Hopes and Fears

She’s a pendulum,

Swaying between my hopes and fears.

She’s my dreams and nightmares,

An illusion I have fallen for.

She’s a parasite,

Surviving on my deepest pain.

She’s a distant mirage, a vicious joke,

A desert storm withering me inside.

She is a black hole,

Swallowing my heart and soul.

She is my illness, she is my cure,

A cancer that’s growing deep down.

For she’s a woman.

She’s entitled to hurt.

She is my drug, my desperation,

A light that’ll lead me home.

Ode to thee

You say you’re sorry that you hurt me,

But you don’t know, I choose myself this pain.

And you wonder if I would ever forgive you.

You don’t see, you never did me the wrong.

You take me for a walk through your fears and worries,

And you stumble upon the tangles of your own past.

You ask of me to hold a torch for you

To show you the way through this strange land.

You seek for love in a seabound ship,

And you build your home in the shore.

To escape the uncertainty, you give yourself away

To the depths of the ocean, in the deathbed of hopes.

I will wait for the seasons, for the snow to melt

Until you see me behind the mist.

I’ll lead you through your uncertainties, you lead me through mine.

If only you will let me walk along...

(Special thanks to HOD Razzak sir for his unforgivably boring lecture that inspired me to escape in to the world of my book and pen.)

How to train your Dragon

“Do you mind if I write about our conversation?” After she had revealed me the plot twist that she was training a hopeless dragon, I was in a helpless position between badly wanting to share the burden of my misery with my friends, and keeping up my promise to her. She had forbidden me from sharing her story with anyone. Since I was promoted to a ‘friend enough’ for her to wish me ‘Happy Ramadan’ and all, I took my liberty to text her.

“I know I promised you to keep it a secret, but I can’t hold it anymore. I will explode!” I sent a sick smiley to make me sound convincing.

“No…” She rejected my plea. “Secrets should remain secrets.”

“I’ll die in the pressure.” I attempted a piteous tone.

“Fine then.” That escalated quickly. “But send me the write up before publishing, I will be the editor this time.”

Somewhere far in my head, an emergency siren went on.

“No way…” I sounded way too pathetic in the article. It would be giving away the reputation I had built all these time. Two years, I had pretended to ignore her existence in her presence, and secretly admired her behind her. “And I won’t publish it yet, just with my circle of friends.” I excused.

“No, I will be the editor.” She was adamant.

“I will have to rewrite it then.” It will need some heavy censoring to make it fit for her tastes.

“No no. Don’t change anything, it’s fine. But do send me a copy. I would like to read it. After all it’s your write up.” Ah, the excitement was mutual.

“Yay!” I thanked her.

That was a relief. I had already written the post for the blog. But since I didn’t want to betray on her promise, I needed her consent to post it. I had tipped my friends about an incoming tragedy, and they were anxious too.

“I think you already wrote it.” She guessed from my excitement.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Send it then.” She demanded. “I like reading your articles, it’s sso much fun.” Her ‘sso’ was so intense, it made my day.

“It needs some censoring.” I warned her. “And you will probably show it to your Papa too.” She had the reputation of keeping no secrets from her dad. I wouldn’t want to sound miserable in front of my ‘in-laws’.

“Hehe… No, not this time.” She promised. “Send the original.”

“Fine, I hope you understand the risk you are taking.” I cautioned her for the final time before I sent her the link to the blog.

Silence.

“All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people and events, are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely intentional.” I sent her the disclaimer to lighten up the mood.

More silence. A very creepy type of silence where you can feel the blood rushing inside your face. The siren in my head got louder. The heavy kind of siren that Hans Zimmer would use in Batman. Images flashed before my eyes, I was digging my own grave.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Umm... But why did you put up his name?” When she finally replied, her only concern was that I put up his name, and not that I blatantly confessed my feelings to her. “Please put some imaginary name.”

“I won’t publish it.” Not more than five souls knew I had a blog.

“But not his name, please.” I melted at her ‘please’. She was indeed scared of the dragon.

“Okay, but it won’t feel genuine anymore.” I whined.

“I didn’t like you abusing him.” She raised her second concern. Summing up, she was concerned I had put up his name, and I had mocked him, and not that I had confessed my feelings.

“It was simply my natural emotion.” I tried to reason. “I could refine it, but that wouldn’t be honest enough.” She just ‘hmm…’ed. She wasn’t convinced for sure. “I wasn’t planning to show it to you, I didn’t even try to sound gentle.”

“Yes…” More full stops. “But, you shouldn’t have made him sound so bad.” Her feelings too were genuine.

“Come on! Why would I take his side?” Wait, I shouldn’t be justifying. “It is obvious I am all jealous on him, and it’s not that I am picturing him bad.”

“I just felt bad reading about him.” For the third time.

“You took it in wrong sense…” RIP Humour. “It’s my frustration, not an insult.”

“Fine.” Her fine didn’t look any fine.

“Sorry.” I accompanied a poker face.

“It’s okay.” She consoled me. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, its’ just…” Full stops. “Hmm…” Full stops. “I just felt bad seeing things you wrote about him.” The dragon didn’t deserve all the affection he was receiving.

“And the article was really good.” I had sent her my heart and ‘the article was good’ was all she had to say. She send a blushing smiley to not dishearten me.

Next day, I woke up feeling only worse. I had let her know my feelings and she was only concerned that I was mean to her dragon. She had genuine feelings for him, and I was only forcing my crush on her. I weighed my chance again. She hadn’t blocked me or turned me down or anything. I was in, and I was out. The only progress I had made was I had officially acknowledged her my crush on her. I took my time to text her an apology.

“Hey. Don’t feel bad about what I wrote there. I didn’t mean to show it to you in the first place. And I did, only because you insisted. It’s just that I am more of a coward, I express myself through my writings. I don’t want to force my feelings on you.”

Just then I noticed that she had updated her Whatsapp status to ‘Hope Survives’. Meanwhile, How to Train your Dragon 2 was released in the cinemas.

“No… It’s okay. I can understand you.” She repeated for the fifth time the part where reading mean stuffs about him made her feel bad. “It’s natural.” She reasoned. “Even though he ignores me, and whatever are my feelings for him, it’s not that easy to get over it.” She justified.

I was more worried about her status by then.

“What’s with ‘Hope Survives’?” I questioned her like a possessive boyfriend.

“Personal reasons.” She teased me with a drooling smiley.

Maybe that’s a good sign, she considered me close enough to tease.

“And why do you die every time?” I had updated my status to ‘Dies again’ after I found out about her dragon. “It’s the time to live.” She send a blushing smiley.

What? I was flying high over the ninth clouds. I changed my Whatsapp status into victory sign. “I will consider that.”

“So be happy!” She tried being this inspiring friend stuff. “You know? God may not always give you what you want, because he knows what’s best for you.”

Okay. I came back to Earth.

And I died again.

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

There always have to be some Imthiyas (read villain) in every crush stories to break some poor guy’s heart.  And Hanie is the villain in my story. But there is a good news, he hasn’t confessed his love or anything to her. And a bad news, she did! And a good news again, he just ‘lol’ed at her confession. And a bad news too, his Whatsapp status says “Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus” (You shouldn’t tickle a sleeping dragon). 

After the birthday night conversation with her, and the next three nights of mysterious disappearance of her last seen status in Whatsapp, I was too disturbed to be despair enough to ask her why she turned it off every night.

“Personal reasons.” she had said. She indirectly meant ‘Mind your own business.’ So I did.

But wait, her dad had commented on me! That’s my business. Next day I texted her again.

“How come your Papa knows me?” I sent along her own messages that she had sent to Fidal about me for her reference.

She was caught off the guard for a while.

“He just judged you from your meeting that day.” Meanwhile Fidal started spamming abuses in my inbox.

“But why was he talking about me.” I wasn’t done.

“Personal reasons.” Damn! That was the third time she had ‘personal reasoned’ me off. Can’t she see I’m much interested about her personal life?

“Sorry.” She said.

“For what?” I wasn’t expecting that.

“Simply.”

Fidal kept bugging me to call him. What was the big deal?

“What’s your problem? Let me do some talking.” I was annoyed at Fidal.

“If I tell you, you shouldn’t feel bad about it.” He gave me a preface to prepare me for the trauma that was to follow. I was already starting to feel bad.

“She likes someone. A Hanie, from Kochi. He is working at Bangalore now, in Oracle. He was studying in NIT Calicut, and he came to know about her through Facebook, and they used to chat. She has a crush on him but he kind of ignores her.” I was in a trance. I barely registered him as he went on about their story. Hanie had once called her out for a coffee, and she rejected the offer, but she told her parents about it. That was some 2 years ago when he was at Calicut, and then he moved to Bangalore, and disappeared for a while. He appeared back again a year later, and since then, they used to have casual texting. And now that I was signalling her my intentions, she wanted to play it safe, and decided to finally let me know about her ‘personal reason’. That explained her ‘sorry’.

“This holy love and stuffs doesn’t work out in this generation.” He blamed me for procrastinating any move at her, as he hung up the call.

God, not fair! It felt like I was caught in a storm of desperation, as if some huge weight had fallen on my head. I was mad at God, and women, and undeserving men, all at the same time! I was convinced for the first time I truly had feelings for her.

But I didn’t want to sound all ‘Devdas’.

“Fidal just called me. My turn to apologize, I am sorry.” I texted her.

“What did he tell you?”

“About the ‘personal matter’.”

“Please keep it a secret.”

“You shouldn’t trust a writer.”

“If things were all good, I wouldn’t mind, but he just considers me as a friend. So please keep it a secret.” She tried to reason. Oh please! There is a guy here who would treat you lot more than a mere friend, what are you going to do about him?

“I was kidding.” No, I wasn’t. I am actually breaking her promise writing this.

“He doesn’t know about it. He is this conservative and serious type, and he respects his privacy much.”

“Fine.”

“Let his name not come up again, please.” She wasn’t convinced.

“Okay!!!”

“You don’t know him right, do you? I mean, through any mutual friends?” She asked while I was about to stalk him on Facebook.

“Calm down, I didn’t check yet.”

“Oh… Please, don’t check, I just asked.” But she was too late.

Hanie Salim. There was this skinny guy with his wavy hair posing with his weird sunglasses in front of some monument. What a douche! And the other pic had him showing off with his bike, probably he had bought himself. Oracle must be paying him enough. He occasionally posted politically tainted jokes. And this app had certified him his IQ level was 150. It said ‘Your emotional intelligence level is: Exceptionally gifted. People are drawn to you and your charisma is highly enchanting.’ Bullshit! I tested the app myself. ‘Your emotional intelligence score is between 100 and 110. You have an impressive balance of an analytical and emotional mind.’ That’s a buggy nonsense app! He had all the random likes from Bollywood to unknown music bands, from Religion to bike stunts, and his comments were all polite enough, can’t deduct marks there. He had 34 followers, and she had liked his photos.

“I just did.” I replied. “And no, I don’t know him.”

She was relieved.

“It’s just that I am afraid of him.” Come on! No one forced you to like that scary scallywag.

“Why afraid of him? He doesn’t look like a serious conservative type.”

“I don’t know. What do you think about him?” Good question. Well, I think he is a total looser, a waste of flesh, and a burden on earth. Wait.

“I may sound too biased.” I controlled my temptation.

“I just know that he values his privacy more than anything. And go on, you can say anything.”

“No, I shouldn’t judge.” I pretended to be a good boy.

“Come on, its fine.”

“A player.” ‘Speak no evil monkey’ made his appearance.

“A player? I didn’t understand.” She was confused. Well, a player is one who plays with people’s feelings.

“That’s all you need to know then.” I tried to dismiss her.

“No! Please tell, not like we are in any relationship, he is just my crush. I won’t tell anyone.” She insisted. As if I was scared of him. He should be the one scared of me!

“Is he ignoring you?” Fidal had tipped me on that.

“I felt so, he says he is always busy. You didn’t tell me what you meant by ‘player’.” She wouldn’t let it pass.

“Player is like flirt, no hard feelings.” I had to explain.

“Hehe.” To my relief, she laughed. “Even I think so.”

“Now, tell me why your Papa was talking about me?” 

“I don’t keep secrets from Papa. When I showed him the article you wrote, he was quite angry at first, but when later, he met you, he said ‘he seems a good guy’.” Well, thanks papa!

“And how’s your Umma, is she strict?”

“More childish than me! She gets tensed easily. She is so worried about me. But Papa is very free, though strict.” How can he be both together at the same time? “But he supports me all the time. I am Papa’s girl.” She blushed.

I sent her the blog post I had written, the ‘Aftermath’ of ‘Thattathin Marayathu’ where I had judged precisely the incidents that had happened at her home after she showed them my article. I had to censor certain parts of it since it was certain she was going to show it to her dad. “See, I was close.” I bragged.

She was surprised.

“The marriage thing, even today I asked my dad to get me married soon.” I had mentioned a similar conversation to have happened at her home when they read my article.

“Why?”

“Because I like this person, and I don’t trust him. I lost my hope. Even after confessing it to him, he took it as a joke. Neither did he say no. He is playing with my feelings. Like you said, a good player.”

“So you want to force your marriage on him?” I was starting to realize I will never understand her.

“Not him! Whomever my dad finds for me.” Light bulb! I know my way around with dads.

“But why? To revenge him?”

“Nah, I am just worried. I don’t want to fall for relationships, but marriage.” And as quite anticipated, she said the obvious, “It’s all haraam!”

Next day, it took me three Islamic reference sites to argue back that love is a natural feeling, that it could happen outside human consciousness, that it is not a sin. Finally she agreed up on the point that, it’s how we act that counts, not what we feel. I was putting up all these efforts to pave me my way to her, but it was also possible that I was simply digging my own grave, encouraging her to ‘sin’ more.

“Love is a cobweb.” She had a lecture from her parents. “And my Umma agrees with your comment about Hanie ka.” I liked the Umma agreeing part and unliked the ‘ka’ after Hanie. “My dad wouldn’t want to send me far away from him, I don’t think he will let me marry a Cochin guy.”

I did a quick math, it takes three and half hours from Kasargod to Calicut, and eight and half hours to Ernakulam, that is, five long hours from Calicut. I had the geographical advantage.

“The mistake he did was to call me out for a coffee.” She went on about him. “But, there is hope. Our common friend, Emil ka is my mom’s best friend’s son. He may help.” Villain number 2: Emil.

“Are you still obsessed with him?” I was getting annoyed.

“I like him! How can I forgot him all of a sudden?” In a way, I was just another Farhana obsessed with a Hanie who wouldn’t see through me. “It’s just a crush.” She kept convincing herself.

“What happened after the coffee incident?”

“I didn’t go, but I told my parents, and they named him ‘coffee mon’.” That's a cool family. “They just cautioned me that my decisions may get me into troubles.” She continued. “So I gave Papa two options, to get me married soon, or that I will wait, but I’ll decide my groom. And he went for the latter option.” She was hopelessly excited about the idea of marriage.

“Papa says I am saying all these out of my childishness.” Glad her Papa realises that. “Am I boring you, I talk a lot.” Oh, I have long waited for you to start talking!

“Continue the story!” 

“After the coffee incident, I had a very bad impression about him. Dad was cool about it, so he left the case. But we used to have casual chats, and then he left Calicut. He got too busy after that.”

This is where Emil makes his villain appearance. “That’s when Emilka told me about Hanieka, that he is a very good person, and about his character, his family, his studies, and stuff.” It was Emil who corrupted her innocent mind. “After that, I got that feeling… Maybe it was the way he talked.”

“Wait! How did he talk?” What evil had he done?

“He was very nice, respectful, and serious. He used to ask me about my college and all, he was so caring. He advised me on dealing with new friends.” What an imp! I bet he and Emil were working as a team. If I was to play Farcry right then, I knew exactly what I will name my opponents.

“Did you tell him you like him?” That must have been the only thing I wanted to know then.

“Yeah, I accidently forwarded a message I was typing to Fidalka.” Wow, that has to be recent, Fidal had only started texting her few weeks ago. See what you have done Fidal!

“What did he reply?” 

“He said ‘Lol! Feelings should be expressed’.” What? Was he for real? “We didn’t talk anything about it after that. He talked about grilled chicken he had made. That’s all.” Grilled chicken definitely was a cool thing to talk about after a love confession! Maybe I was being too mean to him.

Phew!

“But do you know what he might have meant?” She asked me.

“I am no expert in this, but maybe he is still on to you.” I replied honestly. She had tickled the sleeping dragon. And the dragon was enjoying the tickling.

Next day, her status message turned into a rose flower. And mine into “Dead.”