The world spins madly on…

It felt like she was still, and the world around her spinning. The pull of gravity was so strong, not even an earthquake would have shaken her from there. So close to having made it home, so close….

‘Is she ok? She looks like she’s been robbed…’

She could hear voices around her, hushed tones and wanted to ask them to shut the hell up, but her voice abandoned her when she needed it most…

‘Hello? Are you ok?’

‘Shhhhh!! I’m bghtejnfd’ She was pleased with the result of her effort. It had taken all her energy and will to utter those words, ‘I’m ok. I like it here’

‘Can we help you?? It’s really cold, you’ll freeze out here…’

She summoned her reserve energy once more, although how she had any left was a surprise. She opened her eyes a crack, and could barely make out a man and a woman, all heavily wrapped up in their coats and scarves and hats and…. Her eyes closed once more. Her cheek hurt, she wondered why.

Her mind was a beautiful blur of images, all random and yet so connected, and she was glad the people had left. She was happy on the steps outside her building, her world spinning madly on – with her at a standstill.

It was the cold wind that got her up the second time. More specifically, the violent shivering caused by the cold wind. She sat up, and looked around her. Her surroundings looked so familiar, yet so alien from the angle she was looking at. Why were all her things strewn around her??

Once more, the pull of gravity and her current, inebriated state of mind won the best of her, and back she went to hugging the steps, her cheeks grazing the cold, loose gravel.

‘She’s still here… We should help her up…’

Those darned voices again, they were back. This time with a dog. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Like she was in a position to harm anyone… Except herself maybe. But tonight had crossed all barriers she didn’t know had existed within her, and a sudden feeling of shame and annoyance enveloped her. This woke her up.

‘Here you go…’ The man handed her her wallet, and tried to help her up. What is it about alcohol, when had in abundance, that makes even the lightest of bodies so heavy to move?

‘Aww you came baaack…’ She uttered, and managed a smile at the man.

‘Of course. It’s really cold out, and we are worried. Where do  you live?’

She didn’t respond, like her mind was far away. She started gathering her possessions – random receipts, packet of tissues, chewing gum and hastily (at least in her mind it appeared to be at a speedy rate) stuffed them back into her bag. She was proud to note the fact that her house keys had been held tightly in her hand the whole time, although had now caused a deep key-shaped dent to be embedded into her palm.

‘You guys, I’m okay. Thank you so much for coming back. No really, thank you’. She tried getting to her feet, and almost managed. She sat back down and grinned. She tried again, with success this time.

‘No really, I live juuust here. Thank you so much. I’m fine really’. She wanted to add, ‘I think your hat is ridiculous by the way’ to the woman, but some sense of sanity, albeit belated, stopped her in time.

She stumbled into the building, managed to wait for the elevator, ride up to her apartment and collapsed on her bed. Her world spun again. Time stood still that day, when she awoke. She lay in bed; this time she was spinning, her world quite still.

She felt the same sense of shame, annoyance and utter disappointment at herself she had experienced earlier. Shame at the new low point she had encountered in her life, annoyance that she had let it take such a violent hold of her, and disappointment at her lack of control.

She had promised herself she would never be so lost again, but here she was, in an all too familiar situation. Although the last time she found herself in such a state was 4 years ago, and had hoped that would be the last. No one would ever get so close enough to have the power to hurt her, yet here she was. Wounded beyond recognition – but no visible scars, and this time it was she had who had hurt herself. No one else to blame, no outsider she could hold culpable. She had fallen off the straight and sober wagon, and she had pushed herself.

Her head hurt from all these thoughts and feelings that consumed her, and she closed her eyes – waiting for the day she would finally stand still.

 

 

2012
01/31
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There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be…

I did a piece a while ago,   ‘The one that got away’ , and decided to tweak the story and ending a bit. Hope it worked! 

He smiles as he gets on his feet, offering her his seat, and moves towards the doors. She looks haggard, and gratefully accepts with a smile in return. She puts down the large shopping bags with a tired sigh. He continues to look at her, without meaning to or realising. She gives him the smallest of smiles and looks out the window.

He wonders what she’s thinking. What are all those shopping bags for? Gifts for loved ones or a much needed shopping spree for herself? She would make a good mother, he thinks. He smiles as he has a random thought of her entering multiple shops and walking out with assistants trailing behind with bulks of those obnoxious shopping bags found at the most exclusive ’boutiques’. He stifles a laugh as he can’t imagine this toned-down, ordinary version of her doing that. He stares at his feet, still smiling. She would age well.

She can see his reflection in the tinted window, and wonders why he’s still staring at her, with the same smile glued on his face. She turns and sees him staring at his feet. He has kind eyes, she thinks. She wonders what he’s doing on this train at this time of day. Perhaps going to meet or pick up a loved one? A business meeting? He is certainly dressed smart, it could be either. For some reason she pictures it is her he has come to pick at the station, and when she gets off the train he runs towards her and grabs her tightly, not wanting to let go and they kiss passionately. Not caring who is watching, lost in their own world. She snaps out of her reverie and realises now she has the smile plastered on her face and is staring at him funny. He would age well. She looks out the window to hide further embarrassment of making eye contact.

He can feel her gaze on him, but doesn’t dare to look up and make eye contact, as if confirming the fact that they are both aware of the attraction between them. More curiousity than attraction. He wonders how it would matter anyway, nothing would come of it.

She sees his reflection staring at her again, and this time darts her head quick enough to catch his blue eyes on her. He smiles, unembarrassed and unashamed to be caught staring. She smiles back, a fuller, brighter smile and wishes the journey didn’t take so long. What was she thinking? This wouldn’t matter. Nothing would come of it. She knows this would be one of those ‘what if’ moments she’d store and file away in her memory, and refer to when she was thinking of nothing in particular.

Next stop, the train stops. He hopes this is her stop too, as he gets off as soon as the doors open, without looking back, just in case she saw his disappointment. It would be such a shame to leave it hanging like this.

She hopes it’s his stop too, as she begins to gather her shopping bags, but when has hope ever been enough to change the course of actions of others?

He walks slowly towards the exit barriers at the station, hands in pockets, deep in thought.

She gathers her bags and manages to leave the train just as the doors close, and in her hurry, does not notice he is no longer on the train. She heads towards the barriers.

He hears the rustling of bags, like someone struggling to hold and walk with them at the same time. He turns around…

She bends and picks up the one bag that has decided to elude her clutch and looks up.

He smiles at her. “Hey.”

2011
06/21
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He knows not his own strength that hath not met adversity.

He worked at that emergency helpline centre, day in day out, answering calls and reaching out to distressed road users. Whether as a voice of comfort, or advise, or simple passing along of information as needed. He desperately awaited the one call that would change his life. For better or for worse, it mattered not. It could not make it any worse than it already was.

“Yes ma’m. I understand. We will have our emergency team sent out to you right away…. Yes…  Please be sure to stay in your car, and wait for our car to help you out. Ok then, you take care now.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he hung up. She had a rich, silky voice. He imagined she was one of those beautiful naturally blonde women with perfect eyes, and a perfect nose, perfect dentures, perfect nails. The kind he’d always read about but neither had nor would have the opportunity of seeing. He sighed, it was just one of those things.

The phone rang again, and he sensed no one else was willing to utter those twelve words again.

“Hello. This is the  Emergency Roadside Assistance. How may I help you?”

He listened for a while, no comment.

“Yes, I am sure…. No, I have not seen this particular phenomenon, where the front of the car lets out sparks every time you switch on the engine. Have you considered taking it to a garage or arranging for a mechanic to pay a house visit?”

He listened patiently while the caller at the other end went on and on, exuding an attitude as though he had called the Queen and ended up speaking with the next-door gardener.

He waited patiently for the monologue to end. “Sir, you will find that you are speaking to some of the best professionals there are in the automotive department in the region. But if you do not mind, you are holding up the line for potentially endangered road users who may require our urgent assistance. I would advise you to please call your local garage to have your car checked. We cannot help you currently. Thank you for your call.” He hung up before the caller had a chance to respond, and grinned.

The late callers always made his day, with their senseless arguments and irrational judgement when it came to cars and their usage. He reflected back on the day’s events, so far no fatal emergencies, which was always a blessing. He asked someone vaguely for the time, and was told it was nearing 4pm.

Unintentionally, a rather heavy sigh escaped him, one his colleagues did not fail to notice.

“What’s up? Are you ok?” Someone at the back of the room asked, and he merely nodded in response. Afraid that if he uttered even a single word, he would shatter and his cool, controlled composure he had tried so hard to maintain would crumble, leaving him helpless and surrendered.

Once more the phone rang. He sensed people around him unwilling to answer once again, and sighed as he answered wearily. “Hello. This is the Emergency….”

“Yes, this is he. May I ask who’s calling?…… Oh.” His normally straight posture slumped slightly. Not out of fatigue; out of relief. “Are you sure? Wow, that… Yes I certainly can. Thank you, thank you!” He practically screamed into the phone, and had the entire office held captive by his words.

“I am getting my eyes….. I am finally getting them…” He lost all previous thoughts of losing the cool composure and wept. Wept for all those unseen, unfinished moments. Wept for the life that had passed him by. And wept ecstatically for the life waiting ahead. Things could only go up hill from here.

And he wept some more. For survival. For strength.

2010
10/05
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All good things are wild and free.

Intoxicating. Refreshing. Exciting.

All that you were. Are. Maybe will always be.

You spin your web so well, effortlessly.

Almost.

I see through your art and deceit, meant to be hidden.

Yet I am drawn, absorbed by the allure of all that you are.

Radiant. Positive. Unaware.

Or so you seem. Deceptive.

But you were never meant to be tamed.

Wild, resisting. So tempting.

You shake your mane. Aware of its seduction.

You take your pick.  Never satisfied.

Wanting more. Thirsty, obsessed.

Not one lingers longer than the last.

Without a choice. All fall short.

Alas, you were meant to run wild. 

2010
09/06
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But it’s no use going back to yesterday. I was a different person then.

What I would say to my 16-year old self, if I had the chance…

I would say nothing and everything I could. At times, I am a realist and seeing as the past cannot be changed, I would say ‘Keep doing what you’re doing kid, you’ll end up just fine.’  Probably the worst advice to tell a teenager!

Ask of me this when I am more idealist than realist, and I would tell myself a lot of things so that I end up making different choices and decisions, not necessarily good ones, but different so that different outcomes can be attained and different lessons learnt. I would tell myself to relax less and be a little less easy-going, and be more serious about studies and future plans. I would also tell myself to be less uptight and more calm. Which is weird because relaxing less and being calm don’t exactly go hand in hand. But then again, I am being an idealist here so I guess that’s allowed. I would also tell myself to stop feeling guilty and enjoy the feelings while they last, because they’re gone all too soon. I would also tell myself not to do things for fun, and do them because they mean something. Although doing things for fun can turn out to be meaningful, unintentionally. Be more passionate about ideas and causes, and don’t let anyone make you feel inferior.

And, being the reflector that I am at times, I would think about the advice I have just given my 16-year old self, and analyse why I said what I did say and how it would make any difference if I had in fact done what I have just advised myself to do. But then again, seeing as this is pure speculation and a conundrum for which there is no easy or right answer, I would be reminded of the quote from Alice in Wonderland, which is the title of this post.

And because there is no use going back to yesterday, I would not think about it any more and go and do things that I don’t want to regret not doing. But it is nice to just speculate and see how life would have panned out. Perhaps it makes the present sweeter, knowing you made all the right choices to lead you to where you are now and are glad that can’t be changed.

What would you tell your 16-year old self, and why?

2010
08/26
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Where’s the good in goodbye?

Tears were welling up in her eyes but she would not let me see them. She gave a quick hug, smiled and said goodbye and walked away without a second glance backwards. She thought I didn’t notice, but I know her better than she gives me credit for.  I stood there in the crowded station, people bustling past around us, and waited till she was out of sight to breathe a huge sigh – maybe regret, maybe grief, or just a lot of emotions for which there are no words.

I smiled at the thought of how much we had changed; she and I personally and together, since we first met. She had this incredible energy and zest for life, and had her inner child alive always. I, on the other hand, was quiet, shy, reserved and composed. She laughed, joked, said silly things and could be the most serious person I had ever come across, all in the span of five minutes. She was always herself, smarter than any woman I’d ever met, and never gave away her real sentiments when upset or sad. Instead, she had on this happy face for the sake of others, but I saw her eyes tell a different story. Of course, she never knew I noticed her that way. It was as though she had put up this wall from which she separated herself from the rest of the world.

As the nights turned into mornings, days into weeks, and eventually months, we grew close in a way no one could describe. We never needed words to convey how we felt, or why and for the first time in my life, I felt as though she was someone I could not ever bear to lose. She had mixed feelings from the first; she has been burned too many times in her life to think this would go any different. She slowly came round to the idea of us, when she realised I had no intention of ever hurting her. Of course, I was not the most expressive of people and I commend her for being patient and seeing through the shyness that possessed me every time she was around.

I think it’s funny how day by day nothing changes, but now when I look back, I realise everything was different. I am more open, relaxed and expressive than I ever was. Changes brought about by her, without my realising or her meaning to. I  ache to tell her that she means the world to me, but at this point in life, it would just make things worse. I choose to keep silent and it is probably the worst decision I have ever made. I walk to my platform to make my journey onwards, and it brings back the memory when, three years ago, I had made the journey to here.

I want to call her and ask her, ‘Where were you three years ago? Why do I have these feelings I never knew I was capable of? What have you done to me? I never want to say goodbye’. I know she is hiding her tears again, the wall is already being re-built and she is already going back to who she was when we first met. The grey clouds outside and ominous thunder I hear, threatening to unleash the rains, are oddly synonymous to my inner turmoil. I close my eyes for a moment as my vision blurs slightly, hating this new feeling that has possessed me. I hate goodbyes!

2010
07/20
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The rainbows of life follow the storm.

Nature is more than a scientist; an engineer. It is an artist.  Designing beautiful, bold and striking masterpieces – the universe, the solar system, the oceans. Even in destruction there is beauty. A hurricane, an earthquake, a volcanic eruption. These are devastating occurrences that cause endless pain and suffering to those that are affected. On the other hand, these very calamities bring about a sense of excitement; a rush of adrenaline at the mere mention of them to those whose livelihoods depend on these very phenomenons occurring. An onlooker no doubt will have different emotions and experiences as compared to those directly affected. Yet these experiences exist, within the same time, due to the same cause and reason, and are so varied in nature they become incomparable.

Relationships are much like nature; scientific, engineered with a hint of an artistic flair. Beautiful and ugly. Calm and turbulent. Successful and ruining. Exhilarating and depressing. Enriching and destructive. Complete and lacking. All at the same time, viewed within the same time frame. Only from different angles.

How we live in a world of bias, misunderstandings, prejudice, mistrust and untruths! It leaves so little room for love, nurturing, care, trust and happiness to abide within people and the boundaries of their relationships with one another. Misunderstandings can rock a person’s world without the earth having to shake. Mistrust can cause a storm within people without the need for a hurricane. Lies erupt and cause havoc worse than a volcano, whose repercussions can be dealt with much more easily than the wounds caused by the untruths told.

As there is that calm after a storm too, an after-beauty to the havoc caused by nature; so it is in relationships as well. There is the calm after the turbulence. The serenity after the turmoil and the hope of new beginnings after an unseen end. These will always be there. The perspectives and different angles with with we view them will always be the same. But the truth is, each relationship is different. Within each is a story so unique, so intertwined that it becomes impossible to try and unfold the layers under which the essence of it lies. Each person has their own story to tell, add to that the element of understanding and familiarity that each is bound to contain, the relationship holds a story so deep, a history so rich and a bond so indescribable, it becomes impossible for an onlooker from the outside to be the judge of it, or of its fate or of the people involved in it. Very much like the experiences had by an onlooker and a direct victim of natural disaster, no matter how much the onlooker will try to relate to the relationship or try to understand it, he will invariably walk away with a much biased and different opinion than it actually should be.

Don’t be quick to judge! Don’t try and put yourselves in others’ shoes, it is impossible. Don’t try and rationalise and dissect others’ lives. There is too much chaos and uncertainty in our own lives to be poking noses in others’.  Fill the holes in your own stories; relationships. Make sure each story is worth unfolding. Nature teaches us time and again, life is too short to be anything but happy. A lesson we fail to grasp. Repeatedly.

2010
06/10
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Lives of quiet desperation

He looked across the sea, the sun burning his bare back as he leaned against the railing.

He wondered how he was going to get out of this mess, again.

How could he explain the adrenaline rush, the high, the feeling of power when he gambled?

He sighed as he turned away from the serene blue water, so unlike the turmoil in his mind and dialed her number.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

She tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any comfortable position to sleep in.

The day’s events kept running through her mind; sleep eluding her for the third night running.

What they were doing was wrong, and it had gone on too long. The sneaking, the hiding, the stolen moments…

She sighed as she looked at the time, got out of bed and picked up the phone and dialed his number.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

He looked at her, unwillingly but equally unable to tear his gaze away from those big blue tear-filled eyes.

They had decided this day would come inevitably, no turning back, yet he felt uneasy going through with it.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, though he was sure she was doing it more for her own consolation than his.

He sighed as he picked up the phone and dialed the doctor’s number.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

2010
06/08
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Life is the art of drawing without an eraser.

Have you ever tried making something? Or writing a piece of fiction? Tried to stitch together a piece of clothing from scratch? Or even painting or drawing something? What’s the first thought that crosses your mind once you’ve made the decision? More often than not, it’s a mental image of what the finished piece in question will look like.

Then you go on to attempt making it / writing it / putting it together. There are always hardships on the way. Something unexpected crops up, something goes wrong through no fault of your own. Or you simply realise your envisioned piece of art will not turn out the way you wanted and hoped despite your best efforts because of a few technicalities, and it simply wouldn’t have worked. So you set about alternative routes, suddenly feeling adventurous after having abandoned the inital route as you know it’ll end up being something else anyway. When you are finally done and behold the masterpiece, what do you feel? Satisfaction with yourself and your efforts, and pleased that the efforts were worth it? Undeniably you will be saddened by the fact that the actual final piece and the one you had first imagined vary slightly, or even greatly, but then when you look at it again you’re glad it turned out the way it did because what you hold in your hand is way better than you’d have expected, and all that pain and effort and sorrow was worth it.

Life is just the same. You start out with great ideas in mind of where you want your life to be headed, what you want to be doing, what you wish to achieve in certain time periods. And all these are visions that you carry in your mind each day and aim to work towards. Yet, as the days, the weeks, the months go on, there are unexpected hurdles in your path, obstacles you hadn’t planned for and need to find other routes around and sometimes the route you took leads you to a whole new dimension in your life. And you stand there and look back at how you got there. At the end, more often than not, you feel satisfied and glad you are where you are, and the hurdles and obstacles were worth it.

This happens not once, or twice nor a dozen times in our lives, but at each step of the way. We reach a certain age or point in our lives when we learn that lesson that life is rarely what we expect it to be, and that it isn’t an easy ride and there will constantly be battles to be fought, hurdles to overcome and difficult choices to make, especially when it comes to choosing which bridges to burn and which to cross, which doors to close forever and which ones to take a chance on, with all you’ve got. Even though were are conscious of that lesson, we still tend to hope and expect life to be the way we have envisioned it.

Why?

2009
06/20
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Box of memories

As I sit down and buckle myself into the seat, I look out the window and think back to the events of the day. Did I close all the accounts before I left? Did I leave any switches on? Hopefully not… Have I locked the front door and checked it? Pretty sure I have, thorough that I am. I heave out a heavy sigh and move my arm from the arm rest as the rightful passenger of the seat arrives to claim it. I smile at him and revert to looking out the window. I’m not sure I can be good company for this journey.

It has been a strange day, eventful in all the little things and if put together, just another day. Nothing significant. I cleaned and aired out all the rooms one last time. Made all the necessary phone calls to all the relevant companies and departments to close our accounts. Cleaned out the cupboards and drawers and kitchen shelves. Cleaned and dusted the whole house. Went to the bank. Did all the last minute shopping I needed to. I have done so much in such little time, I wonder why I can never be as efficient on other more demanding days. Is it that I was impatient to get out? Or was I rushing through the chores for fear of stopping and being overwhelmed, knowing I wouldn’t continue once I sat and let the emotions take over?

It’s not that I am sad I’m leaving. It’s all the memories, the people I shared them with, the happiness, the ups and downs had in the house that I will miss.  It has been a very tough year, more downs than ups for each of us alone and together. But we’ve pulled through somehow. I am always the last to leave any house, the burden of final responsibility always falls on me. I realise that I don’t mind it. It’s the one area of my life where I am in complete control of the situation at hand.

I mentally swear as I remember I had to return a phone call. Ah well, there’s nothing to be done about it now. If it was that important they’d have called back. The thought of phone calls reminds me of my last conversation with him. I smile. He is so great, calm and knows exactly what to say when I’m having my mood swings. I wish he wasn’t so far away though. Long distance is not easy, but we’ve both worked hard at it. The last time he was here with me seems like eons ago, though it was only 2 months ago I saw him off at the airport. I miss him. But he has been worth every mile of this 4000+ mile journey I’m making now.

I think back one more time to all the things I did and whether I forgot anything vaguely important. As I mentally picture the house, the kitchen, my room, only one image comes to mind. The box I left on the floor by the bed. The last image I take with me before I flip the light switch off and shut the door. It feels like I’ve left a box of memories lying on the floor like that, and a piece of my heart with it. It’s just as well. I don’t think I have it in me to keep so many memories and still have room for more to come. When I return I’ll open the box, returning the memories back where they belong, in my memory. For now, I’m going to collect new ones. I think of him waiting at the end of this journey and cannot wait. I stare out the window, still smiling, as the plane taxis down the runway and up into the endless, cloudless sky.

2009
06/03
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© Whirlwind of Emotions, [2009-2011]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to this blog site and author of Whirlwind of Emotions, with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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