Perceptions

I was back home unusually early at 8.00 in the evening that day being a Sunday. I put my book and bag on the sofa and went upstairs to get refreshed. By the time I re-appeared in the hall, my younger brother was browsing my book of Dostoevsky. He asked me what the story is about. I carefully briefed him what I read. He being a history-lover, asked me few more questions about the author. He still had my book in his hands while I was answering him.

Suddenly, my aunt had come from the kitchen and flared up shouting at him "Keep that away, That is from Satan. Not for you. You must not read any other book than your class books and the 'holy' bible. Have you already forgot the sermons read by 'Brother Someone' in the morning?" I was shocked and quivered. She called my book 'Satan', She called my dear Dostoevsky 'Satan', who wanted to be with Christ rather than with truth, if in-case they two are separate. Though being insulted directly or indirectly, I pitied my brother for his life sentence for no crime.

I didn't speak anything at the dinner even for courtesy. I was baffled to such level. I slept vaguely dreaming of my aunt-like figure burning a pile of books with so much hatred in her eyes which slowly turned to pleasure when there were only ashes left. It is not an exaggeration, if I say, I checked in the morning if my books were in place and were not crumpled with anything 'holy'.

PS: Ask me no questions, I will tell you no lies.

Error in connection

I hated her on our first meeting because she refused me to try her sandals as if she was a Cinderella. But she loved me all the time, may be because she knew that she'll be involved in the cause of my pain and took pity for me. While I started getting symptoms of my pain, I rejected her affection and hurt her as much as possible. I just wanted her away, but even after all the trials, she never left me.

I took a special day, to feel this pain completely and get off with it. I felt it in my tears, flowing uncontrollably onto my cheeks soaking my pillow. I believe, wet cheeks are the best way to exert the coldness. We shall not carry the resentments forward, they spoil the mental health. Then she came. She bent over me brushing the hairs (that fell on my forehead) backwards with her fingers. She forcibly made me sit, not considering the repulsions I posed and hugged me caressing my head with affectionate patting. This humiliated me very much. If I had not accepted her love and ask for forgiveness then, I would have treated myself a heartless now.

I rested my head on her shoulders taking her as my best friend and resumed to weeping. This was continued for a while. When she thought she gave me enough time, she took my face in her little arms and wiped off my tears telling me 'everything will be OK'. Then I saw her eyes suffering more than myself not even having the comfort of tears or a caring companion. I replied her 'Yes, everything will be OK'. I kissed her and she paid it back.

The next three days were just crazy. All the day, we sticked to each other. Talked restlessly about everything. Ate together. Neglected everyone else. We even shared the bed and continued talking till the eye-lids were tired and sent us requests to shut our mouths. Our friends gossiped we might have turned lesbians. It reached us soon. We laughed at the idea. She looked at me asking impishly 'Are we ..??'. I answered her pretending to take a serious tone 'Aren't we..?'

Though we brushed it aside laughing, I feel we would have been proved lesbians unless we got the stopping signals in the form of scary gossips.

Introspection to iWrite

I wanted to change this title from long but hadn't decided on what to. Also, I easily kept on postponing this task for my change-reluctant syndrome! I get attached to extremely transient things of life like my tooth brush, blue comb and this word 'introspection'. It looks funny, if I rewind it now. But I really get senti when I have to part with these things. When red eyes wished me happy wedding anniversary, I have decided to keep my feelings aside and change the title. Because, it is just not fine, when your blog title is 'introspection' and you write fiction.

PS: I spent too much time to decide on this not so convincing title 'iWrite'. Till I find something better, iWrite.

Lonely Together

At this time, my confession is utterly useless for it doesn't know it's target or it's objective.

I'm a woman and of 42 years old with two kids. Yesterday was our twentieth wedding anniversary. Our kids insisted us to have a small gathering with common acquaintances and we had the party. A grey haired gentleman in the neighbourhood, whom we invited for the dinner said, we were the ideal couple he had ever seen. Me and my husband looked at each other and thanked him trying to look flattered. We know what we are not. His comments (probably compliments) heavily perturbed me. I slept very late and woke up early for this confession.

A long time ago, before I got married, I was attracted to a person, who was equally attracted by me I suppose. But for the cautiousness of people in the early stages of love, we didn't talk of it and later we never talked for we were so similar even in our bad qualities. We used to carry ourselves with excessive pride, showing it whenever necessary to wreck the other as if we were weighing on our shoulders the hatred for each other from generations, forgetting that we were actually in love and it is love that is to be shared.

Before we could move an inch in this affair, I got married with another person. It was an arranged marriage but not a forced one. For about four months, I hadn't known what was happening around me. Probably, most of the time was spent in travelling and receiving new people. When we two were left alone to live together, I came back to this world. First day, I didn't cook. He didn't complain and brought some food from outside. I didn't eat. He hadn't asked me to eat.

I convinced myself that it was me who was guilty, who was to take the punishment. So I decided not to trouble this poor man with my childish behaviour. We voluntarily shared our responsibilities to run the home. We started talking to each other about money, food and the home and readily agreed with each other. We made love for the irrepressible craving for the sex, without attraction, without passion, without love. We had kids but never had been really attached to each other.

I guess, he was also punishing himself for something through this marriage. Otherwise, we would have been divorced on the first day, we were left alone. One good thing is, we don't have any qualms about each other and are socially comfortable. We never fight because we never talk more than that is necessary. We don't walk together. We don't hug. We don't care for each other and never shed a tear. But still we will be called an ideal couple at the price of our lost dreams.

Mogli in love

"Mogli! where are you? what have you been doing all this time? ...." I was happily surprised and fired all the questions, without a pause for him to answer. That was my excitement to receive a call from my friend after four months.

Yes, I always enjoyed talking to him for he is witty and ready to pull my leg, almost a dupe for Pradeep. He calls me with names like blacky, kaki, nallammay.. with names of all the black things in the world. Ofcourse, I also do give it back calling him Mogli, jungle boy(once, he had that Dhoni's hair style) and lot more names of hairy animals.

He was lateral entry in our class. Most of my class girls knew him only from two angles. One was the scientist and the other a dashing dancer, winning over few hearts in the welcome party for lateral entries. But I knew the third angle of a most irritating teaser boy in this diligent looking young man.

I continued my interrogation. but unusually he was giving me very straight answers. he didn't irritate me except that he called me 'blacky'. I took this chance and attacked (read somewhere that the best way to defend oneself is to attack) with my teasing skills. He didn't fight back but kept laughing all the time. He hung up after sometime telling me that I learnt the art of talking.

What?? Me..? did I? where and when? This is how we talk every time. Why does he say that? I know, it is not because I learnt anything, but certainly a fatal change in his personality. Who could bring this change? girl? I slapped myself telling he can never fall in love and it was too early to guess. I thought, I was just getting over imaginative.

After few days, 3D called me up to tell how mogli was using others' mobiles to talk with a girl in Hyd. I made a loud cry of 'wow!' A fourth angle! So I am right with my imagination.

He is terrific at anything he takes in. Now it's all his love. Last month, 3D & Co. were surprised when this workaholic took leave just for a headache (That was the reason he had given). After an hour, they called him back to check how he was feeling. But he wasn't in the room, not in the office, not even in Bangalore. He flied to Hyd just to wish his girl "a happy birthday".

Somebody save him from this sweet madness!

Wild kiss

S: Laasya, nee peru entamma?
L: Laata.