Coffee house…

“Hello Shalu…”, said the male voice on the other end. Shalini recognized the voice instantly. She had heard it many times before. The number was new, not what she had saved on her phone as, ‘Think before you pick’.

“Hello Gopal…”.

“I am in Trivandrum, shall I come over for sometime?”, he asked. She wanted to ask ‘why’. Common sense prevailed and she quickly got into the skin she had shed ten years ago.

“Okay Gopal. Let us meet at Coffee Day at Kowdiar”. Shalini had moved apartments almost every other year when the rent went up. With her meagre salary from the job at the library, she could afford only so much. She tried to live as close as possible to the library, so she could walk and get her legs move. It felt eons ago when she drove her Audi car into the driveway of the public library at Houston to drop off books. She did not want Gopal to see her current living conditions.

“Ok at 4.30?”, he asked.

She looked at the clock and saw that it was 3.30 in the afternoon. It gave her enough time to dress up and get an auto to get to Kowdiar.

“Yes, 4.30 is fine.”

Shalini seldom heard from Gopal, maybe two or three times in the last ten years. She had shut that door when she walked out of the house with two bags of her clothes and jewellery. She left everything behind. The sprawling house, the luxury, friends, her job, she had left it all.

She got to the coffee house on time and saw Gopal sitting at a table. He looked younger than she remembered. Life had treated him well. She thought she should have colored her hair, she was greying everywhere. The little make up she put on, did not conceal her wrinkles. She turned to look at the glass door and saw the reflection of an old woman.

“Hello…”, she said and sat down across Gopal. He looked up from his phone and smiled.

“How are you Shalu?”

“I am good, and you?”

“I am doing very well. How did you come?”

“I took an auto. Are you in Trivandrum for work?”

“No, my wife’s family lives in Trivandrum, so I came to visit them”.

“Oh!”, said Shalini and instantly regretted the reaction.

“I have been married for about three years. She is from Trivandrum, moved to Houston after the marriage…”

“You live in the same house?”

“No, I sold it. I live in another neighborhood now.”

“Are you happy?”, quipped Shalini.

“Yes Shalu. I am happy.”, said Gopal, looking down at this hands.

“Good for you…”, said Shalu, with a tinge of jealousy and self pity.

“And you?”

“I work at the library, live with books, write when I can. It’s going on… Why did you want to meet me, after all these years?”

Gopal was silent for a few minutes. The waiter came, we ordered our coffee and I looked up at Gopal, waiting for the answer.

“Shalu… I wanted to thank you…”, said Gopal.

“For what?”, wondered Shalu.

“For leaving me….”

Shalini burst out laughing.

“I realized that when you left me, you were giving me back my freedom.”

“And you realized that now? After ten years??”

“Took me a while… you know me…”, said Gopal coyly.

“Gopal… it was obvious to me like it was to you, that we were not meant to be. I don’t know why we decided to get married in the first place. I tried in my way and you tried in your way, but the puzzle never fit. I waited for a long time for you to leave. I understood that you were scared and I had to be the one to let go. It was not what I wanted to do, but I had to do, to give us both our sanity. I was getting sucked in my depression and you didn’t want to hear about it. The best thing was to stay away. I never met your expectations, you looked at every other woman and thought what a wonderful woman and wife she is. It is not that I am bad, it’s just that I was never enough for you, I always fell short… anyways, there is no point of talking about all that and digging the past… bottomline is you are happy now. I am glad I could give you atleast that.”

Gopal took Shalini’s hands in his, looked into her eyes and said, “I am sorry”.

The waiter brought their coffee. Shalini withdrew her hand and sipped at her coffee. She avoided eye contact with Gopal and looked at others who occupied the coffee house. They drank their coffee in silence deep in their own thoughts. When Shalini was done with hers, she got up, smiled at Gopal and left the coffee house, without looking back.

Now, it was truly over.

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where is she?

Switch off the loud music upstairs
Its not very endearing at ten in the night
The beats drumming into her head
Like the other beats over so many days
The security watching over her entry and exit
The happy friend who turns it into humour
It is a constant wave of emotions
She rides unaware
Blank
The growing one pounces on her with attitude
Again
White haired sits mum
Words sealed in the mind
Little tantrums wants a slice of her
Each day
Every day
He beside her is riding his own wave
Clashing with hers at different depths of the sea
As she finds herself drowning, something pushes her up for air
The pillars are around, supporting like ever
All she has to do is lean
There is the dwelling, about to be born
Nurtured in the womb cared for day after day
Soon it will be born to open a pandora of memories
Where is she?
Hidden in these words, riding the waves
Sometimes under, sometimes over
The wings are tired, they want to rest
On a shoulder strong enough to bear the weight
Of lifelessness!

Believe..

All I can say is, dreams do come true and believe in yourself, no matter what the world tells you!! There have been so many people I know and don’t know who have told me how dumb my writing is. I have had people ask me, why do you write, what is the point? There have been many many (repeated word for emphasis) publishers who have sent me automated emails of rejection without even looking at my work. There have been people who have mocked at me and said, you call this poetry? There were some who said so you wrote another maid’s story. Sometimes these comments have put me down, to be honest. I have thought maybe I am not cut for writing.

A recent workshop I attended put the devils to rest, when the group who attended the workshop and the instructor told me, that they loved my characters and content. The Writers League of Texas bolstered my spirit by giving me this signing booth. Finally I am out in the public, standing beside my books. It has taken time and a ton of resolve to stick my head above the water. This simply leads me to believe, that the most important thing is to believe in yourself. Period.

Excited to share the news that, Writers League of Texas is giving me a 45 minute signing slot at their booth during the Texas Book Festival in Austin.

From the website – One of the largest and most prestigious literary festivals in the country, the annual Texas Book Festival features 250+ nationally and critically recognized authors, 20+ venues including the State Capitol, 100+ exhibitors, local food trucks, family activities, and countless opportunities to meet authors and fellow book lovers.

https://www.texasbookfestival.org/2018-texas-book-festival…/

I will be there from 10am to 10.45am on Oct 27th!!

 

Judgemental

This word is very beautifully explained in the movie English Vinglish in the climax scene. The protagonist of the movie has overcome her inner conflict and is telling a newly wed couple of how a family should not be judgemental. I clapped at the end of the scene.

When I look back at the almost-a-lifetime relationships I have, I see that the strength of these relationships lies in the fact that the other person or me are not judgemental about each other. We may not agree about everything, but we do not pass a judgement on their character. That is precisely why the relationship has lasted so many years.

When a person passes a judgemental remark you want to steer clear of them, that’s basic human instinct, I think. They may want to help you become a better person, because they definitely see what you cannot see. But there is a sensitive way to put it across. At the end of the day what you want to preserve is the relationship and not correct that one trait.

If you are a person who doesn’t care about such remarks, good for you. Cheers! There are those sensitive, emotional, humbugs like me, where attacks on character are like that bell inside your head which refuses to shut off. At every instance of the action, the bell goes off and one part of your mind is telling you, just do it. It’s a crazy conflict to have, in time this too shall pass. Probably there are people out there whose self-confidence could be shaken.

Ever wondered why these relationships are so complicated to make and maintain? You cannot live without them and sometimes with them 😉…

To lifetime relationships, don’t judge, there is too much at stake.