I don’t know who left that window ajar. I stepped into his room to gather his clothes, but my gaze diverted toward the rays of sunlight infiltrating into the room. I opened the window and peered into the sky. A tint of yellow and blue spread across it. A cool breeze of the evening caressed my body. A kid is chasing another kid on the street ecstatically, both of them filled with delight.
Everything is supposed to make me feel blithesome. No, it failed. When this heavy heart has to drift an unfathomable sorrow for the rest of the life and all attempts to run toward gayety go in vain, the turbulent riot inside becomes unstoppable, sometimes unbearable. Who can obliterate his fond, bitter memories? I remember my tumultuous wail of pain howling inside these four walls a year ago on the same day.
My life ceased at that moment when I realized the blood won’t circulate anymore into his veins, he won’t respond to my call, he won’t see anything, and his heart won’t beat anymore. He was 27. That appealing call from a stranger that night gave me ineffable sensations. I rushed to the hospital and doctor conveyed that the fate deprived me of the best person in the world.
Everyone reassured that my life isn’t over. I can’t change what happened, but I must not lose hope. I think he wants the same. That’s why he left this window ajar. So he could say hi to me through this breeze and instill a ray of hope through these rays entering through the slit. These clothes absorbed all the love he had and now they are permeating it in the air I am breathing into. I can try to convince myself all I want. The crazy fact is, two people demised that day. A son and… a mother.
Her supercilious demeanor, impenetrable eyes, quick wit, and bewitching countenance bore an aura of a girl whose loftiness would put the place on fire if evoked. She was the girl whom no one dared to mess with. I knew my reticent, tight-lipped behavior would complement hers. I extemporized my feelings when I approached her. I quavered a little, but she clearly heard my subdued impassioned murmur. I guess it was because a warmth flowed through my speech. The vague expression was comprehensible to her through my incomprehensible words. But her sharp gaze was dawned on me as if it was preparing itself to tear up my heart.
Finally, I muttered last words, ‘Will you go on a date with me?’
I alerted my cheeks to hold weight of tears as her gaze sharpened. My obscure expression made no impact than offending her, it seemed. But I was wrong. She said yes. I was hit by a thunderbolt with her assent.
I asked her, this time articulating my thoughts. ‘Why did you agree? I wasn’t even confident, or expressive. And for a girl of your caliber, I don’t stand a chance. Then why?’
She replied in a courteous, yet confident manner, ‘For the same reason you approached me. You have a tender curiosity to know how I became who I am today. Similarly, you have your side of story too. I want to know what made you an inarticulate, lowly person. Circumstances, experiences, to summarize, stories shape the character of a person. I want to know your story.’
Then she promised to meet me and I looked at her stone-faced as she walked away.
The crazy fact is, the fate takes twists when we take chances.
Sometimes I forget to be natural.
I try to act perfect.
I forget I can become vulnerable too.
I just have to accept what I feel.
Just be who I am.
Just throw away the mask.
Just turn on the true face.
I should not pretend I am fine.
If I’m sad, I don’t have to,
again, pretend I’m good.
If I’m happy, I don’t have to,
wonder how I can be happy?
Is there something wrong?
Is there something I missed?
No, no, no.
I don’t have to pretend to be normal.
I forget I have feelings,
It doesn’t demand perfection.
It’s natural to be imperfect.
It’s natural to be a human.
It will take time to pull myself together,
But denial to accept my vulnerabilities,
It will work against me.
People around me notice that.
But I notice that after it happened.
Then I realize I don’t have to do that.
I must accept my feelings,
Even though they make me vulnerable.
The crazy fact is,
Imperfections make us humans,
Trying to be perfect only make us robots,
We must choose to be a human.