Shallow Friendship

Hadn't they both expected something more from each other?
They had. For sure.
And expectations always seem to betray them.
And it has now once again.

There is a aloofness about them now.
So easy for it to be gone.
But they fail to see that. Or don't let their so called "dignity" see it.
Or maybe they do, and think the other doesn't.

They try to act normal with each other, but the awkwardness is apparent.
The old companionship is long gone.
Why so?
Because they fail to recognize to each other, that it has.

Maybe when they will.
Slowly the old familiarity will be back.
Maybe their friendship will emerge stronger?

Till then.
They will go on sharing a superficial bond.
And missing those old wonderful moments they had together.

The dark hollows

Short crisp hair. Gangly. Hooked nose.
Three forgot. One would always remember.
Crooked smile.
Another changed.

Three forgot. Forgot?
Will never remember.

The lonely table. The suppressed grins.
The vast hallways, too narrow to hide.

The brown bag. The red circled calender.
The brown cupcake. The red nose.

The old friend now foe.
The high nose(with something smelly under it)

The deep ditch. The high jump.
The prickly feeling. The unpleasant words.

The shrill calls. The push in the back.
The narrow eyes. The "supposed" all knowing smile.

Whispered looks, the unanswerable questions.
The dark throat. Unpleasant comment heard.

The pitiful looks, the rushed tears.
The ganging up. The whispered conversations.

Unnoticed self. The purpose of class discussion.
A rumor? started.
Bringing everything down.

The so called "knowing" me.

The dark hollows of the brain. Not to be seen.
Not ones for which the light should be shown.

Blah.

I had a dream about you.
You weren't really there. But you were.
It was dark and you were there like a bright light.
There was so much mystery around you, at least in the beginning.

And then slowly the dream drew in more colors,
I learned much about you, and you about me.

But in truth, did we really understand each other?
I think we did, but not fully.

And in the end, you killed me. In the dream that is.
After a happier you.
Just like that.

Though I didn't die.
I bled. But didn't die.

Weird that the dream came.
Why do I think its about you.
It may not be about you, but I think it is.

I think I am being harsh, saying its about you.
But thats how I feel. What can I do? Can I change what I feel?
I cant do anything.

Phase

I went through a phase.

A phase in which many things happened at once.

A phase in which I cocooned myself yet the same time flew all around as a butterfly.

A phase in which I had some great times yet many moments of the worst.

During this time I felt things I never felt before. Feeling that I still, having a hard time understanding.

I learned many new things. About others, about life, my self.

I learned of some qualities of myself(or maybe I did know of them before but didnt truly acknowledge them), causes of some which gave me much remorse yet others that made me truly happy.

Through this all I have changed.

I dont know if it can be called a change, but I have realized that now I am letting myself get lost in some aspects of myself that I supressed for a while.

There are some people I need to apologize to, others I need to thank.

But I plan on during neither. Doing so would be absurd and irrelevant.

For the people I thought I knew, I think I know, and will get to know :)

The lies, the liars

She loves to lie, that girl.
No, that would be a lie.

She cant stop herself from telling lies.
She starts lying and soon she is buried under their weight.
She carries these lies along with her everywhere.

What makes her do it?
She says they make her feel better.
Do they?
She says they make her feel different?
Do they?
She says they have become part of her.
Not lying she says is like lying to herself.
maybe.

Lately her lies have become transparent.Independent.
The lies no longer string together.
They have become easily recognizable.

Everyone always knew she lied.
But now they know that everyone knows that she lies.

Now they see her and say,
here is the girl who lies.
They move away from her, whispering.
Shunning her.

But she laughs, the girl.
Hysterically.

For she knows.
Not only her, everyone else also had always been lying.
That everyone is a liar.

Friend and a Friend

Sachiv stood staring at the card he had made. Would Bheru like it, he wondered. The card was a square piece of paper with a line that started straight, curving down to the right. It read, "I am Sorry". Under it, the boy had drawn two stick figured boys, with smiles that were as wide as the faces. His friend, Bheru stood across from him, he stared at his shoes and stole quick glances towards Sachiv. Sachiv was nervous, he wondered whether he and Bheru would be friends again. Bheru was his best friend, and who would he play cricket with if Bheru wasn't there?

Yesterday had been like any other day, they had both walked from their bus and before going home had decided to meet as always at 4:30, after finishing homework. Today they planned on playing football. It was different everyday, sometimes football, or cricket, or maybe basketball. They always played with Sachiv's toys, as Bheru didnt have any. Sachiv didnt mind at all, he liked sharing his toys. At 4:30 Sachiv reached the playground with his football. He kicked around the ball as he waited for his friend. Bheru showed up eventually, he came walking, his hands in his pockets, his face grim.
"Oh there you are, your lateee" Sachiv exclaimed, kicking the ball towards Bheru. Bheru didnt kick the ball back. He stood still, staring at Sachiv with a mixed expression.
"Helloo, whts wrong with you? Don't you wanna play?"
No reply from Bheru.
"We can play cricket if you want, I'll go bring the bat"
Bheru walked towards his friend, and said in a low voice.
"Shut up Sachiv. I dont want to play with YOUR cricket bat, YOUR basketball, YOUR football....I hate you, leave me alone."
Sachiv stood still for a moment, and then he pushed his best friend, and screamed,
"Fine then, I dont wanna be you friend. You dont even have a toy to play, how will you play. I never wanna talk to you again. Leave...go away."
Bheru stood up, his hands were scraped. His expression of anger had turned into sadness.
He said again in a low voice.
"I am sorry". And then he turned around and ran.
Sachiv felt bad right away. He had pushed his friend, and said bad things to him. And he wasn't able to say sorry. He decided he would make a card for him and give it to him the next day at bus stop. But he didnt undersatnd why his friend had said what he had. He was always nice.

Within the next ten minutes, before the bus came Sachiv and Bheru became friends again. Soon after, the event was completely forgotten and Sachiv didn't wonder why Bheru had acted so the day before. But as the days went, Bheru came out to play lesser and lesser. At times he didn't come out for days. And when Sachiv would go to his house, and knock on the door, no one would open the door. Though often times he would hear screaming, and someone shouting from inside. Eventually within the year Bheru and his family moved away from the town. In the beginning Sachiv cried for his friend, but eventually he forgot him as he made new friends.

It was only years later he would remember his friend again, when he would hear his mother offhandedly mention Bheru and his family. The financial problems they had been in, the fights his parents had all the time. The screaming and shouting, neighbors could hear. At that time, Sachiv suddenly remembered his first real friend. Bheru. Who had always been nice, except in the last few months before he had left. He remembered the time Bheru refused to play with him, and the new knowledge made him realize the reason behind Bheru's strange behavior.

Years later when Sachiv would be trying to understand people's behavior, he would often delve into the reasons. He knew reasons didn't always justify behaviors, but there were always reasons. And he would often wonder about Bheru, who had taught him this.

Subtleties

The bending road, curves into the impossibilities of life,
along with the road the mind travels.
It stops as the red dot emerges, spreading.
The minds starts to wonder as to what lies beyond itself
It tries to grasp the subtleties governing it.
Unable to grasp, it shudders
Had it truly never understood itself?

All this time, never had it stopped and thought.
Life had went on, like a lazy stream.

Was happiness, gaining respect by being what someone had asked one to be
Or
Is unhappiness living a life in which one truly doesnt know oneself,
living a life of dishonesty, not only cheating others but also oneself.