Skip to main content

Heartaches For You

The heartache wells up again, freshly in my chest. Every time someone mentions your name, every time a memory conjures up in my mind, every time someone asks me if I have ever been in love, my core coagulates to a lump of misery and despair. The day you severed all ties with me, once and for all, is so vividly branded onto my memory, as if it were just yesterday. The laughter of college kids that echoed to warm tears escaping my eyes, at sunset, still rings to my ears like some premonition. You were probably right. I was too stupid to be loved. I was too stupid to know at that time that people leave when taken for granted. It took me a lot of time to understand with a conviction that you were the only true love I had ever experienced. You. You. You. My life will never be the same without you. My being will never be the same without you. At times, the sorrow comes to me without warning and grasps my soul in the blink of an eye. I don't know if it makes sense to you, but all of my happy dreams consist of you. I feel at peace when I lay my head on your chest listening to the faint sound of your heartbeat ignoring the hustle-bustle of the streets outside bhanga kakar cha-er dokan. But only in dreams, I have you. When I wake up from slumber, the pain hits me again, sharp blows on my stomach, crackling my ribs, numbing my senses, paralyzing me as it travels to and fro my body. The retelling of stories from my past, as I painfully realize that I am no more capable of loving anybody anymore. This is the heaviest regret I would ever have in this lifetime- that I didn't love you enough, that I did stupid mistakes and let you go, and that I couldn't realize at that time what you were in my life. I don't know what penance would get me off the hurt. I cannot undo the things I have already done. I don't even know if I can ask you to come back, maybe you wouldn't even if I could. All I know is that with you my life would be like a dream. Perfect and beautiful. A dream I can swallow hundreds of sleeping pills for. A dream for which I could sleep forever. I love you. I swear I do with every ounce of flesh in me. A love I know I'll never feel again. I love you beyond the flimsy borders of time, space, and being. Just as every night, I struggle to cry tonight. And as usual, I can't. I stare out of the window. Suddenly the skies pour down in torrents. It's easier now. My tears are no more mine, my hurt no more inside. The rain is my catharsis.


Heartbreak Art Prints | Redbubble

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Inferno

It's only now that I realise, Decades of mourning will cease no cries. Love and disaster sewn in one, The eternal inferno I was destined to burn. Damaged was I, maybe a little more now Revived regrets into piles, and how! Like dead petunias on the sea afloat, Like blandness of a solitary piano note, I fell apart from the world to endure, The burden of a soul, impure.
6 comments
Read more

'Shree'-rendipity

Most people that I have met in life have found my name intriguing, enigmatic or colloquially what you call a 'jaw-breaker'. Therefore, much to my dissent, my name got conveniently shortened to 'Shreya' or 'Shrey'. It irked me majorly because 'Shreya' is also a different name within the Bengali culture. It felt like an imposition of a person or personality that I were not. Over a period of time overstimulation forced me to accept the fait accompli until, a friend started using the word 'Shree' to address me affectionately. Intuitively, effortlessly and organically I felt like my personality fell in perfect symphony with being called 'Shree', so much so that, subconsciously, I also had started to address myself as 'Shree' soon afterwards. Needless to say, the shift in cultural paradigm as I immigrated from India to USA was vast and diverse. Surprisingly however, it made me cling on desperately to the vestiges of my roots and identi...
Post a Comment
Read more

Born in a man's world

'Reclaim the night'- As I sit in my cluttered desk in a chilly lab eight thousand miles away from the city, the people and the culture I call my own, thousands of Bengali women are out on the streets of Kolkata protesting for the rape and murder of a resident doctor at RG Kar hospital.  How do I feel? Claustrophobic. My eyes are welling up, with every bite sized news that I see my friends posting on the social media. A good advice would be to just shut off that source of stimulation and regain the calm. But you know what the problem is? I have always felt terrible like this whenever there is a crime against women, even in the movies. So much so that, it has become like a version of me that surfaces at adverse circumstances like these. It is so emotionally daunting, that I cannot even explain in words. But why are we so fragile and exploitable as women? Why is the world unfair to us? Do we deserve to be just secondary to the world whereas, if you really think about it, we are th...
Post a Comment
Read more