“October 8, 2017
#Rant707
It’s typical to write of love they say. A boy and a girl, a sudden connection, cliché! Well it is because it’s there. One can try and write about the unseen, ‘real’ problems such as world hunger, sexual violence but who’s going to talk about adolescent desperation? It’s not a made-up term, it exists. The rollercoaster of emotions and hormones, the fear of subjugated commitment and rejection, these aren’t just psychological locks. These are pure human emotions.
I have this problem. My heart sinks at the thought of unattainable love, and then I project that onto stars behind screens. Would anyone want to talk about their hypothetical celebrity Sims life as serious conversations? There are people out there very determined, call them whatever you may but they have imagined, are fulfilling, a very intimate relationship. Take me for example: My tummy twirls and pupils dilate at the thought of… ‘Himjee’ you know I can’t take his name, don’t laugh.
Anyway, I had a huge disagreement with Maa today. It all started because of that cursed scalene roti I made today. Then the conversation shifted to marriage (obviously), and then it went to how Maa believes bhai will end up marrying of choice. Me being me said ‘me too’, surprisingly I didn’t get a glare but encouragement.
‘What type do you like beta?’
‘You know who I like Maa’ I blushed and scoffed.
‘That can’t happen! He’s not our kind, he’s not Muslim. When are you going to step out of your fantasies? This choice of yours is unacceptable!’ what an obvious reply, Maa.
‘Does that make him any less of a human Maa?’
‘You’re going against the rules again! You worry me tirelessly!’
So I just left and came to you. Pray for a miracle please.”
She penned down these words in her daily diary and wrote at least five times a day. Claws of desperation sunken deep; she didn’t know what she was desperate for and a void cried empty. Another day felt like a compulsion she’d gladly avoid yet sadly glued to. After yet another day of “how to get fairer in seven days” remedies and “when I was your age-” advices she sighed as she lay still unwelcoming of another such day. She shut her eyes and called upon slumber.
The night was strangely heavy this time and a tingly feeling consumed her sleep. She was consumed by uncertainty and in a heartbeat the darkness of the drowse began to astound. A divine light prevailed; perhaps this was her miracle. She waited for a bang and slowly specks of silvered sparkle consumed the milky space. Then sloped a descending grey feather sprinkled in white glitter. She couldn’t see herself, just felt her existence. She reached for the unapproachable feather. And felt as if she was under the clutches of paralysis, she couldn’t move an inch and began to panic. Abruptly, a cool breeze blew the feather closer. She woke up.
Opened her deepened hazelnut eyes to an itchy feeling on her face, and there it was, the feather resting on her nose. All sorts of obvious stunned expressions befell and she trembled. The white light prevailed again but this time it was tangible. And through that beam appeared a figure, it was not Himjee if that’s whom you were expecting. But it was beautiful whatever it was, the indescribable kind of beautiful. It wore clothes, it wasn’t Caspar, it was translucent, and it still wasn’t Caspar. It wore a baby-green gown, moderately spanned hair and a very pale complexion. It smiled at her a smile she had never seen. She was mesmerized by the way its eyes mooned as they smiled. She couldn’t comprehend how perfectly salmon tinted its lips were.
“Who are you?” she asserted.
“Not human.” it smiled giving her a heart-attack.
“I don’t comprehe-” it silenced her, finger on lips.
It presented its hand.
Her indecisive heart forcefully lay upon its hand, hers. It simmered in her celestial emotions. As tears consumed her, a storm erupted within as her heart began to sink like the unbreakable titanic. It was time for a breakdown.
“Not human, don’t you have a name?”
“ Call me whatever you like.”
“Well you look like a green apple.” She giggled.
“Okay, call me apple then,” it laughed, “Apple G?”
“Just G” she blushed and cringed.
There was nothing quite like its voice, its androgynous melody.
G stood up hand in hers, “let’s go” it said; she awaited this sweet-escape. She began to disappear but not entirely and so they crossed out the wall. They flew away, as expected, recreated Neverland and ceased the sky. She laughed all the tears away and welcomed the night breeze like a new born child. G watched her, content, smiling like a destiny.
“Tokyo Tower!” she exclaimed
“Madison Square Garden?”
“Oh!! The leaning tower!”
“These mountain-high temples… are we in China?!” she fascinated.
“Yes, there’s your border.” G pointed.
“I’ve always wanted to visit Khunjerab! Let’s go to the Maple Garden next!” said her.
“Time’s short, there’s another place I want to show you. G replied.
They flew as dawn grew brighter, “Are those… Cherry Blossoms?!” G held onto her tightly as they gradually paced down in a park of some alien lettered country; neither China nor Japan if that’s what you’re thinking. They stood under the Sakura tree just looking at each other. Not romantically but fulfilled. Drops of joy trickled down her cheeks, G wiped them.
“Nothing is ever desperate. Your sentiments are like this tree, they bloom once a year. You harvest them inside and when the time comes you bloom in beautiful and terrible ways. You’re special, rare and beautiful. You’ll be told off for lots, for being yourself. You were chosen for this life but it’s not your undoing. You can modify however you believe. Break monotony. Harvest your worries and each year when a Sakura blooms I’ll come back to you and hear your stories. We’ll stroll along these streets and eat ice-cream, do whatever you please. It’s time for me to go now. But we’ll meet again and I’ll show you things unseen.” G let out a tear.
There was something iffy in G’s words she couldn’t comprehend but the dust of escape blinded her from the rest and bound her to life. She wiped that tear and warded it.
“Let’s go” she said, he nodded. She closed her eyes, quite patiently and suddenly opened them back to her room as daylight surrounded it. She was alone once again. G’s tear still settled on her fingertip and so she bawled her existence till it was content.
In that moment she didn’t quite realize; she was incompletely complete, foolishly for another rare dream, regardless of the absurd life tomorrow held.
She smiled.
