Yesterday I was in some different city, today I'm in other one. And the change makes me a bit uncomfortable. And I have come to realize, I have always been like this, afraid of changes, afraid of breaking the wall I've created around myself.
I was afraid to lose my friends, I lost some of them and something changed. I was afraid that I would stop loving him, I stopped and something changed. I thought everything would just go on the way it was, it didn't and something changed. And every time it took me days, months and many more things to get used to the changes.
But the one thing that the changes have taught me is that life isn't the single song I could listen to on repeat like I always do. Life is a playlist of some unknown songs made by some unknown singers and I have to shuffle through it. But we do have our choices. We can either dance to the songs, to each and every rhythm or we can just sit and wait for the song of our taste. And I have made mine.
These are the words that remain with me now. I am no longer the hope my name means. There's sometime a voice that calls me and tells me to run away from all these, to go back to the happiness, to go back to the place where I first planted a sapling of rose, to the place where I would giggle and drench myself in rain, to the place where father told me stories of a man who has potbelly, to the place I would draw humans looking like anything but humans.
But it would be a long journey from here and I'm very much tired now. Tired of telling myself that everything is okay, everything is fine. Tired of walking in search of peace and ending up in chaos. Tired of the living the lies and telling the lies and forgetting the way that leads to home.
Perhaps growing up snatches a part of you and gives you the growth. Perhaps memories are the best thing, perhaps hoping that someday everything will truly be fine is what keeps us alive. Maybe growing up teaches you pain just as childhood taught you happiness and maybe it's how we go on. Maybe it's how we live on, as Rupi Kaur said, "despite it all".
My days are no longer beautiful. They're not half as good as they used to be when I was with you. My days start with somewhat a lifeless morning and nights end in eternal memories of the times no one can bring back. I call your name while half lost in drowsiness, once, twice, thrice and for the times humans get tired counting until I finally fall asleep.
I remember especially the moments when you would just stare at the black night sky as if trying to fathom some constellations unknown. And I would look at you and ask myself if love feels in a way like this. And that smile of yours, is there a single word in all the languages of human history that can describe that smile? As if that smile was made so that all the beauties in this world can just fade in front of it. It's greater than all the beauties, I swear.
And I remember how you had this little desire to write a book one day. You never told what you would write in it but you told me it would about someone close to your heart. And hearing that my heart would ache, and I would wonder if falling in love with someone who can't love you back feels in a way like this.
But the best memory that I have of yours is how I let you go, after struggling with all the emotions, after convincing myself that we are born in a world where our stars do not align to make a story out of us, after telling myself over infinite times that love do not feel this way, that love isn't about letting go, that love is just about holding on a little more, just a little more, that love isn't giving up. And then I let you go and I remember how you didn't turn back for once. And I wonder if letting someone go you love feels in a way like this.
And I call your name, once, twice, thrice and for the times humans get tired counting until this feeling doesn't feel like love anymore.
On some cold nights, I still try to trace your warmth in the letter that you wrote to me. Two years have passed and I am still stuck at the night you left to a place, I hadn't seen before, to a place I hadn't known before. But you said it would be a happy one for you. And I believed you.
On some cold nights, I read myself the stories you had told me of your childhood, how mischievous you used be, how your dad once beat the shit out of you because you stole his money, how you would cling to the saree of your late mother on the dark nights when your father would be away for some reasons you never knew. I miss your voice, the heavy, peaceful voice.
On some cold nights, I would hum the songs you made for me, the ones I thought to be funny. You know what? They are indeed funny. But I love them, even if they're funny, I love them. I wonder if you still make songs, maybe for me. Do you?
On some cold nights, I would remember how you told me that you love me and I told you that I didn't love you. I remember, how you tried to hide your tears that day, you always did that. I think out of all the people in your life, I am worst one. I knew your scars, I knew you were shattered inside and still I broke you into pieces, I hurt you like nobody just because I didn't know my feelings yet. No, no, no, I was selfish. Yes, that's the word, I was and I am selfish.
We human beings are odd. When someone is with us, when something is with us, we underestimate its value. And when it's gone, we want it back, in anyway. And how could I be an exception? Today, when you're far away from me, somewhere I don't know and I want you back, at anyway possible. But I deserve this pain, it's not what I regret about. The thing I regret the most is that I couldn't get to say you sorry, I couldn't get to say that you do matter to me, that when I think about all the pains you have gone through it makes my whole within cry. I miss you. I, I,...do want you back. Would you come back to me? Is it possible for you to come back for at least once? Is it?
The moon appears in the sky and I spent one more day thinking about you and there comes one more night to think about you. A voice within my mind asks for how many days I've been like this. I do not remember. But it feels like it has been a forever and this feeling has become home. A home I would return to after a tiresome day.
There are marks of pasts in my soul that scares me to date. There are stories carved in my palm I wouldn't let you read ever. And in these bygones, marks, stories you remain peacefully in an undiscovered corner of my life, quietly. My life doesn't seem to be beautiful and yet you create all the beauties I couldn't have even imagined. There are words stuck in my tongue that I can't dare to utter in front you because nothing ever stayed with me. And I know you too would leave soon.
And as the night begins, I wonder about my feelings for you. Unexpressed, unsaid, left to rot in my heart. I wonder if you would hold my broken pieces together if I told you about those. I wonder. And I wonder.
Maybe at the end of the day nothing truly stays. Maybe you and I aren't made for each other. Maybe everything will just leave and I'll still be in this home, for another forever, a forever, I'll spend happily.
It was raining today. And once again the sky proved how much it does love the ground. I watched how the rain drops fell, touched the ground and then vanished into nothingness as if, it's existence meant nothing to it; as if, all it cared about was the union of the sky with the ground. I love how they leave behind only the sound as the souvenir of their once existence and also the emblem of the union of sky and its beloved.
They say, the sky can never meet the ground. They say it's just like the love, forbidden.
But they do meet each other, every monsoon. They embrace each time a rain drop kisses the ground. They prove us, if it's love, it can not be forbidden, it can not be unrequited, there's always a knot that ties two hearts together in a single rhythm, just like the rain does.
And they wonder why the rain has always been lovers' favourite.
I always feel a strange connection with the moon. Sounds filmy, no? But, yes, I do. When there's a full-moon in the sky, I feel to look at it and inhale its beauty as long as I can. I love it when it creates a halo around it, it paints the clouds in its touch with the colours of some unknown melancholia - sometimes it's red, sometimes it's yellow with a tinge of orange. The colours make the sky so alive.
That's not all. There's one more reason that I feel this connection. The moon is the only communion possible between us two.
You, far away from me, may be in your balcony, watching the sky full of stars and not caring about the moon. And I, here, maybe in my lawn with a cup of coffee in my hand, looking constantly at moon, never noticing the stars. And at that moment it connects us. It doesn't let me hear your voice. It doesn't convey my feelings to you either. But the silence that the moon makes between us, it's all I ever wanted. It's all I could ever get.