Leaving It Behind

I didn’t know what to expect, really.

I’d been waiting for about half an hour already (late – check) and I hadn’t even gotten a call or a text from her apologizing for the delay (snob – check).  Already done with a cup of coffee and half an hour’s worth of my Twitter feed, I didn’t know what else to do to pass time.

There was a kid sitting at the table in front of me with his mum. She was trying to read the newspaper and have her tea, but the boy kept asking her questions about fish and other marine life. He’s going to be a marine biologist for sure, I thought. Or at least own an aquarium for a few months until he found his next obsession.

Anyway, the kid was at the next table. This had meant that even though I had a cigarette lying in front of me on top of its carton with my trusty lighter right next to it, I couldn’t light the damn thing. I have this thing of not smoking in front of kids, no matter what.  I guess I want to set a good example to them. Smoking really is a sick and disgusting habit. It does nothing but hasten you to your death bed. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have a death bed. You could just end up having a heart attack on your bike in the middle of the road and then crash into the truck in front of you that you’d been trying to overtake for the past 20 minutes, and then ricochet off the bridge and into the cold, dark (smelly) waters of the Hussain Sagar. A triple-threat. And No death-bed. THAT’s a bad hand to be dealt.

So I don’t smoke in front of kids.

My hands were itching. I either needed to go all the way down and order another coffee or pretend that the kid wasn’t there and light up. But that wasn’t going to happen.

I got up, turned around, and there she was – smiling, brushing back the hair from her face and just being gorgeous. She was late, but I didn’t care. She wasn’t apologetic about being late, but I didn’t care.

We said “hello” and she sat down in front of me, blocking my view of the kid (now explaining to his mum why octopi had sucker-like-disgusting thingies on their limbs). I still couldn’t smoke but it didn’t matter. She was here.

We spoke a lot; college, life in the two cities we’d both lived in, families, how living in India’s a pain in the ass and a lot more. She smiled all through. I was mesmerized by her. I had 3 more cups of coffee. I knew I was going to regret it later on, but I didn’t want her to stop talking. The way she spoke with just that tiny hint of a South Indian accent – I was hooked.

We finally got up to leave a couple of hours later. I offered to drop her home and she accepted.

We hardly spoke on the ride to her place, but I didn’t care. The conversation we had at the coffee shop was still running through my head.

When we finally reached the end of her lane, she got off the bike, said she had a really nice time, smiled again and left. I watched her walk down the road for a few seconds, and then decided it would be stalker-ish to wait any longer. I turned my bike around, but stole one last glance as I did. She didn’t look back. I didn’t care.

As I lay awake in bed that night, replaying the whole conversation again in my head, I realized something - I had left the cigarette, lighter and carton back at the coffee shop on the table.

POV

I tried to make her see the point, but she just wouldn't budge.

She tried to make me see her point, but I just wouldn't budge.

It’s hard to convince people who’re stubborn as hell to change their minds about something. Especially when it’s things they really believe in. I guess it’s good in a way. You could say that they're really principled and true to themselves. That they’re loyal.

But how do you learn to differentiate between being true to yourself and being selfish? They’re two completely different concepts that still manage to overlap each other because they complement each other so well.

Which brings me back to this. I knew I wasn't going to change my mind about what I thought and felt because in my heart I knew that it was true and I was dead certain about it. She felt the same way about her assumptions and beliefs.

So what are two stubborn minds supposed to do when that happens? Shut the hell up and move on? Or continue to try talking things out and attempt converting the other until they finally give in?

You move on. Because you obviously cannot see her point and she obviously cannot see yours. It’s just too damn hard to get someone to see things through your eyes. Or maybe they do, but just aren't willing to believe what they see because it’s not their problem anymore.

Of course, it really sucks that it has to be that way, but it’s for the best. You may not get what you want, and she won’t either. But at least you've got yourself to hold on to. You’re not making a mistake for staying true to yourself. And the line that separates you from being a selfish jerk? Well, you don’t need to worry about that. Because when it all comes down to the wire, nobody will give a shit about you more than yourself. That’s the way life is, and that’s the way it’s always going to be.

You are your own boss. She is her own.

And that’s why I wasn’t able to take my dog Brandy out for a walk in the rain.

Shake It Out

I've always said I never regret the mistakes I've made in my life. That I've learned to be better man because of them. That I have this wisdom to distinguish between right and wrong now because I didn't know how to before and made stupid mistakes to help me realize what an idiot I've been.

And that's how it is, right? You can't be sure of which side the grass is greener unless you've gone up close and examined a blade of grass from each side under an electron microscope?

No.

I would literally give anything I could to go back to certain points of time in my life, shake past-Chris, punch him in the face and say, "What the FUCK do you think you're doing, dumb shit? You let the perfect job, the perfect life and the perfect girl get away from you and now you're doing THIS?", and then spit dramatically on the ground. Okay, maybe I wouldn't do the spitting bit, I hate that shit. That would be something else I'd regret.

Truth is, I live a life that's filled with regret. I'm sure I'm not the only one too. Everyone regrets things they've done in the past. That's the annoying thing with life. It's only AFTER you've done stupid shit you realize how much better you could've done.

Then again, I'm not living in the past. I've learned to let all of that go and focus on the here and now. But every now and then, you really can't help it when the consequences of all those stupid decisions keep coming back to bite you in the ass. And boy, that is one painful bite that bastard's got.

So what do I do in times like these?

Open a new document on my computer or memo on my phone and start typing.

The Brave

We try to be calm. We try to be brave,
We try our best, our hearts, to save.
But no one can tell just how bad it gets,
How far it goes, before the sun sets.

It’s not the last time that we meet, for sure.
It’s not the last time our eyes greet, once more.
Yet, still, the heart hardens when facts are faced,
When we see that our love, with spite has been laced.

We stop all the lying, all the cheating, all the hate.
We stop all our thinking, leaving it up to fate.
No more shall we share, cherish, nor keep.
The last of our tears has been put to sleep.

Our paths once seemed destined to be forever one,
Our paths are now split; as each other we shun.
Was it love we had? No, it was more.
But we shall never feel that way again, of this I’m sure.

Chop Chop

He said sorry. But he didn’t really mean it. Nope, not one bit.

He had tried to make it work, even though he knew the two of them would be here again sooner or later. It was never meant to be. This however, was.

He wasn’t completely blaming her, of course. It was, after all, he who had decided to try to give it another shot. He had been selfish too. So in a way, he was sorry. He was sorry he had bothered trying. He wasn’t sorry about the way it ended.

He had tried to build it up when he knew it would all come crashing down again. He tried filling the seemingly endless gaps, but he knew he would never be able to bridge it completely. He knew that no matter how hard he tried to stand up, he would stumble and fall again.

In some weird way, he thought, he actually wanted to do this. He wanted to fall down to the ground and get hurt. He wanted his world to come to an end.

Why? Because that’s what he was trained. It’s all he knew. Taking the blame. Breaking the fall.  Being the piece of wood that wedged itself tight in the space between the door and the floor, leaving it open just wide enough for someone else pass through. That’s what he was taught to do – Be the stopper.

So when he finally did manage to bring himself to stopper the unnecessary flow of emotion, he wasn’t sorry about it.

On the contrary, he was glad. He was glad he was now free. That he could take the blame, and yet, somehow, manage to find redemption in the same unchanging fact – he had sacrificed himself, his own feelings and freedom, for the greater good of the world, and himself.

He didn’t know what exactly to call this – Salvation? Hope? Reincarnation? Whatever it is, he knew it felt good. And he had absolutely no need to feel guilty about it. No one in the whole world could take this feeling away from him. He had torn someone else apart. But he was whole. He was complete.


And that’s how he managed to chop the onions that morning.