Reunion.

In her bed she lied, sleepless, agitated, tired……… grumpy. The ceiling fan was making strange noises, and the moonlight coming from the window, where the curtains were half open, was casting scary shadows on the wall with weathering paint and peeling plaster. She was missing the familiar comforting hum of the old fashioned window AC, that always lulled her to sleep. These fancy, quiet, split units never worked for her.

There was a heap of unwashed, worn, and semi ironed clothes, lingerie, dupattas and newspapers on the sofa at the other end of the room, with a half empty rucksack and a trolley bag. A rarely used prayer rug was neatly folded and rested on the left arm of it. Shoes having various levels of uncomfortable heels were lined along the wall with a lone window, with no view and an ugly grill.

An over-sized hand bag, a laptop, an envelope clutch, two sets of covering sheets, four mismatched pillows, with the softest and finest 400 thread count pillow covers, two cushions and an assortment of books, papers and random objects were sprawled over the uncomfortable bed along her.

Midnight passed a couple of hours ago, her cell phone made a familiar sound, the sound she always wanted to hear, desperately, the beep of a new Facebook message.  This time, it gave her shivers, the pristine, pricey connecting device was making that sound after every few seconds.

Someone at the other end of the country was sending her words, words she always wanted to hear, words she could kill for, but it was too late now. Why now?? ……. That bloody “why” echoed in her ears over and over again, the silence was deafening, she felt suffocated and crushed by the mob of loneliness.

Her life was messier than her room, her head more crowded than the wardrobes filled with years of comfort shopping, her heart icier than the air freezing her bare toes…….. Her body warm…….. wanting.……… pulsating with desires ………  barren ……… arid ………

She thought about the days that were gone, she called her younger selves in……..for company……..and strangely, one by one, they all appeared……..

Image

Walked down the aisle her twenty five years old, pretty, naïve, ambitious self, ready to face and conquer the word, ready to be inducted in the acceptable social circles, clad in her wedding finery, head covered, adorned with a gold nose ring and a bejeweled Tikka, hair and makeup perfectly done, hands and feet tattooed with Henna…………………

Sauntered in a Femme Fetale of thirty one, short, spiked, freshly colored hair, an air of arrogance and extreme self-assurance surrounding her, wearing a sleeveless dress, nicely made up, still trying to master the art of deception and concealing the pain and hurt from the past years ………… she carried herself well……….

Her twenty seven years old self stood bewildered, wide eyed……… bruised, a swollen lip, a slap mark on her right cheek, bare footed, bare headed, holding a divorce letter in one hand a heap of hospital and utility bills in other, tears flowing, hair messy, hands rough from scrubbing the floors, shoulders bent with responsibilities, womb scarred from the loss of a child, she couldn’t save….. she sobbed …….. mourned ……… her screams never got heard ………

An eighteen years old super confident girl with un tamed hair and un matched intellect sashayed in, rebellious, carefree, curious, she banged her books on the floor and sat, laughing uncontrollably…… happy in her worn out shoes, and not so expensive simple clothes…………

Sneaked in a wise woman of thirty four, immaculately draped in a sari, a sultry I-know-it-all smile on her lips, and a swag in her walk, she stood tall, scared of none. Scars hidden, grieves buried, responsibilities taken care of, all sorted……….. she looked forward to the future… with eyes having deep dark circles and slight crow feet…..

There sat a lonely haggard female of thirty six, dumped, depressed, devastated, she hugged her knees and tried to stay calm, at her feet was a bag, with a contract for a job that promised a fortune, a passport eligible to get stamped for the citizenship of the first world, a mortgage approval for a home, keys of a car with a personalized number plate, she pulled a wad of money out and tore it apart, along with other papers, threw the pieces and the keys in the air, the only thing she tightly clutched was a one way ticket to home……………………

A tipsy thirty seven years old toppled over, and laughed out loud, a hollow scary fake laugh, her jeans were ripped, shirt crumpled, she took her high heels off and steadied herself, before checking her appearance in the mirror, she ran her beautiful long fingers with painted nails through her bed head hair and looked at the assortment of souls…………. Lost…….. she tried to remember her name …… she tried to identify herself ……….

They were all her, and she was each of them………….. the only difference was that while she lied with an empty heart, the rest of them were filled up with Love, Dreams, and Hopes…………………… no matter how broken or damaged they all were……. They seemed content, even the bitch in the black slutty top and “seven for all mankind” ripped jeans ………. had a little flame of love burning inside her…… the flame she extinguished before it flared into a fire ………..

They all held hands and hugged each other, formed a circle, chanted, chatted, they merged into each other and amalgamated to form a monster………… a ghost from the past …………….. that scary creature came to her bed …….. kissed her forehead and they snuggled up……….. completely unaware of the fact that there stood a three years old innocent girl in a green and black maxi, wearing red Marie Janes and a butterfly hair clip ……… scared she stood and silently cried………. it all looked like a nightmare ………… a dream that haunted all her childhood ……..  had she known this was what the future held for her …….

She suddenly caught her eye ……….. beads of salty sweat poured out from each and every pore of her body…….. she freed herself from the embrace and ran towards her to pick her up and as soon as she touched her, the little girl turned into a glass figurine and shattered into pieces …………

She couldn’t bear it, she ran and locked herself in the loo, lit up her last cigarette with trembling hands, took a deep drag and exhaled …….. scared, alone, she sat on the cold tiled floor…… and listened to her heart, that still had the balls to beat……………

She heard the mobile ringing again………… The same familiar sound, it was the morning wake up alarm……………………

Time to get back to the real world………..

That night made no difference in any one’s life!!!!!!!!!

Seemi.

17th September, 2013.

©BoldieTalks. 

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17 thoughts on “Reunion.

  1. Every night makes a huge difference in one’s own life. The rest can go to hell. if the little girl in the dress can become a 37 year old woman, and can still identify the little girl in herself, i think she deserves a hug. cyber and real both. Knowing your self is not easy, and so is owning yourself. Much Respect ..

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  2. Brilliant. As a piece of writing, it is extra-ordinary. I love the allegory, the vivid description, the attention to detail, the drama, the emotions.

    Regarding the subject and what is being said between lines, is a completely different story! Would it have had the same effect on me if I had not known you? I would have just read this as a piece of literature and enjoyed it for its crisp contemporariness. But knowing you brings another dimension to it. I am lured towards analyzing your intentions, and by default providing empathetic comments, and understanding. But won’t that spoil this exercise of self portrayal?

    What I will do, however, is to say that you remind me of Frida Kahlo, the mexican painter…. and you’re probably her literary counterpart. Her life was eventful and interesting, and by virtue of that she found herself the most interesting subject to explore… most of her paintings are self portraits, in one form or the other. Even the ones that don’t have her face in them, have her effect in them as their dominant theme. I guess some lives are like that, and that’s their trademark.

    Keep writing. 🙂

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    • This morning I gave up, as I couldn’t write a single straight word, too exhausted emotionally and too drained physically I started staring at the laptop screen …. Two hours and tons of tears later…. This happened …. And after I read your comment, I knew it was worth it….. My work is my progeny and I don’t date denial anymore….. Courting Disaster is a different story 😉

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  3. I loved it.. you r very brave to write it… i dont have fancy words to appreciate it… and i dont think this post needs appreciation..
    No matter how many shades you have.. we always love you..

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  4. I m speechless..I am an addictive reader and I have never come across any piece of writing which has moved me to this extent.. I have not only felt the emotions ,I have tasted them on the tip of my tongue. The sting of the harsh reality kind of stays with you,wrapping you in this sadness which you cant shake off..I could actually see you pouring your heart out in every post of yours. Baring your soul and flaunting your scars takes guts..Kudos to you for being so gutsy ..

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