Friday Word: Fear

She stared at the creature in front of her. She realized she was rooted to the spot unable to move and simply staring into its eyes without blinking. It was reciprocating with a similar stare, as if playing bluff to see who moved first. A thousand thoughts raced through her head, can they smell fear? Was she close enough for it to smell her fear? She mentally reprimanded herself for drifting off topic instead of deciding how to approach the creature in front of her.

She was scared, that was for sure, petrified perhaps for the first time in her life. She should have known better then taking a walk in the dark in these parts which was the creature’s favorite haunt. She let out a sigh and shut her eyes for a brief instant before jolting them open. It was gone. She jumped up in lightening and went around in circles wondering if it was sneaking up from behind her. No, not behind her, suddenly she was going in more circles trying to see if it was exactly behind her and moving with her. No that wasn’t it either. She looked up before chiding herself, its not like the creature could fly or even climb trees. What was she thinking? She quickly consoled herself, fear makes a person go crazy, she was simply having a few irrational thoughts, it was allowed.

She turned around to spot a clear path between her and the house, quickly calculated the distance and the time it would take. She took a deep breath and decided it was time to make a run for it, and so she did. She ran like she hadn’t run in years. She ran like her life depended on it and it probably did, lest the creature apprehend her again.

She heard a faint noise and turned just in time to see the creature gaining on her. His determined set of eyes instilled greater fear in her and she was suddenly afraid she wasn’t going to make it. She stumbled and fell and began mentally praying to God to forgive her for all her sins, asking for a chance to confess all her minor glibs to her parents etc when she heard a voice.

“Dew, stop, DEW!!”

She opened one eye hoping against hope, and saw the creature stopped merely inches away from her.

“Dew SIT”

It sat huffing and puffing, and then ambled towards her, causing her to squirm and began praying again. It licked her face. Now most would think a dog is showering the person with affection when it licks your face, she was one of those few who knew it was merely expressing regret at being unable bite and taste the person so was settling for a lick instead.

“Honestly, girl its only a dog. A pint sized dog at that, how can it possible scare you?”

She shrugged, mentally thanking her stars and guardian angels and everyone else in a speech that would possibly rival the longest of award function speeches for saving her that day and followed her savior into the house. She also conveniently agreed that since she had been given more time to live she should set right the minor glibs instead of confessing to them. That having been sorted, she happily followed her savior into the house

Dots and then some

Note: In lieu of my increasingly sporadic blog entries, I was assigned the word "dots" last week by a friend and told to write something...So here it is, I wrote something.Err after the initial comments i realized i need to specify ITS FICTION.. IT DIDNT HAPPEN TO ME U GUYS

One never expects something simple to leave a permanent mark in your life, a single incident that inspires such strong emotions that you are never fully able to get past it. Well such an incident did occur in my life and I still remember it as vividly as it was yesterday.

I had gone through a quarter life crisis of sorts and done a complete make-over of my life, or atleast attempted one. New job, new city and a whole new set of friends, sometimes you think that is all it takes to get a new life doesnt it? Well one often forgets that the good thing about the old is that its familiar and familiarity may breed contempt but atleast it saves you from incidents like what I am about to narrate.

A few colleagues at work had invited me to a Friday night Dinner that they said they were hosting to welcome me, into their group, into their lives, into the company and to the city. I was excited and nervous, well I dont care what the world's philosopher's say, first impressions do matter and this one was important to me. Very simply I needed to make a good impression on the people I'd be seeing all day at work and more importantly this whole new city new life plan was starting to stare at back at me with some gaping flaws. For instance believe it or not trying to make over your life is easier then making over your personality and a shy quiet person like me finds it difficult to go out and make friends. I wasnt going to perch myself at a coffee shop and try and make friends with random strangers now was I? Who knows what psychoes lurked within them. So this day and this event was rather important to me.

Nervous as I was, I left an hour early. Big mistake considering that my "friend"'s house was only 25 minutes away. I didnt want to be late, what kinda impression would that make so I was early and I sat and nervously fiddled in my car for a few minutes, drove around the neighborhood for a few more minutes and wiled away the time. I perched myself outside their door for a few minutes till it was 8pm on the dot when I rang the bell.

Loud cheers welcomed me into the house and easy conversation flowed soon after. I relaxed my guard, I can do this I thought to myself, they are a great bunch of people and things seem to be flowing well. I soon found myself in the kitchen getting a drink when one of the girls, walked in and asked for my help in pouring the ketchup. I shrugged and proceeded to help her, pouring the ketchup out.

Her eyes grew wide and she said slowly, "You poured it in a puddle."
I stared at the ketchup and said, "Excuse me?"
"You poured the ketchup in a puddle. Who makes a puddle. You are supposed to make neat little dots. Dont you know anything?" Her hand started shaking and her voice grew hysterical as she continued, repeating the same thing over and over again, "its a puddle, its a puddle."

I stared in dismay, who pours ketchup in dots? How do you pour ketchup in dots?

Soon others started filing into the kitchen and shaking their heads at me while trying to calm the girl down. Someone grabbed the plate and hid it from her view and tried to calm her down. She for her part was growing more and more hysterical, "Puddles, puddles" I think her vocabulary had limited itself to just those two words now, "puddles and dots".

"What did you do?" came an angry whisper.

"poured the ketchup," I stammered in reply.

"In PUDDLES?" err how else does one pour ketchup? I suddenly longed for the familiarity of my friends and family who didnt pour ketchup in neat little dots.

I think someone finally took pity on my ashen face as I stared at the drama unfolding before and burst out laughing. That person was mighty scorned at as I believe the group had wanted to extend the drama for a few days more and see me squirm in discomfort.

Turned out it was some sort of initiation proceeding that they had come up with to break the ice. I chuckled nervously that day and left the house in a daze.

Of course the lot of us grew to be close friends, for they had already made me squirm, turn ashen, tremble in fear, pace in nervousness? How much more could they do to me right?

I still hesitate when asked to pour ketchup and the lot of them still laugh at the hesitation and remind me to "Pour in perfect dots and not a puddle."

Somehow puddles, dots and ketchup have left an indelible mark on me and believe me it was a while before i even ate ketchup again.

Barsaat

Note: Friday word as per Mona is Rain
Rain is one of my favorite topics. I wrote about it when it came to Clouds, in the flower-at-anniversary post, the-day-off, the void, the rain.

I cant think of anything new yet, maybe over the weekend..

Note: Friday Word as Per Mona is Belly!!

The two children sat huddled together, a little nervous and a little scared, who wouldn’t be if they were adrift in the ocean. They had been playing on their uncle’s small rowboat imagining they were pirates on great adventures, when the rope had come loose. It was an isolated pier and before long, they rued their idea of trying to anchor the boat back safely, instead of swimming to shore, for now they were too far to swim back. The land was fast fading from sight as the waves pushed them further and further from land.

They huddled together out of fear as the seas got choppy, and kept their eyes peeled for any one to ask for help. They took turns staring at the water around them and the skies above them, in hopes of a rescue effort, in the hope that by dinner time their presence was missed at home and their family would come looking for them.

Hungry and thirsty, they stared at the open sea in despair. They bent carefully over the side of the boat and not knowing better, took hasty sips of salty water hoping to quench their thirst. They had tried desperately to row using their hands but soon realized their tiny hands could not make oars for the rowboat. They huddled together, tired and attempted to imagine what being rescued would be like. Would they get yelled at? Would their mother be so relieved to see them again that she would embrace them with tears and cook their favorite food for a week? They talked excitedly of how their friends would be jealous of their real life adventure and how they would brag excitedly about the same.

They made a pact to never admit to anyone how scared they were and would talk about how much fun they had. They contemplated quite seriously the idea of including the exaggeration of catching fish with their bare hands to survive but then decided that would be a bit much. In all this conversation they failed to sense the boat had been rocking harder, the water around them getting choppier as it splashed higher along the sides of the boat.

A loud boom shocked them out of their revelry and forced them to come to terms with the reality of their situation. They were stranded in the middle of the sea yet to be rescued. They both started screaming as a mountain appeared to surface from the water out of no where. That mountain opened its mouth and seemed to swallow the ocean whole. At least that part of the ocean that they were in, for before they knew it they were falling, like the roller coaster rides they always wanted to ride on into darkness.

They tried bawling at the top of their voices for help or simply wailing in desperation, but the echoes in that dark cave inside the mountain were scarier, hence prompting them to shut up. Not that keeping quiet, made all the sounds stop, for scary rumblings appeared periodically from the mountain itself. This prompted them to come closer and huddle harder. They whispered, wondering whether the uncles in the coast guard would be able to find them here, inside the mountain. They stared at each other in despair and argued in hushed whispers at the notion that the mountain itself was moving, sometimes up and down and sometimes forward (which ever direction that was).

Both children were completely soaked and a chill was about to set in when suddenly out of nowhere light re-appeared, the cave disappeared. They turned around to find a frowning mother staring at them.

“NO MA, its not time for us to be rescued yet.”

“Will the two of you get out of the bathtub. How many times have I told you not to play in the bathroom like this. Look, both of you are completely soaked and you splashed water everywhere.”

The two children groaned. “We are not in the bath tub, we were in a rowboat that got swallowed by a whale. So technically we are in the belly of the whale.”

“The belly of the whale indeed.” Grimaced the mother, wondering why her two children insisted on such outrageous ideas for a Sunday afternoon. She sighed in resignation that while other mothers argued with their children about playing ball or catch in the house. Her children were off having make believe adventures in the belly of the whale. Belly of the whale indeed!!

Clouds

Friday Word as per Mona is Clouds

He felt a cool breeze coming through his window and was surprised. It was absolutely rare to feel such a breeze in the sizzling summer heat. He took a break from his desk and walked up to the window. He glanced outside and an instant smile broke out, he stood there admiring the view and staring at the clouds that had gathered outside. In a few minutes having emerged from his moment of happiness he called out to his colleagues and they gathered there.
There was talk of chai and pakodas, there was talk of a moment of respite from the heat that had gotten unbearable in the past few days. There was rejoicing and suddenly the quiet office had broken out into a cheerful atmosphere and work was resumed with an energy that had been previously lacking. Every single person there hoped the clouds outside would give way to rain, that the clouds were here to stay.

He too had been hard at work when he noticed the cool breeze. He was working in the open air so it didnt take long for him to look up and notice the clouds. He swore at himself for not noticing it sooner, for not realizing that the hot sun had given way to the shade. He laughed at himself for simply ignoring it thinking he had gotten used to the sun. Does one ever get used to the sun?
He stared at the clouds, the dark gloomy gray nature, and their shape wondering if it would rain.
These clouds brought no joy to the farmer's heart but a dread that was stealthily creeping in and encompassing his heart. He collapsed on his knees in the middle of his field, on the verge of tears and begged for mercy. He begged that it not rain. For a drizzle would do no harm but a torrential rain shower could destroy his fledgeling crop leaving his field a wasteland and driving him deeper in debt. Just as it had last year. His neighbor Shyamlal had commited suicide, driving his wife to first sell her daughter to some men from the city and then her son. Finally she too had killed herself. He knew that if it rained, he would not be so selfish to end his life alone. If it came to that, they would all kill themselves. But for now he begged for mercy, for it to not rain, for the clouds to go away.

Spring!!!!!!

Note: Friday word as per Mona is Spring

She woke up to a sound that she hadnt heard in a long time, it was a bird chirping. She sat up suddenly in bed and sprinted out her bedroom door. She ran, not heeding her mother's screaming to not run like the house was on fire, specially since it wasnt. "How unladylike," muttered her exasperated mother.
She quickly flung the door open and was filled with wonder at the sight that greeted her eyes. The birds were back.
She galloped back into the kitchen to grab a pitcher of water to fill up the birdbath, yes the clumsy fool literally galloped nearly running into and over a few objects. The birds were back!! The birds were back!!!
She stopped dead in her tracks, afraid to make any noise or even breathe too loudly. For not only were the birds back, the rabbit was too. The elusive rabbit that occasionally visited their backyard was back and she didnt want to scare it away.
She spent the day in absolute and wondrous chaos. Her mind was racing faster then her words could keep up. Her words and mouth faster then her poor mother could keep up.
"Oh Ma, we have so much to do. Lets see weeding comes first. I really would like to do something about the back part. But not to get ahead of myself. Lets hope the roses and lilies come up fine. The hostas and day lilies there need to be divided, they really look like a jungle on fire. Fire, get it, cuz of their vivid color. Ok Ok no more silly jokes
Ma, pay attention and focus. I really do want to get peonies this year ma.. can we please get some peonies. Ok Ok Dont glare at me, not some peonies, how about a single plant. Ma you know how wonderful they smell and nothing else blooms at that time, the garden is absolutely devoid of color. Yes Yes, at the other end so the bees wont enter your house, but ma one peony bush.
Oh Oh we have to plant the sweet peas again, the creepers look gorgeous on the patio wall. The tulips, mom look the tulips, daffodils and that lone crocus is starting to come up. We are going to have our first spring flowers soon. yipee!!
Oh can we also get that big tub. No dont stare at me like I am crazy Ma not the tub but keg. Ok not a beer keg but looks kinda like that. Dont frown, I am not an idiot I know what a beer keg is Ma. No Ma I dont drink beer but dad does remember. No I know he doesnt drink from a keg. MOM!! Focus!! The keg with water lilies. PLease Ma? I really want one of those with water lilies.
Oh and can we get another white rose bush? Yes Yes But you know dad really loves roses and our last white ones got pollinated to pink. No NO This year I will plant them in the front yard, far away from the red and yellow roses. No we are not growing a rose garden. Oh look another rabbit."

With that the mother gave up on her spring-crazy child and went back in the house to work in the kitchen.
Spring was here, she sighed, soon she would be able to bring out the sprinkler and set that up again, not to mention fertilizer and plant food needed to be picked up. She stared at the backpart wondering if her siblings owed her any favors. Could she get them to help...hmmmm..
As she sat in deep thought, someone called out to her and she woke with a start again. This time firmly in bed, in a country where spring was an alien thought and 105 degree summer was beginning.

Step

Friday word as per Mona is Step

My day started out fabulously. I didnt have my usual dream last night, for the first time in a while, I was glad it was morning. I was ready to get going with the day.
Then as it usually happens with me, I saw an oppurtunity to test myself and I did. Lets just say I came so close to passing, so close, so close. Yet, as in life almost doesnt count. You either pass or you fail and I failed..
First I was irritated, infuriated and then I started telling twin about what happened and I laughed in the midst of it. Why? Because I knew I was stupid. I was doing this to myself.

I realized and admit the fact that I was sounding angry because I was hurting and being silly enough to hide that. That is a silly reason to be angry.

When you get into an argument with someone on an unequal footing, you're asking for it.
When you get into an argument with someone who will at best see u as an annoyance or irritation, but who can hurt you on a large scale. Heck you're fairly stupid and asking for it.

How does this connect to step, well I smiled to myself and said, one step at a time, one day at a time, one problem at a time. I came close and next time around, I will make it through. I will make it without letting someone rattle me, upset me or shred me apart. I will make it through and make it to the equal footing where that person can no longer hurt me. If I dont, I still win because caring about someone doesnt make you lose (I think i used it right this time). Next time that person hurts me, (unintentinally albeit) I will walk away rather then mask it with anger and make things worse or pretend I am superhuman and can handle it.

Its a rather public promise to myself, so I am hoping I will remember to keep it

No, no story, no prose, just a promise to myself, one step at a time. I am going to be that much closer.

Friday Word - Dance

Note: The friday word - Dance is assigned by Mona

The Dance of Life

A faltering step left, a hesitating step right
Sometimes carefully choreographed
And sometimes a simple fanciful flight

The energy that springs from within
The movements full of hope and dreams
Looking beyond what had once been

The pain sometimes an abyss that never ends
The fears and tears shrouding in to each other
The steps amok, panicking as the limb bends

Like a puppet, forever dancing to someone else’s string
Losing themselves in the crowd, yet alone
Thinking it is their own steps that from emotion spring

They dance till they can dance no more
Soon forgotten and forgetting what they danced for

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She stared at the attic, and sighed at the mess she had to clear out. After her mother's passing away last month, she had resisted against this moment, but inevitably resigned herself. They were putting the house up for sale next month and she had to clear the attic and decide which of the memories she wanted to keep and which throw out.

She smiled softly at her own thoughts, throwing things out didn't necessarily mean you threw out the memories that went with. No these things were just silly reminders that would probably mean nothing to the ones that came after. Yet, she was a hoarder, one thing her mom and husband both disliked about her. She kept everything.

As she looked at the neatly stacked boxes wondering where to begin, she saw a few boxes with her name on it. There were so many things she left behind in this house when she got married and started a new life. Gradually had she forgotten all about them too involved in her daily life. She hesitated and yet was eager to relive some of those memories of simpler times.
After a few boxes filled with memories of school, ribbons and trophies, homework assignments and crazy art work, she found something carefully wrapped in black velvet.
They contained a pair of dancing shoes. As she carefully held the shoes in her hand, the vivid memories suddenly assaulted her. The lilting melodies, the quiet dances in her backyards, the shy glances and the stolen kisses.
She remembered to date, how they would sit for hours talking quietly watching the sun set. She would put her head on his shoulders and he would gently sing to her. He had a melodious voice that transported her to the beautiful world he sang about. She could still hear its echo in her head, for it was a voice that haunted. They would dance quietly in the moonlight as he hummed their song and then parted ways.
It was one such night, that they had danced. She remembered the quiet desperation that had mounted within her, finally bursting as the tears streamed down her cheeks. He let her cry, holding her in his arms, as closely as he could. He finally said goodbye and walked out of the backyard, stopping in his tracks once, but never looking back at the girl he left behind.
She had known then it would be their last dance for they would never be together. Yet, he was her first love and nothing could take that away.

They had parted ways that night, with the last dance and gone on to lead seperate happy lives. She had found her husband and fallen in love all over again. She was definitely happy, yet one doesnt give away a place in the heart that easily, nor can one take it back once given. He would always occupy a place in her heart, and ever so often a haunting melody would remind her of him and the times they had shared dancing in the moonlight.

She didnt realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks, she wiped them away, just in time. Throwing away these things couldnt take the memories away from her, she smiled and put the dancing shoes in the box of things to be discarded.

Cake and Tea filling dreams

Note: I apologise for any sentiments I may have hurt when I said guys wouldnt feel this way. I didnt mean to imply guys are incapable of feelings or are insensitive.. simply that most men are analytical and logical. Even if they are hurting they do not show it much less walk to a door daily and debate.. those feelings i thought were not characteristic of a man.. neways lesson learnt


The Friday Word as assigned by Gary, is Tea.

A cup of tea in the morning
starts the day out right
A cup of tea served with love
makes a bad day seem all right

Tea brewing in the kitchen
brings the memories back
of simpler times, of childhood
when sipping tea got me a smack

That is all I got. Surprisingly I dont drink tea but its one of the first things i learned how to make back then... and for the longest time besides maggie the only culinary skill i possessed was to make a good cup of tea.

My 250th post, also give or take a few days, its right around a year to the beginning of this blog that few might remember started out as "Life or something Like it" and seems to have settled into being Pathjhar. Also a good time to thank Sanjay, one of my first readers who still surprisingly comes around...and everyone else who has become a part of this strange world that is my blog.

Oh:

Seeking God? Look no further. Dharmendra Mishra (30) from Kurla has demanded the government recognize him for the diety he is. The ultimate unifier for all religions claims he is Buddha, Christ and Vishnu rolled into one. His wife is Laxmi incarnated. Frustrated with all his claims falling upon deaf ears. He has demanded they give him cyanide for he will not die and thus prove his divinity.

At the risk of being blasphemous, this goes back to my earlier question, we live in such a day and age, that if God were to walk amongst, we wouldnt believe it. Not that I am saying Mr Mishra there is God, for I would think, God wouldnt feel the need to trumpet his existence, definitely not with a high court order, or demanding that the reigns of the government be handed over to him along with United Nations.

Totally random different note:

Dreams are a manifestation of our subconscious mind. Yes!! I have heard that statement from a lot of people over the last one month. The reason being my recurring dreams. Its not the same dream, its just focused around the same theme. (Lets not discuss the theme here.. )
Yes I know they are a manifestation of me, and the subconscious me, which is why my dreams are bizarre, wacky and out there... WAY out there.

Last year I had 3 weeks of nightmares, before I finally acknowledged what I was trying to tell myself. It took 3 weeks of nightmares, where I woke up literally scared to death each night, before I acknowledged what my mind was trying to tell me.

The problem this time around is that as of today its been 37 days. 37 days and more if not as many dreams around the same theme. People tell me, I am doing it to myself.. gee golly whiz really? I am really doing this to myself? Its not as if I have turned my back to the problem, I just dont know what I should be doing differently to make the freakin dreams stop.

The funny thing is, I am sleeping better then I have in ten years. Ten years of being an insomniac, of sleepless restless nights with interrupted sleep and here I am, with the best sleep in a long time yet plagued by "these" dreams.

Its almost amusing because my first coherent thought each morning (right after "shit its morning") is doing a mental check of what my dream was.

The point of this? I dont know any one know how to make the dreams stop? I'd rather go back to the familiar restless world of Insomnia then continue with these boring dreams. Anyone?

Friday Word - Hide

Note: Dedicated to those that inspired this..well you know who u are… and that I love u!!

The room was a tense scene as two children were gathered for a hush and secret meeting. They had school books scattered around to give anyone who looked inside the false pretense that they were studying. For truthfully what conspired there was something entirely else.

The six year old girl sat holding her head and muttered in a fierce whisper “Think, our lives depend on it. We have six days, else we are dead. You understand me?”

“How many fingers is six again” the four year old asked holding up both his hands. The girl pre-occupied with her thoughts said, “Six fingers is six dummy.”

He stared at his fingers in despair wondering how many fingers were six and then resolved to figure it out later.

“Should we tell mommy?”

“NOO she will never understand, we have to find the solution to this ourselves.”

“What is the solution?”

“A hiding place, we have to find a fool proof place to hide where we cannot be caught.”

“Behind grampa!!” The boy replied with a grin, “He has a walking stick, he will beat them away.”

“No, they will have guns.”

“GUNS!! We cannot win against guns, we should just surrender. Wait, guns? Like salman khan from that movie? ” He paused to think about how absolutely wonderful those toys looked and maybe he should defect over to the other side. His sister saw the gleam in his eyes and punched him.

“No we find a place to hide.”

So the next few days were spent in finding the fool-proof place to hide. They sought out beds and tables and even attempted to hide inside cabinets, all without letting the rest of the family know.

Gradually as the day came nearer and nearer, their health suffered with the stress of the burden the two children carried and fear that no hiding place was nearly good enough.

That morning, having stayed up with fear late, they were not able to get up before sunrise as planned. They only awoke to pounding on the main door.

She screamed and woke her brother, “Wake up they are here.” His screams were louder as he looked to his sister for guidance. She nearly dragged him off the bed and grabbed him and ran into the bathroom.

They shut the door and piled up all buckets and things they could find against it. They huddled in a corner, hugging each other for fear. As the ruckus and screaming outside grew louder, they huddled that much closer, trembling for fear of what lay ahead.

Suddenly a loud pounding, interrupted their thoughts as people screamed for them to come out of the bathroom. There were so many different voices, that the children stared at each other in fear, yet knowing they had made the right choice, to hide. They tried to reply impudently that they wouldn’t but alas their voices failed them. The little boy pointed to the bucket and asked if he should crawl in it, she glared at him and shook her head. We are safe, she mouthed to him and tried to re-assure him as her own courage failed.

Suddenly they saw the window open and a scary face peek through. Loud screams interrupted in the bathroom and amidst the confusion, the girl had only one thought in her mind, “Traitor!!”, she screamed at the grinning face in the window, that of her older sister.

The smiling face in the window, grinned pointed the gun and fired. The screams turned into tearful cries erupting from the two children huddled together. First came a volley of red water, then blue and finally green. “Holi Hai!!!!” screamed her sister and scampered off to play with the rest of the children. The deafening silence in the now quiet house was only interrupted by sobbing of two defeated children.

Cookie!! and a perfect husband

Well what is the connection? Probably and Actually none.

The friday word, as per Mona is Cookie and I got nothing today.
Try as I might, the only thing that comes to my mind is my lil bhaiya (not so lil anymore). He is a man of very very few words. Therefore, his appreciation for my baking this time was seen in the fact that the entire container of cookies would disappear to his room, where it would be hoarded. There was the time he had friends over and made it a point to brag abt how his sisters had made the awesome cookies.
Ohh i miss my little bhaiya

I also got tagged by Sudeep to cite 8 things I want in a husband/boyfriend. Well I have done this tag almost a year ago to date but on Xanga so I will do it again. Again the points are not in order of priority, just as they occur to me

1. He has to be my best friend. I have HAVE to be able to talk to him about every facet of my life else there is no point. If I cannot share my entire life without hesitation with him then what is the point?
2. Mutual trust and respect go without speaking. Not to mention, he has to be someone who can match me, not in all interests but just match me...(hard to explain)
   
3. I am quirky at best. I should be accepted unconditionally for who I am and understood. I can try and change for someone but it shouldnt be expected by him.
4. We should have a common set of founding priorities/principles I suppose. The rest can be worked around, but if you dont agree on the most basic things in life then you're in for trouble.
5. His eyes, I have to be able to look into his eyes and see just love for me there.
   
6. My parents are not second class citizens because they are a girl's parents. They get equal respect. I will treat his family as mine but he has to reciprocate.
7. I am not always patient with situations, with people yes, not so much situations. He should be, hopefully more patient then me. My emotions are reflected on my face be it joy, sorrow or irritation. He should be able to have a calming and sometimes keeping me sane effect on me.
8. Oh I get a say in decisions. I am not going to be informed of decisions that affect both of us. I get an equal say. We discuss then we make decisions, if we disagree we discuss it out some more and go with the best one.
   

Phew 8 done.. now i can go back and see what I wrote on Xanga last year and see if points match up... hmmm I was so tempted to cheat...

Ok comparison

• Point 8 was Point 1 there... hehe with the addition that my brain is not like the appendix an useless appendage.. i did use to be a bit more vocal on Xanga
  
• I asked that he be a reader... hmm I forgot that...
• Pt 6 here was Pt 3 there.. the parents bit. Another point there was that he should get along or be cordial to my siblings and friends.. yea that is kinda important
  
• Oh I remembered to say he should understand that somethings I am passionate about, he should respect my idiosyncrasies if he cannot understand them.. hmmm. Yes absolutely important. I have that small collection of ahem items that were gifted to me by my friends that I refuse to leave behind even if it seems silly
  
• A good financial head.. yea that occurred to me here as well but i clumped that down in basic principles we have to share
• I wont be his maid if we both work he has to help with chores.. that one is yea also important...
• Yea and a late addition there was that he has to be there for me when I need him, but that kinda went with the definition of friendship didnt it.. hmm

So there you go, between last year and this.. pretty comprehensive list ehh?

Ehh in the end lists dont matter, not really because lets face it as AG (dear ol AG) once told me, such decisions are taken from the heart and the gut. You have to know, when you look at someone that you are willing to spend the rest of your life with them no matter what. You will fight for them and with them against the world if you have to... cuz in the end that is all that matters..

Yea yea yea try as i might, I am a stupid ol romantic

Heart

Note: Mona's friday word is heart.

He woke up a little disoriented and groggy, unsure of his surroundings. There was a lot of commotion around him and the blurred objects he noted through his half open eyes were foreign to him. He closed his eyes again and tried to absorb the sounds and get his bearings.

Where was he? Why was he here? Why was he incapacitated, there were tubes in his arms and ohh the pain. The realization and the searing pain shot through him almost immediately. He felt like he had been hit with a truck, oh it hurt.

A few seconds later, and he realized he was in the hospital, maybe he had been hit with a truck, but that didnt sound right. What was the last thing he remembered? He pushed himself hard to remember and then it came back, all of it and despite the pain he almost did a little whoppee dance to celebrate.

He remembered finally getting a call from the donor registry, they had a new heart for him. Tears sprung in his eyes, his heart had been diagnosed faulty for a few years now. Apparently it didnt pump enough blood, try being a twenty-something stockbroker and have to deal with that. It had led to a lot of changes in his life, including his fiance walking out on him for he couldnt deal with it. Not anymore, he had a new heart, a new lease on life.

For an instant the nagging question returned, who had donated his heart, who died so he could live? How did that person die?

This time however, the question didnt go unanswered, it was answered from within, maybe by his heart.

She died of heartbreak, came the answer. She died of heartbreak and she gave u her heart so u can live and love, and fulfill your dreams. She, she died of heartbreak

Hair

Note: Following in Karmic Jay's practise of writing a post using Mona's word of the week.. the word this friday is Hair.

She paused and stared at her destination, her hand twitching slightly in nervousness. She looked around wondering if the second guessing within herself should be heard out. As someone brushed past her, she nearly cried out in pain at the bruise hidden by her salwar kameez. No, she knew this was the right thing to do and purposefully marched across the street.

The door chime announced her arrival and she was greeted with a smile. She settled into the chair, as the hairdresser asked what she wanted to do with her. She hesitatingly asked about the notice in the window. The hairdresser explained that they used hair willingly donated by people to make wigs for little children suffering from cancer. She could already tell the lady was excited at the prospect of her hair being donated, after all her hair was the envy of the neighborhood.

She grimaced and said, "Well I would like to donate my hair then."
"How much?"
"All of it." came the firm yet tense reply.
"You have no issues in going from waist length hair to shoulder length?"
"No you dont understand. Once you are done taking as much as you can salvage for the wig, I want you to shave the rest off. I want to be bald."

She could tell from the stunned look on the hairdresser's face that the woman thought she was crazy. Well, maybe she was, but this was the only way she could think of and she wasnt turning back now.

"Take it all off." She said firmly.

The hairdresser shrugged and proceeded to follow the instructions, she closed her eyes and slumped in the chair, afraid to see her hair go. For as long as she could remember, she had beautiful long hair, yet this was necessary.

As she began leaving the shop, she knew people turned to look at her. It didnt faze her. For the past year, her husband's abuse had always begun with the hair. He grabbed her hair to yank her off the couch before beating her, or he yanked her hair and pushed her headfirst into a wall. It was always the hair, and so she had taken it all off. She had gone bald.

Her bald head was a promise to herself, a warning to her husband and an announcement to the world. NO MORE!! she had had enough. No more Abuse from this day forth, she was taking back her life.

She intended to leave her husband and start over. She hoped as the hair returned again so would the colors in her new life.