Little Things

No matter what you do in life, who you meet, where you go, it's not the big achievements or the number of people that follow you or the amount of money you make or the number of houses you own that matter. It's the little things that matter. The little things that make you happy, the little things that put a bright smile on your face.
When your favourite musician's favourite song comes up on the radio, when you buy yourself your favourite blue orchid, when your best friend buys you a chocolate because she knows you've had a very bad day, when you listen to your favourite song on loop, when your parents randomly decide to order your favourite dish because they know how you've been craving it for the longest time, when you play with dogs, when your sister buys you your favourite pastry as an excuse to spend more time with you, when you laugh your lungs out on the lamest joke; these are the kind of little things that make people happy, that make me happy. What makes you happy? What's that one little thing that can turn your day completely around? Make a list. Make a list of everything that makes you smile and stick it somewhere in a corner of your room or inside your cupboard and look at it every time you're upset. Trust me, it'll help.

We Are Not Feminists.

No, I am not a feminist when I ask my mother to give me more money than my brother.

No, my mother is not a feminist when she gets a chance at the bank before five other men who were waiting for a longer time.

No, my best friend is not a feminist when she sits on the seats assigned for women in the metro despite there being an entire compartment for women.

No, my boyfriend is not a feminist when he gets up to give a seat to a woman in the DTC bus even though he has a broken foot.

No, my father is not a feminist when his job is given to a woman because of 'company policies'.

No, my leaders are not feminists when they enforce a quota in colleges for women.

No, the shopkeeper is not a feminist when he charges lower prices for women customers.

No, my elder sister is not a feminist when she hits or humiliates her husband.

No, we are not feminists.

Battle

'Are you scared?'

'Terrified.'

'You don't have to worry, you know. Nobody's ever going to judge you.'

'They will. They'll think I'm weak. I'll be vulnerable. They'll see right through me and they'll try to hurt me. They'll know I get hurt. They'll know I'm not strong. They'll know that everything they do affects me. I don't want to be that girl.'

'But you ARE that girl. You're just hiding behind your own imaginary personality and in that process you're hurting yourself.'

'How am I hurting myself? I'm protecting myself. Why don't you get it?'

'You're pushing people away. You don't let people in. You don't even tell ME anything. You're going to kill yourself if you don't open up. The constant hiding and thinking and keeping everything to yourself will destroy you one day. Or worse, it'll come up like a volcano that destroys everything and you'll be left with nothing. With no one.'

'It'll still be better than letting people know ME. They'll hate me. They'll run away themselves. Nobody likes weak people. There's no place for the weak in this world.'

'You're not weak. You just think you are. Having feelings, caring, talking to people, letting them know you, all this doesn't make you weak. You'll be yourself.'

'No. This is me. I've pretended for so long that it's become a part of me. It's becoming me. And I will do nothing to change it.'




I looked at those eyes. They stared at me with sympathetic repulsion. They were trying to convince me but they hated me. But I wouldn't back down. I stared back. This is who I am. This is what I've become.
I continued staring at those eyes. At my eyes. And then I turned away from the mirror as I won my battle. A battle which took place everyday, every hour, every minute, every breathing second. My battle.

Thing called love.

She shut her eyes tightly, counted till ten, and opened them slowly hoping to see his face in front of her when she did. But all that was there were trees. Silent trees, that sway swiftly along with the breeze.

It had been three hours but she still waited, hoping that he would turn up. Hoping that he wouldn't ditch her. She sat on a bench in the corner of the park. That's where they always met, every week at the same time. But he didn't show up today. She cried a little because she missed him. She cried because she hated being stood up. She cried because she felt lost.
After waiting for four hours she finally decided to leave. While leaving the park, she smiled and waved at the lady who was also there every week at the same time. The lady smiled back her, but sympathetically.
She didn't feel like going home now, not after such a disappointing day. Wanting to do something to make herself feel better, she went to the nearby market. Maybe a new pair of shoes or some good food or some junk jewellery would cheer her up. But nothing did. She wandered around aimlessly and finally decided to go home, realizing that nothing would help her ease the pain.
She went home, rang the bell and a man opened the door. 'How was it?' he smiled and asked her. 'He didn't show up, again. Maybe he doesn't love me anymore. Or maybe he's found someone else. I don't know. I'm just too tired now, I think I'll go sleep.'
He watched her as she threw her bag on the sofa, took out her coat, went inside her room and shut the door. Just then, his sister came out from the other room. 'How do you do this? How do you manage to go around pretending everyday, knowing that she'll never remember you for what you are? Knowing that seeing her like this only causes you pain?' He smiled but his smile couldn't hide his tears. 'She'll realize one day. She'll realize that the man she goes to meet every week, the man she talks to, the man she thinks loves her, doesn't exist. And she'll realize that the man she always loved, the man that always loved her, the man who promised to be with her in sickness and in health is right here. Has always been here.'
It had been two years since Shruti had completely changed. The doctors called it amnesia. She remembered everything till 2010, but all the memories after that had disappeared. She remembers her husband, Aman, only as her flatmate who she had been sharing an apartment with for a year now. All her memories with him had been erased. But there was still someone in her mind who didn't have a name. Someone she loved, someone who loved her back, someone she longed to meet every week, someone who was just a figment of her imagination. He didn't exist but she still loved him. Aman didn't tell her anything though. He played along and hoped she'll come back one day. He waited, every day, every week, every month, every year. Nothing changed. But he still waited. After all, this is what they called love, right?

New Semester.

'Shit. I'm late. I'm SO late. The new professor's going to kill me'. It was the first day of our new semester and I was already ten minutes late for class. New semester, new lectures, new professor but same old boring routine.
But today was different. For starters, my alarm clock decided to ditch me. I woke up at 9:45 a.m. My class was at 10:00 a.m. I got ready as fast I could and I ran out. My college was just ten minutes away from where I stayed but that didn't really help much considering I was already late. Just as I walked outside my PG and crossed the road, I remembered that I forgot to buy the new book I needed for the first lecture. Doing post graduation and not carrying your books to class is something our teachers are not really fond of. Also, I heard that the new professor, who had just joined this semester, was pretty strict. Thankfully, there was a book store just on the way to college. And even better, it was already open. I decided that going very late to class with the book was much better than going late to class than without the book. So, I went and bought the book. Just as I was leaving the shop, I saw a chemist next door. And then I got an idea. I absolutely hated getting a scolding from teachers. Whatever the reason may be, I hated it. So, I went to the chemist and decided to buy a crepe bandage and tie it around my ankle. I decided on a perfect excuse that I would tell the professor as an excuse for being late. Just as I entered the chemist and picked up the bandage, I saw that there was a long queue at the payment counter. I waited for five minutes and realized that the line hadn't moved even an inch. I asked the lady standing in front of me what was happening. Apparently, there was some idiot who was arguing with the shopkeeper about some bill. WHY NOW? I got furious and went ahead and started shouting at the man. 'You do realize that there are people waiting here who have better things to do in life to wait for you to solve your bloody issues?' The man just stared at me blankly. And then his expression changed. Clearly, I didn't really improve his mood. 'Madam, I'm a common consumer just as you are who also has much better things to do. But the only thing I'm doing right now is demanding my right which I really don't understand WHY is becoming such a big deal here. Now, if you could please wait, that'll be really helpful'. I was just about to scream again when I got a call from my friend. She told me that our class had been postponed to 11:00 a.m. I swear, I had never been happier. I left the box of crepe bandage at the counter, gave the idiotic man a very angry look and walked out. But I was really happy so I didn't really care about anything else then. I walked to college and went to class. I sat at the back because teachers didn't really care about the back benchers and I didn't really care about the class. I was playing around with my bag, trying to find a pen, when our new professor walked in. Everybody sat up to greet him and sat down just as quickly but I was typo busy with my bag. Just as I looked up, I got the biggest shock ever. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck upon me. I was staring at the same man who I had just had an argument with barely half an hour ago. The same man I had shouted at so badly that even the aunties in the chemist looked at me with disgust. Yes, the idiotic man from the chemist was my new professor.
I couldn't have asked for a better start to the new semester. 

Wait

She didn't remember anything. Everything had gone, everything was lost. She looked at me, teary eyed, trying to find someone she knew in my face. I stared back at her, hoping that there would be something about my face, something about me that she would remember. But, nothing.
My sister, who I loved more than anyone else in the world, the only person who understood me, didn't know me any longer. I was nothing but a stranger to her.
It happened about a month ago. It was a normal day. Weekday. We woke up early, did our chores, sat in front of our parents' photos as we went on blabbering about our lives and had a cup of tea. Then as the clock struck 8, we locked up the house and we left for our work.
It was around 2:30 in the afternoon when I got the call. I rushed to the hospital where she was admitted. They said that she was crossing the road while going for her lunch break when a black sedan came out of nowhere and knocked her down.
She had been in the I.C.U. for three weeks, unconscious. They did all sorts of procedures on her, ran all sorts of tests till they finally declared her 'healthy'. And then she finally woke up. Tears crawled down my face as I looked at her and smiled. I didn't go close to her because I was scared I might harm her. I stood five feet away from her bed and just smiled and stared. It took me ten minutes to finally realize that she didn't react the way she should have. She stared at me too, yes she did, but blankly. I called out to her but the only reaction she gave was a little awkward smile. And then she started crying. The doctors were a little surprised at first but then they checked her. They told me she had lost her memory. She remembered nothing. It took me a while to understand what was happening. But then, I smiled. I smiled at her and said nothing.
From that day, I would go to her room everyday, sit with her, give her food, talk about what was happening around the hospital, trued to explain to her what was happening outside in the world, but I said nothing to her about me. About herself. About her world. The doctors said it would only cause her stress and pain. So I didn't say anything. All I could do was wait. Wait for her to come back to me. Wait for her to remember me. Wait for me to become a part of her again. Wait.

Red

So I finally tried my hand at writing short stories. It's nothing great, but it's a start. And considering I have blog, it'll be only fair if I become active now. So from now on, I'm going to try and write as much as I can. Hope you like this though c:

It happened when I was five years old I guess. I was holding my father's hand and walking. My mother and sister were walking behind us. They always walked like 10 miles behind my father and me. 

There was so much life all around, so much colour, so many smiling faces. I remember that day very clearly, surprising, because I was just five. Not an age one particularly remembers. But, I was just so happy. 

The crowd was walking towards the music and we were walking along with the crowd. Everybody sounded so excited. Just in front of me a man picked up his daughter and put her on his shoulders while they walked. I asked my father to do the same. After a lot of convincing and whining, my father finally picked me up and made me sit on his shoulders. The height scared me a little but it was exciting. The view from up there was so beautiful. The colours seemed even brighter. The people even more excited. I started noticing things, noticing people, noticing children. Just then I saw a man, a man covered in black. I remember noticing his eyes, they seemed sad. He was walking really fast and while he was walking he dropped off a bag. I watched him until he kept walking and left from one of the side gates. I wanted to shout to tell the man that he'd forgotten his bag. I looked down and started calling out to my father who was busy looking ahead. Just then I heard a loud noise. My father pulled me down. All the colours disappeared. Pink, green, blue, purple, white, they all turned to red. The laughter turned to loud shrieks. The smiles turned upside down. Everything changed. I turned around to find my mother and sister but all I could see were people running. I shouted, I cried but nothing. My father picked me up again and carried me while he shouted and shrieked. But nothing. No reply. We ran all around. We ran toward the gate. But no familiar face. We waited there for around two hours. Men dressed in brownish uniforms carrying, what looked like guns were all around now. 

Still no familiar face. 

I remember that day very clearly, surprising, because I was just five. I was just so happy. But then, everything changed.