Tag: family

What becomes of the broken-hearted

broken heartedWe’ve all faced it before, but still forget how easy it is to break your heart again and again.

I’ve had so many heartbreaks.

When I was five passing through the fancy store, longing to make that expensive cloth doll my own.

When I walked into school for the first time, and my neighbour had longer, darker hair than mine.

When my class teacher punctured my ego, knocking points off for my hasty handwriting.

When my mother denied me a fifth slice of cake.

When my father wouldn’t sign my report card because of a few failures, and I had to face detention in school.

When I opened my laptop for the first time in a new job and it didn’t boot.

When I realized my colleagues have moved on and I was still getting coffee.

When I stole my brother’s wallet only to find bills in there.

When I had to endure the funeral of my favourite teacher.

They all flash before my eyes when I play this song in my headset.

“What becomes of the broken-hearted… who had love that’s now departed?”

And I realize: We’ll be fine.

The Performance

performance

It was showtime.

He faced his audience, and knew it would be the last time.

They all had terminal illnesses.

 

Human Nature. A Conundrum

I’m hung up on The Blacklist.

red

I’m hung up on brilliant writing, cold-blooded murders, deception, manipulation, justice, and purjury. But most of all, I’m hung up on human nature.

Ego. It’s a weird word. It sounds weird. It looks weird. And it means more than its disyllabic utterance. At the end of every episode of every season of every show, I had to question my instincts about human nature and all I thought I knew about love and ego.

Humans are egotistic bastards. Nothing changes that.

But love changes anything.

The revelation surprised me. After all, I had lost all hope in humanity. I felt rather negative about humans. How could anyone demand control over another? I hated it that parents could dominate their child’s life. I couldn’t bear the thought of one person dictating entire nations. It felt like hypnosis — in a world that prides itself democratic.

But then I saw The Blacklist. It strengthened my feelings, of course, but it shook my beliefs as well.

I hadn’t thought anyone could ever care for another so much as to go to any lengths to fight for the ones they cared. No matter the price — even if it were the ego they held most dear — they’d give it up nonetheless. Because, love.

And at that moment, I regained hope in humanity. I know, The Blacklist is nothing more than awesome fiction. But we are a race that thrives on fiction. We seek inspiration in non existence. Fiction taught me survival in a world of dangerous, manipulative people. But fiction also showed me the world has people who’d give up everything they treasured to protect those they loved.

Perhaps humility will endure. Wait till I finish the series.

Chapter Fifty One: Eight Years Later

Dear Diary,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a long time. It’s just, I am so busy with my life and all the other lives I’m now a part of. A lot has been happening lately.

Today dawned just another boring Tuesday, but the important thing, today’s Pa’s ninth death anniversary. I was a quiet day, and I made his favourite chapatti — just the usual.

Also, we got some great news yesterday. “Dissolve Addiction” members are all doing really well. We have succeeded more than I thought. I’m really glad. We’ve got new volunteers and a whole lot of benefactors. Yay!

Anil’s interview aired yesterday, and he was amazing of course. He spoke of us and how we got things started. And he spoke of Niveda. I didn’t know he would, and after a long time, thinking of her made me cry. If only we could have saved her.

I saw him do the interview, but seeing him on television really gave me the spark. You know what? He looked so handsome in that blue shirt I picked up, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Anyway, about “Dissolve Addiction” — we’ve sent out thousands of people who are better off. Their families are so grateful to see them free. It’s priceless. Particularly the children. I’ve never been happier for starting this organization.

Anil is taking care of the organization, and I’m juggling between this and teaching. He’s done a great job, really. He’s almost taking care of everything single handed. I’m so glad he doesn’t regret quitting his job. It’s as if both he and I have taken our inspiration from James.

But here’s the truth, Diary. In the beginning, we got nowhere, and I worried about failing. None of our members were motivated enough, they tried, yes, but kept giving up. And then James heard of our endeavour and called us. It was James and Rasheed (Remember him? The physician who treated Niveda?) who helped us get on track. Rasheed connected us with a few professionals and then it was all success from there.

Ms Marrie called today. She’s having a good time. She likes traveling and meeting new people. It’s surprising, you know, how she’s so active for her age. We celebrated her fortieth birthday last year, and she bubbled with energy. She was like these women in American TV series. You know, those old women who neither look nor sound old? That’s how she is, she’s got herself a comfortable car and is planning to make road trips throughout the country.

Another weird thing happened last night. Niveda’s mother called me. Can you believe it? I didn’t think so.

She called in to say she was sorry. ‘What for?’ I asked, and she said, it was for the way she had treated me all those years ago. I told her she should feel sorry for the way she had treated Niveda. After all, it was her fault, right?

Anyway, I don’t even know why she suddenly thought of apologizing. Maybe it was the interview. But I don’t care about her. I have other, important things to worry about.

That’s it for now, I think.
Talk later.

Chapter Fifty: The Final Chance

Praveena carried on, sharing her knowledge and experience with the children who came her way. She painted whenever she felt like it and grew as an artist.

She showcased her paintings in exhibitions, and people bought her work with interest that surprised her. In all of the exhibitions she attended, she displayed the drawing of the three stallions. But despite a lot of people offering to buy it, she remained reluctant to sell.

She and Ms Marrie met now and then in The Green Leaf restaurant. They spoke of things that bothered them, and Ms Marrie would often give Praveena some handy tips.

On her twenty-eighth birthday, Praveena eagerly opened the letter she had received. Ms Marrie and Anil were her only well wishers. Ms Marrie had called early in the morning, and the letter had to be from Anil. And sure enough, it was a hand-written letter.

Dearest Praveena,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am well too. Life in Bangalore is so boring. I am thinking of shifting to Chennai, and stay closer to you if it’s alright with you.

How is your life? I know you would have changed a lot from the last time we spoke. I know the lonely years have troubled you, but remember, you are not alone. I’ll always be with you.

I really hope you do take care of yourself. I will be coming over to Chennai tomorrow and want to talk to you. Meet me in “The Green Leaf” at one o’clock.
Please do come.

Anil.

Praveena read and reread the letter. Anil was coming to Chennai? After such a long time? She couldn’t understand why. And why had he mentioned the place and time in the letter? He could have just called her, or an SMS would have been enough, she wondered confused. She felt a bit reluctant to meet him. What would they talk about?

She waited for Anil at The Green Leaf restaurant. Ever since her father had died, their friendship gradually diminished. ‘Then why’ her inner voice was curious ‘does he want to meet you?’

Anil came into the restaurant and walked over to her. He hadn’t changed much. His hair was unkempt as it had always been, and he wore blue jeans and a blue full sleeved shirt folded half-way.

“Hey,” he said taking the seat opposite her, smiling through his trimmed boxed beard.

“Hi,” she smiled broadly. “It’s so good to see you again,” she said earnestly. Seeing Anil again brought back old memories, bringing a familiar smile on her face. “how’ve you been?” she asked.

“Good, good” he replied, nodding. “and you?” he raised his eyebrows.

Praveena nodded. ‘Alright’. Anil nodded as well.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked crossing her arms on the table.

“Oh,” Anil hesitated. “Er – about starting that self-help, recovery thing,” he waved his arms casually, “remember?”

“What about it, Anil?” Praveena asked exasperatedly.

“Let’s start the organization,” Anil said rubbing his hands together looking excited all of a sudden. “I’m bored with my job,” and seeing her raised eyebrows, he added, “you wanted to do this too. We’ll get it started,” he shrugged.

Praveena thought about it. He was right. She had wanted to do this, but she wasn’t sure if now was a good time. But she also didn’t know when a good time was. She could work in the institution and teach at the same time. That wouldn’t be a problem. She wondered why the thought had never occurred to her earlier. ‘Because you had no one to talk to,’ the voice in her head helped, and Praveena agreed silently. With Anil back at her side, they could set this up together. Her dream would become reality.

Anil watched in silence as she waged the war in her head. He had seen her do it before and knew better than to interrupt.

“Alright Anil,” she sighed. “Let’s do this,” she smiled widely. After a long time, she felt the same excitement she had had years before when the thought first hatched in her head. “Thanks, for coming,” she smiled at him.

They sipped on their juice in silence, and once finished, she was about to stand, when Anil stopped her, “Praveena?” She looked questioningly at him. “One more thing,” he paused looking serious.

“What is it Anil?” she asked leaning forward in her chair.

“I tried to tell you a lot of times…” he stalled shaking his head. He swallowed. And then, he smiled brightly. “Praveena,” he said, looking deep into her eyes, at the way her pupils dilated in curiosity, “Will you marry me?”