Thursday, January 21, 2010

Journey of two

I close my eyes for a moment. I take in a deep breath.Bad idea. All I smell is antiseptics. A strong sickening smell, it makes me nauseous.I prefer the sweet coffee aroma, so I get myself a cup of coffee from the grey machine that stands on the side of the room. The one which I have been drinking from over and over again, for so many mornings now.
Every morning I tell myself I wont drink it again. It doesn’t taste like coffee, but then this is a hospital; coffee cant taste like coffee, can it?

Has it been 48 days? Or 49? I honestly lost count.I look around the room and my eyes lay on the 15-year old who’s slouching on his usual chair. He comes in every Sunday and Tuesday, and sits there chewing gum and looking bored and not happy about the fact that he is here. But then, no one would be happy about being here.

I smile at him, and he gives me his usual frown. It takes you a few weeks of smiling at that boy and getting frowns in return, to stop believing that smiles are contagious.I cross my legs, uncross them, stand up and walk around the room then sit back again shifting in my seat. These plastic chairs are so uncomfortable.

It’s 10.25, almost time.My gaze moves towards the small room door as I patently wait, for what I consider my only glimpse of hope in this cold, tiring place.

There they are. They walk hand in hand as usual.They don’t really walk, they slowly hobble in. The long time which takes them to reach their seats doesn’t ever seem to bother either of them. They just smile at each other adoringly

He has hair that’s as white as December snow, and kind brown eyes which are as warm and light as the coffee in my plastic cup.
She , on the other hand, has a tiny frail figure and delicate wrinkled hands which I wish I could touch, just one time.
I cant help staring at them. I cant help smiling either, or finding myself lost in thoughts and wondering about their long journey; a journey of two.

A glance back

I remember being 18
I was one of those relatively tiny girls, who had an attitude as twice as her size.I remember being stubborn, enthusiastic, passionate rebellious and full of mischief. I also remember being naïve, fragile, so afraid of the unknown and terrified of change.

I was, as my dad described me -and still does- his tough woman.When anything was forced upon me, I objected. I voiced my objection, I ranted, I cried, I refused to eat or talk, whatever it required to get my way.

For the first time in my life though, my countless methods of resistance have all failed.I announced my defeat, packed my most precious belongings in a couple of bags and took along every photograph I had. I hugged my closest friends goodbye and got in the backseat of the car, my face covered with angry tears, sitting there in an a miserable silence, which lasted for days.

It felt as though my life was coming to an end.

In a blink of an eye, it all changed.

Day by day, I found myself swooped in, until I looked around and suddenly realized that I have been lost in the crowd and have become part of it. It took my breath away.The cultures, the religions, the political views, the struggles, the hopes, the dreams, the ambitions, the ideas, the beliefs and the causes. The vast differences and barriers of languages and colors, and the simple similarities of being human.

Many Years, faces , names and life stories later, I came to see that life was much more than what it used to be in that little bubble.I have found myself. I have learnt to have a say in what I wanted to be.The world has so much to offer me, just like I have so much to offer.

They keep asking me if I would have done it differently have I had a choice. I keep answering “I wouldn’t have changed a thing”

I Rant

Over and over again, for as long as I could remember, I have always felt misplaced in this society.I used to think it was normal. Part of growing up. You get confused, you sort it out, and everything falls into place.

As I grow older though, it hits me every morning I wakeup, the sad apprehension that this is not me “growing up”. Things are never going to fall into place. A worrying thought, which makes me want to stay curled up in my safe bed. To go back to sleep and never wakeup.

Let me clarify.No one killed my dreams. Nor have I ever been an oppressed woman. I have been given unlimited love, freedom and trust. I’ve been educated well and been given all the support, space and advice I have ever needed to achieve whatever aspiration I have ever had.I have educated parents, loving siblings and a good family.Health, wealth, class, beauty. Tick, tick, tick and tick.

What is it, you may question, that I lack? What am I ranting about?I’m not ungrateful, nor am I unappreciative. I promise.My issue is not personal. My dilemma is the fact that I cant just “let it be”I can’t seem to come to level with this society and its law and order.I am lost and I am never ashamed to admit it.

I am not talking about the typical exhausted issues, such as double standards, inequality, being scared of judgment and having to think twice before or after every word and action.I’m not even voicing my objection about being told what to do, believe in, who to love and how to live.

What angers me, is not knowing what the benchmarks are. Senseless, ridiculous cultural rules and traditions that have no relation and many times even clash with religion. Empty, aimless lives. Hollow spirits lead by the love of money and power.Shallow materialistic stupid girls who lack proper principles, opinions and most importantly purposes.Men who are hypocrites, lead double lives and think that their gender gives them the right to do so. After all, they are invincible

It exhausts me to be part of a world where right has become wrong, and the wrong have become correct in our eyes.Being stuck in this unhealthy rut with people who might as well be dead. While the world moves forward and leaves us behindI feel angry; I therefore rant

I Sit there waiting

I sit there, squinting in the sun, reading a paperback, dressed in my orange t-shirt and favorite pair of jeans. The sun so bright. Warm on my tanned skin. In the distance, a little boy and a girl run around the water sprinklers. Shrieks and laughter. Colors of the rainbow. Summer fun.I have never been a fan of summer.

I sit there waiting

Months pass by. I look around and find myself at that same place, swinging my legs, and humming to myself. I feel the breeze as it blows away the crisp orange leafs. I smile because I know it. Fall has begun

I sit there waiting.

I laugh to myself as the tiny droplets of rain fall on my hair, eyelashes and the tip of my nose. I sip my coffee and take a deep breath of fresh air, and for a moment I enjoy the cold rush. I feel alive. How I like the browns and blacks, the sweaters and wool. How I love the rainy afternoons.

I sit there waiting

What am I to do

We accept when we see
We believe when we feel
We like to think that we decide
That we have power over every happening around us;
we can change, determine and choose.
What happens when we lose that control?
When life looks down at us with that smug smile, and uses us as puppets in its cruel little games it plays?
What am I to do with love?
What am I to do with death?