In Pursuit of Love

Troubled thoughts and writes block, He searched for his mystic muse Inspiration came as desert rains No words a poet could use Now words were his happiness, And stories were his crown Depression stole both away In the darkened night he drowned

Love sweet in the beginning, Bitter in the end. Part 1 click here: ( Monotony was killing me ), but ego and pride killed me, I am Mallika, and this is the continuation to my story from where I left off. Life takes a huge turn when you break up with someone, especially when you are 18 years old and this is the only momentous thing which has happened in your life. I did not care about Job crisis/ inflation/ rising rates of crime, only ‘why did he broke up with me’ & ‘will I ever find love again’ had taken occupancy in my brain. However, college was now bearable, thanks to Aayan, an overconfident/ good looking/ popular/ senior who had become a good friend of mine, and I think he likes me too. But I am quite sure there were many other girls, who thought the same thing, yet I was the only one who was blamed for him breaking up with his girlfriend. I felt guilty about the whole affair, and I even told him that I would not talk to him, but he just charmed his way back. For ins...

          Save My Lehenga                  It was the month of February, and I had been attending numerous marriages. Moreover, after enjoying the laughs, the pictures, and some delicious and some diarrhoea causing food, I realised something: When a girl is getting married, or going to her best friend's marriage, she does not care about anything other than her dresses and jewellery. And I have two stories to prove my point.

Why did she lie I wish you didn’t lie Or hurt me this bad But took a lying dagger And your target was my heart I tried to block with love But you had too much strength Was it your pretty face? Or the pretty lies you pretend.

When I woke up today, I told myself that I will be happy today. At least I will smile and make it believable. This was because I was tired of all the pity looks thrown towards me by my colleagues in office, not to mention all my friends looked at me like a small puppy that walked with a limp. It is hard enough to be ugly, but when you are ugly and single, you are everybody’s pity case. To put salt on open wounds, I was ugly/single/and with no social skills which just made me the lowest form species available. The hierarchy was, there were (1) happy people, after them came (2) good-looking people, after them were (3) the singles, below them were (4) dogs, cats, and all the animals, and finally (5) after 50 feet of dirt and shit came my existence in the world. 

On being released from the hospital, I rode the wheelchair out the door. I wasn’t so weak that I could not walk, but some kind of hospital policy. I thought this was hospital way of telling us,   hey look we know we are a shitty hospital but at least we give you people free wheelchair rides, come back again . I smiled. Mostly because of the thought which was in my head but also because, I felt that I have just been released from jail. I told the orderly that he will miss pushing me around, but that old guy didn’t even crack a smile.

SIX DAYS LEFT It is a scientific fact that when your room is cold, you tend to have nightmares. Which was quite poetic as in the month of December, where the whole country was experiencing cold chills, I experienced my life turning into a nightmare. Her flight was on first of January, and all I could think was;   how could she do this to   me? I had arranged my apartment with balloons and flowers and ribbons. I had placed scented candles with two cushions on the floor. In my mind, I just wanted to move past the drama of her parents and all the crying of yesterday. However, she had to ruin it all by moving to U.S.A.

‘Don’t cry baby.’ I kept repeating it. I was trying to figure out, the reason for her breakdown. She said she missed her parents, when she went back to her hometown. Then why did she come back so early. The scheduled return flight was for after the New Year’s. Many questions lingered in my head as I held her in my arms. I could feel the warmth of her tears on my chest as she pressed her face in me. I felt like she was trying to read my heart beat.