The greatest love story

I look at you. You are beautiful. You are funny. Graceful and charming. Your clothes are dazzling under the flashlights. You joke with your co-stars. You are so awesome.
You talk about your perfect man. How he should be smart and funny and caring. There is wistfulness in your voice when you talk of how you like listening to the sound of rain in the morning from your bed. I totally agree, that is the most beautiful sound. I have listened to it many times, ruminating on the mysteries of life. I am philosophical but I enjoy Lewis Black as well.
I hear you talking about your favorite books. You say Nicholas Sparks makes you cry. I agree, I wipe my tears in solitude when I think of his books.
You are nominated for an Oscar for a moving performance as a cancer patient. You say you are moved by the pain of the patients you visited. I hear you, my grandmother had throat cancer. I saw her suffer the last few months and every single moment was rough on all of the family.
You love gardening. Totally random co-incidence here. I have one pot of daisies that grew from a packet of seeds I found on the road. How weird is that!
I know we will have a lovely life together. We will have no dearth of topics to talk about. Even our silence will be companionable. Our kids will be beautiful like you, maybe goofy like me. We will grow old together and breathe our last with the assurance that we will miss each other.
Ours is the greatest love story.
But you don't know it yet. You don't know me yet, neither will you. But, ours could be the greatest love story..

Greed

I walk along the dreary roads. It is dusty and dirty. The sand blows in the air and gets into my mouth. I cough a little. I swipe my hand on my tongue to scrape the granules off. I see a little blood on my fingers. I stare at it for sometime and then shuffle forward.  I look at the buildings and they are empty. The whole street is empty and I am pretty sure the whole town is empty.
Flying over a desert, my plane's fuselage sprang a leak and I crashed on to the sand. I had been walking since then. I had cereal bars, I had peanuts and I had water when I started walking. I had exhausted all of it and I had been searching for some sustenance ever since.
Maybe I should get into one of the buildings and see if the water works. But why is the street empty? Why are no people around? Should I break in? Should I resort to something that I wouldn't have done? Can I excuse myself in these circumstances?
My throat is parched. My vision is blurred. I want water. I want sustenance. I want the cool elixir pouring down my throat. I can imagine water on my face, on my body. I can imagine it on my tongue. I want water. I need water.
I walk to the nearest house. It is desolate. I try the door knob. I peek inside. I rattle the door. I can see the kitchen through the glass on the door.I am so close to water. I rattle the door again. My need for water is exceeding my need for safety. I bunch my fists and break the glass.  My fists are bloody and there are glass bits in there. I open the knob and I run to the kitchen sink. I hesitate for a second.
I turn the faucet. There is empty air and then a rumble and guzzle and out flows the water. I put my face under the faucet and gulp water by mouthfuls. My throat constricts but I don't stop. I remove my shirt as I am drinking the water. Water in my throat, water on my face. Cool cool water.

Envy

You have a lot of friends that you bring over.
 I stand in the corner while they laugh even at the most pathetic excuse for a joke that you crack.
Father hugs you, mom kisses you. You won a silly pageant.
I throw my Academic Olympiad gold medal into the trash. I wear your crown when you aren't there.
You hold hands with a boy and kiss him at the park.
I tell our parents and they want to meet him. I try talking to mother about my feelings for this girl and she reacts with horror.
I catch you with another boy in the bed, when you think no one is at home.
I record it and send that video to all your friend and his girlfriend.
You get a job as a waitress and decide to pursue acting. Father says he has never seen anyone so versatile in acting.
I quote Shakespeare and he asks me not to show off.
You meet a man and get engaged.
I steal the ring and flush it down the toilet. I break up with my girlfriend.
You show me your wedding gown.
I slash it to pieces.
Your fiance consoles you even in your hysteria. he actually seems nice.
I kiss him, although I hate it and tell him that although it is wrong it feels right.
You go ahead with your ceremony and everything is perfect.
I do my damnedest to topple the cake, get drunk and flash my boobs.
You get pregnant and ask me to feel the baby's kick,
Now, if I could just get you to the top of the stairs......

Sloth

The room is a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere. My CDs spread out on the table from last night where I was making the most rocking mix ever. There is questionable smell coming from under the bed. It might be the remnants of food from over the last few days. I decide to get up from the bed and I step on my muddy shoes from the late night walk I decided to talk after the CD mix thing! It had rained. Someone was not going to be happy about it.
It's a clear day outside, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, yada yada. I just pull the curtains to a close and decide to go back to bed. I flop back on to the bed. I lay, staring at the ceiling. Simply staring. This is nice. I could get used to this. Thinking nothing about the minutes that pass by. Thinking nothing about the world rushing by, the lady on the street worrying about the bill, that man worrying about his suit, that boy wondering if he could ask his mommy for ice cream, that girl jealous of her sister's boyfriend. Nothing touches me as I simply stare at the ceiling. I hear ambulance and police sirens, nothing touches me.
Then the mother alien screams. She opens my door with a bang and a thud. The thud being a stack of books (including but not limited to LOTR, HP, Asimov, Hawking, Keats, Tagore) that rested against the door. She asks me why I lay there like a zombie. (Zombies don't just lie there, Mom..they eat your brains!) I have been kicked out of my job for the nth time. She wonders if she gave birth to me the wrong time of the day. Maybe my stars are not aligned. Maybe people don;t understand me..all this she does while cleaning my room...
What does she know? I work my ass off for the job so much that it burns me. I must rest a while before moving on to the next one. Even the caterpillar becomes a pupa before turning into a butterfly..yeah right! Enjoy the bliss of laziness..that's me. I go back to staring at the ceiling and everything is good once again.

Wrath

         Somewhere in the future 

My purpose burns in my mind. My skin feels feverish. I fiddle with my clothes and shirt collar. I furtively look around. No one seems to have noticed. The man in front of us has their rapt attention. I close my eyes and am still able to recall every single feature. The Chief Commander's face is a familiar one. His face is on the mural in my school. With his Bots, it is legendary how he reclaimed freedom from the  Empire. People in the paintings all seem ecstatic. 

The Empire although detrimental to our lives at least let us choose our life. But the Chief Commander and his Bots ensure that we follow the rules to a t. We have our segregated education, segregated work allocations, work times. There is also a site where we choose our life partners from a pool of carefully selected candidates. Genetic selection of offspring, monogamy and stability. Carefully monitored to ensure no psych mishaps, no perversion. No genetic anomalies, no gray-green eyes with golden flecks.No chance for mistakes. No chance for living a life. It is all laid out for us. From the moment we are born, to the choice of dying. Chemicals that can recreate a heart attack and if you are lucky, the draw of death by old age- my grand father was lucky.

What is my life if it has been planned for me? Why bring me in just to give me a life that a Bot will have no issue with leading? I want to make mistakes. I want to fall in love. The choice of surprise when I see my baby's heart beating, the wonder at the fragility of life when people die of a broken heart. I want to experience joy, sorrow and most importantly anger. How strong am I if I stand for nothing? I stand for my purpose. I want my child to know the dirt and grime of life. To fall down and get up and know it's ok. To see the light and feel its warmth. And if I have to do what I am about to do,I will do it again and again.

I move to the front of the crowd. I raise my pistol. I am angry and it feels good.

Pride

I peek out of the curtains. It's a full house. Everyone is on their feet. The team that I sent to warm these guys up is working hard. Must remember to raise their pay. It's almost my moment. I get jitters every single time. This is 7th tour. I have released 15 albums and won a lot of big awards that sit on shelves in my two houses. But every time I have to perform I get nervous. Almost like they will hate me if I don't do well. Almost as if I might get booed off stage.
My cue is here. I signal for the lights to go out. I have asked them to keep the lights off for 10 seconds. I get to my place. Go to my pose. The audience quiets down. They don't know what to expect. My show differs every day. That's part of my strategy. And the lights start coming on from the back of the hall. They turn to see me there. But then the light slowly reaches the center stage and here I am. Quiet. The audience expectant.  There is a buzz that slowly starts.

I start off on a high note. They start cheering immediately. They go mad. I make my voice hard, soft and hard again. It quivers, becomes breathless. My pauses are calculated. The slightest tremor in the chord is designed to show my voice off. I am the queen. I know how to rouse them. I know exactly what song I will sing, what legs will look like, what my face will look like. I know exactly who I am going to point at. They are going to be my clay. I shall twist and  turn them as I wish.

Booed off?! As if!! My stage, my songs, my audience. They are my slaves for the next few hours. I ask them to listen to what I sing. They do and some even faint. Some try getting on stage. Not likely. I have heavy bouncers in place. I love my fans...I really do,but from a distance. The untouchable distance, that is where I belong,
Like I said, I am a queen...The Queen.

Lust

I dip my hand into the popcorn. She smiles playfully at me and slaps my hand and mouths "Off". I smile back a her and lean in for a kiss. The trailers start and I pull back. I always like to get in to watch the trailers. I hate it when I miss them. The movie starts and I really kick back to enjoy myself. She loops her hand within mine and leans on my shoulder.
About 15 minutes into the movie, there is a little rustle at the end of our aisle. I turn to look and I see her. She asks me if the seat next to mine is empty. I say yes. She sits down. With her sweet sweet smell. I can smell more than  two or three fragrances about her. She smiles at me and settles down. I smile back and let out the breath that I had held.
She has the most amazing features I have ever seen. Her eyes are dark, her brow strong, her nose regal. A neck that is so slender I can see the pulse faintly. And then her breasts..I stifle my imagination and turn to the movie. I have no idea what is going on. The scent is in my head. I take occasional peeks.
The films lights up her face. Its lights up in fiery orange and red during an explosion scene. her face seems so mysterious with the constant blur of light. Like a stolen movie that one watches without wanting to get caught. Her lips curve with laughter and forms a 'o' of wonder.
For almost 2 hrs, 1hr and 54 minutes to be exact, I sit by temptation. Temptation to want something that is not mine. Although I have something secure in my grasp I yearn for adventure, that mystery, the unsafe.
The lights come on. She looks at me and winks. I turn and kiss my wife on the cheeks and nuzzle her ear.

Gluttony

I come back exhausted. My feet ache, my back aches. My whole body aches. I remember a hot bath that I had ages ago. I remember splashing hot water on my face a few weeks ago. They are not the same. It offers but a small peek into the larger pleasure. My face is dusty and my hair streaked with sweat and grime. I hold a small packet. Our food.
My stomach grumbles. I am just done with 13 hrs of manual labour. Breakfast was a thin watery coffee that they gave us at the plantation. That was at 7 in the morning. Lunch was a few spoonsful of rice served with mushy vegetables, potatoes and cabbage I think. To my parched belly, that was sustenance. And I bring home dinner with the money I earn that day. It is a few minutes to 9. Not a dinnertime I prefer, but dinner time all the same.
I see the little one crawling to me. I pick her up, all my aches again reiterate themselves. But then she babbles and touches my face and I temporarily lose the pain. My older one comes to my side and opens the packet. A few mouthfuls of rice and bread. I make him eat first. I have never seen him with a swollen belly and yet he doesnt complain. I feed the little one some of my milk, she seems content. I coax a few morsels down her throat too. There is still some left. My son looks at me and goes to reach for the rice.
I grab the packet and gulp it down. My stomach still growls. I am still hungry. Maybe they will give us some bread with the coffee tomorrow.

Perfect time

Ever wondered how life is perfect for a few seconds? Just a few seconds..not minutes, not hours but a few seconds? You exist in a plane of happiness and the event. The anticipation builds. You walk restlessly up and down. The colours are muted. You constantly worry your lips, fingers. You stare off in the distance, wondering when it will happen. You think of the possibilities that could happen. You could have the happiness you want. It comes with a cost. You could be happy provided you lose something. The permutations are endless. And yet you want it to happen. It could be a new move in your personal life, professional life.
It is as simple as getting a new bike or deciding to walk to the office. The decision gives you happiness. And then you walk. And then the next stage of worrying begins. Will you reach on time? Will there be any untoward encounters? Will there be this or that?
How do I freeze the few perfect moments? Just the happiness before I start worrying. When you read a happy news and just enjoy the news for a few seconds and then everything comes crashing down. Reality bites you.
I measure my life in perfect seconds, not in minutes or hours, just seconds.

The dollar bill

I sat watching the crowd go by. I have never understood how these malls are crowded even on weekdays. I mean, I am jobless, but that woman with the pantsuit, that man in his pajamas and sneakers? Why are they here? Are they killing time, are they meeting someone? Do they have a specific agenda in mind? Or are they simply whiling time away?
I am jobless. I have been for a long time. The money for the chocolate milkshake I slurp comes from the pocket of my mothers dress. Stealing, borrowing, eh? What's the difference when you need the money. I look at the lady sitting on the next bench. She seems hassled. Looks like she is a new mother. Her things are everywhere. The baby in the stroller, the shopping bags down on the floor, with some its contents spilling out. Sparkly things, frilly things, baby things. Her handbag is on the side nearest to me, a Louis Vuitton! Nice. She leans down to get the bag and grabs a tissue out of it. She looks up when she straightens. I smile at her, she smiles back.
A dollar bill falls out. I follow its flutter and see it plaster itself to the floor. She doesn't notice it. Looks like a hundred. She goes back to wiping the baby's face. She smiles and coos at it. She picks the bag and collects the bags, hangs them on her arm and prepares to walk. She stops and turns back. She smiles at me and leaves with her heels clacking on the tiled floor.
I get up as fast as a lightning and rush to the bill. I grab it and look around furtively. Noone seems to notice. For a second I search for the lady, maybe I should give the money back.
I think of the cigarettes and burgers I can get for the dough. Easy money, finders keepers. I tuck it safely inside my underpants. Good day.

The rain

The tears refused to come. My cheeks were rough and moist. The tears that I did not wipe away had streamed down to my neck and my blouse was wet. I was hunched over in the corner fo the room. The bare floor was cold and the cold walls had condensed in my outline. The tears refused to come.
I slowly got up. Food deprivation had caused my legs to weak. I stumbled and almost crashed into the dressing table. I caught myself. And looked into the mirror. My red tinged eyes were puffed and swollen, like I'd got up from a deep sleep. A good sleep does that too, you know. I really looked. My scars were still healing. And the wounds were definitely deep, in my body too. The pitiful creature in the mirror can not be me. I am a modern woman, am I not? Doesn't the world preach equality and feminism? Do I not have a backbone?
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. The tears make the scrapes on my knuckles sting. That jolts me. I push the curtains for some light. It has rained. Fresh, cleansing rain. The ground is wet and shiny. The fallen raindrops cling to the window and drip down, reluctantly. The leaves are green. The griminess and stench has been washed away. The earth is new. That beautiful scent now pervades the air.
My rain has come and gone. I have no more to pour. Within the depths of my heart, a small green leaf lifts up its tender head, the griminess washed away. The sorrows and hurt of yesterday will stay just there, yesterday. A tree starts with a seed. I will grow, stronger,my branches will spread.
A rain signifies a new life. And I think I am ready to start mine.