Flirting-Coffee Part-2

I saw her. There she was. Stuffed under the pile of shopping bags. So unlike her. I smiled.
I kept staring at her for long. Something came over me and I popped up in front of her pretending it to be happy chance.
She appeared delighted. Wow, it was a rarity to see her this happy in the past. And I, for certain, wasn’t a reason for it. But it was so good to see her that I catch myself with as widening a smile as hers. We exchanged greetings while she kept gazing at me and before she could say anything I asked her to join me for a cup of coffee. Hastily read Today’s Special on the board in front of the Coffee House. I realized after blurting it out. FLIRTING-COFFEE? WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN? (I tried to read through the corner of my eye) while she laughed brightly.

Ah! So beautiful she looks. Being not nervous, being herself, with that innocent smile. Back then something always resisted her while she was with me. I felt a little pang. Seeing her merrily joyous I captured that moment in my heart. I carried that embarrassing look a little longer to make her feel more comfortable.

We entered, ordered the specials, sat down and started chirping. I knew her eyes were constantly studying me closely; trying to point out differences in her mind yet dwelling in our conversation with that same devoted interest. What was about her that made me feel so warm around her? I regretted not keeping in touch with her. I missed her every day. All these years I had this urge to run back to her but because I had hurt her so bad that my regret won every single time over the pain of missing her. And here she is; still talking to me, still smiling at me.

I wanted to know each detail of her life ever since we parted. I wanted to listen to every second she spent without me so that for 1% I could make up for this lost time and picture myself with her in my head, living that moment alongside her. She is still that same bright, big-eyed, cute little girl but more confident than before and a lot chatty for sure. My inner-self smiled widely.
She catches me off guard asking the meaning of Flirting-Coffee. I tell her and we laugh crazily.

THIS! This is what I miss. We could always share whatever came into our minds not being bothered about how we come off as a person. We had an understanding like best-friends but we both knew we were more than that. Much more! A little tension always building in each other’s vicinity. Something you just can’t ignore.

I still remember whenever I used to tease her saying I was the only one who understood her and she used to go all philosopher on me “There’s no one who understands you completely. A person can only try and put efforts to do so but in the end, it’s the efforts that all matters” And then I’d roll my eyes for lecturing me and she’d ,in turn, show her grumpy look and then I’d make fun of her twitchy nose whenever she did that and then she’d try to lightly punch me and I would hold her hand mid-air and that moment appears again, there’s that profound tension. We would look at each other for some time and then quickly turn away. I am sure Cupid used to bang his head against the wall whenever both the lovers turned out to be this shy.
Wow! Good old days.

I see her spacing out. I bet she is thinking about it too. Oh! No No, Sweetheart. Don’t go there!
Or maybe she should bring it up. We have to re-walk on that thin ice to set things right. Some of it was a misunderstanding, but most of it was my mistake. I should have been more courageous. Like she always had been. I should have been the backbone like she was for me. If only I could have muster up the courage to resolve it then & there, we wouldn’t have lost these 3 years. For a person like me, it takes a good amount of wrecked loss to realize how important it is to fix things right away than waiting for a particular right moment. There is no right moment or else you’d lose your right person and sometimes it’s too late to fix anything.
I feel horrible. I hint at her about the things she still keeps in her mind. I wanted her to open up. I have to face this one day or I’d have to face a life where I let her go, without trying.

She’s in the middle of saying something that her phone rings. Poor timing, too bad!
I was about to take another sip when she loudly said those things. The Wedding! She is getting married.
NO!!!!
My heart dropped to the ground. I am looking at her. She’s all cutesy and giggling over the phone and promising to hurry back. She’s leaving. She’s going. No! She is gone, from my life. Is it over? I thought today’s meeting was like destiny consoling me for the suffering I had endured because of my guilt and now it’s time for the reward. And here I am, being sentenced to another punishment.

She picks up her things and leaves. Like Literally!
She left me there. I feel stranded and she walks off. I see her leaving and she doesn’t even turn around. Is she the same girl who never got tired of looking at my face, someone who waved goodbye more than 10 times before disappearing?

Oh! She turns, waves her hand and quickly bolts out of the place. I can’t feel my legs. I feel my support marched out, paced out of my life. I come back inside and sit at the same place. Still in shock, still trying to turn the clock back. Just for once. Please, Lord, You can’t be this harsh. I blew my only chance.
It starts to drizzle. I look around the world as a hazy scene. As if I can’t see or hear anything but then I see her again. She looks lost. Did she come back for me? Shall I go for her? But she’s getting married and I don’t want to confuse her now. She must have found an amazing partner for sure. Shall I ruin that for her? Chuck it! This is the only chance I have.
I can get all my answers once I confront her. She’s slowly turning around when I hold her hand and ask “Are you getting married? When?”
She kept staring at me, tears shining like diamonds in her big eyes, “Does that matter?”

And I know. This is my moment.
“No, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters to me more than you do. All these years I wasted confronting these feelings. I don’t care if you’re getting married the next day I am going to confess my feelings for you. I don’t believe my life matters if you aren’t in it and I want you to stay with me.”
I would have said something more when out of the blue I see her hand extending to my collar pulling me towards her and kissing me hard. Whoa! I had never seen her like this. She always manages to blow my mind away with something or the other.
She pushes me back to confess “I am glad I had this special coffee with you today” and winks.

Happy International Women’s Day


Happy International Women’s Day to all the lovely ladies and to all the Men loving, supporting and respecting her.

I feel I can proudly say today, I’m a woman I would have loved to look upto when I was younger. But I couldn’t have done it all alone. I had an army of strong women building this platform for me from generations to generations,
plenty of profound men in my family trusting & respecting my decisions, my will, my dreams that made me
who I am today.
There is no other way I could’ve turned out than being strong, confident, independent and inspirational. I have learnt from so many people that I wish to give back as much as I can.
I keep transforming myself, I keep taking risks (no matter small/big), I keep improving myself so that one day I could inspire someone.

I’m opinionated,
I’m strong-minded,
I’m soft-hearted,
I chase my goals well,
I’m driven by passion,
I can balance out things well,
I don’t play victim,
I take responsibility of my actions
And above all I believe in kindness and upliftment of others as much as of  myself.

And I’m sure many women around you would share same qualities. Many men around would share the same qualities.
Let’s not shame someone for being soft-hearted.
Let’s not blame someone for being goal-oriented.
When someone hurts another intentionally, it doesn’t define a gender. It shows what sort of human those are.
The ones who are too broken that they like inflicting pain on others. Wish them healing and move on.

All I want is a little less divided world than it already is. Where all genders understand each other, help each grow, do not try to cause any physical or mental pain.

This post might upset a lot of people but I still believe & will say it again
‘Everyone is fully equipped with all the ability of paving their way and if sometimes the roles are reversed or divided among partners to lessen the load, or chosen as the interest; there shouldn’t be any raised eyebrows. Rather a support for standing by their viewpoint & attitude.’

#happyinternationalwomensday
#happywomensday
#happywomensday2021

My heart in isolation

A broken heart is usually mended in isolation.
Like Bukowski said.
“You get so alone at times that it just makes sense”
At 3:45 am, I’m
waiting for the morning to come
waiting for the night to end
waiting for my heart to mend.
It all makes sense;
the things I’m drawn to
the people I wanna answer back to
the searches on internet I wanna go through.

I read about writers.
I read what they went through.
I read they all weren’t accepted the way they were supposed to.
Why does it feel familiar?
From where did
Plath, Woolf, Bronte, Bukowski
find words to let them swallow whole
or to swallow us whole?
Where did they hide themselves?
that they outshone everyone.

These are the places I go to
in isolation.
These are the people I re-visit
in isolation.
My heart aches from the hurt
and eagerly wants to find shelter from that pain.
Words make sense sometimes,
and sometimes they don’t.
My fingers itch to write more
but can never catch up with my mind
Or the heart
Not sure where are these words and thoughts coming from?

In isolation, I see my real self
Unprepared, unveiled, angry
because my own heart betrayed the rules and is aching more than it was supposed to.
It exposes a layer of vulnerability
to be cut through and dig out
the trash to be thrown away.

My heart wants to sing melodies of well-being
My heart wants to dance on the tunes of contentment and bliss.
My heart wants to drink and trip over to the seventh heaven.
My heart isn’t sure if it needs any ‘him’ or ‘her’ but
It, so ,freakishly, wants to be mended.
At times, my heart gets so tired of the hurt.
That even the excruciating pain isn’t able to make it suffer anymore.

~~ My heart in isolation

©kanikachugh

The Rock

I am sure
I saw fear in his eyes,
but I was prepared to knock him down.

That first thrash hit him hard
then the second thrash,
the third,
the nth….
he still stood tall and proud.

My throbbing, powerful waves
kept lashing into him.

He was a ‘rock’.
But I believe
had a heart of a marshmallow
for he never
avenged me
for my behavior.
Sadly, he knew how ‘hurt’ works.

I had seen some humans crying for the very same reasons at my shore.

~ Rocks they seem but they do get hurt.

____________________________________________

Strong people aren’t good at showing their pain but are often misread as someone who stays unaffected all the times.

Never push a kind person beyond the limits. Once built, their walls would be impossible to impregnate.

Stillness

My breath seems like
coming to a stand-still
while it is stitching hatred
to my worn-out lungs.
In some mysterious ways
asking to stop sucking in air,
while I still pursue to live.

My grit decomposing and
breaking-up into tiny pieces of
horrendous curses I want to
cast upon people,
reeking of self-doubt
and deteriorating courage;
determined to cut my own wings
while I sew them back
with a needle of my diminished valor.

The claws of spiteful death
contracting over my burdened shoulders
and trying to separate
my already-extinguished soul
from my dispassionate body
while I try to set poor memories on fire
to stay warm and in this world.

The dust around my hands
reminding me of endless tortures
for stretching too far
for the undeserving ones
that each cell, each tissue,
the fiber, the skin
burnt in agony and finally turning into ashes
while I still touch memoirs of recollecting past
to feel those hands.

With Life turning my divine light
into pitch dark clouds
raining melancholy and doomed fate
while I am still trying to find my shining star
to create rainbows of faith and
thrive alongside Nature.

In the stillness of my calm, continuous efforts
I fought something I never knew
existed.
A monster devouring my senses, crushing the freshness of Life and
royally residing inside my head.

I grew a new seed of belief and hope.
Everyday!
The belief of being bigger than this monster,
The seed filling the vastness of the void
with each blooming leaves and flowers
to water my own growth.

It took me long enough
to light the lamps of confidence
and taking back the reins in my hands
instead of being controlled and
that is how I empowered myself.

Today!!

The Sun surprises me again, today!
With its conniving and whimsical rays.
I almost packed my bags to leave
Yet the daylight dodged the darkest blanket
I covered myself in and dared to enter
the far-flung angle of my knapsack;
Where my blacks, blues, and grey clothes
were put in solitary, finally befriending the night.
Those disobedient rays startled me
with their barbarous act of trying
to outshine the unlighted patches.

Without exception it made me think,
ponder over what was happening?
Is it again the silly magic of hope?
Are those tiny seeds being planted in my head?
Or am I being scammed again?
To drown me in endless loops
of Hope
of Optimism
of Trust
of Faith.

NO! it’s a hoax. I promised myself.
I won’t fall for it again.

Where was this light while I cared & waited, even for a single shred of it.
while I was unquestionably & whole-heartedly ‘giving’
while I was holding onto the last thread of hope;
holding it so tight that it did nothing but
continuously injured me by harshly pulling
back the strings and finally
ripped my arms off.
My hands got bruised amid the
tugging war of ‘keep fighting for it’ and ‘let it go’.
Hands that were always raised for prayers,
always lifted to help others,
always held the broken ones
it’s as if my devotion was thoroughly mocked
and those hands were cut off altogether.

I know the game being played now.
Because I had finally stopped caring
You need me back.
Because you cringe at me for being heartless
You want me to feel again.

You(The Universe) always find a way
You win every time, somehow.
As always managed to make me think
Even if I kept pushing away the thoughts
with all my might.
You did it.
And once again
Amidst miserable fragments and shredded days
I am now looking at life with new hopes.
Anticipating some good is still left somewhere
that is bound to come my way.
And the good which is yet to be done through my hands,
Some goals yet to be reached.
Some moments yet to be lived.

The light entered my heart again, today!
And I wish to keep it for as long as I can
This time!

HAPPY DIWALI

Wishing all of my fellow writers, a very happy and prosperous Diwali.

In this gloomiest year
let’s widen our smiles
open our hearts a little more
and spread our contagious happiness everywhere ☺️

I’m pretty sure your smiles will
light up the room as well as the hearts of your loved ones. ❤️
Be with your family
eat several delicacies
help others
And don’t forget to stay kind. ?

Laughter, kindness, hope, love can save any world for any number of times.

Anyone who is struggling in these hard times, I’d congratulate you for holding it for so long and it’s going to be over soon. Stay strong. You had been doing great till now.
You’ll be fine.
I’ll sincerely pray for you and everyone to receive something good soon.
Cherish yourself first to cherish others.

Stay safe!!
Spread smiles!!

HAPPY DIWALI?

Under the Umbrella

We got off the last bus when it suddenly started raining heavily. I recalled carrying a single umbrella & instantly knew it’s going to be the most awkward night. We, under the same umbrella within the vicinity of unmasked emotions; both grown-ups, both hesitant who had to scooched down under the crowning shelter with embarrassing electricity passing through us whenever our bodies touched; the thought already made me fidgety. It was a lonely street and we didn’t talk much. The disappointed silence was snowballing to make us more uncomfortable. With few more steps, we were half drenched from each side and thought to stop over a local bar.

Sitting in front I gingerly poured the drink with a faint smile wondering why Mom asked us to come together. While passing the side-dish I saw his brightest smile. With few drinks, we started opening like old buddies. Father still made that snorting sound while laughing which I found extremely hilarious in childhood. I examined his face. Sunken eyes, grey hair, saggy skin along the jawline; when did he grow this old. It’s been a long time I have had a good look at him even after sharing the same roof for years.

We chatted and reminisced about the games we used to play. The prince who’d fight off the enemy who invaded his land with the wooden swords carved by father. My make-believe game of winning the queen & confidently disregarding his explanations that the game is Chess and not Carrom. The way he used to nicely fold my ‘I love you, Papa’ scribblings and keep it safe in his tiny box as if some kind of treasure it is. How I knew the only way to enjoy fairs and festive carnivals was by sitting on his shoulders while mom fed us those tasty rolls. When my latest geometry box and all sorts of stationery supplies were more important than the shirt he had been trying to buy for years. “My office is boring so why do I need a new shirt for a boring place”, he consoled me when I refused.

The way I always used to kiss him back sleepily after he was back from the office trying to nudge me awake for one minute. I think it was his way of saying ‘I missed you today, Son’. When I thought I was able to deceive father because mom didn’t tell my low scored marks to him and I got a new bicycle anyway. Papa knew it all along. I got to know it later which truly made me serious towards studies without being reprimanded. When he’d spent ungodly hours after office in fixing my toys so that at the end he could hear ‘You’re my Hero, Papa”. When I used to laugh hysterically while he dropped me off at school wearing unmatched slippers. When at any family function he so innocently pleaded and bribed me to be with him because he was so bad at expressing with others. But we always ended up having fun together.

Then a single thought crossed my mind ‘What happened to us’? Well, I grew up. Life happened and we started spending from lesser hours to almost nil. He stopped asking for games because those were embarrassing now and that’s what I said once. His only words I remember lately were ‘Is everything okay? Is there anything you need?’ I now think he meant he is still available to fix anything, he can still be my Hero again even after I have grown up.

Yes, I grew up and became like him, who couldn’t express the pain or about the heartbreaks, who failed to talk about the pressures of life and repeated failures, who was not so conniving to lead an easy life and had to work hard diligently wherever went, who always looked for some reason or someone’s help or the crevices in any conversation to be a part of it. He must have felt the same. He must have been in pain too.
He said over the drinks that he missed me, he missed the chirpy boy in me, he missed his old buddy. He was so happy I wasn’t like him in yesteryears, who made him forget the hostile world and took him to a grand kingdom where they both ruled together and laughed till they choked.

I realized, I forgot expressing. Just like him. And that day made a promise to not be a little like him and make sure to steal an extra amount of hugs and ‘I love you(s)’ because Love isn’t a gender-based emotion but the hearts. I am going to cherish him now before it’s too late.

Under that umbrella, Not our bodies but were the hearts that moved closer. I thanked mom secretly while listening to his funny snorting sound again and laughing uncontrollably.