see them when they expired. The Keerti who couldn't let them know that she was concerned for them. The Keerti who couldn't even chat with them when she could have. And now they're gone. Far far away, where I won't even find them. Or see them. Or touch them. Or be with them. Or laugh with them.  

If people want to be with you, they make the time to.  I didn't mean to be so full. It wasn't intentional. But that doesn't matter, does it? Nothing matters. It's just me now. My side of the argument. Because they're not here to express their opinion. I want to go tell them that I love them, and that I would spend time with them. And that I would listen to them all the time. I want to meet them. But I can't.

And I don't know who is going to read this entry, since it is not a work of fiction, but I wish they come to know about it. I know they're not here. And it is a loss and I am sorry for it.
But I just want them to know that I love them and miss them and I am never going to forget them.  

I just want them to know, because I think they're there somewhere, maybe waiting for me since I hadn't visited them the last time they breathed, but I want them to know that they were very special for me and would always be. And that I will always miss them. And they would always bring a smile on my face. They were fighters and I will always remember them with great pride. 

I hope they come to know about it, somehow. I hope they forgive me for being too busy. 

I will miss you.

Goodbye.