Destiny Plays.

“Mom! Where are you? I want to talk to you.” Shriya, my daughter comes home from her college. I’ve been trying to maintain a friendly relationship with her and merge the gap of 18 years between us.

“I’m in here.” I answer from the kitchen.

“Mom, tomorrow’s Fathers’ Day. We’ve arranged a programme and everyone’s Dads are gonna come to the college. Why not mine? Let’s talk it straight, mom. Is my Dad no more? Why does he never visit us? Why does he not stay with us? I want my answers, Mom. What do I tell my teachers and friends tomorrow, about where my dad is and why he didn’t come for the event? Tell me, mom.” She says.

“Shriya, your Dad just cannot come.” I mumble.

“But why? Doesn’t he love me? Tell me please, mom. Tell me, where is he?” She asks, now seriously ridiculed.

“I don’t know.” I say, blankly, and come to my bedroom, ignoring her and sit down on my bed.

“How do you not know? You’ve got to tell me today. Tell me who my Dad is. Mom!” She yells.

“I said I don’t know. Why don’t you just get that straight? I don’t know who your Dad is. Alright? I don’t know.” I roar back at her, and begin to sob a little.

After about five minutes, she calmly comes to me and sits beside me. Seeing her come, I wipe out my tears.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to shout at you.” I say, squeezing her hand. I can comprehend that she’s cried, too. She might’ve sensed something wrong.

“Mom, as far as I remember my childhood, we’ve been living alone. I mean, just the two of us. Not even one relative ever visits us, and we never do, too.  Why, mom? Tell me. I’m there for you. Trust me, what had happened? Tell me the truth, Mumma.” She gently says, taking my hand into hers and holding it tightly.

“The truth might be too hard, too dark and too ugly for you, Shriya. I’ve been fighting my demons alone. I’m not used to such kindness or sympathy from anyone. You won’t understand.” I say, trying to brush her away.

“Mom, I’m 18, and I will understand. No matter how ugly the truth is. I’m here.” She says.

I smile. “I know you’re 18. You’re a big girl, now.” I say.

“Yes, say mom. Tell me.” She says.

And that’s when I began narrating the darkest time of my life to her. Something that changed the course of my life.

19 Years ago. .

“Rank 1. Krishita Verma – 89.31%” I read on the notice board of my college. I was ecstatic. My joy knew no bound. I’d stood first in my college for 12^th Boards and I wanted to break the news to my mom. I ran through the campus, yelling “Eureka, Eureka!” and imitating Archimedes.

“Congratulations!” My friends, teachers and even the watchman uncle and warden aunty shouted back and laughed. I’d always been notorious and they were used to such insane things of mine.

I ran through the hostel corridors and girls looked at me, thinking of me being seriously lunatic. Some giggled, some gossiped and some were too careless. I didn’t mind. I went into my room and called up mom.

“Mummyy! I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m coming home in a week. I’ll tell you and Papa. You’ll be so happy, mummy. Bet!” I said.

“You stood first?” She asked, delighted.

“Ohho mummy, how do you always understand everything? You should let things be secret sometimes. You spoiled my surprise.” I said, faking some anguish.

“My girl,” she kissed the phone, “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it a surprise for your Papa. He’ll be proud of you.” She said.

“I know.” I whispered, “Chalo mummy, I’ve got to go now. I’ll buy sweets and offer it to my teachers and friends. Okay? See you soon. In a week. Bye. I love you.”

“I love you, too beta. Take care.” She said. I hung up the call.

The next week, I was on cloud nine. All my teachers were happy for my performance. I packed my bags, for I was going home after two years of hostel.

My Sir helped me with the reservations but couldn’t find any. So I’d to go directly, without a prior reservation. I’d to travel alone, all the way from Chandigarh to Bhopal. It was a seventeen-hour-long-journey, and the train was at 8.30 pm. I was all set to go, and was super excited to meet my mom and dad. I hadn’t seen them for two years. I’d missed them a lot. After struggling with the worldly people, (my friends, some too caring, some hypocrites and my teachers, I cannot just describe them) I was finally going to my own people, my comfort zone. I was never happier. My Dad was a politician. He used to be out most of the time. Dealing with the elections, he’d managed to win trust of the people and had been elected as the mayor. Mom was a housewife; she rarely participated in Dad’s affairs. And so, for me to learn everything by me, I was sent to a hostel at Chandigarh. I’d refused earlier, but mom had convinced me.

I was waiting on platform number 2, for my train to arrive. Trains never came on time, and thus, I’d seated on a bench nearby. A group of men were continuously staring at me and maybe, were passing some comments and laughing, and then again staring me. I was uncomfortable. I’d chosen to ignore them, for they were five to six people, and I was alone. I was afraid.

Finally, the train arrived. I went inside and looked for an empty seat. It was around 10, and people were having food and all, while some were about to sleep. I too ate my dinner, which the Warden Aunty had packed for me. After the dinner, I went to sleep.

At around 2 am, I woke up. I was thirsty. After drinking water, I went to the washroom. It was truly awful. While I was coming back to my place, I heard a voice calling me from behind.

“Excuse me, Madam?” The voice echoed in the grasping silence of the night.

I turned, but didn’t see anyone. I thought the voice didn’t talk to me. So I turned back to go to my seat.

“Arey Madam, I’m talking to you. Where are you going?” The voice again called.

“Who’s it?” I said loudly.

There was no response from the other side. I went in the direction of the washroom. Little did I know, it wasn’t the direction of just the washroom, it was the direction to my destruction.

“Who’s there? Hello?” I kept questioning, in vain.

As soon as I reached the door of the washroom, I saw the same group of men there, who were at the station. Their evil eyes were looking at me, undressing me in their minds and smirking. I wanted to run away. I turned around but one of them caught the hold of my hand. His grip was tight. He did not let me go.

“You are so stunning! You cannot go this way. Pehlay hume khush toh karo!” One of them said, and began unzipping his trouser. I was hell scared. Not a word popped out of my mouth.

One of them pinched me, and when I was about to shout, he stuffed three handkerchiefs in my mouth. My hands were tied. Their filthy hands touched me all over, my face, my neck, my breasts, all my private parts. I was like a treasure for them, they were exploring my body. One of them stripped off my kurti and the other one undid my salwar. I felt exploited and hurt. I felt used. They bit me, lick me, their genitals were pushed inside me, and I could do nothing. I tried using my legs but in vain.

I don’t remember what happened then. I still see blurred images of the dark night, blood dispersed over the floor of the train, my painful moans, their wicked laughs. They’d not even once thought of me. I saw them getting down at the next station. I couldn’t shout. I didn’t have the energy. My limbs felt weak and my body hurt. I couldn’t do anything. So I lay there, waiting for someone to come and help me. I don’t remember when, but I fainted.

When I opened my eyes, (I don’t remember how many days later that was) I was on a hospital bed. My body was covered in a hospital gown and I’d had stitches all over my body. Some wounds were left open to heal; some of them were just bandaged. But the biggest wound had been given by those strangers on my heart. I had to come terms with the reality. I was raped.

After some time, my mom and dad came to the hospital. I felt home, suddenly. My parents had come, after all. I was seeing them after two years. I would’ve been happy in the normal circumstance, but owing to what had happened, I was numb.

“Meri beti! What did this happen to you? My love. My princess.” She said, and began weeping, clinging to my Dad’s shoulder. Dad looked unmoved.

The doctor came in and said, “Brutal rape. Her hand bone is broken. There are stitches on her private parts. She was found naked in the train. Local train authorities brought her to the hospital. I’m afraid.”

Dad had no emotions in his eyes. He came near me, shed a tear or two and signalling to his assistant, whom I hadn’t yet noticed, he said, “Spread the news. I lost my daughter while she was coming home from Chandigarh. Accidental death.”

I was stunned. My dad had declared me dead. I knew, his reputation was more important for him over anything. But over his own daughter? I was dumbstruck. Mom was in utter shock, too. Dad held her hand and said, “Today onwards, she isn’t our daughter. I’ve disowned her. What would people say? What faith would they keep in me if I couldn’t protect even my daughter? Lets’ go.”

“B.. But Dad..” I said, he ignored. I knew it hurt him, too. I could see it in his eyes, sense it in his behaviour.

“NO! You cannot do this to her. She wasn’t at fault. Don’t do this with her please, take her home. I’ll take care of her, please don’t do this. She’s our daughter. Nooo!” Mom yelled, screamed, shouted and cried. Dad didn’t heed.

Mom came to me and said, “Don’t lose hope. I’ll convince him. I’ll come back.” Then, she left, following Dad.

Mom had lied. She never came back. She didn’t answer my phone calls. She didn’t convince Dad. I don’t know what Dad had said to her. Maybe she too had disowned me. Where was all the love gone? I was left all alone. I had nowhere to go. After getting discharge from the hospital, I didn’t know where to go. I had no money to pay the hospital bill. I didn’t know what I had to do. I was hoping and praying that it’d turn out to be just a nightmare. I was numb, so numb, that I couldn’t even cry.

Even after the discharge, I stayed in the hospital, sometimes on the benches where people used to wait for their appointment to come, sometimes in the parking lot, sometimes pleading to the doctor to let me stay somewhere in the hospital. One night and a group of men had snatched my entire life from my hands and I could do nothing except letting that happen.

One fine day, I was sleeping on the bench of the hospital, when a lady approached me. She wore a plain white saree and looked very old. She looked like all the motherly love was compiled in her. As soon as I looked up to her, tears started flowing out of my eyes, uncontrollably. This was the first time I’d cried after the rape.

“What happened, child?” She asked. I narrated everything to her. She had moist eyes too.

She took me with herself, to an aashram, where many girls of my age lived. She was Mrs. Nair and it was a NGO, which was run for women empowerment. I thanked my stars for making me come across this lady.  She asked me to stay there. I had no other option anyway. So, I agreed.

A month later, I’d vomited blood. I couldn’t bear the smell of some eatables and would get immensely desperate to eat some things. I didn’t understand what was happening.

Another month later, my stomach size began to increase, like a pulp. I went to Mrs. Nair and told her my symptoms. She suggested we see a doctor and so, the same afternoon, we went to the hospital for a check-up.

What the doctor had said made me collapse and crumble on the floor in disbelief.

“Two months pregnant.” He’d said.

I still hadn’t come out of the trauma of the rape, and here, my life had played another cruel game with me. Who would accept me in the society? First, I was raped. Then, I’m pregnant, with someone’s child and I didn’t know it was whose amongst them. I was shattered.

Mrs. Nair said, “Don’t worry; we won’t let this news out of this aashram. It’s your choice, to have the baby or no. But I’d suggest you abort the child, the foetus can prove harmful for your entire life. You are just about-eighteen. You have your entire life ahead. You’d be restricted because of this child.”

I didn’t say anything. I just followed what she said. The next day, again we were at the hospital, to abort the child. To kill it even before it opened its eyes.

The doctor checked me up and informed that there were complications and so the foetus could not be aborted. It could’ve proved fatal for my health. And so I was asked to conceive the baby.

Six and a half months later, I gave birth to a baby girl. She weighed just two kgs and looked really adorable. When she opened her eyes for the first time, I knew I’d found a reason to live.

I told Mrs. Nair that I wanted to study. She wholeheartedly agreed. She financed my entire professional course. I did my BBA and MBA from a reputed college. Never did she let me feel like I wasn’t her daughter. She took care of me. She looked after my daughter when I had to study. When I cleared my exams, she was the one who was happier than I was. Then, I got a job offer from Bangalore and shifted there with my daughter.

Present..

Shriya is hugging me by now and crying silently. I’m crying too. In these eighteen years, this is the first time I’ve opened up this way in front of someone. I feel like I’ve unfastened the belt that was around my neck for several years. I feel I’m breathing free.

“Didn’t your mom and dad ever contact you?” Shriya asks.

“They didn’t.” I say.

“And Mrs. Nair? What happened to her?” She asks further.

“She passed away five years ago.” I say.

“Oh.” She says.

I don’t say anything.

“Mom, it would’ve been difficult for you, no? Whenever you might’ve looked at me, you’d have remembered the tragedy happened to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, what are you sorry for? It wasn’t your fault. Neither was it mine. I’ve accepted what’s happened to me, now. I’ve understood what destiny says to me. It’s my fate.” I say, sighing.

She stands up, wiping her eyes. She walks upto the door of my room, turns back and says, “You’re a hero. You’re my mother and father too. Tomorrow, come to my college. It’s Fathers’ Day.” She leaves.

I feel good. I feel happy. I feel accomplished.

Some wounds never heal. We just learn to live with them. We just get used to them and they matter less. But, they’re there, always. Aching afresh each time they’re brought into air. But sometimes, these wounds make us who we are. Sometimes, these wounds, they define us. For good. I smile.

Letting go is NOT easy.

Bhoomi and Sarvesh were best friends. They’d met through a coaching institute and that had gotten them together for three years now. There was no looking back from then. They had shared every little thing to huge, massive problems with each other. They’d rescued each other from every predicament and people out there were envious of their friendship. Looking at them, one would easily contemplate them being a couple. And that was the worst thing, ever, for they were JUST FRIENDS. And that’s what Anand was conveniently being oblivious of.

Sarvesh was a much sorted guy. He never had a girlfriend and never wanted one. He believed in liberty.  And according to him, relationships were cages which kept two people in a nameless bondage. It was just a tag, as per his say. He used to think, all love is equal - the love between a couple, the love between friends, the love between parents and their child, the love between siblings. (I didn’t agree with him though.) He was good at heart and considered everyone to be so.

Bhoomi was a sweet, little, innocent and bubbly girl. With her charming eyes, she could please anyone and everyone. She had been dating Anand for a year now. And now, his possessiveness had begun showing its true colours. Bhoomi considered Sarvesh a genuine and true friend, and could never imagine him taking Anand’s place in her life. Anand was her love and Sarvesh, her best friend. It had been as simple as that. Just for her, maybe.

Anand was a typical guy. He had loved Bhoomi with all his heart and could never imagine losing her. Losing her meant losing life in itself. And maybe that is why he was being too cautious with Bhoomi and Sarvesh. That is why he didn’t like Sarvesh. Not that he didn’t trust Bhoomi, he really did. But he had an image to maintain in his friends circle. He had to be a man. And this had just added to his insecurity. He was high on Sarvesh all the time.

One fine evening, Sarvesh and Bhoomi were chilling out, riding and enjoying. They had had a good time together. It was always fun for them in each others’ company. Little did they know, an unfortunate disaster was waiting for them. Later that night, when Anand called Bhoomi, she was shattered into pieces.

“You’re my girlfriend, you understand that? You’re mine. What were you thinking while roaming on the streets with that lame guy? Who is he to you? My friends saw you both; they said you were physically so close? Listen, you witch, I have a reputation to maintain. I have an image in front of my friends. Don’t let me down this time. And dare you talk to that guy again. I’m telling you its high time you end whatever you have with him right now. I don’t want to come to know about you both from my friends anymore. Take care of that.”

Anand’s heart ached when he said such hurtful things to Bhoomi. He knew she would never cheat him with Sarvesh. Still he had to face his friends and maintain a fake reputation, which was possibly way more important for him than his girlfriend’s broken heart.

“I .. I’m sorry, Anand. I’ll make sure I don’t disappoint you further. I’m sorry.” Bhoomi had said, sobbing. Anand too, had shed a tear or two, but he brushed his feelings aside.

After they hung up the call, Bhoomi cried her heart out. Sarvesh was her best friend and she couldn’t imagine a day without him. But for her, it was a choice. A choice between her love and friendship. And as everyone would do, she chose Anand. She had been blindfolded since she'd gotten in a relationship with Anand, and this was just one circumstance when her love had overpowered her friendship. Once she was done with crying, till her head ached and her eyes swelled up, she called up Sarvesh.

“Sarvesh, I need to tell you something.” She’d said, but Sarvesh had already smelled something fishy and had forecasted a catastrophe.

“Go on, I’m listening. And don’t cry, Bhoomi. If Anand doesn’t approve of our friendship doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. You’re my best friend. What’d I do without you?” Sarvesh had managed to speak, holding back his tears.

“Sarvesh, you’ve got to listen to me. I love Anand, you understand that? I love Anand. I’ve fantasized my entire life with him. And I know he loves me back, equally. There are no internal problems between us. Just that he doesn’t like our friendship and that is an external problem.  I can do ..” Bhoomi was saying, when Sarvesh had interrupted her.

“I’m an external problem? My friendship is considered as a problem by you?” He’d spoken up, now tears flowing down his cheeks, uncontrollably.

“Oh c’mon, I didn’t mean that, Sarvesh. You’re the only one who understands me. Why are you behaving this way today? Anand is my boyfriend. I have to spend my entire life with him. And someone has to adjust to keep a relationship going. So let that be me this time? Moreover, wherever we go, whoever we meet, everyone looks upon us being a couple. I really get uncomfortable. People would talk. And suppose, if I still be friends with you, and if someone tells Anand, my whole life would come crashing down. I cannot do this to him. I cannot live without him. Anand and me, we’ve been together for a year now. I owe this much to him, Sarvesh.” She’d paused to take a breath when Sarvesh spoke up again.

“People used to talk before, too. You had chosen to ignore them then. Then suddenly what happened? And you’ve been with Anand for a year, you say. But what about our friendship? Three years of friendship mean nothing before a relationship of a year? Don’t you owe me anything?” Sarvesh had been crying. Bhoomi couldn’t stay strong as well. She’d broken down, again.

“It doesn’t work this way, Sarvesh. Anand is my boyfriend. I cannot disappoint him. It would be difficult for me, too. But I’d do it for Anand. Would you do this for me?” She’d asked him.

“. . .” Sarvesh couldn’t say anything.

“Sarvesh, all the love is equal for you, right? So do you love me enough to let me go? Do you love our friendship enough to let it break?” She’d questioned him.

Of course, Sarvesh was left with no other choice other than letting Bhoomi go. He knew it was Anand’s fake pride, but he could not do anything to make Bhoomi understand this. She was blind in her love for Anand.

“Okay. I’ll never call you again. I’ll go away from your life, Bhoomi. You stay happy, and tell Anand, I let you go just because I’ve truly loved our friendship. I’d never come back again. Bye, Bhoomi. Take care. Henceforth, I won’t be there to wipe your tears away. Bye.” Sarvesh had said, and hung up the call.

That night, there were three broken hearts crying at their respective places, for hurting their loved ones. There was a sense of loss and sadness had filled the air.

Then, Sarvesh shifted somewhere else, changed his phone number and deactivated all his social networks. He’d submerged himself in his work, never to look back again.

Bhoomi couldn’t live by bearing the guilt of losing her friendship to her love. One fine day, she asked the same question she’d asked Sarvesh, to Anand. She asked, “Do you love me enough to let me go, Anand?” And Anand, he couldn’t hold Bhoomi back because of the guilt of breaking her friendship with Sarvesh. He’d let her go.

Bhoomi couldn’t track Sarvesh and his whereabouts, and eventually, she gave up. Anand still bears the guilt of breaking a friendship, which could have else lived till eternity. Sarvesh didn’t let anyone come as close to him as Bhoomi. He was afraid, everyone would leave him one day.

As Bryant McGill says, “We all are damaged. We all have been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up. For each pang of grief, doubt or despair, there is an inverse toward renewal coming to you in time. Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.”

And that is why, Sarvesh, Bhoomi and Anand, all the three are recovering from the mistake, the misfortune that came in because of Anand’s fake pride and Sarvesh and Bhoomi’s true friendship. Maybe one day, they’d heal.

An Infinity of Love. :)

To be in love doesn't necessarily mean to be in a relationship. And being in a relationship doesn’t mean to be necessarily in love. These are two different concepts. Many would agree with me, I guess. But what about, being in both?

Let’s talk about what love is. Literally everyone has their own different definition for love. For some people, love is when they just steal a glance of the person they love. For some, it’s more about their happiness, no matter with who it is. For some, it is compulsorily having them in your life, it’s actually an obsession. Some are just stalkers. Some fall in love with every new person they meet. And some fall in love with the same person, thoroughly again.

Well, imagine a situation. You love someone who doesn’t love you back. What’d be the scenario? Heartbreaks, pains, tears and loneliness. Right? Wrong. If you’re really in love, their happiness would be more important to you. Real love is like, selfless, gratuitous. Without expecting literally anything in return. And that is rare, not impossible. One of a million people does love selflessly, and you’re blessed if you are such or if you’ve ever come across any such person.

Okay, next situation. You are in love with a person who loves you back and you’re in a happy go lucky relationship with him/her. When you both got into a relationship, everything had been blooming. Your partner would do everything you want and mend them according to you. You are ecstatic. Then after some days, the pink colour of your relationship begins to fade. Frequent fights and quarrels and anger tend to overpower your love for each other. Then? End. Is this worth? I mean, if some people get into a relationship just to enjoy the lovey-dovey phase, I think such people should stay calm and not destroy someone’s life, for God’s sake.

Another situation. (This is personally my favourite.) You are in a relationship with a person you’re madly in love with and the person loves you back equally, for say, four years. And now, I guess four years are more than enough for someone to understand their partner and for the lovey-dovey phase to fade away. Then how come they’re still together, and happy at that? The secret is simple. LOVE. Being in a relationship for four years means understanding that the two people cannot always be together. Each one of them has their own respective life. It means staying away, and still, being HAPPY. Because you know, the mere acknowledgement of your love to your partner can do wonders. Being in a relationship doesn’t mean staying close either. Being in love doesn’t mean riding on a vehicle together and stealing kisses at any point of time. Love is a vast concept and people fail to cognize it.

And the last situation. Loving someone who loves you back and being together today but not in the future. Okay so I’d read somewhere, staying in love with someone you don’t have a future with, means standing in the rain and getting wet, though you know you’re going to be sick, but it feels great anyway.

Some things like love are simple and complicated at the same time, just that we must know, when to keep it simple and when to complicate it, like literally.

Inspired by #PoemsPorn and #Filmygyan. :D                           

Love is an infinity. (With regards to The Fault In Our Stars.) (Actually, half of my life is defined by The Fault In Our Stars.) And happy are those who are infinitely happy in love.

Happy reading, happy life, happy love! :)