Freed

It happened again. The most undesired made its comeback. Crawled into the consciousness like a stealthy predator, waiting to devour when one was least prepared.

Life had intervened and after what seemed like forever, she was up her feet, slowly picking up pieces of herself while trying to survive each day with an overwhelming positivity.

“Cry it out,” he advised.

His text sounded like a warm blanket on a cold morning, and she found herself smiling at the poignancy of their connection. All she had texted was “The clouds are dark,” and he knew what she meant exactly by that.

“Turn the shower on and bawl your eyes out,” he continued. “It’ll pass, you know that.”

The unexpected coldness of the water made her shudder. Surprisingly, there were no tears coming. A dry well, she mocked herself. Or perhaps it was another month of severe pms. The hard price one paid for being born a female, she continued in her head, as she lathered slowly, her hands mechanical against her skin.

“I’m going to have one great day,” she said to the mirror, taking a glimpse of herself after the shower.

The day was kind. The faces were bright and cheerful. Laughter ran wild and when the sun drooped behind the lined trees, she got into a cab to head towards her weekend plan.

She was the last to arrive, but was the first to propose a toast to the “awesomeness of life.” When the fire quietened down and the night sounds began to prevail, she laid down on her back beside her roommate who was peacefully sleeping.

The stars seemed to twinkle at her. She tried to look for a familiar galaxy but realizing that she would be seized by homesickness, she pulled out her phone and checked her social media.

She was caught off-guard by the first picture that popped up on the screen. For a brief moment, the world halted and the stars stopped twinkling.

A notification on her email beeped gently. Her account had been credited with two rupees.

Then came his text:

“You’re freed for life. Breathe.”

She closed her eyes and as the hot tears ran her face wet, she inhaled the night air and felt the twinkling stars gazing at her tenderly. 

PS: In Mizo culture, there is a term called “damlai lusun” which literally translated means “mourning the death of the undead,” signifying the marriage of a former lover or beau to someone else. On such occasion, the lover is given a sum of INR 2 as a token of bereavement. Though this practice has been around for quite a while now, there are many who claim to have never known about it.

For more on the topic, click the link: https://mizohican.blogspot.com/2009/07/chp-254-mm-see-you-on-other-side.html?m=1

Winding Windy Road

…and somehow,
we’ve always found each other;
safe under the banner of the stars
caressed by the night’s soft winds…

two sets of legs, striding along
the dark tar-road;
the brush of our bare skins
reminding us that we’re alive

endless words that convey
the insignificance of speech
as our paths end
by the winding windy road

i would have held you back
if only the dark clouds
had held their stand above the earth
and not my heart as well

and the winding windy road
lies in silence, seeing all.

Someday Girl

Flowers entwined round her head,

She is the picture of perfection;

In her smile is a million joy

That melts even the coldest heart.

And she is everyone’s someday girl

But never anyone’s today girl:

And in the loneliness of the night,

She longs for someone to have and to hold.

Sacred Lines

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” was all he said before he took another puff of his cigarette.

I opened my mouth to get the conversation going but I chose instead to study his handsome profile.

We’d known each other like, forever. We’d grown up in the same locality; attended the same church; joined the same choir together; taught kids at the same department on Sundays and had seen each other at our worsts and bests.

But we’d never been best friends.

No. Close friends, perhaps. He’d seen me through a lot and had been there during the worst period of my life: and had helped me deal with the pain of loss.

But this time, it was something much more than “not worrying” could do. It was a matter to worry about. It wasn’t something to “get there” that easily as well. Because I’d fumbled and lost my way and had lost myself in the process.

Yet there were things sacred between friends. Sacred paths are drawn and no loyal friend dare to cross the line.

I’d be a fool to try and “get there,” I told myself, suddenly overcomed by the urge to take a swig of the cigarette. I reached out for the cigarette he was smoking and he gave me without a word.

“Things happen; they come and they go. But you hold on.”

I smiled at him as I took a long swig before returning him the cigarette. Do you even know what you’re saying? I wanted to ask him so, so bad.

“Yes, just hold on,” I repeated. I wanted to laugh out loud. But I didn’t. Gosh, you’re such a fool, I thought. Send him home. Send him home.

“Because the most important thing is to remain true to our self and not betray the self by anything,” he continued.

“I know,” was all I could say. There was an urge somewhere from the deep recesses of the mind to lean in and kiss his lips.

Yet there are sacred lines that must never be crossed. Never.

So I smiled at him and got up from the chair. “Care for tea?”