Haunted Musings

Once upon a time, I used to write a lot. Some of it, even good. I love this story, and it is one of the best I have ever done. To think I was only 18, when I wrote this :P

Haunted Musings.

Dear Father,

It has been twelve years since I abandoned the foundation of trust to walk into an abyss. An abyss that I am getting sucked into, deeper with every passing minute. Today, I write not because I seek my home back, I am writing to confide in you. I have to let somebody know.

Something inside me has always prevented me from getting too attached to a soul, from getting too close. Hardly a week ago I met Gia. And the moment I saw her laughing, I felt her touch, everything changed. The times she kissed me, the times she ran to hug me, the times I listened to her talk, completely oblivious to the harm I was exposing her to, those are the moments I want to spend a lifetime in. When she fell asleep in my arms, clutching on for dear life, I never wanted to let go. Her innocence was her brilliance. When she was close to me all I wanted to do was provide every thing she will ever need. It seemed as if my life was divided in two parts, one before Gia and one after, an eternity separating them. I realized what a difference she made to my pathetic life. It is amazing how someone can affect you so. She made me smile, something I had long forgotten. I realized what I needed was a family that I could call mine. I realized I needed a Gia.

I knew within days I will have to let her go for something I had run after all my life and yet something that had failed to provide me any happiness that I seek so desperately. I was culprit of keeping a young child estranged from her mother. I was guilty of keeping a child prisoner for the triviality called money. And as I was collecting my thoughts, the message came through. The parents had succumbed to all the demands. I was not surprised, I would have happily paid everything I had to keep her with me. Those were not the terms and I knew it. With a fist clenching my heart I still promised myself I will make sure I return a smiling child. That was not to be, those cops, those bastards… I can still remember the shock in her eyes, seeing me pull out a gun, the love replaced by fear. I can still remember the stray bullet, the scream, and the blood trickling down her brow… and the whole world went still. I know these are the thoughts I will take to my grave. How do you apologize for something like that? How do you make up for such a loss? Those fallen cops don’t mean a thing. I owe somebody their child. I owe somebody their Gia. I owe a six-year-old girl her life. She is dead because I didn’t care enough. Dad, I killed her. And no matter how hard I try I can’t make these tears stop to the point where I am hoping to god - please let me run out of tears. I can’t live through this. I wont. I will rather burn in hell than stay here burning inside everyday with guilt. By the time you read this I will be long gone from the face of this good earth. Father, I had to let somebody know…

A son who couldn’t be yours,

Adam Mark Aslegar

Mark Aslegar folded the piece of deteriorating letter as he wiped a tear from his eyes, having read it every single day for the past six years.

The Toilet of Love

One of the most singular (and fundamental) experiences of life is being in a relationship. But what is even more singular (and even more fundamental) is the experience of getting dumped. In spite of the affect this post will have on my personal ratings, I think it is very important that I proceed, largely because, as an author it is quite fulfiling to be able to extract every ounce of misery from a topic.

Those who know me best, will agree that I am as averse to a relationship as two rival heavyweight boxers or Manchester United and Arsenal or Ferrari and Mclaren. And yet, very occasionally their paths cross. You see, as a young meddlesome fool, I made it a habit to jump from one ship to other, occasionally braving a foot in two different ones. And suddenly, out of nowhere, a whim and a fantasy, the wildest nightmares realized, I was in a relationship! "In!"(Read Trapped) My world crashed, smiles disappeared, arguments surfaced and by God if I ever could have committed a murder... well you know what I mean!

Those deep eyes that captivated me once, now appeared to resemble the basilisk eyes from the Harry Potter movie I had recently watched. And the sweet sound of her voice was suddenly so sweet, I was afraid of catching diabetes. The only thing that did not change was the importance of the phone in the relationship. Not so long ago, I kept hoping for it to ring so that I can hear the voice of my sweetheart. Now, I keep hoping for it to ring, so that she will finally shut up. At both times the phone calmed the seas for the ship to sail and I suddenly found myself committed. At this point, my thoughts go back to Abraham Lincoln. He had a heartbreak, then he went on to become president of USA and freed the slaves. I quite understand him now, he had tasted freedom and wanted everyone to have it. Oh captain, my captain! (If you don't know that's the opening line of a Walt Whitman poem, and of course quite fitting... captain as in captain of a "ship")

The new "committed" phase brought about new changes. I have seen people belonging to this phase, discussing wedding card designs, or the name of the kids. And of course there is the "duty". Duty is the fond name, that I have since given to the task of going to (not on, but to) a date. You see I found it much similar to going to work. "Duty". There are many similarities, though I still found dating worse. You cant obviously miss work unless your grandparents die, but the bad thing is even death wont get you off the date. She will of course insist on coming. Then if you are late to work(or to date), the angry tirade of boss is always better than the tears of a girl with whom you cant get away by saying sorry. And whatever you say is wrong anyway, and you cant shut up either. It is what is called getting caught between a rock and a hard place. And with your boss there is always an outside chance of just making a sex joke and if its really good you may even get a promotion for producing a productive environment. Of course, if you make a sex joke to your girlfriend you will invariably get the tirade of "mad dash to finish line" or "just about sex" depending on where you are in the relationship. Then there is a lot left to be said about things forced down our necks.

The biggest point of conflict was my best friend. "Surprisingly" she didn't like him, of course not. What was I thinking, having a best friend without consulting her. I am ordered to find new friends. Of course sweetie, that's what I will do. And then, your friends are no more helpful than your girlfriend. "She is cripping your style man!" comes the standard response. I usually ignore that and his suggestions, as good as they sound. Basically, it is being idiotic and reckless at the same time, if you take relationship advise from someone who finds it difficult to get anything (let alone humans) to go out with him.

There was a lot I always wanted to tell her, but the smile remain attached on my face just because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I mean, well it was nice to have someone who can list all your shortcoming in under a minute, if you ever decide to strive to be a better person. And there was another reason too. Guys are "disgustoids", and it was nice having someone who doesn't wear their socks inside out after seven days of wearing them regular way or who doesn't eat like a pumba in a burger chugging contest and burps loudly afterwards. There are a couple of other reasons, but I don't think we should go there.

Then it happened, one fine evening, just as I was beginning to come out of despair of a hopeless bondage with few hours of stolen time with the guys. You can let your imagination wander if you really want to know how we were planning to spend the evening. Just as we were getting started, DING-DONG. That was the doorbell. And there she was, again, the girl uninterrupted. Or I should say the interrupting girl. Without preamble she marched in, and well then lost it. You see, when I said stolen I actually meant calling her with a silly excuse of studying or something. She screamed, not much unlike people in Ekta Kapoor's beloved K series do. (Another reason I despise k series, but thats another story for some other time), and I tried to explain that I was a good boyfriend (later I wondered, why the hell!). And then she pronounced, "Yeah well, guess what you are also an ex now."
I stood there "flushed", as she marched out of the door. I am still not sure whether I should have followed her. My best friend was the first to recover, he whooped and punched the air. I was still feeling horrible, guilty perhaps. But then I realized I am not upset.
Someone asked me "Shouldn't you go after her?"
"Nuh, don't think so."
"Yeah, you can just call her tomorrow and get together and sort it out."
"Nuh, I am not gonna call her." I didn't call her. She didn't call either.
"Are you gonna be alright,"
"Oh yes, lets get this party started," said I, recalling everyone to planned rituals. As silence dropped over the room, as CD changed, I thought to myself "After all, there are plenty of other fish in this toilet of love."

(I hope she didnt read this. Hey sweetheart, if you read this and you die of shock please dont come back to haunt me)

The Evening- Part 2

Note: This post belongs to Void's Hall of Shame

Part 2? You might be wondering where the hell is part one? But see, on top it says this is my kingdom, so I am free to do as I see fit. But there is a problem, you are not my subjects, you are my friends, equals at the very least, in all probability much more, so I have to have an explanation in hope you will return again.

Actually its not all that complicated, I once pencilled a memoir and called it the evening, very unfortunately I lost it with a ridiculous virus attack on my pc... so this is The Evening-Part 2... Having no connection whatsoever to The Evening- part 1.

Let me explain to you how a memoir works in my realm. Its an utterly distorted, mysted incident that might have actually happened. It is exaggerated, places exchanged, at times even two memories combined, which again might not be mine. The memoir is almost never narrated through my eyes, I might not in actuality be even present at the center stage but may be a bystander on the next table. Facts are very often very accurate, but the people and places are so much distorted that it will be hard if you want to figure out exactly what it is that I am talking about, but still an interesting read...

The Evening Part 2

It was the biggest day of his life, still my best friend was not excited. His face was the same cold mask of calm as it is everyday. He laughed politely on my tailor made joke, with a bad punch line. I wasn't sure whether he even heard it or not, but I knew his mind was on other matters. This day might be the biggest of his life, by the standards of everyone else, but I who knew him best knew it wasn't for him. I knew his mind was troubled, his thoughts running haywire. You see last night he had finally confided in me, he had fallen in love. And the thing about him was he never confides anything in anybody! Although he was a good friend to have, always putting his friends before himself and helping them, but didn't let anybody help him. His personality was such that it never appeared to anybody even he might require assistance. And he never complained. I gave him his tie with the perfect double knot, and he smiled at me, checked his Grey Suit and tie in the mirror, glanced at his watch and said, "Its time."

The rest of the evening, passed very quickly. It was the going away party- The Farewell as we called it. The casual brother of what is the convocation. We were all finally getting our degrees and stepping out in the real world. The talks on all corners centered around the coming life, mainly the jobs everyone was offered. I danced, socialized with many friends. He spent the evening in a corner, near the water table. Having a word with anyone who stopped by. He was lately being considered an outcast, he had not sat for an interview with any company that has visited the campus in the last year of our studies and everyone thought he wasn't eligible. Many people were even surprised to see him, because they thought he was repeating the year. At long last, the ceremony started. Names rolled on one by one, each person's achievement through four years of college highlighted. As expected by many, including me (although for different reason, for I knew the truth), his name was skipped over. I could see his eyes darting to a woman in a stunning yet simple blue dress. He smiled when their eyes met, raised his glass to her and bowed. She smiled back, albeit a bit surprised. As the names of 350 people were being called one by one, I saw the two get together and exchange a few words. She laughed and left, to a black haired, black suited handsome man, walking down from the stage, who took her arm. They walked away, happy in each other's company. A shadow crossed my friend's eyes, but it went away as quickly as it had come. Finally we were at the end of the 352, to be exact. And suddenly our host called for our attention, a silent swept the room. I knew what it was, for it was I who had planned it.

"Ladies and gentleman put your hands together for the Achiever of the year, Marc Gonzalez... I am sorry, Doctor Marc Gonzalez. For, his thesis has just been approved, he will leave this college an expert, qualified above most teachers that taught him."

The Grey Suited man straightened his tie, a smile on his face, after a year's oblivion this was his moment while everyone else looked shocked. Tears rolled down my eyes, as I saw my best friend finally lifting the gold medal for topping the university and pocketing the replica PhD. The ten odd friends of his clapped vigorously in a vain attempt to lift the scattered half hearted applause. "Nobody will care," he had said, damn it he was right. As he made his way back down, I walked towards him and I instantaneously knew his eyes were searching the blue dress. But he embraced me nevertheless. He shook hands of everyone that came to congratulate him and hugged the ten people who clapped for him. In the midst of the humdrum, a hush was suddenly falling. And through the gap in the crowd I saw the black haired, black suited man on his knees, proposing to the girl in blue. I saw her nodding head, and I turned to my friend to see his eyes well up. But the tears were wiped away quickly, and he strode forward to congratulate the one in the blue dress as nothing had happened. I walked with him, half expecting him to collapse. He didn't, he hugged the one in the blue dress and wished her luck, before excusing himself. I also tried to excuse myself but caught myself in the moment, the one in the blue dress was looking at my friend walking away with the same expression in her moist eyes as my friend held a minute ago. As I finally started jogging to catch my best friend, I swear I heard her whisper, "If only."