28 Sep 2014

Dear Querida...

I raise the gun and shoot. Without flinching, without fear. The recoil from the gun shakes me but I stand my ground and watch him die slowly, his eyes wide with fear, betrayal and guilt. Oh yes!! I feel my chest heave with rapid breathing.

"Oh dear, that is one gruesome thought!"

I jump a foot in the air guiltily, looking for the owner of the voice. But I am quite alone in the park and no one seems to be around even near the marble bench on which I was seated moments ago. I feel my sweaty palms as if I actually was holding a gun and wipe them on my black skirt . My heart beat returns to normal as I take in my surroundings and sit back on the cool surface of the bench, wiping my forehead to calm myself down. The voice must have been my own thought, of course.
"No, it certainly wasn't your imagination.

What?

I look around again, hoping to catch someone and definitely, this time I notice a man leaning against the nearest oak tree, wearing a black overcoat and olive pants, folding his arms over his chest, smiling at me. 

RUN! The voices in my head scream at once, but of course, I do not run. I give the man a look of disdain and go back to killing people in my head. And then I realize in a heartbeat, he had just answered my thoughts. Perspiration forms on my forehead as I slowly look back at the man. But he is not there! 

"Because I am right here, Querida."

My heart stops as I turn to my left and find him seated right next to me! I let out an involuntary gasp and start to get up, keeping a wide distance between us as I observe change of expressions on his face. 

"Look, I am not a stalker or creep or whatever you call those humans that hunt women. Or men. Or people in general." He smiles apologetically,

Yeah right! Thinking, I start walking, when I realize I've not moved an inch from the bench. I look up in horror and feel tears welling up in my eyes. Here I was, imagining killing someone a few minutes ago and now I could not even move. My heart starts beating like crazy and a thought flashes through my mind. May be he is here to kill me

"Always so dramatic." He chuckles, rolling his eyes in quite a similar manner to what I give in real life.

"Querida, You are unable to move because fear has rooted you to the spot. And I certainly do not intend to kill you."

I notice the similarity between the way we talk as I stare at him with open distrust.

"And curiosity."

"Will you stop doing THAT? Who are you?!" I intended to scream but I end up whispering. 

"Oh don't be so afraid. Stop jumping to the worst conclusions as well. I am just your guardian angel. And I had to make an appearance in the way you would like."

I definitely didn't like people materializing out of thin air. Wait, my what? 

Seriously? What?

"Seriously Yes. I am just your guardian angel." Just. My. Guardian. Angel. I realize I am gaping with shock, not really registering any of it.

He folds his legs underneath him and points at a bud of violet flower with his finger. Trust me, I see the bud open like a roll of tissue paper, oh wait, bad analogy, like a, well, a flower blooming in all it's violet glory. If I wasn't seeing it, I would not have believed it.

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"You would have. You always expect the extraordinary to happen. Honestly, sometimes even I wonder what you would think if you could see us. May be you will try to cast a spell or something." 

Or run.

"Yeah, may be that too!" He chuckles motioning me to sit down. Out of sheer curiosity I do as he says."I will tell you in a minute why I have manifested myself."

"Why are you a guy? Shouldn't you be a woman?" I blurt out, wondering if he can know my thoughts, he probably has seen me do everything. EVERYTHING. The thought makes me recoil, but he does not interrupt me this time. I breathe in and out, calming myself, when he speaks.

"I can be anything or anyone, depends on the situation. My essence is in people around you, who love you and in times of grave danger or distress or even a slip up, someone might turn up."

"Like my brother?"

"Like your brother. Like your grandma, whenever you've felt lonely. Like the friend who spoke to you all night when you felt low. Like that dog on the street you play with everyday, when you return from here." He says simply, like it is an obvious thing to understand.

"No, it is not obvious of course, Querida. I am just saying, I can be anyone, in anyone, depending on where you are."

"Okay. And?" I have hit a mental black wall. I have trusted this stranger, claiming...

"I am not claiming, I am. The reason I am here is to tell you that you don't have to feel lonely all the time."

"I am not lonely!" I stare at him indignant. He has morphed his black coat to a more warmer plaid shirt and jeans. Hmmm.

"Oh well, I thought I would feel like I belong here. And you are lonely Querida, which is the reason why I am here." 

Suddenly, I feel like an observer, imagining a lone girl sitting in the corner most part of the lush green park, on a cold marble bench, talking to someone who might be visible only to her. 

"Others can see me, Querida. My visibility is my own choice. Don't think about what others will think and listen to me. I know your life. Unusually so. I was assigned to you when you were barely seven months old. As in the time of your birth."

I try to listen to him, and then I realize, I was a premature. Seven month born.  

"Good. I was assigned...do you remember when you almost evaporated when the knob of temperature on your incubator was turned on high by mistake, I saved you then."

"Yeah, of course I remember. Seven months infants remember the details of their just beginning lives." I comment. He chooses to ignore. 

"I was making a point. Since that day, I have not left your side. I know I know you think that you've been saved at the last minute by a lot of things and sometimes not even that, but those were the events required to help you grow. And during other moments, I have saved you."

Is this an account of what good you did for me? I think but do not speak.

"No Querida, I  notice that you have been hurt so much that you are losing faith. And that is why I have to be here, to tell you that no matter wherever you are, I will be there to tell you that you will make it through. It may seem tough and downright impossible to act upon your faith and you may feel that life is not worth living for, given your circumstances, but I will make it worth it right before you are about to give up. I am your friend, benefactor, confidante, girlfriend, boyfriend, father, mother and anyone who you would ever need. You just have to believe once again that you are much more than what you think you are."

I realize his words are affecting me and emotions awash me in torrents as I start sobbing. I was in a pretty bad shape. I have no job, no family and mounting debts to pay. Dying seemed like a better option.

"You are precious, Querida and that is why I was assigned to you. You were an indomitable spirit even before birth and that should not change here. Reach out to me in times of distress and I will make you remember that the good times are just round the corner. I am to give you hope and lift you on your feet once again. Always." 

His words reach to my mind and open the floodgates. I cry and cry and cry as the wind picks up speed, bringing rains with it. 

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Memories, old and new flash through my mind, showing people who cared, really cared for me. I feel a great warmth swelling in my heart as the cool rain drops seep through my dark blue shirt making it look like a crumpled wave. I sob until I feel warm arms around me. I sob into his shoulders, feeling like I am really not alone. His hold is not tight nor loose and he is holding his breath. I realize he must be hearing my thoughts as I feel him chuckle. 

"Thank you." I wipe my eyes as he smiles and hugs me once
again, as I close my eyes in his protective, pure embrace.

"Ma'am, should I drop you home?" I jerk open my eyes to notice that the old caretaker of the park is standing behind the bench, with a large yellow umbrella. I notice that my friend is no where to be seen.

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I am here Querida. In your heart. In him. Go home. I will see you over coffee, till you find a worthy companion.

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you." I smile at the old man and get up to leave, feeling the presence of my G.A. invisible beside me

May be I wouldn't be lonely anymore.

Of course not Querida.

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PS: Querida means Darling in Spanish. My recent fav. word. <3

17 Aug 2014

Let's Play A Game.

Ever since I could remember,
Everything inside of me, 
Just wanted to fit in.

I was never one for pretenders,
Everything I tried to be, 
Just wouldn't settle in. 


I wake up with my eyes sand papery, feeling the aftermath of a bad dream. I can hear yelling from the other room. Gah, my mother is screaming at me again to get up. Groggy and weirdly tired, I turn to check the time. 6:30 AM?! What was wrong with her? I try to pull my thoughts together and sit up. 

"You f*king lazy piece of sh*t! I am hungry!" How lovely. 
"Coming Mother."

She glares at me as I walk to the kitchen after washing my face with water. Hygiene and freshness shall come later. I fix an omelette and slices of bread for her, brewing sugarless espresso for myself. She greedily snatches the plate from my hands and switches on the TV. 

Before you judge anything about my life, I must tell you, my mother is an alcoholic. Uh, not just an alcoholic, but a non-recovering raging alcoholic. Sigh! I do not have a brother or father and my relatives no longer remain in touch because of the lovely treatment my mother bestows on them. So, I guess you can imagine how much I look forward to stay at my beautiful home. I down the scalding espresso and get ready for work. Oh, I am an intern at the public library, I babysit too after work and then on weekends, I work as a waitress in the local diner. I love books. I don't love my mother. I did. But that feeling is dead inside, which is as scary as it seems. Feeling dead inside

If I told you what I was,
Would you turn your back on me?
And if I seem dangerous, 
Would you be scared?

As I begin to leave the house, after hurriedly preparing lunch for her and rushing out of the kitchen, my mother starts crying. Taking a deep calming breath, I walk back inside and ask her.

"Mother?"
"You don't want me to enjoy myself (Sniff).

I give her a blank look, frantically realizing, I will be extremely late if her everyday charade doesn't end. Oh, she is crying not because I am leaving, but she needs money. 

"Mother, there's money in your drawer. I have kept food in the fridge. If you need anything else, let me know." I hand her another 200/- and leave. I had no time for this. 

Things had to end. Seriously. I would rather be alone. No, I can't be alone. I have to take care of her. Even if it kills me, till she is, I will take care of her. 

On that hopeful note, I get to the library and immerse myself in arranging dusty piles of old books and notes.It's strangely calming and before I know, Mrs. Karen is standing where I am and giving me an appreciative smile. I glance at her, absolutely clueless when she hands me 1000/- and says,

"Good work Rhea! Take this for today. You have done well. Now go, party!" She pats my back, while I stare at the treasure bill I have. Grinning, I leave for the babysit work and realize that my phone is chiming in. It's my mother. I instantly decide to hangup, but a funny feeling skitters down my spine. I pick up. 

"Rhea! Where have you kept my cigarettes!!!" She screams hoarsely in my ears.

"Mother, I have not kept them. Please don't smoke, it's not good for you." I remind her.

"I know you piece of shit. You want my money. I know you! It's that Tim boy, you are running off with. You have MY cigarettes.

Uh, my mother was also losing it. I decide to get back home.

I get the feeling just because, 
everything I touch isn't dark enough,
if this problem lies in me.
I am only a man, 
with a candle to guide me.
I am taking a stand to escape,
what's inside me.

As I am about to enter the lane where my house is, I notice police sirens and fire brigade. With a sick premonition, I reach my house and that's where the entire parade is. My house is not  on fire, but the front door is burned down. I pull in with a screech and without bothering to look back run towards the house, when strong male hands stop me. I look at the officer whose blue eyes are filled with concern and....and a bad news. 

"Are you Rhea?"

Speechless, I nod. 

"I am sorry about your mother. She, well, she tried to light a cigarette with the gas flame and the alcohol around her quickly caught up. She tried to run out I believe, but...it was too late.

Looking at my faint expression, he finishes with a rush as I stagger in his arms. Things happen in a rush after that. Mother's charred beyond-recognition body is wrapped in a blue cover and the paramedics take her away. My neighbors are all there, some are hugging me, whispering consolatory empty words in my ears. The buzz in my ears keeps getting louder as I watch everyone leave. I am cold all over, as I walk to the bedroom and fall on the bed.

I recall...in a twisted sick way, I had forgotten to turn off the stove before I left for work.

Monster, A Monster,
I've turned into a Monster.


PS: Lyrics of Imagine Dragons - Demons form the basis of this story. 
PPS: I love Imagine Dragons :D :D

13 Aug 2014

The Blue Cloud


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It might have blue or it might have been black,
but who knows what it is, when I have turned my back.
I think it is best to accept the reality, 
that I am nothing, a mere fatality. 

Oh, I do not believe their praises, 
They are invisible, invisible like my bruises.
The ones you cannot fathom, reach beyond my soul,
They have engulfed me and can take you whole.

You tell me someday I will survive,
I feel it is too late for me to revive.
You cannot see the blue or the black cloud,
My screams inside cannot be heard out loud. 

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Today I can see the stars beyond the blue,
And I now it is time for me to renew.
I can see them calling, beyond the concrete border,
The pain would be brief and will set things in order.


Depression is an issue that has been taken very lightly by many of us. It is not just about feeling low or sad, but is a mix of multiple emotional and physical changes. Years ago, I went through the WHO's video on depression called the "The Black Dog" of depression. I am posting the link here. It is a wonderful video and gives an insight into the world of someone who suffers from depression. The death of Robin Williams shocked many, including me. Who knows what pain was he in. Do have a look at the video. It is inspiring and real. 


PS: You can also read more by following this link  Black Dog Institute

27 Jul 2014

Thou Shall Be the Wrath!

Her insides were burning with the fury she felt at the people who were looking at her. No! They are nothing! She screamed mentally, gave all of them a burning look and took off. Her wings slashed the skies as she flew in circles above the kingdom. They were liars. All of them, with their sweet talk and words of concern. She seethed at the peaceful face of one of the angels who was looking at her from below, mouthing words which irritatingly felt like, "Please come back, we love you!". 

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These people! These filthy self-righteous people! 

She looked for a place where she could vent out all the emotions raging inside her, the unfairness of it all, the...the stupidity to choose Savlanut over her, because she was the one who had endured and suffered and bore it all. With Patience!!! She was the youngest among all the angels and they were all just too dim witted in their path of righteousness, to seek glory! She had enough! ENOUGH! She could not stand them and their sickly sweet attitude. 

She found a tower finally, where she could brood. Also, there was a weird burning tingling sensation towards the end of her spine but may be that was because she had been flying for too long. She sat at the wide tower that marked one of the gates of Heaven and screamed in anger, but inaudibly. That was her specialty. She could mute herself when she willed it. But it was hard, she felt her eyes burn too, with tears and what felt like...blood?! She looked at the back of her hands horrified, there was blood on them! She cringed in fear and took off again to check her reflection in the Lake of Wisdom. The burning sensation at her back was also increasing at a dull pace. She found the lake and made for its banks. 

She looked fine. Her reflection just looked a little grimy, but there was no blood. Not even on the back of her hands. What? She pulled at her hair with frustration. Even this bloody lake was deceptive. Enraged with her body on flame she decided to breach the gates and enter the realms of humans, the mortals, the dispensable. As she exhaled and inhaled, a sudden gust of darkest wind, dark as the night and impenetrable as an angel's womb, surrounded her. Panicking at the sense of loss of direction, she pushed herself up and beyond the cloak of smoke. Where had she seen this before? Where?

The Hell. 

Her mind supplemented the answer as she realized she was almost close to the core of the Earth, where Satan lived, albeit tied up by the God himself. But that did not mean he could not wield power or did not have his cronies. As she stood before him, lost and a little bit scared, he gave her a charming smile. Why did God chain him up in the first place? Shut up! What are you thinking! Her mind chagrined. She continued to stare at him with interest, when he spoke in a voice so soothing and gentle, she felt that both of them were equally wronged. There were warning bells in ears, but well, who cared.

"Hello Ira." He said. 

Ira? What strange language is that? She thought but did not respond.

"It seems like an appropriate time that you join my world. With that passion inside you, it feels unfair that you stay with the Pure ones." He spoke, inviting her and caressing her with his words.

"What do you mean? You disgusting monster!" She blurted out without thinking. There it was, the rage again...when he just smiled at her. The anger started to simmer inside her as she felt like throttling him. What a belittling gesture! How dare he!! She wished she had claws or a weapon, anything with which she could hit him and there it was, in her clenched fists, a leather cord whip, which could torment a mortal soul with wounds which would not heal for days or weeks or months. She smiled despite herself. What was happening to her?

"Come on Ira, you want to hit me, don't you? I will give you just the right chance to do so. And on mortals! Imagine, how simple minded creatures they are...who give in to their stormy emotions. You can control all of them." He said in a honey sweet seductive voice, unlike the angels.Their voices grated on her nerves. 

"I...but I am God's!" She stuttered, knowing she had already betrayed her God, with the rage seething inside her, the unforgiving and relentless feelings inside her. 

"Are you?" He smiled and she felt everything go dark around her. It was eons before she woke up and noticed a throbbing on her shoulder blades. She touched them and was horrified. The tingling at the base of her spine had abated. And now there were her wings, long, wide, lustrous and black. She wore what seemed like a blood red gown. It was strangely satisfying. Forbidden. She felt an aura of power pulse around her. Thick and dark.
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"What am I to do?" She asked.

"You are the Wrath. You can destroy anything you want. From lives to those who love. It's all yours'. The World is yours." She heard Satan's voice in her head and thought of the mortal world. And lo! There she was, at the mere thought! She felt extremely hungry though. She realized she could move and fly without being seen. She crept up at a couple, where a man was telling his wife to give him some bread, while she insisted she will take some time. Ira touched the man gently on the shoulder and saw him change. He picked up the plate and threw it on the floor. Ira couldn't help but smile and felt herself a little full. Oh, so this is how she would feed. She cackled and saw a lighting cut across the skies. She will have fun in the mortal world.  And how right she was.

PS: When Ira's conscience was clean, the font color is purple, where it is maligned, it's red. Hence the disparity. Also, Savlanut is Hebrew for Patience or tolerance.

PPS: Among the seven deadly sins, Anger or Wrath or Ira (Latin) was considered to be ultimate rejection of love and acceptance. It also meant that the entity either hated oneself or the other so much, that it would kill the other or itself. The punishment for anger in Hell was to be dismembered alive. You can read about all of this in the links below.