In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

I picked up a small clove of garlic from the cutting board and held it between the fingertips of my right hand while I narrowed my eyes and aimed a knife to its back with my left hand. The sharp edge of the knife sunk into the juicy body of the garlic, but as it pushed down further to halve it, both my hands dropped what they were holding and my feet rushed me to the kitchen sink. I let the running water from the tap wash the fresh cut the knife had created on the tip of my finger, and a tiny splotch of red appeared on its surface. Then I rushed to find a clean cloth which I wrapped around the bleeding finger. All of this happened as if my body had gone into 'Auto' mode, my mind hardly processing what was happening. When I finally did get   the chance the sit down (and quieten my husband who was yelling at me in panic),  I thought about the pain that had triggered my actions over the last few minutes.  What is the purpose of pain, anyway? Doesn't it sound ...

When he first told me he loved me, I made him a list of all the things I consider as flaws in myself. I had warned him that I am not perfect - that I was probably not who he thought I was. He had a choice to take back what he had told me. His answer was a pleasantly surprising, "I know", amidst contagious laughter. He was going to stay and love me anyway. Even though we ended up laughing off the list, looking back, I think it was important that I set the record straight at that early stage. Because I didn't want him to come with the perception of finding in me a perfect human. Because I'm not. And I know it. What we often see in this world are couples who mask their real selves to win over each other. But alas, for how long can one hide? It is true that some day your partner is going to see you for who you are. Will they continue to love you then? Oh, to be loved for who we are is a wonderful feeling! Simply knowing that someone loves us, despite our sho...

She was uncomfortable, a misfit, and maybe a little quaint. The way she wore her bangs, the way her lips curled when she spoke; all of these were reasons for people to find her weird. She was unfamiliar with the local language, and she spoke English with a foreign accent; yet she looked very South Indian. That was enough for people to think she had an "attitude problem". People said she was a girl who looked down at others, so they stood far from her and judged her. She sat in a quiet forgotten corner of the classroom, right next to the back door that nobody used. It was perhaps her escape route. She had an excuse for not staying back after class like most others did to just "hang out" - a diploma class in the neighbouring college. Everybody called her a loner. For a brief period of time, a friend walked into her life; someone who seemed to understand her. She opened up to this friend like she hadn't to anyone else in the class before,  and they shared c...

There are some people who are so special to you that you consider them to be your own. So much so, that when you see another person getting close to a special someone, you feel pin pricks in your heart. You feel engulfed by a bitterness so great, it manifests in the form of an inexplicable rage radiating like fire from your eyes, your lips tighten and fists clench, as you try to pretend that you aren't hurt. Inevitably, though, the hurt takes over, your stern face melting through a quivering chin, the fire in the eyes replaced by the glistening of tears which, unable to contain themselves, pour out like silent rivers across the face. Silent rivers, spilled in quiet loneliness. It doesn't end there! Getting more dangerous by the minute, the mixture of emotions take shape into words, spitting out of the mouth or spilling out from the ends of our fingers and on to a medium that reaches that person, your special person. A couple of thoughts did occur to you about hurting the...

I had quite a rough day at work today. My boss kept asking me to rework what was a perfectly good promotional writeup. I was forced to work late, and when I left office two hours later than usual, he still didn't look so satisfied. I was frustrated by the end of the day. When I'm feeling an emotion, any emotion at all, my immediate reaction is to vent it out. As I walked out of office, I decided it wouldn't be such a good idea to talk loudly to my alter ego in public. So I decided to call someone I thought might listen empathetically. I called twice, but there was no answer. So much for empathy! Feeling more frustrated,and a little hurt, I called my dad. When he answered the phone, I told him that I was just leaving office then. He enquired why I was leaving that late; I grabbed the question as an opportunity to vent out my emotional story. My dad heard half the story, and at some point when I paused (for dramatic effect), thought I was done, and hung up! Disappointed,...