Gifts ungiven.
Flowers unsent.
Messages unreplied.
Phones unanswered.
Words unsaid.
Thoughts unexpressed.
Letters unwritten.
Poems unpenned.
Moments unenjoyed.
Memories unetched.
Company undesired.
Solitude unsought.
Feelings unreturned.
Agony unbridled.
Mind unwon.
Heart undone.
Girl unimpressed.
Love unrequited.
He was back in the corridor. Locked out. For he had lost the key. And not just any key.
The key opened many doors. Doors that opened to love, happiness, enthusiasm, energy, strength, passion, tenderness, humbleness, self-respect, appreciation, ambition, laughter, understanding, caring, enlightenment and, most importantly, hope. All the good things. In fact, everything that he was looking for and would ever look for.
But he had lost the key and was back in the corridor. The corridor was familiar. It had to be for he had paced up and down it for 2 long years. The overwhelming stench of alcohol and cigarettes; the stale air; the stained walls; the cob-webbed corners; the depressing lights; the distant voices. Echoes of recent past. It all came rushing to him, like long lost friends. Friends you had made an effort to lose.
That was before he had found the key and started living again.
Should he look for another key? What if it did not open the right doors? What if it did not open any doors at all? And, even if he did find another key, would he not try to have it carved like the one he had lost? Also, what if some wrong person found his key? What if that person overlooked all the nice things within those doors? Is it his problem? Should he be concerned? Then again, can he ever stop being concerned about its fate? His heart won’t let him, will it now? Lots to agonise over.
The tubelights buzz ominously.
Once again, M, H and this guy met up at a local café. It was one of those routine meetings. The subject was always the same: the guy and his life. For 28 odd years, M and H had met him to ‘discuss’ things. But M & H never saw eye-to-eye on anything. For each was the opposite of the other.
M was the mature, wise and practical types. H was emotional, carefree and tended to get carried away. M believed in being diplomatic and shrewd all the time. H believed in going a little crazy whenever possible.
For instance, if they were going for a movie, H would suggest they take the plush, lazyboy couches while M would ask if it’s worth spending 300 bucks each for a movie that might turn out to be dull after all.
If they were passing by a fantastic view of the rain-soaked city, H would suggest they take a U-turn and see the view all over again while M would ask H to take a look at the cab’s meter instead.
If they were going for a trek, H would pack a pair of binoculars and a camera while M would carry a first-aid kit and mosquito repellent.
For this guy, M & H make life rather interesting, though a little confusing at times. Every single one of these ‘discussions’ end up in arguments. But, more often than not, the guy goes with what H suggests. Which is why, M is a little bitter. In fact, M does not show up at all for many such discussions. Except when one of H’s suggestions gets the guy into trouble; then M takes the spotlight, enjoying one of his ‘told-ya-so’ moments.
But today was one of those special occasions. The guy had fallen for someone. “Not again”, M said. “Another adventure”, H exclaimed. “Well, what do you think?” the guy had asked them, after promising them that he’ll listen to both of them this time.
After mulling over it for an agonisingly long time, H said, “go for it”. The guy heaved a sigh of relief before turning to M.
M lit a cigarette and took another sip of his coffee. He could feel the guy’s and H’s eyes on him. He frantically went through his notes, considered a myriad of things, consulted past experiences and reviewed future plans.
After an eternity, M set down his mug of coffee and crushed his cigarette. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and sighed. The guy and H were looking at him anxiously.
At midnight, he was back at the sea. He was hoping to find answers to some questions.
He had looked under a creaking ceiling fan, on a yielding armchair, through the pages of a book, between the notes of music, through the crowd on a bus, around one unforgiving concrete bench, in the throes of textual intercourse, between the seats of a movie theatre, in a pair of bottomless sleepy smoky dark eyes, down soft flowy silky hair, along glazed milky irresistibly smooth skin, through rivulets of tobacco smoke, in the haze of night clubs, behind the stroke of midnight, in the corner of a glass cabin, at the bottom of many cups of coffee, down a railway line, and even on his person. But he didn’t find any.
He had consulted silence, solitude, darkness, sleep and alcohol. They entertained him for hours but they had no answers.
He was hoping the sea would answer his questions, like it had before.
He was one of the last few in line. The queue of devotees ran down various ages, and many life-stages.
It was quite late when he went up to speak to it. But the sea did not wish to. In fact, it withdrew its waves. As the waves receded, they laid bare the jagged doorstep of the sea. The rocks looked like they were there to protect the sea from whoever it deemed undeserving of its wisdom. The rocks were the ‘unwelcome’ mat of the sea.
He left it alone. Waiting all these hours had amounted to naught. He decided he would consult alcohol one more time.
The melancholy, lonely planet suddenly felt something tug at it. In a jiffy, its humdrum journey through space had transformed into an exciting adventure.
Its pace had quickened. Its belly was abuzz. The momentum had blown dust and dirt off its surface and revealed its true colours, and among them, a scar or two.
It had travelled several light years. It had joined many galaxies, had a few satellites orbiting it, waltzed with many stars. But none had held its attention long enough or strong enough.
It was doing nothing, except giving in to a feeling it did not have time to understand. It resisted just a tad before surrendering to the force. It finally grasped what was happening; it was getting attracted to a bright blue star. (Why the star was blue, it knew not.)
The planet was strangely happy. It had found something. It had found someone. Someone it could give its all. Someone it could care about. Someone it could make happy; be happy with, happy for and happy from. It had found someone, and not just anyone but a star. It had found a purpose in life. It had found the centre of its universe. Its world, quite literally, revolved round it.
It started orbiting the star with childish abandon. It had rediscovered the small joys of life. The wind was chipping away at its bumps and filling its craters. The star’s light was adding strange hues the planet did not knew it could carry off with élan.
The star’s attraction was curiously balanced. It was strong enough to keep the planet encircling close-by but nearly not strong enough to pull it closer.
(Hang on a minute. No, no. This isn’t good. How can it be so perfect?)
The star had noticed the new entrant. It smiled wanly at the planet. It told the planet, not unkindly, to go find another galaxy. It asked it to let it be. The star-struck planet implored it for a reason. "Many a wild planet like you has hurt me. I've, therefore, decided to keep everyone at arm's length. Unfortunately, my magnetism I have no control over. Forgive me, if I have hurt you in any way."
The planet did not know what to say, what to think, what to do. Eyes moist, it continued orbiting the star, hoping that someday it will bask in its loving light.
It unwillingly tried to break away. But the star’s attraction was too strong to resist; its allure, too strong to tear away from. “I’ve done this before”, the planet thought. “Then why is it that I just cannot bring myself to break away this time? Besides, I should be ashamed of myself. What was I thinking? Of course, the star’s right; it’s out of my league. What am I but a mere planet? No amount of goodness will qualify me for its love. I don’t deserve it. How I wish I did.”
The grief of unrequited love was unbearable; the idea of letting go was unimaginable. “I’ve travelled enough, seen enough, experienced enough to know that there’s nothing out there but empty space”, the planet convinced itself. “I’m too tired now. I won’t go looking for that elusive feeling. Not anymore. I’ll just trace this path and keep out of the star’s way.”
