Butterfly effect - A short story

The shopping mall was nearly closing for the night and a few of its last visitors were finding their way towards the exit. They seemed pretty happy and occupied in each other’s company. He looked extremely cute that day. His burgundy t-shirt perfectly complimented his complexion. His wavy hair sat slightly messy on his head just as she always liked, and his triangular face exuded his ‘zen’ nature. It was one of those many days when she was quietly and pleasantly soaking in his absolute love and undivided attention. Oh, boy! was she not counting her blessings!

The mall looked almost deserted with very few visitors, including the two, who were climbing down the escalators. It was during one of those mundane geeky conversations as they were walking, he asked a naïve “What does that mean?” question. For some reason, she found this overwhelmingly cute. She felt a sudden strong wave of love for him gush out of her heart and reached for his cheek to plant a nice quick kiss. He got conscious and moved his face away when he saw a few visitors walking ahead. As she immediately retracted, he said with a smile, “You can kiss me at home, okay?” She smiled back, nodded, and said, “Okay” and they continued with their regular conversation.

Little did he know that her heart was caught in a tornado by the time he kissed her later that night when they were at home.

This tiny, trivial incident opened a floodgate of repressed memories which were lying in some forgotten, dusty corner of her mind: of how she felt conscious holding hands while she used to walk besides X (her ex-boyfriend) and how she had conveyed it to him in clear words and then how M had reluctantly agreed for no public display of affection on her repeated requests; she was reminded of how X once got upset when she looked around to see if there are any familiar faces so that they won’t get caught watching a movie and how X used to repeatedly ask her if she is embarrassed or ashamed of him.  She stumbled upon these and several other memories which she had kept tightly folded and packed in the last 'Do not open' shelf of her past. Of how she realised that she had turned into X for her current beau. Maybe now she would stop embarrassing him.

Not that her current beau doesn’t love her enough, most likely, he loves her more than she loves him – a statement she usually denies. He, however, unintentionally showed her a mirror which relayed her past and reopened an old wound by smashing that mirror into her heart.

It definitely sounds bizarre, but in a way this incident made her understand how “flapping of a wing by a butterfly gives rise to a tornado somewhere else.”

Spooky Story Alert: Story of a bad storyteller

Image courtesy: Google Images

She was a bad writer. Her stories never made any sense, and neither did her language. Her 10 self-published books hardly fetched her any readers. She had begun losing sleep as she was in desperate need of money. All she needed was a workable story idea which could pay the rent and bills; rest, she thought, could be polished by a ghost writer.

On the last day of May, at sundown, she felt a bizarre tingling in her heavily pregnant belly. She felt as though the baby was trying to tickle her from the inside. It was these moments which made her think that there should have been someone she could share such small joys with. Brushing the loneliness aside, she sat down to write.

Her thin frame with her eight-month-old belly bump couldn’t sit still. She had absolutely no idea what to write on. Sipping on her chocolate milkshake, she sat contemplating near the window whether to take up some job. As she was blankly staring outside her window, she saw a black frame of a little boy standing on the edge of the terrace top of the neighboring building. Since it was almost dark, she was unable to figure out what that little boy looked like. Oddly enough, the tingle in her belly increased.

“Hey! Here! Look down, here!” she waved and called out to the boy. The little black frame didn’t move an inch. She called out loudly, again. Nothing happened.

“Hey little boy, get down of the terrace top! I’ll call your mother,” she yelled sharply. In the dark, now, she could see the head of the boy turned towards her. Suddenly, she felt her baby kick inside her belly.

There it was! An idea struck her mind. She was going to write a tragic story about a little orphan boy who would later turn out to be a vigilante. Not an original idea, but she could refine it later, she thought. Even as she was happy for having thought of something, she felt a bit scared when that black frame kept looking in her direction with stony stillness. She waved and called out again, but to no avail. “What if he jumps to his death? Has he been abandoned? How has his mother been so careless?” These thoughts troubled her.

She then decided to meet the boy. Her belly kept tingling crazy as if the baby in it was trying to say something; maybe warning its mother against leaving the house. Nonetheless, her curiosity made her leave the house and head towards to the opposite building’s terrace where the little boy’s motionless figure stood.

---

As she reached the entrance, she hurriedly asked the security guard if he could help. He dismissed her saying no one has the keys to the terrace top, except him. She insisted that she did see the boy. Unwillingly, the grumpy guard accompanied her to the terrace top to see if there was any kid at all. The door of the terrace top was locked. He looked at her with a smug expression. Nevertheless, he opened the terrace door, only so he could mock her.

The terrace top was pitch dark. The guard flashed his torchlight in all directions but couldn’t see any boy.

“Yes, ma’am. Where’s the boy?” He asked her with a smirk.

She followed the guard and looked around.

“There. See,” she said softly pointing towards the south end of the terrace top.

The little boy had now turned his frame towards her as she informed the guard.

She could now see that the boy wore, what she figured in the dark, were tattered clothes. But couldn’t see his face. He was standing still as a mannequin.

The guard wore a puzzled expression. Annoyed, he shouted at her for wasting his time as he was not able to see any boy. It was then she suddenly felt her baby, insider her belly, kick her. As she looked up, the boy standing at the south end of the terrace top now seemed a bit closer. But his little black frame was still standing motionless.

The irritated guard asked her to leave. She looked at the little boy and saw he was a few more steps closer. She asked the guard to flash his torchlight in the boy’s direction. But he wasn’t listening to her. He sensed that there was something spooky with this woman and wanted to leave the place.

She called to the little one lovingly, “Hey, baby, what’s your name? Where is your mother?”

No response.

Annoyed, the guard held her left arm tightly and began dragging her towards the exit door.

Suddenly, she felt her belly twirl from the inside leaving her in excruciating pain. She shrieked in pain. The guard was shocked as her shriek sounded like an animal’s during a slaughter. He left her arm in a haste and ran towards to the exit door.

She crouched on the floor seeking support and heard a loud thud from behind. She turned around. What she saw drained the blood from her face. The exit door had fallen so hard that it cut the guard’s body into two symmetrical pieces. Scared and confused, she yelled as loud as she could. When she turned around, she saw the boy, again motionless, standing only a few feet away from her. She could now see his face a little clearly. His round face reminded her of someone. Someone familiar. Her belly burnt from the inside.

“Who are you and what do you want?” She asked as she slowly tried to make her way towards the exit. However, she felt she couldn’t move her limbs. Was she paralyzed?

She saw the black frame of the boy slowly lift his hand and pointing it towards her belly and whispering in the most melodious voice: ‘I want your baby, Sheila.’ She was still not able to recall the familiarity in the boy’s face.

She gave another loud shriek and jolted back from her nightmare.

Her coffee mug was empty, and all dried up. She didn’t realise when she had fallen asleep and her nightmare woke her up at 3 am in the morning. Sweaty and scared, she looked at the terrace top of the same neighbouring building but couldn’t see any little boy standing there.

Later that night, she slept peacefully in many days as she now had a story idea in mind.

(Please forgive me for this long post. But hope you liked the story. Please comment/critique below so I'll know if I anyone at all reads my blog! :D )

Inktober 2018 - Day 13 - guarded

i had once left some dark passages
of my mind unguarded
not knowing they will be
broken into by a stranger one day
he raided on my dark secrets
recreated them on my body, again
without my consent
and left me in disarray

his touch was not gentle this time
his kiss didn't smell of love
i shouldn't have trusted him that day
as the scars that he left on me
i now can't get rid of

i picked up a razor and drew
vertical lines along my veins
the only sane thing i could think of
to ease, rather, erase my constant pain

death is not the answer
as many of you would say
but the guarded temple
of my body has been
repeatedly violated
and i had a
huge price to pay

goodbye

Inktober - Day 11 - cruel

once his favourite muse

he now trashed me like
 
an overused cliché

attendant in a red apron

a cute attendant in a red apron

with bespectacled, warm eyes

looks after her patrons

although i saw her for the first time

she looked like someone 

who could spread smiles

light

she walked in my 

quiet, dark life softly

bringing in her light

and sunshine

Inktober 2018 - Day 6 - Drooling

drooling comes to me naturally

when she cooks me yummy veggies

i wait, i bark, i cry and i scowl

but still she feeds me lovingly

i wish i could tell her verbally

that i, too, love her immensely

 

Inktober 2018 - Day 5 - Chicken

i knew from the start
it was never meant to be
as we live with eternal fear of death
but her heavenly feathers blinded me
and her melodious clucking took away my breath

i knew we would part soon
as we were nearing easter
but dang! was i devasted
when she left me for a
taller, cockier rooster

Inktober 2018 - Day 4 - Spell

"your daughter will be
a sorceress one day"
her mother was told

little did she know that
her girl would bewitch millions
with her magical prose and poetry

Inktober 2018 - Day 3 - Roasted

entwined, spent

as we lay naked

making fiery love beneath

celestial northern lights

for the first time

she melted in my arms 

like a roasted marshmallow

Aaj jane ki jidd na karo

Hey you, hi there. This is a short story I wrote four years ago.
Read it and let me know what you think about it. No, it's not a true story. 


Kitna maasum rangin hai ye samaa, 

husna aur ishq ki aaj mairaaj hai..

Kal ki ko khabar janejaan, 

rok lo aaj ki raat ko...

She was listening intently till the last line of this song when she broke down. She was leaving the country in a month and was marrying her lover half-heartedly as she never dreamed of living in any other city / country but her own. The day was inevitable and I knew I had to see her go away some day. That day had finally arrived.

 

Her office colleagues, which included me, had arranged for her a wonderful house party and she had no inkling whatsoever that she was coming home to a surprise.

She had quit her job and was about to marry her lover who recently got a job in the United States. She would embrace the foreign land as her own with no intention of returning any time soon. 

Her terrace flat was beautifully decorated with candles and flowers with sufi music in the background to add some charm to the evening.

She came, she saw and was surprised. She was speechless for the moment but gathered her best words to thank us. And the party began.

All settled down with their dinner plates and some wine. My eyes were skirting hers. I didn't meet her the whole day today. Not that I didn't want to, I was trying to check if I was able to resist myself the whole day without seeing her impeccable beauty. Another failed attempt. I had crossed her cabin before leaving the office, although the exit route was the other way, just to see her.

She finally called me and asked me to join her in the open air of her terrace flat. I was reluctant but couldn't resist. As much I loved inching closer to her, I feared her lover, who was also present in the party, would not like it. He knew that I had confessed my love to her and had intense feelings for her. But she was gracious enough to behave normally and convinced him that there was nothing between us.

We were sitting on the swing in the open air terrace. The moonlight was at its brightest tonight. It didn't matter, because it wouldn't have lit up the darkness of my life.

She requested me to sing any song of my choice. I remember how she used to ask me to sing songs during our coffee breaks together when she was upset. Slowly others gathered around us. They encouraged me to sing a song for her. I refused with an excuse of a sore throat. I feared that I might break down if I sing. Thanks to my gifted bad luck, no one bought that excuse. I had to sing.

I am no expert at camouflaging my emotions when it comes to singing. I began.  

Aaj jane ki jidd na karo, 

Yunhi pehelu me baithe raho... 

And why should all of this bother me? Because, I love her. Because, I want to see her happy. Because, even when I know I can never have her in  my life, I wish for a miracle to change the constellation of twisted stars of my destiny. Because I am a woman who has fallen deeply in love with another.

does he know?

sometimes i wonder
if he is aware...

... of the peck i planted on his cheek while he was half asleep
... of the glances i stole while admiring his long curls 
and dimpled chin

... of the comfortable silences we shared doing nothing
... of how dazzled i was by his intelligent, cynical comebacks 
on worldly things
 

... of how i loved to be his fake wife in that children's play
... of how it felt right with simply being a few inches away
 

... of how that something between us could have bloomed into something much more
... of how i still get excited to see his text on my notification scroll
 

... of the many words i could have told him right to make this special something between us work
... of how i still miss him even when I thought I'm done

does he know?

let go

you could have had me back

had you not let me free

now that you long for me

i have built my nest elsewhere

judgemental mentals

in a world full of 
 

judgemental mentals

let’s nurture the 

 
non-judgemental sanity  

that could-have-been love story

sometimes… 

a ‘could have been’

would have been

the best love story

backspaces

it were not her written words

but the deleted ones

which could have conveyed

her deepest desires

disappear

disappear

was her favorite word

and so she did one day

leaving behind her memories

stealing his earth's sunshine away

detach or not to?

when loving someone

becomes as easy as breathing

smallest distance apart

suffocates you

detach or not to detach

then becomes the question

Not a fairy tale wedding

(no rhyme alert)

theirs was not a 'fairy tale' wedding

 

no glittery dresses, no giggly bridesmaids

no typical rituals, no handsome groomsmen

all she needed was to hold him closer 

when they say their vows under nature's presence

 

she looked a little pretty, he looked extremely charming

it was their day, their celebration of a new beginning

sparkly lights  settled all over the huge banyan tree

like cluster of flickering fireflies resting on its branches

standing beneath that brightly-dressed tree

they exchanged vows, rings, and love-soaked stares solemnly
 

'liebe, i take you as my lawfully, waffly wedded wife'

'mon amour, i take you as my lawfully, waffly wedded husband'

theirs was not a 'fairy tale' wedding

neither did they want one

no chaos, no intereference, no noise

all  she needed was to be with him forever

and their marriage to have the longest and best run 

Scent

for long i've 

worn perfumes

now, it's the

scent of his skin

i prefer wearing the most

Strangers, again

he was a stranger to me a decade ago
he is a stranger to me today
the years and moments in between
seemed like autumn leaves withering away


my eyes are no longer beautiful
my jokes are no longer funny 
my smile is no longer charming
and my presence is no longer sunny


i was a stranger to him a decade ago
i'm a stranger to him today
our toxic love in between which brought us closer
that same toxic love drove us away

Seventeen-year-old

he has turned me into a 17-year-old who yearns for his love, attention, gaze and appreciation

i think he has conjured some magic on me where i can't stop thinking and writing about him

i know this blog is turning into a rambling fest of my love-struck mind, but i don't care

i know this post has no poetry or rhyme, but i don't care

i know i sound stupid, irrelevant, incoherent in front of him sometimes, but i don't care

i know all my posts here are excessively soaked with adjectives and metaphors i bestow upon him, but i don't care

all i care about is the smile on his face and sparkle in his eyes when he corrects me

all i care about is how he turns me on with his intelligent comebacks

all i care about is how he cares for me and my wishes

all i care about is how he grounds me when i get carried away

all i care about is the space and independence he gives my gypsy soul

all i care about is how his presence has tamed the hurricane inside me

all i care about is how much i love him and how much he loves me

Sublime

his skin smells like
that cherished old book
whose pages hold the
journey we undertook

his kiss smells like
that morning sunshine
which brings in 
a rush of dopamine

although it feels 
too good to be true
i know deep down 
that our love is sublime

Thank you, 2017

for everything i learned
for several things i unlearned

for twirling me out of my comfort zone
for untwirling the walls of my own

for slapping me with harsh reality
for taming my mercurial insanity

for introducing me to new love
for the deep waters i dove

for all the enriching experiences you gave me
i thank you, 2017