Her perfect day

The perfect day!



She woke up today with an insanely weird feeling in her heart. She had slept for hours but woke up extremely tired. She can hardly sit up with the temptation to lie down again. And who is stopping her when she is all alone in her apartment. Her guilt of not fulfiling her past expectations, when she thought she was the most special in the world. The reality of today, her open eyes looking at the world the way it is, without any manupilation. Clear and simple, dirty and complicated. It’s a new same day. A day with the similar schedule as yesterday and many other days she has not been living. A day of no consequence. Anoher one to add to her waste of life. 

She smokes her hopeless cigarette. A cup of coffee would be really nice, but to get up and walk to the kitchen is quite a hard deal. Her guilt again pushes her away from the bed. She brushes her teeth and spits a million times. She  gets away from the sin and then again comes back to spit some more. She forces herself to stop.

Why are nights more awake than days? Why is the darkness more hopeful than light?

Her apartment is covered with shut windows and bedsheets as curtains. It’s better that way. The light hurts straight from her eyes to her heart. The light acts as a real, clear mirror in front of her shouting ‘here I am again, look at you, still handicapped, incable of growing out of your own miseries.’ And in her defence, all she can say is ‘You are burning hot, you bastard.’ It seems like a weak statement. It might even crack up the light. But somewhere inside of her it makes sense. If it was cold, she might get out and enjoy the sun, sit under a tree and have her coffee. It might be fun to look forward to another cold sunny day. But the real heat burns her away. Her motivation, inspiration, dreams. But then who does she think she is? A queen, she wishes, she should have been. But how can they work in such conditions? The rest of the world trying to make a living, under any circumstances.



She gathers some strength to take a shower. What a  relief it is under the cold shower. The only time all day long when its possible to feel awake, free of heat and sweat. She sits on the floor of the bathroom letting the water drops hit her body and melt her down. She feels 10 pounds lighter. She looks at the long mirror on the side and her body doesn’t look very appealing to her. Would it be nice to be touched by a man? Can a man love my breasts just because they are mine? Would he always look at me and noone else? Will he understand  my ugliness? Will he still love me when I throw up my dirt with wide red eyes, wanting to kill him? She had tried falling in love before. But ‘cause she could never love herself, no matter how much she tried, or atleast thought she did. She thought every man hated her the way she hated herself. She never had any girlfriends. She would panic if there was a girl in the room. She didn’t know what to say to them, how to be. And so women, ofcourse other than herself, became a special specie, she had no knowledge about. And why would men leave them to come to her, she asked herself everytime her heart would want to fall in love.

She knew she had tortured, punished every man she had ever been with. A sweetheart in the beginning and devil in the end. If the men didn’t run away, she did. Unlike the alien women around her, she knew men very well. She knew their body and their souls. All of different types. She knew their weakness, which she had used pretty often in the past. That doesn’t necessarily make her evil. As she always believed, nothing is evil and noone’s a saint.



She never chased a man. She always warned them. She wanted good for them, so she would try and push them away before it’s too late. And them being men, wouldn’t listen. They all thought they could cure her. She knew more than good intensions, it was to fulfil their egos. So most of the time she never opened herself to their healing. And the rest of the time, when she would want to be better, she tested them, by showing her worst side, silently asking them, ‘Can you love this dirty side?’ And who would. She got hit, spit on but noone held her hand and listened. But it’s unfair to say she never got loved. She always did. From all the men, in their own different ways, but never enough for her. What could be possibly enough for her. Humans were incapable of it. But then she never believed she was a human anyway. She wasn’t from this planet, or else she would understand a little bit of it.



She comes out of the shower and falls straight on the bed. To get out of the house would be refreshing. But what for? Not to walk on the dirty sweaty burning noisy Mumbai streets. How can anyone even breathe out here? Out on the streets is sad reality of people struggling for every bite. And then there are cafes with risks, as sometimes they are plesant and quite but most of the times full of people manupilatingly screaming to be heard, people more pathetic than any begger or enuch toturing you to get a ruppee.



‘Please please please today be different’ she hopes. And just that slight hope makes her put on her white dress. She has always lived in black. It take guts for a dusky woman to wear white. She looks into the mirror and wears her kajal under her eyes. Opens her hair, even though the sweat around her nape might kill her. Her dress covers her legs till below her knees. She knows to be nociced and feel attractive that might be too long. But she doesn’t want to step out for someone else today. The hope wants to make her feel loved by herself. Today is going to be so different, she throws a big seed up in the sky. She carries her Sudoku book, the only thing which takes her mind off herself, and walks out of the house.



Damn! It’s scary. She hasn’t been outside for a longtime now. She has forgotten how to talk or look. But that’s probably okay, she doesn’t plan to have a converstaion anyway. What’s the point in new conversations. They have all been the same. They give nothing new to anyone’s souls. They are for the shallow once. Why doesn’t anyone understand that. Why can’t the first talk be the most different and worth it. Why is it so scary for humans to speak the truth from their heart about exactly how and what they feel when they meet someone for the first time. And if they do, that means they have done it before, which makes it pointless again. Can anyone be different only for her? 



The café isn’t free of humans but she finds a quite corner away from them. she chooses a spot behind the main wall, with no fan, that’s why it’s always empty and that’s why she always sits their. It’s easier to bear the heat than facing people.

The rest of it full of  women trying to feel worth it and hunting men. Loud, pointless laughs and conversations. She puts on her headphones and listens to belle and sebastian. Her favourite song ‘beautiful’, which she thinks is written for her.

She starts playing her game. It’s almost fine now. She was panicing for no reason. If you keep it to yourself, the world otherside isn’t so bad afterall. She enjoys the little sips of Americano and smokes her rolled cigarette. ‘Do I miss anyone in my life again?’ she thinks to herself. But if there was another man with her here, all she would do is fight. Asking him a million questions about the other women sitting in the café. ‘SO, do you find her attractive? You must love her short dress!’ Her eyes would give him a hateful look and her heart would sink again saying she is sorry and just fucked up. So it’s better alone. More peaceful. Lacking something is so much better than extreme pain, jealousy, anxiety and fear of loss. Hoping for someone to come is lighter than hoping he wouldn’t leave.



And he walks by. ‘Can I sit here please?’ he asks ‘It’s too noisy out there.’. She looks at him. He, a tall, very tall, white, handsome mid 40ish looking man. She smiles and nods. He sits and instantly opens his laptop and wears his glasses. She takes her headphones off, and pretends to get back to her game. Every now and then she steals a look at him. His eyes don’t move away from his laptop screen.

A man who doesn’t like noisy humans, would be quite interesting to know. A man who chose her over everyone around. A man who probably doesn’t wanna talk or listen, which makes him the most attarctive man she has met in a long time. He doesn’t look too happy. But when was she attracted to happy ones anyway. The heat seems to be killing him too. Probably more than her. ‘Should I start with the weather?’ She thinks. But then she would be just one of them. It always starts with the weather. And to start with a question is just wrong. Where are you from, what do you do? is invading his space. On the other hand, talking straight about her life or feelings, he might think she is a nut case! There IS no middle ground.

So she asks for the bill.

‘You’re leaving?’ his concerned voice asks her, like they have known each other for ages. She doesn’t reply, she doesn’t know what to say. His soft blue and grey eyes look at her asking her to stay. The ray of happiness and excitement hits her in her heart without a smile.

The waiter gets the bill. She asks for another Americano and opens her game book again. She could fill up the time with fearless words now. But it might break everything. The silence seemed so perfect. Every now and then she looks at him, his hands, long fingers, neck, eyes, studying him innocently, this time with less hesitation. 



They sit there for another hour without a word.

And then an hour more. It’s already special. This thing between him and her. What could be a better start then this. It’s flawless, she thought.



“Do you wanna go for a walk?’ he breaks the silence and she nods without a doubt.



They leave the café and walk on empty narrow streets. She smiles at everyone she sees. She hasn’t been this happy in a long time. He doesn’t look at anyone. Women come and go but his eyes don’t notice anyone. They walk and walk till it’s dark. “lets go to the beach’ her first words to him. They get to a peaceful dark beach. Waves making love with the wind. They sit on a rock. He rolls a cigarette and passes on to her and makes one for himself.

She hasn’t loved being with someone like this ever in her life. It’s like a beautiful foreign film for her.



‘I might have killed myself today, if I hadn’t met you.’ He said to her. He touches her hands gently. Her eyes become teary and she goes close to him and kisses him. It’s amazing that the kiss doesn’t feel like the first one. Like it had happened so many times, in so many lifetimes. Without a sexual thought it makes her wet. This was meant to be. She hopes to not wake up from this dream. How could this be a reality anyway. Realities are never perfect. This man is alive for her today.

‘please god please don’t wake me up from this’ she begs looking at the sky.



And all of a sudden a thought crosses her mind. What if someone else was sitting on that spot today. Would he be sitting like this with her too? Does he just needs someone to be wiith, or did he really find  me special? That same feeling came to fuck this up too, to suck life out of magic. And she tried to avoid it. But it would keep repeating in her head again and again. And she couldn’t ask it in words. She knew it was unfair. But maybe not. It was a valid question that needed to be asked.



And even before she could frame the question in her head, he asked, ‘Would you be here if it was someone else?’

The question left her stunned. She silently looked at him without a blink. Is he real? She kept thinking. How could he know so well what she was thinking and give an answer which caused an instant relief from her doubts. She shook her head and said no softly.



Without a crack this was perfect. The question being should it be or not. To let it grow might kill it. To leave it here, would kill them. How will she, and in her head even him, be happy with anyone else now that this had happened.



‘What should we do?’ she finally asked him. ‘Die together’. He smiles and says ‘My name is James.’ ‘Tulsa’ she smiles.



Next morning she wakes up with a big smile. She streches her arms. Change had happened. The room was filled with love and inspiration. She got up without any laziness. Got dressed in her red summer dress and left home. She reached the same spot in the same café where James was waiting for her.