Garbage gift

I don’t want to write it
because my brain is warning
my timid heart
not to travel back to the time
which still haunts me every night
which still mocks at me
pointing me as a fool,
not to remember that person
who don’t know the language of loyalty
for whom friendship is a tissue paper
destined to be used & thrown away
And I am listening to my brain
a lot nowadays
as if it is my sole guardian
which can make me smile again
concealing the cracks in my heart
The heart which has lost its power
to feel anything anymore
since the day he left
Still that shattered heart
is urging to visit
that dark forest of memories
meeting this prompt of today in Mirakee
which seems a lot like
an unwanted guest
to whom my brain is not
allowing me to open the door
But how can I stop myself
when the sound in my head
is getting louder each passing second
since this guest of Mirakee is standing
in front of the door of my conscience.
It was 18th December 2019
The day which was meant to be celebrated
as the mark of his first day of infancy
He was not my lover
He was the human
whom I wished to check & confirm me
if a person is right or wrong for me
to fall in love with,
whom I wished to share with me
each detail of his love story
He was the human who
made me feel like
none can understand me
better than him
& none understands him
better than me.
He was not my brother
He was the human
who compelled me to realise that
the words ‘care’, ‘protect’ & ‘trust’
are not limited to family only,
because of whom
I started believing that
friendship between a boy and girl
can be clear, forever & ethereal.
What’s the need for introducing
this person now
when my present is a world apart
from that of his
& he is no more a friend
not even a human in the dictionary of mine
but still, I keep his identity
safe as the scratch of my past
It was his first birthday
since the day when his presence
started elucidating my existence.
I was waiting for that day
the way a child waits for holi
the way a girl waits for raja
the way a student waits for Ganesh puja
the way a bride waits for karva chauth
the way a farmer waits for nuakhai.
No festival, no function has never been
so significant to me before
& then my excitement
of the preparation for his birthday
was no less than the way
a father’s energy in her daughter’s marriage
I betrayed my sleep for many nights
to adorn our memories
happy and sad
in tiny yellow papers
I used to pour my heart out
to colour those yellows with greens
The green which was the colour
of the emotions, he gifted me daily.
18th January 2019 was the day
when he invaded my little world
which rarely let any stranger enter
Those yellow papers were the
brave soldiers which protect
the thoughts about him every day
every day for exactly eleven months
without skipping a single day by fault
The pack of my papa’s Samsung mobile
turned out to be a boon
to my innovative mind for filling that
with the handwriting of my heart
& embellishing that with three layers
of coloured fancy papers
I waited for the sun to appear
instead of midnight wish,
to do my duty as a friend
without losing my tag of sanskari girl.
Finally, I gifted my treasure of eleven-month
to the person who was seeming a lot like
gift for me from the Almighty
This was not a mere gift
this was the garland of my gratitude for him
which I wanted him to wear
for the rest of his life
to know, to understand & to realise
how special he is on this earth
that every bit of his talk
every inch of his behaviour
is treasured in the box of infinity,
how indebted I am
for his every second
that he had spent
to listen to my rants
to share those of his.
I still remember he said
“You are such a bewitching devil.
I liked it.”
He gifted me a smile in return.
What could be a greater reward
than his smile
for all the efforts I had put
all these months!
Last year on his birthday
there was a 300 km distance between us
maybe 300000km distance
between his heart & that of mine
Gifting was no more an option
to elevate our bond then
Still, his birthday was
no less sacred & special
I went to the temple of Saibaba
to light a dia & devote a rose
wishing his happy life
& that night the candle of my trust
extinguished for the eternity
with the wind of his infidelity
My fingers can type nomore
because the water in my eyes
is capturing my phone screen now.
I used to write 5 feet long posts sometimes
& sometimes two-line quote
but every time the words were
worshipping him devotedly
I used to post them on Mirakee
when the world sleeps under the blanket of stars,
furnish them with slanted fonts
& tinted background.
I used to save them in my gallery,
delete before any other eyes trace them,
send them to him
& wait to be blessed with
his dandelions of appreciation
which were more valuable than
bouquet of compliments
that I might have received
if my words were read
by the thousand other eyes.
For two years I hid
the naive & unadulterated
progenies of my heart
And the pure & precious
gems of my intellect
from the whole world
& considered him as the
sole custodian of those possessions
I didn’t leave the writer in me
when I found him.
But when he left me
I found that writer, again
injured, yet indomitable.
©ruchiabhisikta

#I had written this piece 76 weeks back for a prompt on gifts. Read it again today and felt like posting here. I realised why do people often gift expensive watches. Because watches keep us in present and guide us for future. How dumb I was to think of gifting such a cheap useless gift and putting so much effort in it which was nothing more than a garbage! Today he asked me “Aren’t we friends anymore?”. I had a straight one-word answer to his question, but I didn’t answer. And today I was again questioned by others that why I had gifted that to him. I had a long answer ready to such a question, but I didn’t wanna answer.

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One thought on “Garbage gift

  1. SMiLes Dear Ruchi i Like it When You
    Write Free Verse From Your Soul This

    Way Just ALLoWinG ESSeNCE CREaTinG FoRM THiS Way Free
    BREaTHiNG PeaceFuL LoVinG LiVinG Faith At Best When You

    Overcome The Shadows of Life More Fully Expressing Them
    in Words of Your SoUL Becoming Song Free All that’s

    Missing Perhaps is A Free Dance As Emotions Flow
    As Feelings and Senses From Head to Toe ThiS Way

    How Sad As FRiEnDS Do Drift Away Even Very

    Good Ones Who Promise They Will Be Your
    Forever FRiEnD And Never Leave Your

    Side SMiLes You Know Feel Sense

    Who Will Never Leave Your Side and
    Always Be Your FRiEnD Yes Song of Your

    Poetry Coming Deep Within Soul Unleashing
    ReLeaSinG So Free to Be i Am You Do ThiS Way

    As You Become FRiEnDS With the Words As SoUL
    iNFuSinG Art As Your SPiRiT MaY Rise HeART out

    Of DarK and a Melody of BREaTHiNG PeaceFuL LoVinG LiVinG

    Faith At Best When You Overcome The Shadows of Life More Fully
    EXPReSSinG Them in Words of Your SoUL Becoming Song Free True

    Just Another Refrain
    of Souls Set Free

    in Wings of

    Words What
    Poetry Accomplishes
    Best Like Free Dance too
    Wings of SoUL SonG Set Free

    Once AGain BREaTHiNG
    PeaceFuL LoVinG LiVinG

    Faith..:)

    Like

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