Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Yesterday.....

Only you are capable of doing that to me. A constriction in my gut, a hollow abysmal feeling, of blood stopping, not feeling my limbs….. its so profoundly physical, this feeling, that its difficult to actually put it in words. Yesterday, S. said that she saw the two of you together in reel, in Orkut. She said that She was looking very nice and that you were holding her and the two of you looked very happy together. I saw you too. She is so good, so loving, so true, so real, so grounded, so devoted that try as I might, I cannot hate her. But I need to. I must. I cannot be happy for you for the sake of my own happiness. I cant selflessly wish you away to a birthday remembering, present buying, thrift cultivating, ration keeping, butter chicken cooking, dutifully orgasaming wife.
I hate Her. She is perfect.
I hate You. You are filth.

But you were MY filth. Love is selfless. Love is limitless. Love is wanting the happiness of your partner at all costs. Is this really true or is this nothing more that horse shit laced with pig urine up for the takes? I hate you. I DO. I cannot be happy for you. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve Her. You, who strummed his guitar, planned his moves, shed the right tears, smoldered at the right time, caressed when it was actually needed and manhandled me into kart wheeling in love with you and then….. didn’t appreciate me when you had me. I always knew you loved Her. Why? How did I know it? I don’t know. I just knew it. I just could never figure out why? Common backgrounds? High school girlfriend? Bhojpuri? What?


She would never call you a Bastard. She will take all your drunken brawls in her stride. You would never have to worry about her flirting with your friends. Sex with her is great. She wants You, she wants Your children and that’s all she wants from life. She would sacrifice whatever career path she can chart out from that excuse for a job that she has to sit at home and cook you Biryani. Simple. Sorted. Planned.


I slap. I punch. I lie. I dine with other men. I read. I am opinionated. I throw tantrums. We always did whatever I wanted. We always went wherever I took you. And when I grew desperate and needy for you, I became obsessive, insecure, abusive…….Good Riddance from me.
But that was eons ago. We have now reached the “Stay Happy. God Bless You stage”.

But, but…..did you know that…..
Stupidly optimistic I used to run to pick up the phone every time it rang, thinking it was you.
I had saved the numbers of every PCO booth you ever considered calling me from.
I used love smelling myself, smelling of you after I had met you.
Knew there was shelter in your arms.
Already started saving because I knew we would never be rich.
Constantly did everything in my might to goad you into shouting at me, getting rough with me….it used to give me pleasure. Perverse. Yet true.
Would want you to loose it. Completely. Because of me. I was so scared of you. You thrilled me so.
When you left Me and S. stranded, penniless, soaked in the highway, I was still worrying whether you would get home safe.
I always said sorry because it made you happy.
I always said sorry because you could stay without talking to me- you had booze, girls, your guys but I could never stay without talking to you. You were IT for me. I never seemed to need anything else.
Even when out with friends, even when being wooed by other men, even when I was the center of attraction of men, your laugh would constantly ring in my head.
The others didn’t really matter once you were there.
You were, you are, the only one who looks at me like that. With the arrogance of possession, with the scorn of appeasement, with desire and revulsion, with fascination and dejection.....

But one must be thankful for His little mercies. I do not want to begin everyday as a roller coaster ride. Sex, lies and thankfully not videotape. Four Years, too much to sacrifice to nothingness. Four Years too little to understand deceit.

I remember another such Yesterday, when I came to know. When Ss. had called you to ask about W. and what did you say…..
“Haan yaar Ss. We are seeing each other. Bas ho gaya yaar.”
What did you do? You cheated on me. Made a joke out of four years of togetherness. I could be pragmatic and say who doesn’t? Maybe I would have cheated you too. But I didn’t and you did.

Did that make me better than you?
No.
Did that make me more loyal?
No.
Did that make me more committed?
No.

You had an opportunity and you chose to embrace it. I hadn’t had one, hadn’t even been close to one. I couldn’t pretend to be shocked and throw the holier than thou garb on your face. That Yesterday, I was hurting. I had already forgiven but will never forget.

That Yesterday WAS the worst day of my life. This Yesterday isn’t. But this Yesterday pains so much more that that Yesterday. Today I am in pain. That Yesterday had given me anger, disgust, remorse, hate.....

This Yesterday has left me staring at a picture of a man holding a woman in a saree- content.
This Yesterday has left me with a constriction in my gut, a hollow abysmal feeling, of blood stopping........nothing I am falling.

8 comments:

Raja said...

Not sure as to which of the two feelings that i'm going through, are to be given precedence: Utter joy in having read one of the finest pieces of writing or sheer sorrow for seeing you go through what you have gone through. Hope you heal soon...when you feel better (which you will, with time), remember this; "YOU WRITE AMAZINGLY WELL".

Riya said...

Hey.. You write very well.. You should have been a writer.. Not a banker.. But anyways.. Forget that person.. He never deserved your love..take care..

Amrutaa said...

Your words make it seem worse, more dramatised...which is what they are supposed to do i guess....im sure ur ok....sorry for being insensitive...thank God theres more filth in the world. Amen.

GuNs said...

Not for mere formality, I too believe this was a very nicely written post. Hope to see many more of such in the future and hope the subjects and the tone isn't as bleak there. Maybe if you ever get time, try reading a little four-liner on the top right corner of my blog homepage. Maybe it would make sense.

On the subject, I'd say filth is filth, isn't it? Who separates the horse-crap from the dog-crap in an execrated pile of filth? An argument between two is usually just that - a horse and a dog crapping together to make one big stinky pile which they cannot stand for one moment. On whom lies the principal blame, no one can rightfully judge.

I understand the hurt that parting with a part of your life causes and again, trying to analyse the cause is only futile, isn't it?

I hope the cheer is back in your life this new year. Happy New Year.

-PeAcE
--WiTh
---GuNs

Serendipity said...

This is really well written. I hope its fictional though, Id hate to know you went through this..

GuNs said...

LOL, not at all. You can always reply on the page where I left the comment. You are on my blogroll so I keep checking back. :) Its nice to see some comments on my blog too sometimes.

Thanks for the New Year wishes. It was in Nepal, yes. A sort of a family-party in Kathmandu. There was live music, lots of people, lots of booze and lots of smoke of which I only enjoyed the first.

-PeAcE
--WiTh
---GuNs

Suman said...

As everybody said.. one of the FINEST piece of writings... Gut wrenching..I never knew words could actually have such an effect. Do authors really have to go through the worst/best to articulate it / pen it down..??

I am also amazed at the clear understanding you have of yourself...even though you are such a complex person.( positively)..and the way you articulate it..

Suman said...

such exemplary display of human emotions.. conflicts.. turmoils.. it is the ongoing conflict between the heart and the brain.. " cannot hate her. But I need to. "..

The so called human shelfishness displayed such blatantly yet drawing the crowds empathy......just amazing..

as I read it again and again.. it does nothing but mersmerises me..

is that what 'Basic Insticnt' was written on.. that an author has to really go through the feelings to be able to pen it down..

thanks god.. she is (not yet )writing about a murder.. ;):)