Some things are meant to be…

I rushed to the platform,
The leaving train I could see,
Crumpled in the unreserved bogie now,
I mutter, some things are meant to be!

Unknown, we chatted years ago,
From different parts of the country,
Today we vow to be partners in togetherness,
It’s a blessing some things are meant to be!

The unexplained phobia debilitates,
The fear never sets me free,
I succumb every time in panic
Give in, some things are meant to be!

As strangers we sang together,
To pass time on the long journey,
Now we are inseparable friends,
I smile, some things are meant to be!

I may not believe in destiny,
And fate may be a stranger to me,
Yet when unexplained things happen,
I say, some things are meant to be!

I wonder why I am writing this,
When blind beliefs make me uneasy,
May be creativity has its lessons to teach,
I accept, some things are meant to be!

-Monica

Unknown Fear

I do not know how this started; neither do I have any memory of when it happened first. My body goes numb, hot and cold flashes, reeling head, nausea and then a black-out. And before I reach the black-out stage, my ritual fumbling with the phone and incessant trials to call the nearest person available for help. It cannot be a neighbor, it cannot be a colleague. It has to be someone who understands, who knows and who sympathizes. If not a dear soul it can only be someone who would help for the sake of money.

I switched off the TV, for once I had watched a light-headed comedy instead of my usual favorites that make you search your soul and question your existence. I realized humor is not all that bad, especially if you are living a lonely existence. The brainless anecdotes can lift your spirits more than thought-provoking instances which only add to the pain of nostalgia. With my mind already in an argumentative mode, my face still reflecting shades of smiles and my body moving robotically towards the kitchen for yet another lonely dinner date, I switched on the lights. Call it sixth sense or my usual alert self, my eyes quickly scanned the walls. One look and my world collapsed. With every movement I screamed and shouted, rooted to the ground I lost my mental balance.

Thankfully my phone dangles round my neck 24/7. “Amit, come…now…I need help. Its here, I am sick…what do I do? Want to go home now. I am leaving for the station. Please take me away please…” I did not need to explain further. My choking, gasping, nervous voice full of tremors was enough for him to sense the urgency and even before I finished talking he was on his way to my rescue. I would have applauded myself, were I in the state, for my foresight. I know myself or shall I say my weaknesses so well, that Amit and a couple of close friends always have a spare key to my house. For a moment, a million questions darted through my mind and then it all went blank. Amit was almost carrying me out of the kitchen in my half dazed state. I tried to speak but words seem to be alien. Only tears flowed in abundance. Amit made me lie down in the outer room and got me a glass of water while I just lay there, stone-faced with only tears for emotion. He went into the kitchen and closed the door. The rest is history or more appropriately history repeating itself. I was shaken out of my stupor with a soft voice saying “Mainee relax! It is over.” I wanted to but just could not respond. Amit shook me and the touch made me shriek in horror. It took hours of cajoling, a long drive, a call from my brother, and finally a steaming hot cup of black coffee to bring me back to my normal self. But I refused to enter the house again. Needless to say this was the third time I shifted houses.

I have tried but nothing works. I cannot even laugh at myself and I am too tired of crying. Medical help has only turned me into an addict. Strained relations, house-shifting hassles, endless tips to watchmen and maids, money blown on useless precautionary measures and an eternal fear have been my share for numerous years now.

The only time I smile in this context is when I read Amit’s testimonial, “A lizard's kindness-Startled into blindness.”

-Monica

My Human Creator

The glory of your presence beautifies time;
It makes life worth living.
With you I grow, through you I know,
The art of life called living.

You make me cry, you make me weep,
You make my heart bleed deep.
But in the illusion of tears,
Your smile is a reflection of revival.

When I am wounded, I am weary,
And a dead stone I am-
You instill life back into me,
And become my Human Creator.

I call you in times of joy,
On you I depend when sorrow grips,
When life becomes a trial,
You make me try life.

When I lose my identity and become a tiny drop, in the sea of time,
You introduce me to myself.

For all you are,
For all I am,
I am glad our ways crossed.

-Monica