Journey to “The End”

She stood at the roof ledge, eyes closed, breathing in the air and letting the memories of her life cascade in full flow, for the final time. She wasn’t afraid, not even one bit. All she desired was freedom; freedom from the dark thoughts of the past, blur thoughts of the present and dank thoughts of the future. The wind was blowing in gusts, but she stood firm, rooted to the spot. No strength, not a single one, could move her today, not when she didn’t want to. She now experienced this sense of self control, for the first time, since years, as far as her mind could take her. It was exhilarating, an alien but magnificent feeling.

Moments passed by. Nothing changed except the position of the sun and the clouds, draped all over the sky. She felt the warmth of the sun, slowly travelling from her right cheek to her left. Her legs didn’t ache, she didn’t feel tired at all. Her hair were flying in all directions, a light curtain of black. She fluttered her eyes open, after what seemed like ages, and let the beauty of nature sink in her soul, for the last time. She looked all around her, the sun, the sky-high buildings, the silly shapes of the clouds, the birds singing along the wind, the kids playing on the roads beneath, their laugh shrill & full of elation. Her mind wandered off to her own, rather quiet and cold childhood. She let her mind feel again, the stab of pain that shot across her body every time she was hit. She looked at the dull purple bruises on her body, repeatedly getting hit made the bruises last forever. She didn’t feel the agony now, not anymore. It would all be over soon.

She wanted her last moments to be happy, a feeling she wasn’t very used to. She thought of the moments when she had, however mistakenly, believed he was the one. She had felt truly happy at that time, no matter how short lived it had been. It never really mattered before & it won’t now, ever.

For the last time, she looked beneath her, the rush of the traffic, the kids & the height at which she was standing. She felt numb now, she wanted this to be over. She spread her arms on both her sides, took a deep breath closed her eyes & took a step forward.

She was flying & going to a whole new world.

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Yearning for ecstasy (Part 1)

NOTE

Okay so I’ve had this story on my mind for quite some time and I’ve decided to share some parts of it. Firstly, I can’t promise a perfectly good & complete ending. I’m seriously not good at it. Secondly, feedback means a lot. Positive criticism keeps me going. Share your thoughts with me, I love it. Third, this is going to be a story of typical Pakistani family, from a girl’s point of view. Romance & life is a bit difficult to write about. Please don’t judge me, I am really new at this. Fourth, I’ve mentioned the credits for the image used, at the very end. Final word, it won’t be too long. I’ll divide it into less than 5 parts and it’ll be done. This is the first part, I’ve tried my best to do justice with the story.

Thanks a bunch if you’re still reading. God bless you.

***

ponte da suadede

My whole life is surrounded by ironies. I am a psychologist, I work with thoughts. I can make out what you’re thinking at the moment by looking at your body language. I can tell your whole life story by only asking you a question or two. I can read your eyes, your face. I can tell about your personality by asking your 3 very easy questions (I might share them with you someday, won’t promise). And me? People find me very… difficult to understand. What I believe is that they don’t even try to understand me. I only crave acceptance. But obviously, people can only accept me if they actually know who I am as a person. What usually I experience is pure judgement on the basis of asking “How are you?” Okay, how can you even judge me with the reply “I’m fine, thanks.” People often complain why don’t I ask them in return how they are feeling. Well, maybe I don’t want to know. Duh. Maybe I’m tired of listening to people telling me their stories and I deserved a break over an evening tea with other people. Maybe, we could get over the pretentious formal questions and simply discuss the weather. Maybe, people would just for a second, put themselves in my shoes and think about it & the reason behind it. Well this, in turn, was connected with my so called snobbish attitude. Whatever. Thus, I usually failed to carry on conversations and I preferred to stay quiet. Also, ‘normal’ people, they bored me like anything. I’d rather listen to politicians droning on about their latest scabs than the people around me. At times, when I was having sessions with my “special ones” (they call them ‘patients’, I call them ‘special ones’), I imagined myself sitting on that comfortable chair, which I had bought specially for their comfort, with someone sitting at my own chair, readily listening to my ramblings. I needed a psychologist myself. But I didn’t have the time for it. I was so tight on my schedule most of the times that I couldn’t even have weekends off. People needed me and I, having faced the atrocities of life and having tasted bitter loneliness, could never deprive people of my company when all they wanted was someone who’d listen to them. All in all, I always enjoyed listening to my special ones more than anything. They always had a new story to tell me. Their thoughts intrigued me and I never felt bored. Whenever they smiled at me at the end of our sessions, I felt a surge of pride run through me. Their smile was the reason behind my smile.

I once went to Paquetá Island; it’s in Rio (Brazil). I made this trip along with my colleagues to visit some doctors and discuss a few issues. One evening, I was reading a book and chilling on my own, when one of my colleagues Erum, who is a great friend of mine too, knocked on the door and literally dragged me to this place. It’s called “Ponte Da Saudade” which I learned, was the bridge of longing. I, along with Erum, sat down at its edge, drinking hot tea, letting the fresh breeze fill our lungs, each engrossed in their own thoughts and longings. I kept my eyes on the changing colors of the sky which was honestly the most beautiful scene ever. I thought about everything I yearned for. But all that came to my mind was the yearning for ecstasy, hidden deep inside me. I let it resurface at that time, let the emotions wash over me, as we quietly enjoyed the serenity and tranquility of that place. The sun was setting, the water reflecting its beauty. It was paradisal. I wanted this yearning desire to be fulfilled. That’s all I wished for at that moment.

Today, when I entered my home, after a long tiring day with absolutely nothing on my mind except the desire of a good scrumptious dinner and a long sleep, I sensed there were some guests. I went to the lounge and there I saw a family I had never seen before in my life. A man, around 70 years of age, with his wife, around 50 years or so, with their son, who was around 30 years possibly, were sitting very comfortably on the sofa. As I entered, the lady’s eyes snapped up. It was as if she’d been waiting for me to come. Which now makes me wonder what my mom’s been telling them about me. Her son’s eyes were fixed on the tea cup in his hands. It didn’t bother me. My dad and the unknown uncle were busy discussing business. “MEN!” I thought and started to make my way towards the room. As I should’ve already expected, my mom called my name. Oh God. I was so not in the mood of listening to anyone tonight.

I walked towards them at a slow pace. This better be good.

***

Thank you for reading!

Image credits: https://www.flickr.com/photos/jimsk/132130554/

Life across the window

It was agonizing. Watching her with him. Every frigging day. A constant, never ending torture. It wasn’t my business. I know. But it was a habit built over the time. It was in my routine. Watching her across the window, while I brewed my morning coffee, while I scrambled the eggs, often blackening them in a haste to not let her get out of my sight when she picking up the morning newspaper. Then coming home after a long tiring day and watching her again, as I prepared my dinner. She watched the 8pm program regularly and often used to laugh, which was melodiously sweet to my ears. How I was dying to get near her, to sit beside her, caressing her soft skin, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth, taking in her radiance… if only she knew! But there was this guy, who knew nothing about her. Why was she with him anyway? I had seen him watching other girls pass by when she wasn’t looking. It was obvious to me he wasn’t into her. She needed care, she needed love. He had no clue what she wanted. He was always dragging her wherever he went. I heard the other day, a heated argument, something I couldn’t just tune out even if I wanted to. She was crying. I honestly have no idea how I resisted the urge to just barge in to her house and smack the guy hard across the face and bleed him to death. She obviously didn’t want to go out but he literally dragged her in his car. It was a horrible night for me. Freakishly horrible. And now, today, I see them together again. But even a blind person can see how doleful her smile is. He is holding her hand, she isn’t even bothering to return it. She is staring at the sky, at the ground, anywhere but him, she isn’t even meeting his eyes. And why can’t he keep his hands off her hips? Can’t he see she is irritated beyond anything? Git. The way he is rambling about the game and not giving an eff to the silent screams evident from her face, it only acts like fuel to the fire burning inside me. I have to do something, I just have to. But on what grounds? I want to help her, I’m dying to… but how? How would I explain to her I’ve been observing her for almost an year across the windows, silently watching her every move. She would creep out and possibly think the worst about me. I can’t let that happen. I can’t afford to live if this tiny source of connection between us is lost. Not knowing about her entirely would be more tormenting for me.