I’m bad.

Source: madhuriesingh.com , apronstringz.wordpress.com

I’m bad.
Maybe I was born this way. Maybe my parents failed to teach me moral behaviour. Maybe they did but I was reluctant to learn.
I’m bad because I think of myself. I think of the way I’ll dress up today, what hairstyle I’ll wear, which bracelet will match my clothes, food that I’ll eat and food that I’ll avoid, friends I will hang around with, movies that I will watch, the cosmetics that I’ll use to help my skin glow and how I’ll look beautiful.

I’m selfish.
I do not care of my millions of brothers who die every day due to the stormy weather because they don’t have warm clothes to shield themselves. I do not care of crore others who spend their eternity in every corner of every street in hope of getting a handful of rice, to whom a handful of rice is equal to the food of a five star restaurant. I do not care of  thousands of other  anaemic girls who haven’t shampooed their hair or scrubbed their bodies since months. Movies? They might not have the slightest idea of what it is. I do not care of hundreds of other poor old men, around whom a clan of mosquitoes linger every time everywhere. I ignore the dreams of lacks of others which are similar to mine and I turn a blind eye to the fact that they are also humans. Heavens above! I do not even ask if my parents have  had their meal tonight, if they are happy, if anything is bothering them. I’m a callous wimp. I don’t think of nothing but myself.
When a man lands into a murky puddle, I hoot with laughter. I pick apart my food and if it’s spicy, I cast it away. I walk away from people and things that give out offensive stench. If my flipcover fetches a scratch, I replace it quickly. If I get pimples on my face, I panic and visit the dermatologist. I’m bad because I couldn’t care less.
But wait! I’m not the onliest. You too, are identical to me. You behave the way I do. We are drops of the same pond, crops of the same field.  So you are also bad and selfish and careless. Aren’t  you?

Incognito.

Dear Anna,
I have never written a letter to anyone in these 25 years that I have lived nor will I in the future, I hope. But now I’m forced to write to you, my emotions and sentiments don’t let me rest in peace without you. My attachment with you in this little span of time is indescribable. I want you to come back to me, be your natural self, give me your sweetest smile! I want to plead, beg, cry, flirt , threaten; do whatever is possible to get you back!
I was ready to do anything for you. And by anything I mean ANY F***ING THING!  If only you would have respected me a little! Only if you would have toyed with me at a little less. What do you think? Bending on my knees and proposing you for marriage with the whole world witnessing the drama was some joke? It might as well be, for you, but I was serious and solemn in my intentions. I had, still have, a pure heart unlike you. Was it me who had asked for your love in the first place? No Damn it! IT WAS YOU. Like nine others, I was the tenth toy with which you played and played till you got bored. And when you broke me down completely, you threw me away without giving a thought of how much this toy had amused you and added joy to your life, although for a few months.
I can write and write, write for the entire night. Isn’t that’s all what’s left for me to do? Mourn over the loss of my best treasure? I can hardly sleep or do anything else for that matter. I’m tossing and turning. A tear here, an outburst there. I had my exams, I wanted to study, to be something that I intended to, that I ought to but closed this chapter. In fact you had put a full stop to this whole book. When I used to open my books to study in hope of putting some law in my mind, your memories outlawed me. These emotions killed me without leaving a scar behind. I cry every time I hear a romantic song. I can’t hold back and relax because I love you. “Loved” you would be the precise term? I tried to be a bold and a brave man but I’m not and I can’t! These bitter downpours bites venomously at me. It gives me the kind of pain no medicine can heal. Except one: The healing power of your affection.

I know what you are doing at this time. Flirting with a guy, or hanging out with guys, stalking someone on some filthy social networking site or maybe asking some innocent man to take you to his apartment, as you did with me.
The question is,  now what? Are you going to torture the innocent gentleman in your life or are you going to put some good thought in that head of yours and  repent for what you have done?

I was a very well known guy in my college, mingling with buddies, bubbly bubbly, a happy go lucky kind of a person whose company most students enjoyed. What were you? A fresher who didn’t know the C of college. Nobody knew you either. You wanted the limelight, you wanted attention and you got it. I passed out of College, completed my degree and boom! You cut me out! I’m gone. Do you feel the pain that is transpiring through me? Phew! Forget about that! You need a heart to feel. Do you even know people with smashed hearts? I doubt you do.

You started arguing with me, I didn’t say a word. You started fighting with me, accusing me falsely yet I say only a few words to clarify your hazardous doubts. But then,you brought in the cliche “break up” thing.  I apologized though I wasn’t wrong. I wanted to avoide any thing coming in between our miraculous relationship. You were so dear to me! God! So very lovely! I had given you the freedom to flirt to do the hell you wanted to but going away from you was the last thing I wished for. I used to wait for your messages day in and day out. I checked my cell phone like a nomad every now and then. A simple “Hi” made me blush. It was all an illusion. A matter of time which would come to an end and; it did. I don’t feel like getting out of bed, or talking or eating. You hover on my mind all the time. But I have to, you know. It was my first experience at love which was sweet at first but turned out to be ugly later.

Only I know how I face the world , plaster fake smiles and laughs, pretend to be happy when deep inside I’m dying. You took away a part of me with you.

I hope I’ll get over it soon. They say, time heals deepest pains. I’ll join a good firm within some days, work my ass off. And be busy as much as I can. No time for such bullshit.
I’ll miss you, no doubt in that. The time that we have spent, ofcourse. All about it. I’m happy that it happened. Just remember “what goes around, comes back around” All the people out there are not fools like the ten of us with whom you were. An eleventh one will teach you what love is. No, no! Not love! He will teach you what is betrayal!!

Act like a human, my dear! There’s still time. 🙂

(Inspired by a true story.)

The end.

Sun rays gently tap the serene sky as dawn descends. I haven’t slept for one minute the previous night yet I’m brimming with vigour. I think and over think the things I have done, the people I have hurt, unintentionally, or perhaps with bold intentions. I play the events of my life, from childhood to youth, in my mind, over and over again. I want another chance. For everything that I have done is wrong. Nothing feels right, nothing is right either.
I knew what I did was wrong but I did it out of habit. Out of necessity, maybe? Will all those pierced souls forgive me? Not in this world. I have hurt my enemies, my friends, my parents, my peers. Not one person connected to me have been left unhurt. And all along I have hurt myself. 
I want to repent for what I have done. Asking for forgiveness is a characteristic of the weak. I am not weak. I have the courage to trample a lion. This is how I am. This is how I have lived. This is me. I ask myself, is there any reason why I should continue when all the humble gentlemen out there wants to vanish me, not giving me another chance to mend my mistakes? Those men with masked gentleness. At least that’s where my plus point lies. I don’t fake around. Playing the role of  someone who I’m not. I’m bad. I show it and people know it. No denying it. No backstabbing.
I cry.  Fresh tears run down my tear stained face. What do I do? Where do I go? Why am I doing this? I don’t want to face the world. I want to change. If I try to be nice, those nice people will believe this is my another plot to a greater ploy. I’m tired of this lifestyle. I go to the restaurant, to the club, to the garden, to the movies, to the pub, I see a group of people sticking together. There’s this group and that group with none giving me much of a glance.

My brother’s death has given me a blow I have never had before. It has changed me ever since. I was  never this evil minded depressed person. A car had hit him and disappeared in the woolly weather. Spectacles gathered around the frozen body that had been lying there for 10 minutes. They oohed and aahed but no decent man considered it wise to call the police or an ambulence. Moreover nobody had seen the car come and to ask if they have noted down the car’s number would be a funny thing to say. If only they would have done something……
A life walked away in silence.
I hate everything and everyone. This being the reason why. I want to have my part of revenge. I want to teach this ugly world a lesson yet I want to show them what humanity really is. I want to take all their lives yet I want to be a better person. But who cares?
I’m toying with my sleeping pills. An overdose would kill me. Yes, I’m aware of that. To hell with it! I will consume all of them. I don’t wanna live in this mysterious world. Let my demise bring smiles on faces. Let darkness creep over with this rising sun. Let death rejoice over its victory.

(Note: this is a work of fiction. Theme and plot adheres to the writers imagination.)

An invading thought •02

Credits: gofundme.com

Funny how we think we are masters of our own fate and then barges in “karma.”