maybe baby

Maybe next time...
I'll ask a question when I think it,
instead of weighing the pros and cons and deciding
everything is better left unsaid.
After all it is never safe to let people
into my head, my thoughts, my feelings.
What if they get scared, or they see... me.

Maybe some day,
I'll actually say something when it strikes me.
Maybe I'll be more open about why I was hurt,
why I am the way I am,
why I don't agree with you and think you're full of s*&^,
maybe I'll ask 'how do I know if I'm "in love" with xyz',
instead of letting her talk about inane things
when my head is in a cloud
and I'm only pretending to listen.
Something I'm very good at.. pretending.

Maybe next time I won't have to pretend..
just maybe

BG

Blonde hair, highlighted by endless hours under the outback sun,
muscled arms (that's all I could see),
tattoos aplenty.

We called him BG,
he looked like a hippie.

We saw him first in the dark,
before the sun rose on our little tour.
We were not on his bus.

Glad for no distractions from nature,
We got the chatty, funny guide,
not the hot one with a body from an ancient Greek statue.
The one who couldn't cook
but had us in splits for three days.

But a year later,
we still talk about BG.
Not the funny guy.

what if..

What if my family were all ordinary people..
Would I be ordinary, pleased by ordinariness and hence a happier person?
Would they not have been afflicted with air crashes, strange fatal diseases and suffering?

What if I let go of my mother when I was younger..
Would I have met someone in a strange city and been ‘normal’, i.e., had a couple of relationships by now?
Would I have stayed away from the people who loved me, made me love them, and then hurt me?
Would I have been smarter?

What if I had never been let down..
Would I be less suspicious, less cynical?

What if we were always happy people..
Would there be no hunger, poverty, over-population because of our selfishness?

What if we were not alone..
Would the other inhabitants of our spaces be our friends or foes?

What if I had not missed that flight to Sydney..
Would I have met my mentor or potential life partner in the check-in line?
What would I have done with the 300 dollars I would not have spent on another air ticket?

What if he hadn’t gotten on that flight..
Would he have picked other life partners for his children?
Would my sister and I even be here today?
Would we have curly hair, and me, a face like his which reminds my mother of him everyday?

What if I could forgive people, go easier on them..
Would that make me at peace with myself?
Would that lead them to hurt others or me again?

What if our lives were all written out..
Do our choices matter and do we make them?
Do we even matter at all or is it all for someone else’s supercalifragilistic plan?

What if none of us were really here, and we’re all imagining that our pain or happiness or ambition is the most important thing in the world?

--
prompted by: deep

a day before monday

10.55 am – Time to wake up befuddled, in a sweat. No, my pillow is not alive. My alarm is not ringing. And for a change I am wide awake, ironically on a Sunday morning. I feel useless, a waste of my mother’s beautiful genes, if I remain in bed any longer. My mind drifts.. Wishful thinking. I sigh.

11.10 am – I find the dog, rather, he finds me. We rejoice in finding each other. My roommate makes me coffee. Bittersweet because she won’t be here for very much longer.

11.20 am – Time to weep over the newspaper. Again befuddling because I can’t tell the difference between truth and lies.

11.45 am – Television. Inane serials, delving into other people’s lives because we are so bored of our own.

1.00 pm – Email, Facebook, blog updates, some more news. The drunk friends are contemplating their hangovers and the happenings of the previous night very intently.

1.20 pm – iPod. Some sad love songs. The day begins to unravel.

2.00 pm – Lunch with self and then washing some dishes. The phone rings. My soapy hands ignore it.

3.00 pm – I return the call, listen to some more depressing (but very good) music and head to shower.

4.00 pm – New shades. Summer is here after all. I head for a much-needed workout of my body and distraction for my brain.

6.00 pm – Friends. I’ve forgotten I was ever sad. I make inane remarks and re-discover an annoying Hindi film song, I eat, drop the friends home and head back.

8.20 pm – The dog is asleep but says hi. The roommate is out and my parents are away. My heart feels like everything happy has been sucked out of it.

9.00 pm – After staring into the darkness, someone I am supposed to interview cancels. I break down. I hate work.

9.30 pm – A light-hearted chat with my oldest friend.

10.00 pm – More television.

10.40 pm – I sit down to write. Has all of this really, *really* been over a bloody boy??! When is it going to stop? I pray it is PMS. The boy is not worth it if he is that blind. And nobody can make him see. Bloody befuddling boy.