The last letter

The letter trembled in my hand, soaked at a few places. The ink was smudged here and there, but the contents of it were engraved in my memory. Each letter, each word, for I had read it a hundred times now.

‘Dear Kriti,

 I know you are never going to forgive me for this. But I couldn’t bear that hatred in your eyes. You have hated me since the day you started to make sense of the world. And I don’t blame you, because I admit that I have deserved just enough. I never valued you. For I had desired a boy, you know, to be the heir of my tattered clothes and worn out shoes. Hah!

I didn’t treat your mother well. I despised her, for she was not of our kind, much lower in rank, and I had never agreed to the marriage of your father and her. If it was not for your father’s adamancy, I would have provided you with a very beautiful mother, one worthy of our family. But your mother is not as bad as she was expected to be. She didn’t send us to an old age home, at least, for the kindness of her.

The truth is, that I never thought I would ever be able to forgive him for having brought such disgrace to the family. I may have disliked you mother and you, at first. But I started to see the change in me with time. Old age made me wiser, and I could see beyond my preconceptions. I may have been unkind to you, but my affection for you, lately, was not feigned.

I don’t intend to bore you with my blabbering, but I wish I had not committed so many unforgiveable sins that forbade you from visiting me even once, for the last time.

Lastly, the books I always locked in the closet for fear that you might pounce on them, are now freely accessible as I leave that closet unlocked for you.

I have loved you, and by god’s grace I always will, and hope that you forgive me someday, maybe till the time I return to this earth in another form.

You have made me proud, Son.

Yours (If you allow so)

Balbir Tomar’

I read it again. And I had never felt guiltier all my life. Ma repeatedly asked me to visit him at least once, papa was angry with me for being so insensitive. But I was not interested in meeting a soul so wicked to have tormented his own offspring. “People don’t change”, I had said to ma, when he had left a thousand rupee note on the table for my birthday. “Heaven knows what purpose he aims to solve with this fake generosity of his. Why, after so many years…” The words rang in my ear like the sound of an alarm clock, getting increasingly loud with every sentence, till I could take no more…

People change. I was wrong. People change with time, and for the better.

I don’t know if I will be able to forgive him, but myself-- Never.

Oblivion

“Some things are too filmy to be true. Like those couples who keep fighting but always end up together. And those enemies who, with the passage of time, come closer and eventually fall in love. Or that sick, hopeless girl who finds her true love right before she dies.

So do you need to be fatally sick? Or some hand of fate to be your guiding light to love? Or is it that Love can never be forever. I mean, we have to die, so it will die with us. No?

Eternity? Hah! Funny word. Forever, interesting, like Infinite, which nobody has ever been capable of measuring, and nobody ever would be, I guess.

‘The world is not a wish granting factory’, so true, Mr. Green.
Perhaps ‘Nightmares’ is our 'always'.

I’m scared. More scared than ever. And she’s scared too. But we’re scared for the same reason. Scared of her being hurt. She trusts me that I won’t. I trust myself that I will most probably end up breaking that trust.

Maybe it’s better off that way—oblivion. I wish she would forget me. For I can’t, ever.”

.

.

.

And that, was the last page of his diary, and his life.

A merrier Diwali

So many lights, and so many yummy things to eat! I love it! And the fact that didi brings new toys, and accessories for me. They call it the festival of lights. But despite all this, I don’t like Diwali. Didi doesn’t take me out, because there is so much pollution outside. And people throw crackers on the road which scare me. Once a boy threw a cracker on the road while I was strolling outside and it burst right beside my foot. It hurt a lot, and didi put ice on my foot and had to take me to the doctor. The noise is very loud, and my ears are very sensitive so it becomes troublesome. I wonder how those people can stand so much noise. Even inside the room, with all the doors and windows closed, I have such a difficult time. And I can’t sleep peacefully for about a fortnight, from the Dushera festival till Diwali. The next morning when I go for a walk, it is very dirty everywhere. Papers all over which smell very bad.

But I am lucky that I have a home. My friends on the street have a bad condition. One of them can’t walk because his hind leg got ruptured in an accident when a car got off the road to save itself from a lighted cracker in the middle of the road and his leg came under its tyre. They have breathing problems because the pollution is very harmful to their health. It is sad that these humans are not empathetic towards us and just go on creating such noise and pollution which makes our festival miserable.

I like the extra bones that I get from various chicken dishes that are cooked around this time, but that happiness is overpowered by the difficulties in breathing and that unbearable sound of crackers.

If I was granted one wish, I would make all humans capable of interpreting my barks so that they can understand what I am going through and maybe my Diwali is merrier next year.

Need a friend.

I always called him my best friend. Initially he was so shy that he used to take permission on text before calling me. We shared a great bond. But then, he changed, his priorities changed. Now, he doesn’t meet me at all, and we don’t talk much. Seems like we’ve reached the expiry date of our friendship. So he’s not the one I could call when I need a friend.

She shares an obsession of equal magnitude for books and art with me. Both of us would go talk to every little kid we see across the street. I could really call her up and tell her what I feel right now. But I don’t share everything about me with her. She doesn’t even know most of the people I know, or let’s call it the people I think I know… She would be lost halfway through the conversation because she wouldn’t really follow the characters of the story. Hence I’m not really positive if she’s the one I could call when I need a friend.

He’s the purest heart I’ve ever known. He may have grown in size and all, but has the emotional thought process of a cute little seven year old. That’s probably what makes him so pure at heart. If there’s one person I could trust with anything, it would be him. But his life is his own. He talks to people when he wants to, and when he doesn’t, he won’t even answer their texts or calls. He has got an overwhelming mood-swing issue. And until he’s at least replying to your messages, you can’t really talk to the walls. He’s sure a sweetheart. But he’s a kid. And he’s never there to hear me out when I feel he’s the one I could call when I need a friend.

She and I have something more than usual friendship- the family friends thingy. We vent out our happiness, grief, confusion, frustration and so many things in that one hour we spend travelling with each other every day. Talking to her is always so refreshing for the mind. It’s a happy day for her, and my pain is so insignificant in front of her happiness. Plus we don’t share everything, we can’t… So I don’t want her to be the one I could call when I need a friend.

He is my inspiration. Close to perfection, a man of ethics. If the idea’s in his mind, he has already started working on it. He’s that efficient. He would hear me out if I’d ask him to, but then I can’t trouble him or, show him that I’m emotionally so broken. Because before him, I’m a changed woman. A stronger, more sensible, responsible, focused woman. And when I talk to him I feel all of that. Only because I forget this hole burning up inside me. Ignorance is bliss, indeed. He’s the one I would call for sensible suggestions involving sensible issues, so right now he’s not the one I could call when I need a friend.

She would call me up randomly in every fifteen days and talk about all that’s going around in people’s lives. My prime source of all gossip in town. I could really go hours and hours talking to her. I could actually spend so much time with her without even realizing it. But I cannot trust her with secrets. Because she is surely the kind of person with whom I would forget what time it is, but definitely not the one I could call when I need a friend.

He’s a mystery to me. It seems like he has a hold on necromancy. Risks-internal battles- inner conscience- morals- sensibility---everything goes down the drain when I’m with him. My insecurities keep pinning me but their voices fail to cross the soundproofing of the thing called love. He doesn’t want me to fall in love-love with him. But I do, and I can’t help it. I just want him to stay with me, with all his inhibitions; the girls he makes out with, the nicotine he inhales and everything he does. He’s the most complex shade of grey I’ve ever, ever come across. I’m still debating on the possibility of him being the one I could call when I need a friend.

She was a casual acquaintance at school. Then we were at the same college, and now we’re married. A typical Bollywood love story we have. But the fact that she’s my wife and she takes care of all the things in the family so well makes me rethink the idea of sharing all my worries with her. How can I trouble her further? She’s not going to be the one I could call when I need a friend…

Source: Strangers

Green Clips

Mummy had extra work at Sheetal aunty's that day. She said they had organized Kannu didi's birthday party.
"Why does Kannu didi celebrate birthday, mummy?" I asked her when she asked me to cook dinner.
"Because she was born today, it is her special day." She told me.

What do we do on birthday?” I wanted to know.

“She meets her friends, and gets lots of gifts.” Mummy bit her tongue when she said that. Maybe she wanted to keep that a secret.
"When is my special day? My birthday?"
"I'll tell you when it will come. Make sure dinner's ready before papa comes, okay?"
She said and left. Every time I ask her about my birthday, she goes away. All I'm left to talk to is my 8 months old baby brother, who can't even reciprocate in my language. 

I was studying in class 1, but mummy had to go to work. And papa also. And Akki was small. He needs someone to be with him. So papa made me leave school.
Every day, in the morning, I stay at home to take care of Akki. And when mummy is back from work at lunch time, I take the box of stickers and start my journey from Chandravali to Kamla Nagar, in order to earn some extra income.
Mummy gives me 10% of this earning as my pocket money. I buy clips with it. I love colorful clips. I have matching clips for my clothes. My friends don't get pocket money, but they can read books. Sometimes I want to write counting too. But then I count the notes I have earned, isn't that the same thing? When Akki will grow up, we both will go to school together. Then I will learn to write counting.

Today mummy gave me 8 rupees because I could earn only 80 rupees yesterday. I don't have green clips for this dress. And I couldn't buy them for 8 rupees. It was 3 pm and I was on my usual stroll near the snack corner. Most didis and bhaiyas come from college to eat here. They offer me their leftovers sometimes, but it is very tasty, so I accept. They seldom buy my stickers, but I keep trying...

Today a didi came and asked me, "Do you know Pooja? She is my friend. I want to meet her." She had two more didis with her. One didi had a big camera. 

Pooja is my neighbour. She goes to school in the morning and comes here with her box at 3. "She hasn't come as yet." I told didi. She was wearing a green top. Green clips. They were so beautiful. Must be very costly. She started talking to me. I told her that I go to school.

Mummy said that I should not tell anyone about the truth or they will take Akki away so that I can go to school. I don't want anyone to take him away. I love him. So I kept this a secret.

She was a nice didi. Asked me when my birthday was. And when I told her that I don't know then she said, "It's my birthday today. Let's celebrate your birthday also today."

She fed me dal rice with her own hands and also gave me chocolate. And that camera wali didi clicked our pictures. The other didi who was very tall, taught me how to write counting till 20, when I requested her to.

I didn't want her to go. But she wanted to go to her mummy's house.

Before leaving, she asked me what I like the most. I told her that I love to buy clips to match with my dress. She asked me why I wasn’t wearing clips today. And I told her I will buy green clips tomorrow…
She has promised me she'll come next Thursday to meet me. I'll wait for her. 

I am looking at the beautiful green clips she gave me as my birthday present, and I miss her already.