Where I tell you a little bit about THAT YEAR

20 April 2011

Don't delay, something tells me I gotta go away
Maybe it's the way we always stay when our hearts have gone
We can't hold us anymore, no, we've got to fold
Down to the floor, yes, I know it's cold but baby, our hearts have gone

 

It is one of those nights, tonight. Some night bird is calling out the fact of morning, I’ve had one, two, no, three drinks and it’s that strange hour when your sleep has past and you feel like you could stay awake forever. If there was someone else with me, I’d be confessing right now, I’d be spilling my little ol’ guts right over my coffee table, but after I fed a friend dinner and gave him a drink, he went home and so I turn to the internet and talk to it and tell it about what I’m thinking of.

 

Which,  tonight, is JC. Specifically, when we ended, how we ended. No one, even people who love me dearly, can fathom exactly how unhappy I was in the last six months of 2010. I think back upon it and all I can remember is feeling my stomach in a perpetual knot, feeling like I was walking on glass, feeling like that same glass had somehow climbed into my throat, was resting in my eyes. I couldn’t blink, I couldn’t swallow, I couldn’t move. And yet. And yet, I loved him. And I think he loved me. Which is probably why we were so unhappy.

 

A night I just tweeted about, having a fight about god knows what now, and me in a hurry, pulling on sneakers and my tights and slamming the door ferociously behind me. I ran down Carter Road, feeling the pavement under my feet, ran, even though I’m not a runner, ran and thought and felt the hot almost-rain on my face, yes, it was almost monsoon time then, wasn’t it? I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell above my iPod, just go AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA until I couldn’t scream anymore, until the glass in my throat fell out finally, but Bombay is a crowded city, and I didn’t want to cause a scene or have people stare at me funnily and this I think, is my basic problem.

 

Just because there once was love
Don't mean a thing, don't mean a thing
Just because there once was love
Don't mean a thing, don't mean a thing

 

A friend came to meet me, and tried to say soothing things, like you would to a horse that’s threatening to bolt, but the fact of him, the fact of us, in that small, hot flat, the fact of his things happily married to mine, the fact of our lives so intertwined now that I couldn’t even begin to see where I could start to unravel it, it just made me so, so tired. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to squat on Carter Road forever and just NOT DEAL.

 

I was so tired that whole period. If I could have stayed in bed forever, I would have, but then who’d run the house? Who’d make sure everything was on the up-and-up? And by slapping a brave face on it, I could escape and meet people and pretend like my life was just FABULOUS DAHLING, MUAH MUAH. I don’t know how much people were fooled, I know when I moved here and began to breathe normally again, people said, “Oh, you look so relaxed now.” I didn’t think strain would show on my face, but I felt like I had Botox, my eyes didn’t move, my mouth turned upwards in small degrees, my hands—I’m a big hand-mover in conversation—stayed static or curled around my glass of wine.

 

Why am I thinking about this tonight? It’s so far in the past, that we’re even at the point where we’re having friendly-ish conversations, JC and I. Thinking about it closes my throat up again, it’s so not a pleasant memory that I’ve blocked most of it. Occasionally, one or two incidents will swim up, like this night, but mostly, nothing. I’ve been on the occasional date, other boys’ numbers are on my cellphone and they have the power to make me laugh through a text message.

 

But it’s that kind of evening. It’s 3.30 and even my night bird has given up and gone to bed like a good night bird should. If this was a real life conversation, this is where my throat would be sore and parched from talking so long, I’d say, “You know?” a lot and touch your wrist, I’d top up our drinks, you’d look at me in sympathy, but mostly you’d want me to stop bringing up such depressing things like my last breakup, GOD, will you get over that already? For the most part, this is me telling you, “This is where I’ve been! And this is what happened. And this is why I am.”

 

…. now that my heart is gone.

23 confessing back:

  1. am there now...and doing my best to move on...

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  3. Though a different subject underlying my life I could relate to your psyche at the time of writing this piece. Quite a straight and frank portrayal. It is always the night's thing especially one of those in which alcohol acts as a stimulant.

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  4. The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or erased. It can only be accepted.

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  5. Wow! Jus wow! So what they say about broken hearts being better writers/poets/wordsmiths is true afterall! Or maybe its the alcohol. Or the silence of the night. Or perhaps a combination of the three! I think i jus found ur mojo! Eureka!

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  6. I wonder why, at times, we become so vulnerable to certain people, things or emotions. Human being is the most superior living creature. We can potentially come up with a solution to almost any difficult thing but a broken heart. I so agree with how you feel remembering the bygone days.But, believe it or not, with each passing day you find yourself moved on a bit until, after many days/months, you suddenly realise it. Reminiscing the past over drinks is the best way you can take that step a little further than usual in the process of moving on. My friend says, "you are the owner of your happiness."
    Sounds very cliche, but holds the meaning if your practice it.

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  7. I thought you said you've moved on and let the ghosts of the past hang themselves. I thought I'd convinced myself I've moved on. But its the nights that get you, dont they?

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  8. I have a question: What did you do/ do you pan to do about the facebook photos? That's one level on entanglement I personally haven't figured how to get out of graciously and I'm hoping you have some ideas :)

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  9. I actually could relate to...
    Its been 2 years but You know when I started reading your post I somehow went back to my own days-leaving the flat and ...........Its Life isn't it !

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  10. No one can tell you when you should 'get over it'. You alone know what you've experienced, what you've felt and how you can heal. A big online hug, since that's all I can send from so far away. I really hope the city of your origin heals you.

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  11. yup.. it generally feels all messed up.. I think I have no faith anymore... actually the faith bit just comes and goes...
    I am trying.. you keep at it too.. hopefully we'll get to the other side..

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  12. Nights can pretty bad for thoughts of this ilk. Its so difficult to damn the night and shoot the blooming blue bird.

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  13. though we say we have moved on..but sometimes the memories tend to strangle us from within..i would say recollecting them is a good to make them stale and reducing their effect...
    btw...since the time i read ur book...you are here..i kinda feel connected in a weird way to u, ur words, thoughts...whenever i have read it...dunno how many times i have how many more times i would...but it has always brought a change.. i dunno y but wanna thank u... luv, neha :) muahz.. takkai

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  14. haha, nice writeup Maam..u try recollecting those memories w/o alcohol,now that's much more lethal :)

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  15. Been there,done that...

    What you really really need to do is to read a book called "He's just not that into you" and/or " Its called a breakup because its broken" by the same author....
    will definitely help you get your spunk back, AND mentally help you to erase the loser from your mind.

    Just my 2 cents...

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  16. Been there,done that...

    What you really really need to do is to read a book called "He's just not that into you" and/or " Its called a breakup because its broken" by the same author....
    will definitely help you get your spunk back, AND mentally help you to erase the loser from your mind.

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  17. All the best, I'm sure you'll get out of this and over him, hope it happens sooner rather than later.

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  18. M, I am not going to say anything on the topic of life and how it moves on etc ... but you write marvelously when you're all down with nostalgia ... i still read this one you did way back about a soliloquy about ex boyfriends ... ahhh ...

    loose the sadness, keep the pain. muah

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  19. I've been reading your blog for quite some time but nothing propelled me faster out of my laziness to comment, than this post here.
    It's like you've taken a page out of my life & put it in words, probably better than I could. It's surprised me to know that you & I went through the same gut-wrenching experience around the same time, in different cities, and then we both moved to Delhi. Not trying to pull of a "me-too" here, but I can so totally relate to every bit you've written in this post.

    And those evenings, when they do come, are full of potential to pull you back to square one, where you can see yourself exactly when & where your life changed. Moving on,although a super idea, is seldom easy to implement.

    Thank you for putting in words what I never did.

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  20. I hear what you're saying more viscerally than I care to admit. I spent nearly a year following a bad breakup becoming an alcoholic. I remember running through the streets of a city which had suddenly become foreign to me in pouring rain and drinking gin and wondering why I still loved a girl who had betrayed me.
    I wish you the best. I've found someone I never could've dreamed existed, you will too, in time.

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  21. mayb not related but i m going to say it anyway...
    I have always been a believer of zodiacs of sun n star movements of the energies working on us. ppl laugh at me at tyms but i believe wht i believe. this piece of urs just made it stronger - last 6 months of 2010 I went thru the same pain same emotions same issues - its sumthing i wud hv written if i ever got the nerve of penning stuff down. n to know we belong to the same zodiac is scary how similar our lives at a particular point were nd then i think wht is it tht we try to acheieve ven most of it is nt even in our hands. blocking emotions putting on a brave face is the story of my life ven inside i feel broken n sad.

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  22. I've been reading this over and over an it makes me cry every time. Sad sappy sucker, what're you gonna do.

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  23. This is your most lovely post. Maybe this and 'Musings on Multiculturalism', which I suppose, is ironic.

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