Addicted to life

My favorite lines from a recent addiction.

Think of all the roads

Think of all their crossings.

Taking steps is easy

Standing still is hard.

Remember all their faces

Remember all their voices.

Every thing is different

Second time around.

                                - Regina Spektor

Couldn't help pondering over the truth in these lines. I have always been amazed at how most of the songs or music we listen to can easily be related to a certain phase of our life (Most often - The present!). Is it just an uncanny coincidence or an irrational association with those brain cells working overtime? Either case, I am not interested in the logic in this phenomena, rather I choose to feel consoled in knowing that somebody else at some point of time went through the same phase and had better words to describe it. 

Indeed, two is company !

The beginning of an end

The endings have always been my favorite part.

It gives hope that there will be a new beginning. 

A new beginning with a different ending.

To Hate, With Love.

This was not my favorite city in the world. I had always been a 'Paris' kind of girl. Terribly in love with romance. And the cold. A quaint cafe, my book, his smile and a cup of coffee. This would have made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

So when I set foot in the best city of the world, I was determined to hate it with all my heart. Every single thing about it. The rush. The rains. The bridges. The lights. The confusing maps. And most of all, him.

I hated the way his face lit up when he saw the city.
I hated that he held my hands when we crossed the roads.
I hated that he looked at me while I admired the love locks on the bridge.
I hated how he refused to sit anywhere else on the train. That he sat only next to me.
I hated that we walked around for hours to find the perfect food.
I hated how good the food tasted, with him.
I hated the way he smiled when he turned down a ride on the horse carriage.
'She will love you more for this', the owner insisted.
I think he knew better.
I hated that he took pictures to send her.
I hated that he still came back to me.
I hated how happy that made me.

I think I just fell in love with hate.

Not pink enough

I am a social introvert. For all the 'blah-ing' that I do on my blog here, in my real life, I paint a picture quite in contrast. So if and when I embark to make a conversation with anyone, it truly means that the person on the other side is worth risking the effort.

Hence, out of the blue, I decided to ping him. Just like that. No agenda. 

'Hey !' - My favorite conversation starter word. Has to go in with the exclamation mark. Shows my enthusiasm in striking up the conversation.

I wasn't expecting a quick response. When my mobile beeped with a reply in seconds, my heart literally leapt into my throat.

The smile was involuntary.

Crisp but sweet. His message. 'I am glad you pinged. Been missing you.'

A 'Really?' was all I could manage to text back.

'Yeah. Can't wait to meet you. Pick you up in 20 minutes. Dinner and a drive by the beach.'

My legs had gotten wings.20 minutes is not enough time to look pretty. I simply had to do my best. The shirt was ironed. Blue. His favorite.Mine too. And the pink lipstick. He always complained my lips weren't pink enough. 

I smiled at myself in the mirror. I don't know what he complained about. They were pink. And smiling from end to end. 

I knew he couldn't make the journey of 22 hours in just 20 minutes.

I hope she was ready when he got there. I hope he got to take her on the dinner and the drive. I hope her lips were pink enough.

Heads or Tails

When faced with two choices, simply toss a coin. It works not because it settles the question for you, but because in that brief moment when the coin is in the air, you suddenly know what you are hoping for.

20's something Vs 30's me

'Deeps, You are like a second hand 1100 Nokia handset now. I mean, maybe some people might prefer it for, you know, reasons like you remind them of a past they enjoyed being in, but 99% of the crowd prefers the new generation cloud phones with all the frills and fancy attachments. Even if you try an upgrade now, say by working out and losing all that fat you gained by your emotional binge, it's definitely not going to make you into an iPhone5. Face it, your options and choices are very limited and I say you just head for the first recycle center you see and just be content with it. Don't aim for true love or happiness anymore. Leave that to the iPhones and galaxy tabs'

I usually never quote any conversations in my blog, but this one particular conversation is being used here word by word because I couldn't get over the absurdity in it. The context being, a well meaning friend advising me on giving marriage a second shot. I must admit, I have to give it to her for the well constructed analogy. But the actual content of the conversation left me numb for a long time and then just gave me a reason to write up another blog post, back to back!

She did get me thinking though. Am I really that low in the desirable market now? I do know that on this side of the 30's, the choice of available single men who are not commitment phobes or rapists or murderers or mamma's boy is drastically low. And to be honest, if a man was past 30 and still single, I would have my doubts about him too, obviously! And if he turns out to be a decent one for that matter and maybe even ready to commit, that would only exponentially increase my suspicions about him. I wouldn't think of it as a stroke of my good luck. I would only be more focused on trying to understand why any other woman hadn't gotten to him before!

So I guess on the other side of the 30's, there is no concept of true love or romance. It is all about trying to make best of what is available and fervently hope that the one you land up is not going to rape, kill or abscond with your savings ! Whats scarier is the fact that this apparently appears to be the mutual consensus.

That's not a pretty picture for the future, especially for a die-hard romantic like me. I mean, I still expect to be swooned away magically by 'The one', because hey, I just got myself freed from the wrong one so that I am ready when he gets along. And if I am going to have to ask him questions on terms like 'Have you ever been convicted of rape or murder' instead of 'Will you get me flowers and hold my hands when we walk', I think I am in for some serious trouble !! I am still waiting for my dream proposal. And this time, I wanted to make sure that it's the guy who is going to propose me !

I guess the 20's something iPhones certainly have their lives in a better place. And I wasted that entire decade of my life figuring out how I can do everything wrong so that I screw up my 30's,40's and 50's. Brilliant planning I say !

God ! Just don't let me be taken to a recycle center.

And my dear friends - this is precisely the reason why I never answer your phone calls or reply to your emails. Because if this is the kind of inspirational jabber you think will help me back on my feet, I guess you just don't know me well enough.

Sonic memories

Today, I woke up to the sound of the shrill whistle of the pressure cooker. For that brief moment, I was transported 7000 miles across the oceans and continents. Back home. To my mother's kitchen. Our weekend routine breakfast. Puttu-Kadala (Traditional kerala dish). The first whistle of the pressure cooker is the sign that she is readying the 'Kadala' for it's first stage of preparation. It was like a well rehearsed dance. Still lying cozy in my bed, I would continue making a mental note of her routine. The sound of her getting the grater out of the shelf, the coconut being broken in half, she saves the tender sweet water for me after taking one sip from the glass, the sound of the coconut being grated, the smell of the curry leaves and spices and coconut being roasted, the blender and the grand finale, sound of her setting up the 'Puttu' steamer. This was my cue to get out of bed. Perfect timing to freshen up and be in the kitchen exactly in time for the first batch of the steaming hot puttu-kadala and my favourite, the sweet coconut water.

So today morning, on hearing the shrill whistle, I dragged my lazy self out of bed and walked sleepy eyed into my kitchen half expecting to see my mother's smiling face there with the hot breakfast ready. The kitchen was empty, much like my life.

Turns out, I just have new Indian neighbors.

But to me, it was amazing, how that one single sound bought back such fond memories. Which filled my heart with love and missing. Also a teeny weeny bit of guilt. Because every single trip home, I always swore I would surprise my mother by waking up early and taking up the role of making breakfast for the family. Never happened. Despite being 30, when I get home, I miraculously turn worse than a 3 year old !

So that got me thinking - Sonic memories. I am sure it's not just me. We all have memories associated with most sounds in our daily life. Some sweet, some harsh, some bitter and some purely mind numbing.

Like the time the radio plays a song. Every time, even today, when this particular song comes up, my heart skips a beat and my hand automatically reaches for my mobile - Overwhelmingly numb.

Or the time the Jennifer Lopez song comes up, it reminds me of the time the super cute guy from my gym hit on me :-). This song had been my inspiration to do a crazy work out regime that particular day and said cute guy congratulates me for the attempt and even goes on to compliment my tattoo - Seventh heaven !

Case rests that I never wound up meeting the afore mentioned cutie after that, but it's been my inspiration to hit the gym atleast 3 days a week because you know, sometimes you never know - Inspired!

Speaking of ring tones, my personal favorite- The classic Nokia ring tone. To this day, there is only one person my heart fondly remembers every single time I hear it - My father. For over the last 16 years, ever since he has started using a mobile phone, despite upgrading the device to still-no-frills handsets, he has vehemently refused to change the ring tone to anything else - Deep love and gratitude for the one man in my life who has never left my side or let me down from the time I took my first breath.

Commercial flight's take off announcement - This fills me with panic and grips my heart with such fierce fear that I literally break out into a sweat frenzy. And no, it is not because I have the fear of flying. On the contrary, I used to love it.It all started when I was making my first trip back home to file my divorce. From the moment I boarded the flight and the engines revved into life, my first instinct was to get out of my seat, make a dash for the door and run for life. I didn't want to make the much dreaded journey, just to get there and end my life. What lay at the other side of the journey filled me with dread. I was, after all, putting an end to my life, going to make an ass of myself in front of family, friends and the general public, sign up for a life of being scorned, rebuked and disdained upon and in all probability end up being alone for the rest of my life. To be that weird old hag who lives with her 5 dogs and 20 cats.

So much so that, each time I board a flight now, I have to convince myself that there is going to be no courtroom drama at the other end, no counselors making you feel like a cheapskate, no confusing paper work to be signed, no looks of disapproval or animosity and most importantly no one with a name board reading 'Loser - You are such a failure'. Because when you are thirty and divorced and happen to be of the 'Woman' species, this is exactly what you are. A pathetic failure.

I would have assumed that anything associated with marriage would fill me dread and panic, but oddly enough, the sounds of marriage itself or any memory associated with it actually fills me up with fond nostalgia. Because no matter how the journey ended, the beginning was beautiful. The day of my marriage is still a very fond memory in my mind. Not to sound vain, but I was a beautiful bride. Dressed up in all glory. Everything had been perfect. I hadn't stopped smiling even for a second.The day was every bit how I had wanted it to be. I know I can never go there again, ever. Even if I do get married again, I know I will never be as beautiful or innocent as the 27 year old bride I had been.

And that is precisely the reason why, when my mother asked me what to do with the wedding album, I told her to save it up someplace safe. Because in-spite of everything that had gone wrong in the marriage, I still want to someday see the visual proof of the day I had been completely oblivious in a fool's paradise. Everything else from that journey has been burned and turned to ashes. Only this was to remain.

So folks, this is the story of how a single shrill whistle of a pressure cooker in the morning turned my day into a day of reminiscence. There are plenty more memories I can think of to associate memories I cherish and refrain from too, but I think this post has done what it was intended to do - Get me out of my head and into my blog. Maybe I should tip my new neighbors something generous, so that they make this a weekend routine.

I liked waking up in the morning, today.

It's been there all along...

I hear and I forget.
I see and I remember.
I do and I understand.
                         - Confucius

So that clearly explains why I am hell bent on making mistakes over and over again ! Finally, a theory to support my spontaneous outbursts. And to think I had been stuck like a hamster in a wheel going round and round in my head over my actions. Which reminds me - I should get a hamster. Maybe. Or a dog. Oh sigh ! Here we go again !

To be or not

My biggest regret in life  – that I had a near perfect childhood. That my parents were the perfect examples of a stable marriage. That they ensured I never mixed in with the wrong crowd. That I was always protected. That I never met a thug or got spoken to harshly.

All the people in my life were reviewed and filtered. I got to meet only the good ones. The bad ones were kicked out even before I got a chance to know of their existence. I was taught to trust people. To give them chances.  To not hurt anyone. Even if they hurt you over and over. I was taught never to panic. Because it was assured to me that everything will be eventually taken care of. That there is a place to go back no matter how bad things get. A place where I am not judged, scorned or insulted. That I never had to witness a fight in my life ever before. That everything was rosy and a bed of roses. 

I was taught to be always optimistic. That there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. But in my case, most often, that light was usually the headlight of an approaching train and I was stranded in the tunnel with no way out! This was a truth I never realized until much later in my life. Until then, the fool in me breezed along enjoying the shrill whistle of the speeding train, feeling the thunderous vibrations of the tracks and being happy that I was getting closer to the light, oblivious of the impending doom.

Probably this is how I turned out to be naive. I like to call it naive. Others might call it stupid or foolhardy.

 I really do wish I did tread a few thorns on my way when I was younger and stronger to deal with it. Not now. Not when I am thirty and everyone in my league is eons ahead of me when it comes to grabbing life by it’s collar and kicking it where it hurts! I am stranded even now, struggling to find where this evasive so-called collar of life is so that I can give it a piece of my mind too, before my time is up.

I wish I was from a broken home trained to be street smart from a very young age. Trained to call out on people’s lies and shrewdness the minute I laid eyes on them. Capable of using abusive language. Able to actually type out the phrase ‘kick his balls’ without having to backspace it a hundred times.  Give s**t to people when they lash it out to me. Be able to never trust anyone, ever. To be a cynic. To not want to have a smile on my face even when the world around me is crashing down. To not worry about hurting others. To speak my mind out without a care for the listener.

I wish I could put the blame on someone. But it’s really not fair of me to put my parents in the hot seat and tell them that I am a lost cause because they were perfect. That I am a failure when it comes to living on my own cause they taught me to believe only in the good. Because they ensured I grow up to be a better person. 

I am my own enemy.

Tribute to a nation's hero

I didn't know him. I had never met him. But I knew his wife. Long before she became his wife. When she was a bubbly teenager. And then years went by. We reconnected on facebook. I saw her transition from the radiant graduate to a blushing bride to a proud mother and now to be the brave wife of a nation's hero.

Major Mukund Varadarajan(Age 31) - 22 Rajputana Regiment Indian Army. Killed during an encounter with terrorists in Shopian, kashmir on April 25, 2014. Survived by wife and three year old daughter.

Nothing in recent times has moved me as much as watching this video of father daughter duo sharing a brief singing session. 

At a time when parents are rushing to buy iPad's and iPhone's for kids,filling their little heads with poems on little stars that twinkle overhead, on princesses locked away in high towers, on prince charmings riding away in shining armor, here is a father teaching his little girl something she will treasure for the rest of her life. 

It moves me that the little one will have no or little memory of the amazing person that her father was. That all she will remember of this brave man is what little stories such videos and photographs tell her. That she will regret not getting a chance to show him what an important part he has played in making her who she is.

And to think I was selfish enough to hope to be a single mother. 

The world needs more sons, fathers and husbands like these. Why does fate have to deprive the lucky ones?

Fear I have not, fear I have not,
Even if the entire sky breaks,
And falls on my head
Even if they judge me as the worst,
Fear I have not, fear I have not.

Post by Major Mukund Varadarajan.

A letter to my daughter

If I was living my life the way I had charted it out when I was younger, this would be the year I am celebrating my daughter's 3'rd birthday. And the reality of how life has actually turned out to be is nowhere close to my plans.

I have been working on giving my blog a new look and also doing a clean up process of my drafts folder here, when I came across a couple of unfinished work. This was my favorite in the list there. 

Every girl goes through a phase in life when she starts naming her unborn children and have conversations with them, conjure up games for them, decide clothes and shoes and colors for them. I was no different either, except for one point. I had taken it a step further and decided to write a letter to my daughter. 

Going through a letter a very delirious 24 year old me had written to my daughter had me splitting with laughter. I am saving that for a later post. But I loved the concept and decided to write a new one for my daughter, after life has taken me through me this roller coaster ride. I certainly hope there will be a daughter to read all this, one day. If not, this certainly is a lot of expert advice going unheeded  (and one heck of an 'awesome mom' gene pool going to waste ! ;) ).

My dear little girl (Leah),

Let me start this by telling you that you are beautiful. And if anyone ever makes you feel or believe otherwise, you don't need them in your life. Don't let yourself be fooled into believing what others think of you. 

Before going any further in this letter, let's get a few points straight out here. If there ever is a competition for the best mummy, I wouldn't even be eligible for an application to it ! At this stage, I am totally clueless on how to get myself along in life, let alone be responsible for another life. But I am hoping that it's one of those magic traits god has ingrained in us women - To be able to miraculously transform into a 'mommy' the minute you hear the tiny heart beat in the scan machine (I will totally let you know how that felt when I get there!). 

But for the moment, I will be the mom who has no idea how to bake a cake or a cookie, who doesn't know the difference between Red and Maroon, who still believes that everything pink has to be girly and everything blue boyish and any other color is to be discarded, who is terrible at sewing a button back on, who still thinks it's awesome to eat Maggi at midnight even if it's for a 1 year old, who doesn't care if the milk is organic or not, who doesn't separate her whites from the colors in the washing machine and well, so you get the picture here don't you? It's going to be a fun mother-daughter life and I am sure we will work our routine out eventually.  

If you are the girl who believes in prince charmings and happily ever afters, let me make this clear to you. There are plenty of prince charmings out there in the world, but not all of them will find their way to you. A majority of them eventually end up losing the way and will be too stubborn to ask for directions. I am not saying they will never come to you, but there is a good chance that they will not get to you by the time you are ready for them. And meanwhile, you will be running into a lot of the other kind who won't be so charming or princely either. Let them break your heart, but never let them break your soul. You will need it when the right one actually finds his way back to you !

And talking about prince charming, of all the men you choose to fall in love, I hope that your father would be the first love in your life. If that man has made it possible to be a part of our lives, believe me my dear, he's definitely got to be the perfect scale to measure any guy you choose to see. I am still a bit hazy on what those traits are, but I am certain that I will know it when he comes my way. The same way you will see it when you come into our lives.

Wear what you like. Even if it's a tattoo (Heck! I might even let you copy my tattoo and we could flaunt it together), but I will most certainly draw a line when it comes to choosing between looking scary or sensible ! The biggest accessory I want you to wear everyday is your smile. I don't want a daughter of mine to charm people with expensive make up, clothes, accessories or shoes. Rather, I would love it if she manages to do it with her sharp wit, smile and a loving heart. It's never uncool to be naive and sensitive. Even if it means you would be tread upon and left behind feeling like a door mat. It takes a strong girl with a big heart to endure something like that. I have been there. Do not resist or rebel. Take it and move on with a bigger smile. It makes the world a much easier place to spend the rest of your days in.

I would be a tad disappointed if I haven't managed to pass on my hair or eyes to you (my personal favorites ;)), but I really really really wish you would share my passion and love for words. It's been my only faithful companion all along (not even your father. He's not been around for the first big disaster in my life, but my blog was !). Having a passion makes a world of difference, especially when you feel utterly lost in life (which will be on many occasions in life). I will try my best to be around for you for those critical times, but I would really love it if you find your own remedy for such times. It works a zillion times better than having me doll out unnecessary advice to heal you. So cultivate the habit while you are young. Read, travel, observe. It would mean the world to me to see you not just as a well-read lady, but also one with great conversation skills and fine taste. Never be a cynic. Give everything and everyone one chance.

You don't need to have it all figured out every time. It's perfectly fine to cry like there is no tomorrow, laugh like it's the best day in your life, dance like nobody's watching, fight like it's worth it all and give up like it never mattered at all. You just need to know when to do each.

Moving on to another pet peeve of mine. I would be very proud if you are fluent in English and any other language you choose to pick. But I will not let you live it down, if you don't read and speak my language - Malayalam. It's your mother tongue for a reason - Your mother. And no daughter of mine is going to look down upon it or find an excuse to not be fluent in it (Trust me ! I am going to have you speak in the Kannur dialect, the same way I do !).

I am here to answer any question for you. I may not have all the answers, but I will at-least try to guide you to someone who will definitely give you the answer. (And I will teach you how to use google :) ! ). There are many things in life that you will have to learn on your own. Like sex or kissing. It's different for everyone. I rather you wait to find it out for yourself, in due time, with the right person, than have me lecture you on it. Just don't be led by somebody over-rating it or leading you to believe it's purely carnal. That's when we initiate our own discussion on it. Same goes for your periods and eventually the miracle of a child birth too. We will be having a very mature face to face talk on this. You will not be unprepared for any of this before your first time, that I definitely assure you. 

My precious Leah, I hope I haven't overwhelmed you with all this. I could go on and on writing to you, but I really do want to save some words for when you actually arrive. And no matter what I may say during our lives together, do know that the day I heard your tiny heartbeat for the first time on that machine was the happiest day of my life. And holding you for the first time was the best feeling in my life (I may say a different version to your father, but that's just to pacify his male ego ;). We women can embrace the truth !.

Love,

Now clueless and hope-to-be-soon-rocking mom !

I am not rejecting you. I am protecting me !

'So why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop.' - Meredith Grey

That line pretty much summarizes the turn of events in my life over the past few months. But not anymore. And here's why. 

1. I stopped using social networking sites because I couldn't stand getting one more message congratulating me for getting out of my marriage/expressing happiness at not being associated with XYZ family/ telling me how brave I am to have taken the big step that I did/ or on how life on the other side of a divorce is not easy. 

Thanks but no thanks. When I stop responding to your very genuine and carefully worded messages, it's not that I don't appreciate your concern for me or that I am rejecting you. It's simply because I want to protect myself ! How difficult is it to understand that? No, seriously.

As much pleasure as you get in lashing out about my ex in-laws or ex-husband, they are 'ex' in my life for a reason. One of the most critical in that being the fact that I do not want them in my present or future. So talking over and over about them or listening to scores of people talking over and over about them does not serve justice to the beautifully worded judgement copy I got from the Kerala court. I am very certain it said that I am now free to live my life with no association whatsoever to any of the above mentioned parties. Sadly the society seems to have decided otherwise.

I am loving the sunshine. I am loving the greenery around me. I love seeing the smiling faces. I love conversing with total strangers to whom I am just Deepthi and not 'Deepthi the Divorcee'. And heck, if I decide to indulge in the occasional harmless flirting, I do not want to see your judgmental look. I have earned my right to it. I am loving my new life. Feel free to judge me all you want, just don't tell it to me !I digress.

And why am I saying this in my blog here? Because mostly it is cathartic and moreover, I would have loved to reply individually to all my well wishers, but that wouldn't make me sound any less arrogant/air-headed/sarcastic/heartless. I figured it's easier to just get the message out here.

So next time, you want to make yourself heard/appreciated in my life, do me a favor. Talk to me about that great movie you just saw, about that heart breaking book you just read, the beautiful dress you just purchased, call me out for buying shoes or desserts or maybe even just share a cup of coffee with me ! 

I am in love with the sound of my laughter and I would so love to get you to fall in love with it too ..if only you would give me a chance !

A lie about lying

Someone, a really long time ago, told me I am beautiful. And I blindly believed it. For the next 18 years of my life.

That one statement, a casual statement, made in passing. But it was the first of it's kind for a young mind. Maybe it was that one casual remark which made me feel like I could own the world. For a very long time. Until the world around me came crashing down. Shattering my very existence. Worse than I could handle.

But when I finally met him, I did warn him. I don't have it in me to keep him interested for long. I bore easy.
I had been through the so called journey of life and the truth had faded. Nor did the lie exist anymore. I wasn't the one to make an effort. Not anymore.

He liked a challenge.

Sadly, he bored easy too.

Was it three strikes before called out? I guess I am due then.

So that's a chapter of life I conclude is closed for good.

Moving on to the next phase.... or is there one ?

Blue like the sky

Roses were always red or pink or yellow. It had been the norm. It's what I was used to.

So when I saw them for the first time, I stood captivated.

The blue roses.

So beautiful. So out of the ordinary. They had an air of arrogance around them. Like they knew that they were unique. One of a kind. They were special and had to stay that way.
It's almost like they were acting out what they stood for - The Unattainable, The Impossible.

I spent a long time just watching them.

I wish I had bought them. Or atleast touched them. But I was scared. Scared that I might inflict pain to something so delicate and beautiful.

After what felt like an eternity of gazing at the supreme beauty, I walked out. Resolving to come back soon. For them. To make them mine.

I never did go back there. Once out of sight, their beauty intimidated me. And yet, not a day has passed that I didn't think of them.

It's a thin line. I know I am at a loss for words to describe the feeling here.

I am terrible at analogy too.

One day, I hope to be them. 

Not the common, ultimately disregarded or discarded red yellow or pink. But them... the terrifyingly captivating blue..... The blue rose in somebody's life. The one somebody who will not inflict any more pain. 

Mistress

..not of spices.

He called it being practical. I liked to think of it as love. I believed that it would hit him one day. I continued to believe that, even after his daughter was born.

He had told me he couldn't love her. So why do you have children with someone you don't love?

It wasn't love at first sight. It wasn't even love after a thousand sights. But it was definitely a spark. A spark we both carry even today. All these years later. But all I remain in his life still is just a spark.

'When there is no future, there is no point in even trying'. He had told me this years ago when I uttered the marriage word. If there was no future then, how are we still together? in the future...all these years later?

Or was that just a ruse to blind me? to lead me on to believe that I still mattered to him. In spite of having a wife and children and the so called happily married life.

I am not a lover. Never even been called a girlfriend. Not even a friend.

We are a kind. The mistresses. Soul-less and heart-less. Nurtured by life to live without any expectations. To accept just a smile or a touch as a gift. This was not what I would have taken by choice. But this is what life offered me as a choice. His companionship was far too precious for me to give up. It was easier to share it with another person than forgo it altogether. That wasn't my idea either. It's what he decided was best for us.

It was always him making the decisions. He decided I shouldn't be allowed to stop loving him. He decided it was alright for him to be loved by not just me.

A fate I wouldn't wish on anyone I care for.. Mistress.. the kind to be never missed or too kind to be missed?

The other woman

I have never called anyone my best friend.

Good friend – Yes. Best friend – Never. 

I am not a believer of the concept of having the ‘best’ of anything. As far as I see it, it’s all a relative comparison. Never definite.

And so she was my good friend. I always called her that.

My close friend.

She knew me like no one else did. I could tell her my worst fears, my favorite memories, my darkest secrets, the confusing questions. I could talk to her about anything under the sun.

And so when he came into my life she was the first person to hear about it. I have gone on endless conversation sprees just to let her know how much he means to me. How happy he makes me. How effortlessly he could make me smile. How his one touch or look could send a thousand waves in me.

She smiled. Each time I described him. She smiled to let me know she was happy for me. 

Happy that I was finally getting the love I had lost faith in.

I was happy too. Happy when I got them to meet.

It took not a day, or a week. It took months. Or maybe even a year. 

I guess for someone who was always the first to tell her about anything in my life, she had decided that I should be the last one to know about this new change in her life. And invariably, a huge change in my life too.

Thus, on the fateful day as I watched the two pieces of my heart walk hand in hand, I knew I was right.

There really is nothing best in this world. Not even good. I thought I had lost trust in learning to love ever again. Turns out I have lost trust in having a friend too.

I have read someplace; it takes one woman to understand another. It also takes only one woman to hurt another.