Shards of a broken heart

After lightning comes thunder and then the showers,
After heartbreak comes silence and then the tears.



One day you'll need me, like I need you
One day you'll cry for me, as I cry for you
One day you'll miss me, the way I miss you
One day you'll love me, but never as much as I love you.

I thought you were looking for me, but now I realise I was mistaken. I thought you were meant for me, but you showed me that you were not. I thought you loved me and you showed me that you did; not me,but someone else. I thought you were happy to have me. But you showed me that I couldnt make you happy, ever. I thought that you were the one, but you told me that I was not the only one.

I close my eyes and lie down to sleep
My hands are warm, my mind is at rest.
I dream of heaven and angels
I am happy and my heart knows it.

The claws of fear grow up on my heart
Its clutches are inescapable
I try to breathe but cannot
My breath is lost.

I feel cold and I open my eyes
There is darkness around me
Pitch black and terrifying
I cant see anything anymore

I worry and look around
The warmth and happiness around me is gone
I look for the light that used to fill my life and
I realise the light is gone.

Being a Chrindu

[To all Non-Chrindus out there - Google cannot help you with this word, because this is not an accepted usage. As a pre-requisite for reading this you should be aware of the fact that I was born in a secular country. Though we preach secularism, we are not very accomodating in our actions. There is a clear demarcation amongst the religion, caste, sub-caste and so on.]

I am a Chrindu and I want to share few thoughts about what it is like to be one.

I am part of a close-knit family. My family meets all conditions for being classified as a normal Indian family. Four abnormal people, namely the father, mother and two kids put together(phew!!! sometimes the staying together part could be trying) makes a normal Indian family.

Both my parents are religious, but not fanatics. They do the usual routine of daily prayers, visits to places of worship, offerings, fasting and celebrating all religious events(only if its a public holiday).

I forgot to mention a trivial fact there. They dont follow the same religion.

They were one of those couples who braved the inter-religious resistance to share a life. And till-date I have never heard them speak a negative word about the others' religion or faith. As it happens in most inter-religion or inter-caste marriages, my parents' marriage was accepted by their families after my birth. Their first-born, became their re-entry visa.

Owing to their choice of life-partners, I turned out to be a Hindu by law and a Christian by faith. In other words a Chrindu. An odd sense of humor, inspired me and my sister to coin that term. Infact my partner-in-crime(my sister) came up with two suggestions, Chrindu and Histian. Using my privilege of being the elder one, I made the final choice.

I was baptised and I attend church regularly. I also go to temples and attend poojas. My family celebrates Christmas and Onam with the same fervour. We participate whole-heartedly.

All this was the fun part. But it was not easy growing up, torn between two faiths.

One that claimed to have 33 crores gods and one that claimed that there was only one God.

One where the god-figure has 16008 wives and one where the god-figure is a chronic bachelor.

One which mandates that the body should be clean when visiting the diety and one that says your mind should be clean before praying.

One which doesnt complain about your attention and worship wandering elsewhere and one which commands you to believe only in one God or suffer forever in hell.

One in which the god destroyed creation in a fit of anger and one in which a father gave up His son to save all humanity.

I grew up with my grandmother who told me stories from the epics and vedas, and attended a school run by nuns who taught Catechism for an hour everyday. I was taken to the temple by my Mom and to the church by my Dad. My Mom insisted that I be clean and neatly dressed when going to a temple. My Dad insisted that I dont miss church or Sunday school. It might sound odd, but my Mom was the Christian and my Dad the Hindu.

I was so confused about which was right and which was wrong. My parents, thankfully, didnt try to influence my views. While growing up I realised that not many men allow their children to be brought up in their wife's beliefs. I asked my father about this and he replied that our ancestors were Hindus until St. Thomas turned up. Smart answer!! But that still didnt help me overcome my confusion.

As with everything else, I was able to understand things better with the passage of time. I realised that I didnt have to make a choice between them and I didnt have to judge which was right. All I had to do was pick the best things in both and build my faith on that.

I didnt care if God was a bachelor or had wives; to me only His teachings mattered. I didnt care if He was depicted as half-human, half-elephant or with a snake around His neck or with a cross on His shoulders; I held equal reverence for all of them. I didnt care if there was only one God or crores of them, because I addressed Him as Father. And He has always answered my plea.

I have been blessed with knowledge of the rich culture of Hinduism and Christianity. I have read the Bible and the Mahabharatha. I know of the trinity in Christianity and that in Hinduism. I am familiar with the stories of Ganesha and Muruga, as well as Noah and Moses. I can go to a church and make the sign of cross as easily as I can go to a temple and recite the mantras. I feel at peace when I am in a church and I feel the same serenity when I am in a temple.

I respect both religions and their teachings. And I would never say that one is above the other.

I am a Chrindu and proud of being one.

Journey to the city of temples

It was a journey of sorts, interspersed with smiles and tears. I lost some, I gained some.

For the very first time in my life, I attempted something very daring. I cannot say it was a brave act, because it may be judged as a negative deed by some. Throughout the journey I tried to convince myself that I was right. But to be honest, I was not entirely successful. I was supporting a close friend in her choice of marriage partner. I was also close to her parents and they had not given their consent to the wedding. Hence the haunting second thoughts.

My idea of a placid journey was turned upside down, with the appearance of some of her friends. Strangers to me then, memorable companions now. Sightseeing with them was a pleasure. We had immense fun. The kind of thoughtless fun, that happens only with guys. A day of sunshine, smiles and snaps. I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

The day of the wedding proved to be hectic, because I had to be her friend and kin-folk. I felt my heart swell when I saw her dressed up as a bride. She looked beautiful. The bride and groom was so happy, that I could see the green-eyed monster in everyone's eyes.

When the groom tied the traditional 'thaali' around her neck, my eyes welled up. I dont feel any embarassment in owning up to that show of emotion. There were many around me who would claim the same.

After spending a few more hours with the marriage party, I returned to the room where we had been staying. In that moment I realised what parents go through at weddings, after seeing off their daughters. The room felt so empty. Without her smiles, without her complaints, without her presence.

Few tears were shed on the loss of a friend's continuous presence in my life. And then back to the jolly gang for more fun. Another day spent in their company, helped me recover from the sudden void. We visited the adornments of Madurai, the city of temples.

That night my old friend and new friends came to see me off. As the train moved away from the station and they waved good-bye, I realised that I had gained more than I had lost. The memories of the journey would remain in my heart forever.

Yes, I do owe an apology to some people for making this journey. But one day when they realise that I had supported the right cause, that I had stood by the happiness of my friend and their daughter, I hope they will forgive me.

A prayer for my friend

I cannot make the sun rise in the night.
I cannot touch the moon shining above.
I cannot bring the stars down to the earth.

I cannot catch the wind that blows.
I cannot count the grains of sand on the beach.
I cannot touch the bottom of the ocean.

But for you my friend, I would try to do all that and more.

You have touched my life in so many ways.
You made me smile on the darkest of days.
You made me cry and at times you cried for me.

You made me see myself as a better person.
You made me wonder how anyone can be so full of goodness.
You made me understand the strange ways of the world.

May your life be filled with happiness in abundance.
May all the paths you take in your life, lead you to glory.
May joy alone be your companion and sorrow never cross your path.

May your blessings multiply and may no evil touch your life.
May humility be your friend; pride and haughtiness your foes.
May your life return all the goodness that you spread around you.

For you my friend, I pray for all that and more.

The bug called love

Love is beautiful. It changes your world. It turns you inside out and makes you a new person. You have eyes and ears only for them. All your thoughts, awake or asleep, is about your loved one. All your actions, revolve around your love. Wherever you go, whatever you do, whomever you meet - its love that stands prominent in your life.

Thats the good part of being in love. But is it really good?

Before you fell in love, you had a world around you. There were a whole lot of people in that world. People who felt for you and cared for you. People who knew you.

Then one day you chose to fall in love. You shed your skin, to become a new person. Your lover understands you, admires you and adores you. And you are so heady with these new feelings, that you dont realise whats happening around you. Sometimes you recognise a change, but you choose to ignore it.

Love is fast in its pace. Head over heels, happens in a matter of few seconds or minutes. But as weeks and months pass, things slow down a bit.

Thats when the realisation strikes, that you have lost some people along the journey. People who had been there with you through thick and thin are no more part of your life. You wonder if you had to lose some of them, for gaining your love.

But by then its too late and there is no turning back. You have already been infected by the bug called love.

Death

Of all the major events in life, there is only one which really scares me.

Death.

It is one which cannot be postponed. The one which arrives totally unexpected. The one which leaves you totally disoriented.

The violence of death is not in the fact that the person has died. It is in the permanence of their disappearance. They leave this world for ever; their virtues and vices disappear from the face of this world forever. You are left with a lot of memories. And they are just that, memories. You cannot share your them with anyone.

If ever you want someone else, to know abt this human being who had passed the face of this earth, you are left with nothing but words. Mayb a few photographs. Their voice, their smell, their words, their gestures, their passions, their dreams are all lost.

For as long as you live, you will miss their presence in your life. Nothing in this world, can give you another chance to see them again. To just listen to their voice or watch them smile.

Years later when you attempt to recollect you realise that you have forgotten what their voice was like. You try to snatch at your memories, to recollect small things about this person who was once dear to you.

But all that was theirs is lost. Lost to the all-engulfing power of death.

Have you seen love?

Love is the hope in each day,
Love is the faith that leads us along the way.
Love is knowing that she will hold you when you cry.
Love is taking her in your arms when she is lonely.
Love is that blessing which keeps us going.

Love is waking in the morning and knowing that there is someone,
Out there, waiting for you to open your eyes and smile.
They want you to know that you mean the world to them.
And that they love you, come what may.

Some say love cannot be seen, only felt.

Strange as it may seem, I have seen love.

In the eyes of the mother cuddling her baby.
In the first blush of a girl in love.
In the welled up eyes of a brother.
In the teary eyed farewell of a sister.

In more ways than one, I have seen love around me.

Many of us have forgotten to appreciate,
To recognise the small ways of expressing affection.
I pray to Almighty that its only the actions that are forgotten
And not the feeling itself.

Darkness

When darkness is all around you
Does it make sense to close your eyes.
It doesnt make much difference, does it?

If only light would come in,
If only I could see something,
If only I could escape from the darkness,
If only I could make my way to light.

Then I would die happy, with my eyes open
Knowing that light will remain,
For those whom I leave behind.

Life is beautiful???

What is it that makes life worth living,
What is it that keeps you going,
Is it a precious memory that you have from yesterday?
Is it a beautiful dream you have for tomorrow?
Are those reasons enough for this life?

Is that memory from the past or the dream for the future worth it,
Worth this vain battle?

Life is beautiful, or so they say.
More often than not, I have felt they were wrong.

It doesnt matter whether you agree or not,I believe that it is not.

Life is neither beautiful nor worth the pain,
Each day of toil ends in a night of darkness.
An endless wait for light and morning.
Is this race between day and night, worth fighting for.

You cry, you laugh. Alone or with someone.
It doesnt matter whether you are alone or not,
It only matters whether the tears are bitter or sweet.
It only matters whether its a laugh or a scream.

Why is it that your joy is seen, but your pain goes unseen.
Why is it that people can see you smile, but they can never see you cry.

That is the way of life.
It gathers sorrow as it moves on,
And grazes past happiness on its way.

Sorrow is like a cloud hovering above,
But joy is always the silver lining.
Unreachable, unattainable, far away in the horizon.
Luring you closer, but always far away.

Forever I have wondered about living and life.
I have struggled within myself to understand the strife.
Today I met somebody who wanted me to know
That there is an answer waiting for me, somewhere down the road.

Rain

I hear the drizzle outside, and my heart jumps with joy
The rain drops touch the parched ground,
The smell of their first touch wafts to me.
And I lose myself in the senses they awaken.

I want to go out and get wet.
I want to feel the feather touch of the droplets on me.

Along with the thunder and the lightning,
I want to be a witness to the earth and rain, making love.

It is so intense, you cannot help but feel it tugging at your heart.
The long wait of the earth for the arrival of the clouds.

The anticipation of the pleasure that it brings.
The disappointment it feels when the clouds pass on without the showers.

And oh! when it rains, the desire with which the rain engulfs the earth,
Would wash away all those scars of longing.
The sensuality of their love would make anyone jealous.

How completely the earth submits to the downpour.
How thoroughly the rain touches and heals the earth.
And the beauty of the earth after the rain,
Is the testimony to their passion.

The green so luscious and alluring,
It could only be the earth blushing in after-thought.
The rain fighting a losing battle with the sun,
To spend few more moments, touching the earth.

Even after the rain is long gone,
The last drops cling on to the leaves, refusing to let go of the memory.

And I start my wait for the next showers,
To watch them come together again.

Hostel Days

Of memories shared,
Jokes laughed at,
And tears spilt.

Hours of lazing away,
Sometimes talking and time fading away,
Feeling carefree about life.

And all the beauties, seemed so much more elating,
When surrounded by people like them,
People whom I hold close to my heart.

Never believed in such understanding,
One in which there is no need for words.

Where a sigh is lost before it escapes,
Where eyes brimming with tears are
Dried, before it finds its way out.

A moment of togetherness,
A sense of belonging.

Knowing you are cared for,
Knowing you are loved.

Knowing you will be missed,
Knowing you will be thought of tenderly.

Knowing you will miss all of it,
From the depths of your heart.

Letting go

It killed her to let him go. It was not as if he was the first or the last one. But he was undoubtedly the best one.

It was a given that he was the most good looking of all of them. His coloring was so exquisite, she used to stare at him unashamedly. He had the most expressive eyes. He would stare her down, when she challenged him to do something he didnt want to. He had this special "I'm a man, I know how to take care of myself" look, when she fussed over him. And he had this really cute, hurt look when she scolded him.

It was not only in the looks department. He knew her so well. He knew when to keep quiet and listen to her whining. He knew when to cuddle her, or when to give her a soft slap. He knew when to walk along with her, just walking and no talking.

She was always aware of him checking out the cute ones around. But what the heck!! She couldnt own him. He was what he was. And she had learned to live with it. She never questioned him when he left her alone in bed, somewhere during the night. She never asked him where he had been, when he carried his important self in through the front door.

She thought back on all the ones that had come and gone.

The first one. Oh!! the first one. Sweet sixteen. She had opened her arms, wide for him. They had been inseperable. Until she went away to college. The distance didnt help and her parents put their foot down. And just like that, they became separable and she let him go. It had hurt, but she got over it.

The second one. That was in college. She had first seen him on the way back from a dinner party with her friends. Boy, did that one have guts. He followed her home that night. And from that day on he followed her wherever she went. He followed her even to her classes. How romantic!! She couldnt help but open her doors to him. But slowly the romanticism was lost on her. She couldnt go anywhere without bumping into him. She got so fed up that she kicked him out. That was that.

And along came the next one. Out of the blue. When she was least expecting it. She fell in love with him almost instantaneously. He was the sweetest thing that walked on earth. Or so she thought. He was sweet but too sweet for her. He kept whimpering for her attention. Which she couldnt spare. She had a job now. More responsibilities. She couldnt spend all her time with him. The sulking turned so sour, that she couldnt put up with it anymore. Her life had enough wrong things without him helping. Then she decided that he had to go on his way. He had to live his life and let her live hers.

She was sapped out of all emotion. She didnt think she wanted to have any more. All those episodes of hit-n-run had left her dead inside. She thought she had seen it all.

But then she met him. She was bowled over, the first day she saw him. He was so genuine that she couldnt help smiling at herself. It was like a dream. He was the best of all. But even that was not meant to be forever.

She was moving to a new place and he couldnt come with her. She thought it best that they part. Letting go of him will be hard. But what else could she do.

That evening while pouring him milk, she broke the news to him. He listened to her very patiently. His soulful eyes tore at her heart. Then he gave a bark of thanks and lapped up the milk. Her eyes filled up has she watched her favorite dog drink up.