The fourth stage of grief.

Half-done things prick me.
I cannot leave a place for the last time without the knowledge that I ll never go back there again. I need to go back, to complete.
I cannot give away my last kiss without the knowledge that I ll never kiss again. I need to know and kiss, to complete.
I cannot let go without the knowledge that am actually letting it go. I need to hold, realize and then let go. To complete.

And when I don't complete, I am a mad woman bit by a rabid dog. God bless my eternally-restless soul.

Valentine's Day

They were on that tiny bed, all drunk, making love.
'Irrevocable love' she announced to the night.
'Mad love' he yelled to nothing in particular

'You are mad' she laughed into his ears
'And, you are irreplaceable' he bit her nose

'Why isn't this plant showing any signs of bearing a bud?' she complained
'Hmmm.. why plant, why?' he asked the plant
'It's not funny, I WANT A FLOWER FROM THIS PLANT' she insisted
'GIVE HER A FLOWER, U STUPID PLANT' he mockingly demanded
'It's not funny' she yelled and left the room
He was always amazed at how little things affected her so much.
An hour later, she came back to the pot with a long face. A quick stare at him -- one dangerous frown and a look back to the no-flower pot, a look back at him -- and her eyes popped out in shock.
'WTF!!!' she laughed out
'Well, looks like the plant heard you'
(He had stuck a rose bud inside the flower pot)
she hugged him, for his love. A little tighter, for his stupidities. After-all, that was what she loved him most for.
'From now on, if you need a flower or a bud or an airplane -- just yell at the plant. Your wish is its command!'
***
'No way, you cannot have that freaking poster on the wall' she yelled out, almost willing to bash him up
'What's wrong? why cant I keep it there?'
'What's wrong? you actually have the balls to ask me what's wrong? you moron, you you sex maniac. You, womanizer' she breathed heavily, trying hard to concentrate on words.
'Womanizer? What the hell. I have artistic eyes and I appreciate beauty. Megan Fox is God's most perfect creation. Why cant I appreciate that? It's a spiritual feeling'
'Fuck off! U stick that picture there and I am going to call my lawyer and stick divorce papers on that freaking megan fox!'
'Like you ll do that. Megan remains here. But, that doesn't mean I ll love u any less!You are my wife and Megan here is my mistress, sort off'
'I am so gonna call my lawyer' yelling so, she walked out of the room
'Where the shit is my mobile' she walked back into the room after 10 minutes, blind with fury
'At the dressing table, baby'
'Baby my ass. You stay away from me you moron. Go have fun with that that megan thing.' Saying so she pointed at the poster
'One look at the poster and she gasped - Holy shit! and laughed out loud
He had stuck her face on the poster and had written in bold - 'Will you be my mistress, my dear wife?'
'How mad can a person get?' she said, almost giving up.
'THIS MAD' he said, pointing at his reflection in the mirror.

***

With tears swelling her eyes she looked at the bed, 'their bed' on which they cuddled together every night. The blooming rose on the flower pot brought in her a feeling of remorse. The megan fox poster made her cry out loud.

How much she missed him. Every small thing around her brought so many memories, she found it hard to breathe. Her near perfect life gave her such pleasure in his form that many a times she caught herself feeling jealous of her own life.

Every morning, she fought with him. Religiously. The wet towel on the bed gave her a blood pressure boost. The uneaten breakfast infuriated her. The search for the lost sock, every morning, made her almost give up. She fought with him with so much hatred every morning, with that much intensity they made love in the evenings. Life with him was so natural - Like burping, or having a headache or even farting. So natural that she almost took it for granted. Every-time she was
upset, she blamed it on him. He fought back, she roared back; the small one bedroom apartment was so full of life, so full of him -- Her Husband.

After two long years of grieving for an unworthy boyfriend who walked away without a care, she found it hard to move on with life. It pained her parents to look at their darling daughter go through such trauma. The wedding was fixed
quite urgently. Her parents loved him the very first time they spoke to him. They told him everything. He agreed to the marriage, with a smile; the smile that would in the coming days make their daughter fall crazily in love with him.

She denied, cried, threatened to kill herself if they forced her to marry anyone. They forced her anyway. Without having seen him ever, she agreed to her mother's tears. The wedding happened, the bride never having met the bridegroom. The bridegroom, a pleasant young man so full of life.

One year into the marriage, he was her best friend with whom she fought like mad, worst enemy to whom she made passionate love, honest critic she detested and a pleasant flirt she loved. He was her everything.

Now, when he is at the hospital fighting for life, after an awful accident, she sits in her room, surrounded by him -- his memories, asking God to grant her just one more chance to be good to him. She promises the air that she will never take him for granted again, never ever complain, never crib, never irritate him. 'Just one chance lord. Please' she cried out.

One month of him not being around, she missed yelling at him in the morning, missed the wet towel on her bed, the uneaten breakfast pained and she promised to find his lost sock, every morning, for the rest of her life. Without complaining. She promised the air, promised megan fox, swore to the plant, she vouched to the bed -- just one more chance.

Her mobile rang, her dad said - 'He is going to be alright dearie, the doctor's say. Come back soon, he wants to see you first'

Unable to hold her self, she struggles. Runs down the stairs and drives to the hospital. He was there, with open eyes staring at her deeply, with that killer smile on his face. As she walked towards him, she thanked all the gods she ever
knew and all the others she dint, for having given her that second chance.

Two months later --

'One work I give you and you cant fucking do that'
'What's wrong. I did it. Dont you see?'
'Oh really! I gave you the atta to make dough for rotis! Do you remember that??'
'Exactly what I did! Dont you see?'
'Dont I see? You moron of a man! I see an airplane and a freaking Lamborghini made out of atta!! Is that what I asked you for?'
'Wow! This house has no room for creativity. So much negative energy out here. I think I shud just get out of here and live with a woman who will appreciate my artistic sense'
'Oh really! why dont you go off then, find that freaking woman to live with. The worshiper of artistic sense!'
'I think I ve already found her!' he smiled into glory
'What????'
'Yeah, your friend. That bomb. Man, she laughs at all my jokes. Appreciates all my quirks!'
'My friend? That slut... Am gonna sue u for this. Polygamy is it? You bastard. Take the divorce papers first. Am calling my lawyer'
'Oh, don't waste your time. I ve already done that for you'
She was zapped
'Open the drawer, divorce papers await your signature'
With trembling hands she pulled open the draw. Looked into it and cried out of joy. Nestled carefully between two tiny red hearts was a Belly chain with his initials carved at the edges. There was a card reading 'Happy Valentines Day honey. Will you be my valentine. For life?'
Amidst all the commotion of daily life, she had almost forgotten that it was Valentine's Day. She turned around and ran towards him. He gave his trademark smile, sitting on the wheelchair. They remained hugging, for a very long time.

She thanked life for giving her a second chance. Another chance to love him.
He thanked life for sticking on to him and swore that he ll take additional care of himself, so that he can be there for her, forever.

Happy Valentines Day people!

I like people's presence of mind sometimes.
And appreciate the absence of it most of the times.

In my present state of mind, I can easily pass off as a mad woman bit by a rabid dog.

And, I am not over-exaggerating.

The extra-ordinary grew on me. On my nerves, to be exact.
I decided to look for ordinary.
When I finally decided to settle for the ordinary, it turned out to be below-ordinary.

Where have all the ordinaries gone?

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change,
Courage to change those that I can
And, the wisdom to know the difference.

I need the wisdom first.

There was only one difference between the way they were falling in love with each other.

The more she was falling in love,
The more he was falling out of it.

A relationship's worth thus got lost somewhere in this difference.

More often, the fight is to choose between the bad and the worse. Good is never an option.
I opt for the good. Hence I don't participate.

Her Easy-going nature
His Passion
Her ability to laugh
His ability to care
Her go-getter attitude
His I-care-a-damn character
Her independent nature
His light heartedness
Her strength
His straight-forwardness

I want to cut all of these and embed it into one body -- the one which I would name 'The Perfect Human Being'

"Its very easy to depress you."

Yes. It is. Very.

Corporate Gossips
Incompetent but self-proclaimed genius kind of people
Cough Syrups
Mustard Sauce
Another person's sufferings
Temples
.
.
.
.
.
Men

(Few of those things that I shud stay away from, for my own well-being)

Everytime am in an elevator, even if I have friends (with whom I can chat) around, all I do is religiously look up at the lift display and see everytime I pass through a floor. That action of mine is not going to speedup the process of moving between floors, nor is it going to prolong it. Then why do I do it?

(One of those things that makes me wonder so much about myself)