Pen Vomit

Housekeeping

2006-10-20T12:27:00.000+08:00

I've moved to Wordpress as well.

You can now find me here.

:)

Would I do things differently?

2006-10-13T09:52:00.000+08:00

In my hypnagogic state, I would swear upon every dancing grass in the fields that I saw you. Did I try to reach out for you? I must have. Because when I awoke proper, my arms were outstretched, grasping at your fading apparition.

Its always like that isn't it? I'm always the one doing the reaching-out; the cautious one, endlessly excluding and censoring certain words in fear of scaring you away, or appearing too straightforward or in-too-deep.

Was I scared that you might think me weak? Perhaps. But you never seemed comfortable with pronouncements of love and these I had suppressed. But how long shall I be able to do so? If I do not utter them somehow, would I forget how to do it when I'm allowed to? If I continue to withhold these declarations behind my lips, would it show in my eyes instead? Would that, in its debased state, still cause you discomfort?

If I knew this was the last time I would speak to you, would I speak these words that I've always kept hidden? Would I gather the courage to touch your hand, just lightly, just to satisfy my dreams of long before? Or would I sit, transfixed, and do what I've been doing - stealing sidelong glances, biting my lips to prevent the words from spilling, keeping my eyes down in case you could decipher it? Would I be bold enough to say "I've loved you; too much and too deep and too long and that is why I have to leave" and really actually leave? Or would I choose to be silent and stay instead, just a while longer, just to hope harder, that you may say it first?

Parte Tres - Sumithra

2006-07-19T13:50:00.000+08:00

(Before reading this, it'd be good to read Parte Una and Parte Dos first; even if you have already read them, just to refresh your memory. I know its been forever but I promise it won't take as long now. Enjoy!)

+++

Oh God, what time is it now? Raj was supposed to pick me up an hour ago. Tapping my fingers on my desk, I wondered if I should call him. He sounded so distant earlier, it made me worried. But that was how things are with Raj - blowing hot and cold ever so often. Sometimes, I feel as if I never knew him at all. I sighed, deciding not to put too much thought into it.

My phone beeped and I read the message:

"Hey. Something came up. I'd probably meet you later at night for dinner. Sorry babe."

Sighing for the second time in a matter of minutes, I gathered my stuff and called a cab.

Sitting in the cab with old songs playing in the background, I was grateful that the driver wasn't one of those who felt obliged to make conversation. I certainly wasn't in the mood for it. Being with Raj has been one of the strangest things to ever happen to me. I can't say for sure what attracted me to him. I first met him at an opening of a new club when I was 20. He was 22 then and he was with his group of friends and I was with mine. Every other guy was getting high and was making passes at girls but Raj actually looked like he'd rather be anywhere else that night but there. Throughout the night, I didn't see him dancing with any girl and he was gone even before midnight. I felt drawn to him. He seemed so... broken. Like he was in need of someone. I was intrigued by him and asked one of the guys he came with:

"Hey! Where's your friend?"
"Which one?"
"The one who looked like he was forced here."
"Haha that has to be Raj. He's not much of a party animal. And he was forced here tonight. Interested?"
"Just wondered when I'd see him again, thats all."
"Don't worry. I'm pretty drawn to your friend as well" - tilting his head towards Megha, grinning - "I'd plan something soon."
"Thats great. See you then."

A week or two later, the four of us had dinner together and that was when I actually talked to him. He was pretty quiet during dinner but when Megha and Jay (Raj's friend) went off for a walk, he talked a bit more. I guess he felt like he had to say something since there was only the 2 of us left. He asked me stuff about myself and what I did but it was pretty generic questions. He seemed so distant and uninterested. I feared that I may come across as nosy but the question was playing in my mind since that night at the club so I asked him:

"Are you hurting?"

He seemed shocked at my question and actually looked me straight in the eye for the first time that night.

"And what makes you think that?"
"I dunno. You just seem ... not okay."
He gave a sinister laugh and said "You don't know shit about me."
I was shocked at his response. "Yes I realize that. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about miss."

There was an awkward silence after that but soon, Jay and Megha came back smiling and the guys dropped us home. I was certain that I would not see Raj anytime soon after how the night went but a month later I got a call around midnight and it was Raj.

"Sumithra?"
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"Rajesh....Raj. Jay's friend. Remember me?"
"Oh. Yeah yeah i do. Whats up?" I sat up, the sleep disappearing fast.
"Do you wanna go for supper?"
"Now?"
"Erm yeah. I was just driving around and I happen to be around your area."
"Oh. Okay then. I'll be ready in 15."
"Okay. See you then."

So we went for supper and I was curious as to why Raj wanted to go for supper with me, even if he said he was around my area. That wasn't a good enough reason right? We ate in silence and we drove around for a bit after that. Raj then parked the car at some forsaken place, wound down the windows and started talking.

"This is going to be awkward. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you asked if I was hurting. Truth is, I am. And no one has ever been bold enough to ask me. And I wanted to apologize for being so harsh on you that night."

"Oh. Right. Thats okay." I was at a loss for words.

I expected him to speak some more but he didn't. He seemed pretty disturbed. We sat in silence for awhile and then he started the engine and sent me home. He was unlike anyone I've ever met and I held on if only to see what was in store.

Its been 3 years now and we got engaged recently. It was more of because-its-the-next-step kind of thing instead of i-can't-wait-to-marry-you kind of thing. Raj wasn't the romantic kind and mostly, I was fine with it. But it still hurt when I agreed to the engagement and he sounded more grateful than happy.

Raj rarely opened up or spoke about himself but I love him just the same. He likes helping people and is compassionate and genuinely caring that it was hard not to. Occasionally he would say that I had saved him, that he was glad I was with him, that I understand him. But he never explained what he meant and I never asked. I just went along with it, hoping one day he would blurt it all out but its been years now and I'm still in the dark.

For the second time today, I wonder if I know him at all.

Night-time Rings

2006-07-15T20:47:00.000+08:00

As I lay awake in bed, the phone pressed to my ear, a smile slowly formed on my face & i could feel the warmth spreading through my heart to my toes & fingers. I turned on my side, transferring the phone to the other ear so that both sides would be blessed with your soft, deep voice. I listened to you talk & although it was about the most mundane things, I knew that nothing could be more interesting at the moment.

I let you speak while I punctuated your lines with "hmm" or "yeah". Closing my eyes while your voice resonated in my head, I let my mind wander & soon, was a spectator.

Hovering above my bed, I see myself pressed against you while one of your arms draped over me lazily. You spoke ino my ear and teasingly bit it while I tried to cover them. When you laughed, it vibrated through both our bodies. I rested my hand on your arm while your other arm stroked my hair. It went on for awhile...

"Hello? You there?"

"Huh? Yeah. Yes I'm here," I replied, coming down to ground.
I grabbed the phone tighter.

Till again

2006-06-05T14:27:00.000+08:00

Take your time, I said. Go out there, meet new people, find someone who makes you smile (more than me), find yourself. And I smiled bravely.

Thanks for understanding, you say.

Hmm sure. (Anything for you)

And that was that. You fluttered away like a butterfly, while I stood there, the flower that stayed behind, wondering when I'll see you again.

(If I will see you again)

All I do is miss you more and more.

2006-05-06T18:48:00.000+08:00

I woke up today and I missed you. I rubbed my eyes and I saw a glimpse of you laughing. Shaking my head, I stood up and dragged my feet to the bathroom. There in the mirror, I see you obstructing my view and I gave up. I reached for the switch and the light blinded me for a while. I slumped into the sofa and exhaled slowly.

You don't need me. I realize that.

You come and you go. Everytime you leave, I get used to the silence, I get into a routine and I detach myself. Just when life seems bearable, you come back again. And you reel me in time and time again. And I get reeled in hopelessly each time. Each time thinking it would be different, that you'd stay; and sometimes you do - just slightly longer than the last.

And then you leave.

And you come back.

And then you leave.

And you come back.

And all I do is miss you, because its the only thing I know.

And I linger on, like I always do.

2006-05-05T13:17:00.000+08:00

I turned slowly to look at you. Your eyes closed and your breathing steady, in tune with the slow pitter-patter of the rain tapping on the glass your head rested on. The bus roared forward and for a second, I feared that it would wake you up but all it made you do was re-adjust and you were back where you were.

I rested my chin on my palm, observing you. Such a beautiful face. My eyes caressed every inch of your face, wondering how many times I had done this and how it still gives me ripples in my stomach and how I imagine you would open one eye and say Stop watching me and I would blush and turn away but how it never happened and till that moment arrived, I would enjoy this silent entertainment everytime you fall asleep on the bus.

Looking at you, I think about how I've waited and waited and waited and whether it was worth the wait. I think about how if you decide to go one day, I could not blame you because you had never asked for exclusive rights, but that I had given it to you voluntarily. That you had my heart in your pocket, but again, I had placed it there, giving you a responsibility you still don't know you have. I think about how you come into my mind ever so often and I wonder if I come into yours as often; if at all.

And then my thoughts wander to those ephemeral moments when I see you look at me like you want to say something but you never never do. Or those times when you reach out as if to brush something off my shoulder only to point and tell me there's something there. Or when we were about to cross big roads and you have a small smile on your face knowing that I was scared but I would not say anything and how you know I needed you then. And how I know you would cross these big roads on purpose even though the traffic lights weren't far off because you liked feeling like you were needed.

I sighed, realizing how much of myself is you. And how its sad that you would never know.

Traffic

2006-04-30T12:01:00.000+08:00

As the engine hummed beneath me, I tried to catch a glimpse of you in the rearview mirror. Several tries and still no luck and I decided to just sit back. Just then, the light turned red and we came to a stop. Your feet came down, you turned around, pushed your visor up and looked at me. I lifted my chin up slightly to ask "What?". You just continued looking for several seconds, grinned, pushed your visor back down, turned around and the light turned green and we moved off.

I turned around to look at the spot, trying to see if I had left my heart behind.

Darkness when you're away

2006-04-20T20:54:00.000+08:00

goodbye and so long
the sun will hide
till we meet again

Mess

2006-04-11T08:40:00.000+08:00

Look at me not as your saviour
neither will i complete you
i'm in need of piecing myself

Hotel Heart

2006-03-28T00:26:00.000+08:00

door to my hotel heart
you locked yourself out
i wish i had a spare key

Chemistry

2006-03-24T22:09:00.000+08:00

i laugh & you're dazzled
pop & fizzle
we have chemistry

2 Halfs

2006-03-21T22:06:00.000+08:00

you are hurt, i am broken
come take my hand
now we are 2 halfs

Lets Play Pretend

2006-03-19T22:44:00.000+08:00

just for one night
close your eyes and pretend
i meant more to you

Thats What Love Is To Me

2006-03-17T01:56:00.000+08:00

No one can make me feel
like an idiot
as well as you

Haiku #1

2006-03-15T23:01:00.000+08:00

drinks for two
i could make believe
you're here tonight

Parte Dos - Raj

2006-01-21T00:02:00.000+08:00

I got out the door, Mairah's beautiful face & gentle voice fresh in my mind. I had missed her when she was gone. No, I corrected myself, I had gone away. I had left her; my greatest love; the only woman I had ever dreamt of having children and growing old with.

I met Colin and he brought me to the room I would be working in. I had a 2month contract to design and paint the room. This room was to be the Psychomotor Room where the kids would learn to walk without help and learn how to balance. I smiled proudly at the thought that Mairah owned this place, this school she had always dreamt of since we were teens. My girl - how strong & determined & good she was.

Suddenly my cellphone rang. It was Sumithra.

"Hello."
"Hey baby. Did you find the place?"
"Yeah. I got here an hour ago."
"That's good. Okay then, I gotta rush. Have a good day. I'll call you later okay?"
"Sure."
"Love you."
"Me too."

I hung up, feeling down. Sumithra, or Sumi as we call her, is my fiance. She's a good woman. She takes good care of me and she loves me. But do you love her? a voice inside me probed. There was nothing not to love about her. She's smart, beautiful and funny. I was a lucky man, I know that.

But seeing Mairah again after all these years unnerved me. Sumithra paled in comparison with her. Mairah was the only one I ever loved. Sure, we had been teenagers then but we loved with an intensity that was unrivalled; or atleast thats what it felt like then.

I was glad the room was empty besides me. I pushed open the windows, inviting the sounds of the rumbling buses and the light rays into the unpainted room. I lit up a cigarette and & took a long puff.

We were 15 when we first met. I was reckless, impulsive and didn't give a damn about anyone or anything. Mairah had just moved and joined our school. We had the same breaks and always saw each other in the library. I spent all my time reading about Che, Fidel Castro, Socialism and Marxism, and she, Chicken Soup for the Soul. I laughed at the trash she used to read.

One day I was sitting down a few shelves behind her, sketching her profile. She rarely moved or adjusted he position and her concentration and focus enthralled me like a moth attracted to light, not to mention her soft hair and downcast eyes and the occasional twitching of her button nose. She was the most adorable thing. I was busy shading her hair when suddenly a voice said Excuse me. I looked up and she was a feet away from me! I tried to cover her sketch but I need not have worried, she only wanted to put her book back and I was the obstruction. I got off the floor and she squeezed herself between me and the shelf. It was the closest I had been to her. I usually watched her from afar. She put her book back, gave me a small smile that made me weak and walked off. And I finally remembered how to breathe again.

That was the first words she said to me & I knew I had to hear her voice again. After that, I turned up for lectures because there was a chance she might be sitting within my earhot. Several times she was, & her easy laughter and soft voice warmed me like hot chocolate and I was smitten.

After that first time, I made sure she was always near enough just in case I got the courage to approach her. One day I did and my life hadn't been the same since.

We talked till early morning, both refusing to hang up. We went out secretly and took long walks. She made me realize I wasn't useless after all. She enjoyed listening to me talk about revolutions and wars and different political ideologies, and she bought me a proper drawing book and quality pencils and paints and brushes for my 16th birthday. We were an item by then, to the surprise of all our friends. Her friends didn't trust me and my friends thought I had gone mad. Their unacceptance and warnings only served to make our bond elusive, more special than it already was. We needed each other and no one else.

She laughed easily, loved openly and she was so warm and caring that everyone loved her. We had been together for almost 3years by then and I wanted her to meet my parents. She was reluctant and nervous and tried her best to get out of it & I coaxed her for days before she finally relented.

"You'll have to meet them some day"
"I know but not now, not at this age"
"Haha then when? Come on, they'll love you"
"They wont"
"Don't be silly. Of course they will. You're sweet and caring and gorgeous and lovely and . . "

"I'm Muslim, Raj." she interrupted.
"And I'm Hindu. So?"
"So they'll hate me. I know they will"
"They wont"
"How do you know?"
"Because I love you. And if they can't see that, then they lose me"
"Come on Raj . ."
"I mean it. If they don't accept you, I'll leave them"
"Raj there's no need for all this. Why don't I meet them when we're older? When we have this sorted out . . "
"No Mairah, its now or never. Do it for me. Please"

And she could never say no to me so the weekend was set.

She came 5mins early and when I opened the door, she looked like an angel. She was wearing her headscarf as I had feared but other than that, she was perfect. I smiled widely at her discomfort and her obvious shyness and took her hands in mine and squeezed them.

"Come, I'll show you my mother."

"Ma! Ma! She's here." My mother bustled out of her kitchen and upon setting her eyes on my beautiful Mairah, her eyes hardened and her normally-jovial face was set in a fierce glare. Mairah started to move forward to greet her when my mother spoke.

"This is your friend Raj?"

I put my arms around Mairah and said Yes. And that was when she started. She spoke in Tamil and said how I'd disgraced the family and was incapable of doing anything right. She shouted and screamed and tha this girl (referring to my Mairah) was going to brainwash me and make me convert into Islam and she started hitting me and asking me what she had done to deserve this. All the while, Mairah looked at the screaming mother & son pair in horror and tears in her eyes. I wanted so badly to comfort her & tell her everything was fine but clearly it was not and I had spent all my energy screaming & defending myself and Mairah and our love that I didn't even notice that Mairah had left.

We had talked after that and cried together on the phone. She was begging me to leave her because she didn't want to come between a mother and her son; and a devotee and his faith. I begged her to give it another shot, saying I would never leave her, that I love her, that life would never be the same without her. My promises were mere words to her, she had told me, shecame back because she loved me, because she couldn't imagine having to go through life without me. For a few months we were fine and then my mother started suspecting that I was still seeing Mairah and picked on me all the time. We fought almost daily but I couldn't tell Mairah. Her guilt (through no fault of hers) would make her leave me & I didn't want to hurt her. Neither did I want to leave my mother. I loved them both.

But one day, I had a particularly huge fight with my mother and seeking comfort in Mairah's words, I called her. We talked casually and then Mairah started talking about the future and marriage, telling me she wanted 7 kids with me. She was her usual bubbly self and was laughing and talking non-stop. Still bitter about the fight with my mother earlier, I had said Do you want me to marry you?

"Of course I do! Who else would I marry silly?"
"But you're Muslim"
"And you're Hindu. So?" But she had detected the change in my voice and although she tried to sound chirpy, she came across as defensive.

"So I would have to convert to Islam wouldn't I?"
"Well . . yeah." She was unsure as to where this was going and how she had to approach the conversation. She realized jokes and her normal teasing was not going to help.

"So you want me to convert?"
"No dear, I dont."
"But you said you want to marry me. Won't I have to convert in order for that to happen?"
"Dear, why are you asking me all this?", pleading.
"Do you or do you not want to marry me Mairah?"
"I do Raj but . . "
"And do you think its fair that I leave my religion & my mother for you?"
"No I don't think its fair but . . "
"Tell me Mairah, would you leave your religion for me?"
"What? Raj, what are you saying?"
"Are you willing to convert for me Mairah?"
"Raj, converting isn't something to be played around with!"
"You know damn well that I'm not playing around Mairah. I had said that I would leave my family and religion for you but you've never said you would do the same for me."
"Raj . . please . ." I could hear the tears in her voice.
"Tell me Mairah! Would you?!" I shouted at the mouthpiece.
"Raj I love you. I really do. You know that . ."
"I don't care about that now. Will you convert or not?"
"I can't! I won't. I'm not going to convert."

After she said that, I blew my top and shouted at her, calling her a coward and a liar and said that she had never loved me. I said she was the most selfish person in the world and that I never wanted to see her again.

And I never did. Till today.

Parte Una - Umairah

2006-01-12T21:56:00.000+08:00

There was a knock on my door, followed by the gentle creak of it opening.

"Miss Umairah, the new staff is here." Without looking up from my work, I knew that Colin had stuck his head in, like he always had, even before I gave permission to.

"Give me a sec Colin." I typed in a few more words and finally got up, adjusted my headscarf, dusted off imaginary dust from my top and walked towards the door. I pulled the door towards me to welcome the new staff.

"Good morning . . . . . ." My voice dropped, just as my heart did.

The man who had caused this sensation had a stupefied look on his face. Colin interrupted, "Miss Umairah, this is Mr Rajesh."

Gathering my composure, I said, "Yes thank you Colin. I'll take it from here." Colin shuffled off, dragging his shoes but it failed to annoy me like it always did. I had more pressing things to deal with at the moment.

Once Colin had left, I turned my attention to Mr Rajesh, gave him a rehearsed smile and promptly put my hand out. (We were in a professional setting anyway.)

We shook hands briefly and before he could speak, I started. "Well, as you might have known, this school is barely 2 years old. We have a staff of about 30 and close to 120 kids." I paused while I led him out of the main office. "Here is the speech therapy room. Currently we have 4 speech therapists. I'll introduce you to them at a later date, at a staff lunch."

This went on as I showed him around the school, never once letting my guard down, while he followed silently, not asking any questions, or perhaps. . . I never gave him the chance to.

Finally we were back at my office. "Well, I hope you would enjoy working here as much as I do. If you face any problems, you can always ask Colin or you can look for me. Colin has all your documents ready and he'll help you get started."

I opened my mouth again to call Colin when he broke his silence. "Mairah. ."
I froze. That voice . . the voice I hadn't heard in 7 years. Has it really been 7 years? The same voice I had fallen asleep to, found strength and comfort in. . it made me weak now. I sat down and stared at my desk.

"Mairah, how are you?"

I looked at him. "I'm fine Raj."

When he didn't speak, I felt I had to say something."How bout you?"

"I'm fine"

"That's good"

"Yeah"

pause.

"Well, you have to start working. Colin would be waiting."

He looked as if he meant to say something but changed his mind & then gave the slightest of nods and went out the door. I sank into my seat, my heart racing and my head throbbing. How could I not have known? His file, which contained his resume and portfolio, had been lying on my desk for 2 weeks! But I didn't take a look at it because I trusted Colin's judgement & I was too busy anyway. He was here! After 7 years struggling to keep his image at the back of my mind, with no news of him and . . he's working with me now!

I took a gulp of water to push back the lump in my throat and looked to the ceiling to prevent the tears from falling.

The first man in my life was back.

(to be continued . . .)

Take a Trip to my Heart

2006-01-07T23:02:00.000+08:00

again, you reach out for my hand. for the third time, i pulled back & sharply turned my head away. even looking at you is repulsive, unthinkable, kind.

i blinked back the tears furiously, violently even. there was no way you would get the satisfaction of seeing me cry. these tears aren't for you. they're for me! for eight years' worth of sacrifice, for loving, for caring, for giving, for falling. these tears are for my heart. my poor poor heart. a heart configured to love one; to love you. a heart so punctured now, it'd take all of earth's breeze to inflate it again.

i used to see you when i close my eyes, but now all i see is your arched back, her long brown hair and her legs spread apart, our bed (our bed!) and hearing her sated sighs and your throaty moan. you don't know it, but i've just died. i've left my family & friends back home to be with you! left without goodbyes, without "do keep in touch", without a trace. without you, i have nothing else to live for but myself. but that isn't a consolation.

giving in to my heart's anguish, i stood up abruptly, the chair falling behind me. i pushed my way out, leaving you to look at my disappearing back with longing; as one longs for something definitively lost.

The Walk

2006-01-02T11:04:00.000+08:00

And as I stared into his eyes, it was as if his pain was speaking to me: Help me. I blinked and looked away. Was that what he saw in me? Someone to take away his pain? Or atleast lessen it? When did love become a trade-off? Take away my pain and I'll love you in return, he seemed to say.

I cleared my throat: Shall we go then?

Yes, sure. Lemme just... Okay lets go.

I led the way out of the crowded diner. Funny how you always seem to notice how many couples there are when you're single. From behind, he gently slipped his hand into mine and took away the bag I was carrying. The flitting moment when our skin touched gave me a slight shiver. I looked over but he just smiled boyishly and thrust his chin upwards as if to ask What? . I shook my head and continued to weave my way out of the throngs of people.

Finally we had breathing space. It was a long walk back and I turned to him, motioning the return of my paperbag.

Nah I'll walk you.

No really, its okay. Its not that far.

Let me walk you back.

Come on, you've got to get up early tomorrow.

He walked past me and then turned back Are you coming?, grinning.

Foolish to argue, I let it rest and walked slowly, our shadows forming one misshapen mass on the concrete. I was eager to be alone, yet mildly curious as to why he had insisted to walk me back.

The Photo Album

2005-11-22T20:40:00.000+08:00

They say pictures are to preserve memories; to keep the moment forever.

To me, they are symbols of the memories lost. Because once you click, the moment is lost forever. It symbolises the loss of that particular timeframe, not preserve it.
Just symbols of the time gone...

___

She sat in the middle of her room, a couple of photo-albums strewn open like blocks of wood thats been chopped in half. They were thick, bulky and full; full of nameless faces, carved smiles and rehearsed poses. Most of all, they were full of loss.

Here was a picture of an old woman she once met at a home. Monthly visits were promised, phone numbers exchanged and hearts touched. But that was the only time she ever saw her again because she passed away that very night. It was July and her first visit to a home.

She placed the picture down and a polaroid caught her eye. It was taken by a friend's polaroid camera. The instant picture, the large handle to pull to get the picture out was all the craze in '95. She wore a pale pink dress made of lace and love. Her grandmother had sewed it for her to wear to her prom. Standing shy next to her was a boy she once called "Wheezer" amongst her close friends. Whenever he laughed, he made a wheezing sound and although she never admitted it to anyone, she had the longest-running crush on him and when he asked her to be his date for their high-school prom, she was convinced she would spend the rest of her life with him.

They held hands that night and it was captured on the polaroid. She faintly remembered how her heart soared, how her eyes sparkled, how her face flushed. She wished the polaroid did more than to just give a visual souvenir. The feelings she experienced that night could have helped her get through the pain she's going through now.

Suddenly the window broke open and the wind rushed in uninvitingly. Pictures, pieces of paper and assortments of unused namecards went ruffling and formed a mini chaos in the tiny room. She stood up, the album on her lap falling with a thud. Struggling to shut the window close, her eyes caught the figure of a man standing in the distance, his shadow casting a long profile on the sidewalk. She slammed the window shut and went to clear the mess.

Her thin frame quivered and she rubbed her upper arms. Her body was bent over the floor; her hands hurriedly gathering the pictures into a pile. Without warning, the door to the room erupted and the man stood over her.

"How long are you going to ignore me?"

She stood up with a fright and shielded her face with her arms.

"Maria, look at me."

He gently pushed her arms down, exposing her round, pretty face. Her eyes remained enrapt with his shoes.

"Come on, look at me."

Fluttering like winged things, her eyelids flickered and her eyes finally met his.

"I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. Please come back."

The Heart's Silent Dance

2005-11-12T07:12:00.000+08:00

She ran up the stairs and burst through the door. Her hands trembling slightly, she tore the curtains open. The immediate arrival of the rays caused her to blink for a few seconds and then she felt the warmth of the sun and she started to smile.

Kneeling down, she looked through the old, tattered box. Her mother had died long ago but she left behind this big box that was filled with now-vintage dresses. Sitting at the sewing machine, her feet constantly pushing the presser-feet was her mother's only indulgence. Taking care of the housework, the farm and the 7 kids filled up the rest of her time, filling her life up like an inflated balloon.

Her hands met with sequinned blouses, chiffon scarves, cotton and lace and a heart that was broken countless times. Her mother was resilient. That was the perfect word to describe her. Her husband's infidelity shattered her but none of it that she let her children see. But in this box, scraps of paper that she recorded her sorrow tell another story. Sewing and making pretty dresses were her ultimate source of solace.

And now, it is those dresses that Janine had searched for. Putting on the simplest dress of all, a white, knee-length dress that fitted her as how a lover's embrace always seemed to fit, she felt as ease. She wanted to run through the fields, pick lilies and bathe in the scent of grass but alas, the only fields that existed in the urbanised cities is when you close your eyes.

Imagining herself in those vast greenery, she twisted and turned, twirled and twiddled. Moving to the sounds & beats of a band conjured in her unconscious, she danced away yesterday's pain. As she gyrated, her frowns and worries was picked up by the wind and her plastic smile discarded.

Today, she felt that she had brought justice to her mother. She had slept with a man that was not her husband. Her first infidelity.

But it was a start.

The Visitor

2005-10-21T13:18:00.000+08:00

He always came at night, sweeping through my window and landing at the same spot every time. His visits were not regular and he always came when I least expected it. He was the best friend I never had.

His thin fingers held my face and he pushed it up gently so that I would face him. It had been months yet I had never properly looked at his face. My eyes ran over the crevices and the contours of his face; amazed. His complexion was untarnished. From the wrinkles you get from frowning or the laugh lines you get from laughing, he had none of it. But he looked paler than I remembered. I wondered if he had a life besides me.

He smiled at my awestruck state and began healing the wounds that had appeared since he last came to visit. He listened to my bemoaning and never interrupted. When I finally released the tears, he waited patiently and dabbed at my cheeks before cradling me in his arms, telling me I'm the most beautiful thing in the world. I never cared if he was lying because I'd longed to hear it. Hours passed and I fell asleep in his embrace, feeling relieved that all negative feelings had seeped out of me, slowly but surely. He was like a cup that had no end, whose main purpose was to amass my tears, my misery and distress.

When I awoke, his pale face greeted me, a small smile etched at the corners. I asked him why he was so pale but he didn't reply. Instead, he blinked slowly and reached forward and kissed me on my forehead. He held my hands for a few moments and said Goodbye. I was confused, he had never bid me farewell. Was he never coming back? Suddenly I understood it all. He only came when he felt I could not take the pain any longer, taking it away from me. Months he had endured it, trading his soul for my tears. His unending cup was full after all. His entity, once rich in colour had now faded to a rueful gray.

It was then that I realized I was never to see my dead brother again.

She

2005-10-19T12:09:00.000+08:00

"And as she looked down, her fringe fell over her face. In that fleeting moment, I wanted her to be mine. Instances like this were rare; and I cherished the priceless occasion. She hated it when her hair got into her eyes. With the back of her hand, she brushed her hair away with the slightest trace of annoyance on her face. How can she not know how beautiful she looked with her hair falling down like that? Ahhh another time then.

She was unlike any girl I ever knew; so perfect in her imperfections. She was always a bit too loud, a tad careless with her words but always so warm and sincere and cordial. She never bothered with looking good; never bothered about making a good impression or saying things that people wanted to hear. I had never spoken to her although she always had a ready smile for me. Countless nights I had spent planning on having Our First Conversation. But it never did happen. I always chickened out at the last minute.

Just yesterday, I stood a few metres away from her classroom. When the bell rang, I waited for her to come out. A few minutes passed and she walked out. Her hair was perfectly messy, she had ink stains on her fingers and her shoes were dirty. The image tugged at my heartstrings and I couldn't hide my smile. She hugged her books to her chest, occasionally letting one hand go to wave to people she knew. I watched her from afar, not wanting to spoil the moment. In the end, she turned the corner and I remembered to breathe again.

"Tomorrow, tomorrow I will speak to her," I promised.

Weeks passed and I still couldn't bring myself to do it. The clock showed 12:28. She would be out for lunch at 12:30. I sat in the canteen, pretending to read my Bio notes.

Respiration - I was finding it hard to breathe.

Sensory Physiology - my senses were alert for her arrival.

What two sounds are discernible when the heart functions?
The 2 sounds are lub & dub,caused due 2 the closing of the valves as the blood rushes from aurices to ventricles & then to respective blood vessels. -Lub and dub? I think not.

Finally the deluge of students arrived and my hair stood on end. Minutes later, I heard her voice somewhere behind me. I tried to keep my breathing steady. I started to drum my fingers on the table. 10..9..8... once I reached 1, I would turn around. 5..4...

A tap on my shoulder.
"Excuse me?". It was her!
"Erm.. yeah?"
"Do you have change for $2? I need some coins."
"Oh." I fumbled for a bit, checked my pockets for coins. I found nothing.

"Err..."

She just smiled at me.

How could I forget! My wallet is in my bag! I smiled nervously and searched for my wallet. Oh where could it be! Ah finally! I shook it and out came some coins. My fingers trembling slightly, I gave them to her.

"Thank you! Whats your name?"
"Err me? Amar."
"Okay. I'm Mariha. Thanks again! See you around school Amar!"

And with that she walked off. My heart was racing. She talked to me! She said my name! I held on to the table for support. Wow. Wow wow wow. She said see you around. She'll see me around!! There was buzzing in my ears and I felt faint.

Smiling to myself, I walked to the toilet and vomitted. "

Heartache & Healing Hands

2005-10-10T09:02:00.000+08:00

And here I am, standing in the middle of my aching heart. All is red & sore. It just might start bleeding soon & I may drown in it. Ahh it might not be such a bad thing.

I look up to the walls; pictures of you plastered here & there: oh, here's one of you laughing. There's one of us looking at each other, and another where I was looking at you while you were deep in concentration. Was it Maths you were concentrating on? I guess. I could never bring myself to let you know how good you look when you're cramming your pretty little head with formulas.

Taking a few steps deeper, I see words written on the walls. Some of the words were opaque-ish; it'll disappear soon. How sad. Some were carved into it. Words that you had told me once; words that I had hung from even when things never seem to go my way. Hah, words. A friend once told me that people can buy me with words. I disagreed then but I guess. . .

Into the distance, there was an area devoid of words or pictures. It was clean & waiting. I sighed.

If I could find a souvenir, just to prove my love was here, here it is; a red balloon. I think of you.
I let it go.

To You

2005-09-19T22:33:00.000+08:00

He was like an infection; the invasion of body tissues, that I couldn't resist. His charm, which he was unconscious to, engulfed & kept me in a warm embrace, keeping that smile on my face longer than usual. With him around, I let my guard down.

Moments with him were filled with precious laughter, those that came from deep in your stomach, those that were rare. With him, there was careless taunting, accidental secrets, occasional flirting that was unintended but that still happened anyway; unpredictable, vagrant-like behaviour. We visited the depths in each others' mind that we never knew existed.

He was like a breath of fresh air, revitalising me, taking me on a mind trip, dispensing my old beliefs & creating new ones. Being with him reminded me of those old fizzy sweets by the corner shop, where it fizzled on your tongue & sometimes even hurt your tongue but you buy it again & again, just for the thrills. Yes, that he was - thrilling.

Refreshing; thats him too. I had been in dark murky waters for too long to enjoy the gentle breeze. He came & pulled me out, showed me the myriad of colours of the world, the pretty flowers, the welcoming clouds. I once knew they existed but I've become oblivious to them. He was refreshing, revitalising, thrilling. He was beginning to sound like a carbonated drink. I was attracted.

Could this be love? Nah, love conjures images of Elizabethan dresses, 2 lovers staring into each others' eyes, swearing on Jove & the moon & the occasional serenading. Could this be love in the modern day? Quiet, unassuming, sedate. Swimming in a pool of what-ifs & maybes. Nothing was certain; there were the scarce & sporadic glimpses of hope but I could never put my finger on it.

Could this be love? I wasn't sure but how I want it to be so. He's my very own infection, my Mr Fizzle. Just mine.

The End

2005-09-18T00:05:00.000+08:00

There he was, standing across me with eyes so rich I could spend my lifetime staring into it. A tear rolled out of his right eye. 2 seconds, one from his left. Somewhere deep in me, I heard something break. It was my heart.

I did not hold my hand out for him to take, neither did I surrender myself into his like I thought I would. We stood there, two lovers unable to comprehend the death of their love.

He still looked so beautiful with eyes that are blotched now. His nose had turned slightly red. This was the same man I gave my heart to, the same one I had envisioned in my future. It was too much to take, I couldn't even cry. And that was worse because I felt sick; the pain was spreading to every corner of my heart now. I could feel it; my heart was turning a pale red hue. It had given up.

The notion of time was a forgotten one. When did I first love him? Our first kiss? It had seemed like we had always been together that the start didnt matter anymore. Strangely, now it seemed like the only things left : the memories. What a dirty word it was. To reduce our love, our passionate embraces, our sworn promises, our stolen kisses, our tight grasp of each others' hand into one word; memories. The memories now floated between us like a wisp of smoke. The more I tried to keep it all in, the further it drifted away from me. I was getting exhausted trying. How could something so beautiful end up this way?

His eyes didnt leave me. The same loving gaze I had gotten all these while. I stared at him, memorizing every single detail, to keep for all eternity. Those lips... those very same lips that had taught me to kiss. The very ones that whispered forever&always. It was a strange concept, that. forever&always. I would always be his, he would always be mine. We both knew that. Yet separation was impending. And painful.

Finally, he said i love you. His lips didnt move but I could hear him, as clear as a resounding hummingbird's tune. it rang in my head, i flirted with the words for a bit and let it rest. i love you too.

With that said, he turned to leave. One hesitant step, two now. He walked away. It was then that I collapsed to the earth. My chest heaving, my face spread on the floor, one eye kept open. With that one eye, I teared.

Because he never turned back.