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Reality Bites

butterflies_by_smile_d

butterflies, by smile-d

 

The girl fidgeted in the heat of the afternoon. She was at her grandmother’s house for lunch with her parents and some other guests and she was bored. Grown-up shop talk didn’t interest her. She yawned, staring at the slow moving blades of the fan, trying to hang her vision on one and count how many rounds it made in a minute. She found she could never keep track of the one blade and after a while, she gave up.

 

Her eyes strayed towards the garden. It was massive – unusual of a house in the heart of Colombo. She had always loved it – loved running down the rolling hill which cut the garden in half, her hair streaming behind her; loved the pretty little arch off to the left, where she dreamed of getting married; loved the pepper plants whose black seeds she’d spend hours picking to throw in the two big ponds on either end of the grounds.

 

Most of all, she loved the huge old bow-tree that spread its branches like protective arms over almost the whole expanse of the garden. Its trunk was on the other side of the boundary wall, so it didn’t belong to them. She liked to think that it did, though. That it favoured their garden to the one in which it was planted and so leaned ever closer in their direction, arms holding out for what it could never really possess. She felt a funny kind of love for that tree and had spent countless moments staring at it from the balcony of her grandmother’s house, watching it as it presided over the garden, carpeting the grass with beautiful dried leaves. In a country with no seasons, she felt that it was always fall in her grandmother’s garden. On many an afternoon, she had been lulled by its rustled whispers and had slipped off to sleep, wishing she could understand what was being said. Continue reading Reality Bites

La mer

 into_the_sea_by_1000ships2

 

The sea has always frightened me. Its strength, sheer magnitude, its many faces. Small waves could make me stumble while larger ones would wash over me gently. One moment the water would rage and storm despite clear skies; the next, it would look like a limpid pool, begging to hold you in its arms, promising to keep you safe while you float, staring at the clouds. I used to think of it as a huge half-sleeping animal, temperamental at best, threatening and beautiful at the same time.

 

When I was a child I never ventured far, preferring to paddle around in the shallows. I would try for hours to catch the foam in my cupped hands but be disappointed with a thin film of sand instead. Nevertheless I kept trying. Kids don’t disappoint easy. Besides, half the allure of the creamy white foam was that it could never belong to you. It just slipped through your fingers time and time again, and the lingering bubbles on your fingers beckoned you to try harder.

 

As I grew older I went further out but not by much. My toes would dig into the sand and the muscles in my thighs would flex, aching as I strode out against the current, deeper into the water. Still, something made me hang back, at a respectful distance, cautious of the ever rising waves. Continue reading La mer

Love will tear us apart. Again.

 

Love Will Tear Us Apart – Susanna and the Magical Orchestra

When routine bites hard
And ambitions are low
And resentment rides high
But emotions won’t grow
And we’re changing our ways
Taking different roads
Then love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again

Why is the bedroom so cold?
Turned away on your side
Is my timing that flawed?
Our respect run so dry
Yet there’s still this appeal
That we’ve kept through our lives

And love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again

Do you cry out in your sleep
All my failings exposed?
Get a taste in my mouth
As desperation takes hold?
How is it something so good
Just can’t function no more?

When love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again

 

 

 

 

To this man: Goodbye.

 

 

Bang, bang…My baby shot me down

starter_gun1

My heart broke again last night.

 

But I think it was for the last time. Finally. For the last time.

 

 

Strong inadvertently told me that he was in love with someone else. He proclaimed it to the world and for the first time, I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

 

 

That knowledge should kill you. It really should. You should be able to just stop breathing. Stop existing. You shouldn’t have to exist carrying that with you. Like a bullet that stays embedded in the flesh, festering, poisoning.

 

I had known it all along. I could tell, every time he said her name, I could see it in his eyes when he was at his lowest, drowning in wave upon wave of anguished guilt about how he treated her.

 

I never inspired emotion of that magnitude within him, although he inspired that within me. Everyday I loved him. Everyday he didn’t love me back.

Continue reading Bang, bang…My baby shot me down

The kindness of strangers

My story starts with heartbreak.

 

Funny that I decided to start writing publicly now – at the most difficult time of my life. I think maybe there’s something about heartbreak that you just need to share… not just with anybody, but with virtual strangers. I can talk more about my life to mere acquaintances than to my closest friends. Is that strange?

 

I’ve never been a fan of letting those closest to me see me at my weakest. I hate crying in front of people – I have always cried alone. In the recent past, all that has changed drastically because of this one person who has now not only seen me cry hundreds of times but has also seen me hit rock bottom. Seriously. Rock. Bottom. Worse, he knows it is all because of him. That is the worst kind of power you can give someone over you. And, to my absolute horror, I’m handing it to him on a silver platter. Worst of all, the process is ongoing. I know I’m doing it, I’m absolutely appalled that it’s happening, but I can’t stop it.

 

 

Not to over-think things or anything (! I seem to have become an expert on that front), but somehow I think that’s linked to why I can’t talk to my family or closest friends about what I’m going through. Sure, I have in a way, but it’s been on a mostly superficial level. It’s that fear of letting those closest to you see you at your most vulnerable. I’m knowingly making that mistake with him and that’s enough for a lifetime. Continue reading The kindness of strangers