Vikram From The Coffee Shop

“Giving you pain is not the only way life knows to make you suffer. Sometimes taking the pleasure out of you will suffice.”

lsr

!....?

Everytime you talk to someone new. You reveal something new. And you keep wondering why you said that. So am I wondering now. Why am I telling you all this. Why am I talking to you. You were a complete stranger until recently and suddenly you have become someone I can count on. Where is all this leading to. What does all this indicate.

I have had many people come and go in my life. I dont want you to be added to that list. I like you and want you to stay. Eager to find out how this ends. Where this is taking me.

Gosh! What am I doing. Why am I doing this.?!

I miss the feeling of being home.. I miss mommy and the comfort of being around her. I miss the two little brothers I have around whom I feel so responsible. I miss the food, the late night long talks about everyone I know and don't know in the distant family, I miss being so comfortable in a place though I can't be myself.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having a place called home.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss waking up to the aroma of coffee that's so delicious coz it's never the same elsewhere. I miss the chaos over what's for lunch and deciding on something silly yet so delicious.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having to greet all the guests who come home, asking the same things over and over again, trying to remember how I know them, only to realize I have never met them.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss feeling needed, important and worthy somewhere at some point of time, my granny so proud of what I'm doing that she keeps boasting about it to someone I don't remember meeting, over the phone.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having to wake up early coz it's the last day home as my train leaves that night to a city I call mine, having to go back mommy wants me to spend some time with her.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss the clutter clatter in the kitchen, packing food for me for the night journey, and pickles and snacks to last the next six months. The confusion of what to take and what not to take, to decide between food and cloths in my luggage. I miss the questions my brothers ask as to why I need to leave early as I just came a week before, the constant nagging of when it'll all get over and I'll always be home. I miss the smell of home, the feeling of sitting in that couch and the aroma of that morning coffee.

I miss the feeling of home

I miss having a place called home

I miss the feeling of home.

The peaceful Old Lady

There is this temple opposite to the house I stay, I do not know which deity, but I know it’s a Hindu temple. 

Every evening someone comes and cleans the whole temple, lights a lamp and keeps the gates open. I do not know who does that. From that time everyone who passes by pause their walk and take a peep in, some just peep, pray from the outside and leave, while others just ignore the existence. 

But then, there are these people who stop, take a peep, pause, and then decide to go in, they walk in, wash their hands and feet at the tap outside, and then pray. Some leave after the prayer is done, while others sit there for some time, I wonder what they think of, maybe about everything that’s going on in the world or maybe about something that’s happening inside their house. I wonder. 

Today, I decided to take a look inside the temple myself, I am not a devotee, not religious either, I am just curious. I went inside, looked at the statue of the God, roamed around and decided to sit there for a while. I liked the positivity of the place. It was nice, the vibe and the aura the place holds is nice. That’s the only thing I like about places of worship. 

One woman comes in, does the rituals in the right forms, and comes and sits next to me. We exchange a smile and neither of us speak. After a few minutes, she asks me where I am from as she has never seen me in that neighbourhood., I tell her that I am visiting a friend here and that this is not my place. Out of curiosity, I ask her where her house is. She gives a smile, a smile I can never describe, and then says, “I don’t have a house, I stay here until they close this temple and wander off to the next one.” I did not know how to respond and regretted asking her the question.

It then strikes me that I can find her a place to stay, I ask her if I could call some people who can come and fetch her, an old age home, maybe. She thanks for the offer, but then said that there is a peace in the way she lives. I try to convince her rather lure her with all the things she can have, a safe place to sleep, food, shelter, better facilities and everything that comes to my mind. Nothing helps. She thanked me again, and I asked her why, she said there is nothing she has to gain or lose, she has a family who are happy without her, she said she was happily married. No one abandoned her, she chose this, if there wasn’t quarantine she generally helps in one of the big temples.

She told me that she was not a devotee, rather liked doing what she does. She got up to leave, I asked her where she was headed to, she said there was a temple in the street nearby, and felt like going there. I waved goodbye and saw her leave. Her small figure faded as she walked slowly yet with so much peace. 

I hope I meet her again.

It has been 4 days since I met her, and she has not returned, sometimes I wonder if I intruded a bit too much and maybe that’s why she is not returning. Maybe this temple is too small, and she found a better one. Whatever it is, I wait every evening, sipping my coffee, hoping she would return among the peepers and passer-by's I see every day. The peaceful old lady has not yet returned, and I wait…

What makes you think

You are different from the millions of others living in this planet.?

What makes you feel

That just by not doing what others are doing

You'll be different.?

Whatever it is, you're wrong

You are no different.

The same flesh

The same organs

The same creature

Humans.

Maybe your face is different

Your finger prints are different

The color of your eyes

The length of your hair

Is different.

But that's it

You are the same.

The same flesh

The same bone

The same creature

Humans.

Just because you do or don't do something

Doesn't make you different.

The fact that you feel different

During different situations

Doesn't make you different.

It's the same

The same flesh

The same skin

The same creature

Humans.

I'm angry

I'm depressed

I'm furious

I'm sad

I'm all of this

But, they are just common human emotions.

The same flesh

The same emotions

The same creature

Humans.

And that's the melancholy of being human

It's all the same.

I woke up to bad news today,

I slept with my head spinning, when the world and my cozy little cocoon, both shattered.

I saw the disclaimer on the Instagram story.

Yet, I choose to watch it.

I twisted and turned in my bed, my last alarm rang. I had to leave or I'd be late for work.

I drag myself to the shower, the drops of water started dripping, my shoulder getting drenched. Drop by drop. Like people falling off an airplane

I came out, wore my cutest shirt, a gift from a rather someone. My eyes went moist. I picked up my hairbrush, hoping to brush more than my hair.

I packed my lunch box, made a face when there was upma for breakfast, ate cold cornflakes watching something funny on Netflix.

I rush to office, take my laptop out. The charger that'll sustain the day. My red thermal coffee flask with the black coffee for the day, the blue book and a pen I borrowed from someone.

I sit down, let out a sigh, and switched on my laptop to an array of emails to reply to.

Why are people working beyond work hours I wondered, maybe I should too, I thought for a second.

The sticky notes on my laptop reminded me of my two other jobs, with broken earphones, the day drifted without music to shush my thoughts. Someone passes the hallway wearing the same perfume that a boy I knew wears. Shattered promises, lucid dreams fake smiles and bike rides all rushed to my head.

In a rather larger, emptier office I started communicating to innamimate things and cleared the notifications of burning forests, dying animals and women in veils.

I haven't been able to eat. I haven't been able to sleep. My head questioning everything everyone did.

While I've come back to my rather comfortable room, cold milk, gazal songs and some cigarettes I move time to another day for some better food and strong coffee.

My phone beeps, i slide the notification and lie down on an empty terrace with sounds of traffic, a dog barking on the corner of the street and a thousand thoughts.

I seek organization in my chaos

I constantly live in chaos but seek organization. I envy those who do great but am not jealous. I love it when someone compliments me, but don't know how to react. I love the fact that I am liked and disliked by a lot of people at the same time.

And all these thoughts bring about a lot of question in my mind. I have been aloof in a long while about everything. I have been pushing away deadlines, stay awake and do nothing. I have wasted my time and energy doing nothing as if I have got nothing.

There is indeed a lot of things I want to do. And that question I was talking about which haunts me is "where is all this leading to?"

I am completely insane about the fact that I have a lot of errands to run and I am still aloof.

It is actually astonishing and weird that I notice all the chaos in life and still do nothing about it. But I know that I am seeking for organization. But something, some force, maybe the biggest enemy of mine is pulling me down. "Laziness"

Its completely strange and crazy to say this, but I think I am responsible for my failure, it is my stupidity of all that makes me react and overreact to unnecessary, well let's say not so important things in life. I am angry at someone for being good and dissapointed in me for staying aloof.

I am not pinpointing anything or infact pinpointing myself. I think its the 3:30 am thoughts. Maybe sleeplessness. Maybe the disturbance in my head. But again there is peace and a sence of calmness in my head. I guess I have a clear head now and the morning would be without the laziness and the aloofness. I guess I'll be fine the first thing in the morning.

I guess its all in your head. And yet again I seek organization in my chaos.

Stop associating success with age.. Stop associating happiness with age... Stop associating journeys with age... If something makes you happy and you are able to do it now do it! If you can't, wait and do it when you can! It doesn't matter how old you are what matters is how happy you are how content you are... Age is JUST a number

It just feels like yesterday that I packed my bags and came here.

The baggage of memories and sadness of leaving one place had just struck me then

And today here I am bags packed.

Goodbyes said.

All set to move to a new place, I don't know where

All set to go somewhere and start all over again.

The same sadness burries me of moving out.

My eyes are moist

Heart heavy.

I don't wanna move again after having made so many friends and memories here.

I don't wanna go.

But yet again I'm set on another voyage.

Goodbye to this place and to all the people I love.

To all the roads I know, to all the places I've been to

And to everything else.

It's goodbye once again

Life turns upside down in just a matter of seconds.

I have made friends and enemies here,

Where I envy and love certain people

I do hate a few.

In just a day I’m leaving this place

Packing a lot of memories and moments

Which is heavier than my luggage.

I have made some friends for life

Whom I might not call everyday

Or think about all the while

But the place they have in my life is irreplacable

I have always been scared to let people get close to me

The fear of being vulnerable

The fear of getting so close

That if they leave I can’t survive.

Very few people make an impact when they leave

But only a handpicked make an impact staying.

Today when I count those few I’m glad I have them

But I’m scared of leaving them and going

I’m not just gonna miss them

I’m gonna miss their constant presence and the impact they make

I wish tomorrow never ended

Because the next dawn is an end

To a lifetime of memories and joy

Now I realize that moving out is indeed sad

I don’t wanna go

I don’t wanna go…

Lost

He saw me that day, but just walked away. I looked at him, at his deep brown eyes that said a thousand words, sang a hundred songs. I saw that he still loved me but yet decided to walk away. If I ask him, he would say that it’s for my own good. But I fail to understand what is this good that I have without him. What is that he does not want to make me a part of his life?

I asked, I screamed but he just turned away.

Well I know all this just sounded a bit too melodramatic, but trust me it isn’t. Whatever he did to me at that wedding day walking away from me was just not fine. Yes, my fiance “the love of my life” just walked away from our wedding without even looking at me.

My beloved father who had been separated from my mother for the past 15 years, to whom I have not talked more than a couple of times all this while decided to turn up for my weeding. The problem was not he coming to the wedding (even though that was my main intention behind not inviting him) but his reaction. Like any other melodramatic movie father, in the moment of “kanyadan” came when my maternal uncle was giving away my hand, this great man created a scene stating nobody else other than him can do that. Well if he had been there when I wanted him maybe I would have let him, I definitely do not need a father for namesake. So I decided to go against it. And seeing this drama my would-be in-laws decided to grab the opportunity, as they from the beginning had a problem in my parents being separated. So my fiance’s mother took him by his hand and grabbed him out of the hall… and I stood there staring at him walking away with his mother as a four year old kid being denied of his favorite toy. This was crazy, crazy as ever.

My dad dint stop there he accused me of not inviting him for the wedding and challenged that without him I could never get married. Well I dint want to anymore. My friends, the literal love of my life came up and made sure the drama ended. The humiliation, the heartbreak, the frustration all that came stemmed up and all wanted to do was run away, run away from all these eyes staring at me, from all the fake sympathy I was going to get. All I did was run, reached my room packed my bags, took my wallet, my passport and took a cab to the airport. I had no idea where I was going. I dint want to cancel my holiday and go back to US because again I will have to explain stuff there. All I wanted was to go somewhere.

With no idea in my head as to my destination I was sitting in the airport when suddenly my phone beeps, I get a call from an unknown number, at first I ignore thinking it is someone wanting to know where I was, but then I decided to pick it up at the third ring. It was the hotel confirmation for my honeymoon. Well I dint have my “honey” with me but I guess I could go there and get some peace of mind. I decided to go, checked in, it was a 3 day package, and as I was not among the girls who would morn over ice cream.

I went in, ordered some alcohol, took a long and refreshing shower and sat in the balcony watching the beach, drink in one hand and a cigar in another. I wanted to just stay like this, away from all the mess, all the confusion that just was there in my life. I dint want to take up any trouble right now. And my phone was lying there dead just like me, I dint switch it on after coming back, I dint want anybody to know where I was, and come for me.

Finally after three days of seldom loneliness, alcohol and sleep I realized that I dint do anything to come under hiding. I decided to go back, face everybody because it was not me who walked out of the wedding; it was not me who couldn’t take a stand against the person I loved. He did that, if there was anyone to be ashamed of, it was him. After being in love for bloody 8 years, and knowing me in and out, if he has done this to me, then it is not me who deserves this isolation. I switched on my phone, there were hundreds of texts and calls, I ignored them all knowing it would all be the same from different people. And then my phone buzzed, it was him, Imran, well I dint want to talk to him, now or forever, I did not pick up his call, nor did I reject it, and then came a call from my aunt, she at first scolded my which was obvious as they did not know where I was, what was I doing, and when I told her where I was and what I was doing she relaxed. She said Imran had called a number of times, and that he wanted to apologize and get married to me and me alone. But I did not. She said that he had come home every hour hoping I would have come back. I did not want to see his face.

Finally, in the evening when I  decided to check out and head back home, I heard a knock at my door, I thought it was the coffee I ordered and told the person to come in, but mistaken was I, it was him, he was standing right in front of me, looking right into my eyes this time, wanting to explain a thousand things, but I dint want to hear even a single thing he had to tell, all I said was a small good bye, hugged him out and told him to leave, not just from my room but from my life.

He wanted to speak, opened his mouth but maybe realized that it was all in vain and just left.

I am not going to be melodramatic and say that “all men are one” or that “I hate men” or something. I just lost trust in him, and in the whole thing called as “love”. And this trust once broken takes a lot of effort to get healed, to be gained back, and so I guess will be my case, as for me it will take another lifetime to trust someone and fall in love all over again.