3 A.M.

              I couldn't sleep that night. I had a fight with my best friend again. I wasn't even wrong this time, why does she blame me for things I didn't do? I was emotionally burdened because of it. It was the worst kind of pain, emotional pain. Emotional pain is like having broken ribs, on the outside it looks like nothing is wrong, but inside every breath hurts. I was thinking about how she told me that I wasn't acting like her anchor anymore when I heard a moan.
             A low, scarily painful moan. It was her! It was my sister and she was in pain!
             A sprain. A back sprain, to be precise. It was hurting her and she was moaning in her sleep because of that. Physical pain, the one that wouldn't let you sleep peacefully at night. Physical pain, the kind of pain that our bodies express what our minds cannot handle feeling, or knowing.
             So there I was, at 3 A.M; awake, massaging my sister, relieving her from the physical pain that was hurting her. I don't think she even realized, or even whether I realized that while trying to relieve her, I was relieving myself at the same time. Just being with her made me feel so much more better about myself, about my life. I know for one that she was already feeling better 'cause hello, I've heard that I have magic in my hands. But on a serious note, she's my favorite reason to lose sleep.

           The emotional pain was fading. Not completely, obviously. It still hurts now and then, but being with her just made it so much better. And it's not about getting over something, it's about how this girl, this girl who herself was in pain made me feel good. Made me feel good by staying there with me, ordering me to massage that sprained back that she was carrying along with her. And even though she didn't even say a thank you after she felt so much better, I could see it in her beautiful eyes that she was thoroughly grateful for what I had done. And I can easily say that that night, my sister and I came a little closer to each other, the unspoken bond between us somehow grew stronger. So yeah, 3 A.M; lots and lots of pain and a mending relationship. Best night ever.
            This is my sister, an annoying brat who acts like she is 4 instead of 21. She is my mirror staring right back at me. She's the one that I can kill a million people for. She's the one who has been with me right from the start. She has seen me grow and I know that somewhere, deep inside, I have a part of her growing, in me, within me.
           And I'm not just saying all this because we share the same clothes or the same room or heck, even the same blood. I'm saying all this because I know and  everyone else who knows her knows this too: She deserves every bit of it. She deserves to be happy. She deserves every bit of happiness and all that jazz that comes along with it.
         I know that things will not always go my way and that one day I'll have to face the harsh reality of life. But I know one thing for sure, as long as I have my sister with me, everything will be okay. As long as I have her standing beside me, I don't mind fighting against the world. It's gonna be us against them. We're waiting for you with food, love and lots of well, food. Bring it on, baby.

Forever and Always.

15th March, 2014.

            I am 73 years old today. Our daughters Sonia and Sasha didn't even bother to call me. Maybe they're just busy. I hope they're okay. Maybe they will surprise me with a visit later. Or maybe I'm just a burden for them now.
           It's been three years since you passed away, John. I really miss you. You know I do. Why did you have to die? If you were here, we both could stay home and eat our favorite dinner, just us. Maybe God had something else planned out for you and I. Your absence has made an empty hole in my heart that no one can fill up.
         Oh, and I saw Mr.Ben Rodrigues that day. He's doing fine, your old man. He's our new neighbor and I've invited him and his wife over tonight. It won't be very lonely tonight during dinner. I need some company during my birthday, right? I might bake a cake, the one with yellow frosting that you loved.


16th March, 2014.

        The dinner night with Ben and his wife, Greta,  was very emotional, to say the least.. He misses you as much as I do, John. Just not in the same way. We all miss you so much. I wish you could come back.
        I asked him why they shifted to our street, it's not that great anyway. They both didn't answer for a long time. Just as I was about to let it go Ben said something, "I just wanted him to be alive in my memory. It doesn't matter that he didn't live in the house that we currently reside in. What matters is that he lived on this street. He would walk past these houses, visit the people in them, he must have seen the same view. He made a mark in my heart and I just wanted to be close to him even after his death." From the corner of my eye I saw him wipe a tear. Then, and just then I realized that I'm not the only one. You made so many people happy.
        You made a legacy. In they time that you were here you made people love you. And when you were gone so many were left without knowing what to do. I feel so helpless, my love. If only you could visit all of us one last time. But I can see that you made yourself immortal within the hearts of those who love you. I am proud of you and I miss you. I know I've said this many times but the truth is that I miss you more and more every passing second, every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month and every year that goes on without you.
       I will love you, forever and always. Book a seat for me in heaven, I'll be there soon. 

Shattered and Alone.

          

       “Hey! Hey, fatty!” “Look, the frog is here!”  “Hey, nerd! Watch it!”
They teased and taunted her as she walked past them in the hallway. And as always, she looked at the ground and continued walking. “Stay strong,” she whispered to herself. A boy tripped her as she walked past his locker. Everyone around him laughed at her ruthlessly. Not me though. It was disgusting to look at. No, not her, she was beautiful. The scene enacted in front of me was ugly. I just stared at her as tears flowed down her rosy cheeks. And that’s when she ran towards the restroom, the horrifying laughter of her peers haunting her, following her.
           We were on the same school bus. We had the same bus route home. She sat alone each day, resting her head against the window pane. I’d notice her looking around sometimes. Like she was waiting for someone to attack her. I could see the fear, the pain and the sadness in her eyes. I chose it ignore it. It’s not like she would do anything.
         She had been through another bad day. Weren’t all days bad for her though? I saw her go through it all but; I didn’t do anything to stop them again. Maybe one day I will. It was raining that day. I stole a glance at her and saw her looking at the scene outside. She wasn’t looking outside from her own window this time but through another girls’. I noticed something… She wasn’t looking at the world outside but she was looking at something written on the window. The glass was fogged. “BRIANN SUCKS” was what was written there. A tear slid down her rosy cheeks just as the text faded away. Like it was never even there in the first place. The girls who wrote it were giggling, happy that she cried. I could make out her lips whispering, “Stay strong” again. I hope she does.
          The next day they told us that she committed suicide. She hanged herself. I couldn’t believe my ears. I had lost my chance to save her. She wanted a hero and that hero could be me. I chose to stay silent and watch her break into a million pieces. They were saying that she was a beautiful girl. But... Why did they call her ugly then? They were blaming the society. But… Aren’t WE the society? The only thing that I can do now is sit and think, “Why didn’t I do anything?” She was cold; I wish I had given her a blanket. She was tired; I wish I was the one to keep her awake. She was hurt in the fight called life, I wish I was her much needed band-aid.
        All that was left for me was her memories, and that too not the happy ones that I could have spent with her but, the ones that will haunt me and taunt me for the rest of my life.
        And now I stand here. Shattered and alone.

Something to believe in.

      She held it close to her heart, clutching it with all the strength and love she could muster. She sat in the comfort of her four walls of her room. Thinking, dreaming, imagining, reading.
     She couldn't believe that he did this to her. How...how could he betray her like that? Why didn't she say something? Is she really letting him go, just like that? Eva flipped the page to continue reading about Alara and Ian's story. There were only a couple of chapters left. She took in every bit and word, she greedily absorbed it. Will the book have happy ending that she always wished for? Will everything be okay in the end?
      Eva couldn't help but cry when they finally got together. At least the books that she read had a nice, happy ending. She couldn't help but think about how her life was shaping up. How she was recovering, healing, growing, becoming wiser. No, she wasn't fine just yet but she knew that she would be. Eva was a chubby kid and she was suffering from anorexia since she was a teenager. Every grain that went down her throat was like a nail cutting the surface of her skin. She wanted to be accepted, just like every other kid her age but she wasn't loved by all her peers. She wouldn't be able to sleep at night because of the comments that used to be passed in the hallway when she was walking by, she couldn't forget the disgusted looks that they had on their face. That's how she started her story. She was broken  by a bunch on ignorant fools who did not care about anyone else's emotions. They forgot that she was just a human. The scars on her hands were fading. Layers and layers of her own skin. She was broken, shattered, hurt.
     She's 19 now. Her parents are finally getting her and not many judge her for her past and even if they do she doesn't care. She's got many other things to care about, like reading.  Doing what she loves makes her feel good about herself and the people who are around her. It's like she finally believes that better things are saved in for her and that she can accept who she is, that she can finally learn to love. She chose the temporary way out instead of the permanent one. Happy with the characters of her book. She chose to believe. Yes, the books will be over soon enough, but the characters in it will be forever immortal in her heart.
     Little things like reading held utmost importance in her life now. Her eyes held fire and her smile was brighter than the sun, she held herself up like she was the boss and nothing could ruin her anymore. She believed in magic. For her books were magic created by humans. Even though she escaped her reality just by flipping over a page; She knew that she would have to face it someday, sometime.
     For her, it was something that she could believe in.

Content? Never.

                 It was just a fine summer day when my friends and I were heading for tuition. Just a normal day. But you know, it was one of those days when everything is going fine but then suddenly one small thing changes everything. And no, it wasn't one of those life changing moments where someone close to me decided to meet God or I won a lottery or anything as such. In fact now that I think of it, it really made an impact on the way I think.
                My friends and I were walking on the sky walk eager to reach soon. As far as I remember, we were talking about cartoons. I doubt whether any of my friends saw what I had seen that day. Maybe they hadn't but I think even if they did, they wouldn't discuss about it openly. Even after reaching my tuition on time I couldn't get the image of what I had witnessed out of my head. I guess I was simply over thinking it but I just couldn't stop. There were three of them. Three girls who looked as old as I am but I guess they were far more matured  than I am at this age. Those girls were dumb, they couldn't speak. They were having a conversation about something that I would never understand unless I took a class for sign language. But I noticed one thing. The girl who expressing her thoughts and stories by sign language spoke about it with so much love and passion that it surprised me. And I didn't pity them because they had accepted just the way they were. I could see it with my own eyes that their disability to speak did not worry them anymore.
              The very next day a girl from my school came crying towards me because a teacher had shouted at her for speaking during his lecture. After telling me about everything that had happened she started babbling about she will never use her voice again and how she simply wants to die. I couldn't help but think that those girls who I had seen just the day before would be so happy to actually voice their thoughts out loud instead of acting them. Neither could I stop thinking about how the girl from school said that she wanted to die. How can she say that in vain? How can she even think about dying when there is a baby who is just a day old fighting for his life? How can she when someone out there is fighting cancer and other life threatening diseases? How can she think about dying when thousands, lacs, crores or more people are dying due to starvation? How can she think about committing suicide when a teenage girl out there is fighting her inner demons? How could she not notice how lucky she was to have a life with more than what she needed? How could that cruel thought even cross her mind when only a few things were wrong in her life and that too because of her own doing?
             We don't even realize how lucky we are. We keep asking for more than what we already have. Why can't we be content for once? Why can't we be happy with what we have? I'm pretty sure that those girls would love to have a voice and the patients would love to live another day. I'm sure that the starved man in the subway would love it if someone offered him food or even money to buy food. I know that the depressed girl wants to live freely without harming herself another day. And I am pretty damn sure that your parents that you love so much would miss you after you are gone. You still want more? You still want to die?
           The acceptance should start from within. I don't expect anyone to go around spreading joy but all I need is for someone to make a start. I just need someone who is happy and content with what they have. And then maybe, just maybe, it will spread just like the plague and all we will have on this earth would be happy and content souls.

A Call Back Home.

          I was walking through crowds of people in downtown New York. It was rush hour and everyone was looking forward to go home and meet their loved ones. Sadly, I wasn't. After all, everyone was in Mumbai. I didn't want to go back to the lonely apartment that I had rented out when I had moved here two years ago.
       
         It was then when I was thinking about the mess my life had become that I saw you. You were wearing the same vest and your 'customized' torn jeans looking very, very out of place. What I mean is, everyone around you were wearing designer business suits and dress shoes or sky high stilettos and you still had your old pink Converse shoes on. You were pretty much oblivious to the nasty stares that people were giving you or you simply chose to ignore them, now that, I shall never know. You reminded me of my old self back home. After staring at you for 3 minutes and 31 seconds straight, I made a beeline towards you. Obviously, the universe was against me that evening and I lost you in the sea of people.
         

        I tried to find you. I looked around the place for you, I really did. But maybe it wasn't my day. So, I went back to my apartment after my failed search mission . But seeing you brought many thoughts in my mind. Like, what were you even doing here, in NYC? Last that I had heard about you, you were studying back in Mumbai about micro organisms! I did realize something though. I had been so preoccupied  with my non existent social life and my job that I didn't even bother to see whether everything was okay at home. I had no idea how everyone was doing there.

       I was so involved in all the business deals, bills and grocery shopping that I didn't even know how mum and dad were doing. I hadn't spoken to them for over a month. I had given the blind eye to all their missed calls. I'm shocked that they aren't here by now! I hadn't seen them in so long, And that's when I broke. I had forgotten to add my family and friends in my new world here, in NYC. Maybe in the back of my head I had realized it but it took a familiar face to finally work on it.
       
      While doing all the thinking a thought came which terrified me. Was is too late? Were everyone back home angry? Or did they forget me?!
     
      So, that was all that it took.  A familiar face to remind me of home and a few dreadful thoughts for me to make that call back home.
   
      "Hello".

Semicolon; This is not the end.

       
           
 Dear Amanda,
                   There are approximately 80,000,000,000,000,000 leaves is this world. 10,000,000,000,000 stars in our galaxy. 200,000,000,000 birds on this planet. 7,000,000,000 people. And out of all of them, one is dying of Ependymoma. Me.
                  I know. I know. Everything dies, all things have an end, what goes up must come down. It's a natural thing, to die. I mean, every sentence has a period, every road somehow ends in a cliff. It just seems as if a brain tumor at seventeen seems like a misplaced period right in the middle of a Shakespearean Sonnet. By time they found the tumor it was too late. "Maybe you just studied so much," my mum said, teary-eyed, "that your brain couldn't take it anymore." It's pretty ironic that someone like me would die due to brain cancer. Because I am a type of person that takes Calculus just for the fun of it, who refuses to write colloquially, even in a text message, who spends a Saturday night curled up on her bed reading a book. I am the type of person who keeps the doors open for strangers, someone who saves every single piece of her schoolwork she's ever had because of the paranoia of needing to use it later.
                In a few days the number of people who care so much about everything will dwindle by one. But will that change anything? Probably not, except for my family and friends who incessantly come to my room with food I don't want to eat and Hallmark cards I don't want to read. At first I was so angry that I wouldn't even get out of bed. But then I realized that I hardly have any days left,so why waste them as well? I at least wanted to have the accomplishment of graduating High School if not higher education. I told my friends to keep it a secret, after all, I didn't need the fake sympathy of people who didn't even know me. There were so many things that I still wanted to do. the whole nine yards(or is it five?) so many things I'll never get to do. I'll never. I'll never.
             My life maybe has a small meaning, so I'll assume that my death will have a purpose, a meaning, something meaningful that's worth the disrupting period in the middle of a beautiful phrase. There's one thing I hope for. It's that after I die, people don't avoid my name like the plague. They say that a person dies twice, once when they take their last breath and the other when someone takes their name for the last time. I'm already dying early, so please don't let me die early twice! But...why me?
           Amanda, I think its time to let you know who I am. I'm sure you don't remember me. That's the main reason why this is addressed to you. Because I have no weight in your life and I don't feel bad for whining. I just need you to know how important one of your brief sentences was to me.In fifth grade, my dog died. She was the only thing that I ever had the privilege to call my pet. Everyone around me in the lunch room were either oblivious or didn't care about my crying. I didn't know which was worse. I was about to run away, but in that precise moment you came and chose to sit beside me with your lunch tray. You said the wisest thing that I'd ever heard in my life (and I've read many books and listened to a lot of wise people) "Grief doesn't change you," you said. "It reveals you." Then you got up and left and never said another word to me.
          You were my partner in English class last year. We were learning about semicolons. The teacher told us that the sentence could have ended, but it didn't. Instead, the author put in a semicolon where a period could have been but continued. For some reason, I glanced at your notes and saw that you had written "Life" next to the semicolon. I did not know what it meant then but later on in life, I did. I could have packed my bags and waited for death to come after my diagnosis but chose not to. As the author of my life, I decided to keep going. I know its not proper but I want my death to be a semicolon. I don't want to die there and my story to end. I know my soul will leave my body but I still want to be alive. As cheesy as it sounds, I want to be alive in the hearts of the people who know me, who love me. If Hitler gets to be remembered for being so terrible by generations, I at least want to be remembered for another 20 years. If you're going to become an author please write about me, continue the story from the semicolon, I give you the permission to do that. This life is short, even  those that live past a 100 years, they're just a blib in the time continuum of this universe.

          Maybe my true death will be years from now, when all the people I loved have left for their abode. Maybe my friends will grant me another infinity by telling their kids about me. But hopefully, you will write about me and I'll be forever immortal by the black prints on white paper.I have resigned to the fact that I will die, but it will be nothing special. everyone will, I will just have few months of suffering beforehand and it's not something I mind 'cause I've learnt so much this summer.
          And the most important thing is that there is time and place to die, but this isn't it;

 Rest well
 Sincerely and finally,
      Autumn

Hello Beautiful

           
           Do you ever compare yourself to someone, who in your eye is a billion times prettier than you? Do you ever feel fat, ugly, unimportant or neglected? Everybody is insecure about themselves, and it's completely normal. Even the most beautiful girl in your class has her share of flaws. But flaws are the things that make you, YOU. There is only one of you in this big world, you are special, beautiful and perfect in your own way. You are not ugly, nobody is. People are only in different colors, body shapes, facial contours, but we all are still the same
           
         Treat each other with respect. Even though your tummy may have a little more fat than other girls or maybe your complexion isn't as fair as you want it to be, be proud of how you look, because this is how you were born. Your genes come from the two people that you love the most, that's right, your mum and dad. Show them that you are proud of how you are. A smile on your face indicates confidence and makes you look 10 times more beautiful. Stop comparing yourself with model looking girls, because they were born like they are. No matter how much you wish to look like them it just wont happen. Why spend all your life being insecure about yourself? When you can have a great time accepting the way you look? Who cares if your nose is a little big, your ears are pointy, you have a double chin or your tummy has more fat than others?!

        Nobody wants to see you unhappy, because you are perfect. And that's not just something I say, I really mean it.Some people in this world will have no respect for, treat you like dirt, call you names and tell you that you are ugly. Keep away from those people, they don't deserve you. The people who bully others often have low self-confidence and want to get more confidence by bringing other people down. Don't let your weight define you. Get of the scale! You are a beautiful person. Your beauty, just like the capacity of your life,happiness and love is immeasurable.
   
       I have yet to see a scale that can tell you how shiny your eyes are when you smile,  how lovely your hair looks in the sunlight, how contagious your smile is, how caring your heart is or how deep is your soul. Just remember that you are one of a kind. You are beautiful because every human being is beautiful and perfect.