The girl next door (#70)

Full stop

That fall I walked out on you,

Came back,

Confessed my feelings,

Dealt with your dismissal,

Stayed on the hook,

And believed in your lies,

Despite knowing the truth.

New year, that morning

You gave me a call,

Asked me to be your date at the reunion ball,

This love was an anchor,

The more I tried to rise to the surface,

The deeper I drowned.

I decided to finally hold my ground,

It wasn’t a one way lane,

I was no longer naive,

The novice had now learnt

The rules of this game they call “love”.

You started a sentence,

This time instead of completing it,

I’ll put a full stop to it.

©Samridhi Dutta

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The girl next door (#69)

Gone

I am writing this on my way back home after attending a friend’s funeral she wasn’t my best friend, a year senior. She was someone you couldn’t dislike she was someone who always had this smile that adorned her face and I can’t believe I have to use the word ‘was’ as I talk about her. Her voice echoes in my ears an unbelievably sweet tone and I can’t believe that the last time I met her at a school event was the last time I’ll ever meet her in my life or her life for that matter.

I was late for the funeral apparently cabbies were on a strike, and taking an auto to the place I didn’t know existed until I got a message saying her funeral is being held at the said place didn’t seem like a very good idea. I reached when others were leaving and all I knew was I wanted to meet her parents.

I found my way through the crowd and my best friend she walked beside me, I reached upstairs aunty stood their it was more difficult than I thought. I stood in front of her she looked at me as if she looked for her daughter in my face. I couldn’t say anything after that all I managed to do or say was hold her hands in mine and say ” I don’t have words for you, I really don’t ” and the next moment we both were crying.

I walked back and I saw her younger brother, I wanted to go meet him but my body gave up on me thinking about what will I say standing before him . I just had these things in my mind at the moment that –

“I can’t claim to understand your pain because I don’t think I do and because I know it’s more than whatever I can imagine, you lost your sister and I can’t tell you to have courage because the way you stand with folded hands speaks more about courage than anything else I’ve ever witnessed. Things won’t be the same, and as hard as it’s to believe for me someone who saw her the last time in January of 2017 I can’t really put into words what it will be like for you. I saw her picture but I still think she’s here around, I don’t know what will you be going through each time you’ll see her as a picture hung on the walls of your house. I just can’t say these things to you because all these people are telling you to stay strong. If I remember correctly you brought them all glasses of water when you were supposed to cry oceans and that speaks more about your strength than they who tell you to be strong can imagine. But right now those bloodshot eyes and hands wiping tears before they manage to escape your eyes speaks of that unbearable ache that you feel. I’m sorry but I’m not as strong as you are and I’ve no words that can comfort you. I’m sorry.”

I saw uncle and I felt a shiver in my spine, I couldn’t find in me the strength to stand there anymore as much as I rushed to get upstairs, I rushed downstairs.

I found her best friend and my friend and batchmate crying.I didn’t see him that way and I felt so overwhelmed that I rushed out.

My friend’s driver is dropping me home and all that I think of right now is – as a kid I wanted to die before my parents because I loved them so much. Now that I saw what I saw. I realise I don’t want that ever. I don’t want my parents to go through so much pain.

I hope wherever she is she is happy and at peace. I pray for the family.

The girl next door (#68)

Drunk Call

You downed a quarter and made a call, as soon as I answered you said the usual,

“Hi, I’m drunk”, as if warning against all the things you’re about to say.

As if telling me – “Don’t let my words get under your skin,with the break of dawn I’ll be sober and I won’t remember any of this”.

In these moments you wear vulnerability as your second skin.

It’s as if with every sip of that rum, your facade has faded.

The alcohol in your system makes you spill secrets that you’ve been hiding for so long.

You end up making confessions, that you otherwise won’t have.

You end up telling me how you imagine me sitting beside you while talking to me,

How my hearing my voice gives you peace,

How you don’t know whether you’ll be living long enough to see me.

How in the limited time you’ve got, you want me to know the other day when we were returning home after a date you wanted to kiss me but did not.

In these moments I knew,

Ours was a story

Written drunk,and never read again.

©Samridhi Dutta

The girl next door (#67)

Damsel without a Knight

The damsel now held a dagger,

She didn’t need a knight to save her,

In face of the darkness,

That thought it could tame her.

When the darkness lured,

She whispered to it,

“I am everything you can’t have”.

She had light underneath her skin

And magic in her bones.

The darkness felt a strong blow,

She had put a crack in its pride,

There was light coming through.

It tried again with all its might,

Said to her

“What’s a damsel without her knight?

A fragile pair of hands holing a dagger?”

“No, she’s just stronger”

She said and smiled.

The darkness stood baffled and bewildered,

At her response,

Felt torn into pieces all at once,

There was no darkness, only light,

There was a damsel, without a knight.

©Samridhi Dutta

The girl next door(#66)

Together

I rose, the sky turned pink,

I shined, I lit the sky up.

It was bright blue,

I was blazing by noon,

And then I calmed down.

It was time for your arrival,

I set , the sky turned slightly mauve, then indigo before the alluring darkness took over.

I decorated it with sparkles,

And then you appeared dressed in serene white.

I knew you’re the one.

The only time we ever meet is for eclipses.

We’re always with each other,

but never seen together.

©Samridhi Dutta

The girl next door (#65)

Hi Best friend ,

I had a request to make. My birthday is approaching and I don’t want you to write a birthday post for me, put our picture as your DP. I want you to sleep before midnight, and if you’re awake don’t send me a birthday text, or a call. I don’t want you to buy me gifts, save that money for something better instead.

You may wonder why?

Any of it won’t make me happy. You’ve not been a good best friend.

I am dazed by your ignorance, you love saying ” ignorance is bliss” no wonder it is. I used to shrug off the fact that things are going downhill each time you told me otherwise I believed your version of ‘us’. The version that was doing well, where there’s nothing wrong. Basically,feigning everything’s fine even when it’s a rubble.

I can’t go about doing that. I don’t want to know whether I’m important you ?, if I’m a priority or not? I know the answers to these things.

Actions speak louder than words. Your words mean nothing if your actions don’t align with them.

If the only time you’re going to acknowledge my existence is when you see me walking on road in your direction ( making it absolutely impossible for you to avoid me). I don’t want this acknowledgement.

Also this year I’d not be making any cards for you.

Why?

You know all the cards I make aren’t just pieces of papers with beautiful writing and cut outs for me. They are a feeling. You have little by little killed that feeling. You’ve made everything so meaningless for me that I really want you to tear away every card I ever made for you sheet by sheet.

All the things I wrote, have become hazy their meaning has faded like the bond we had.

How dare you make me cry? , How dare you make my cards seem like meaningless pieces of paper to me?

You’ve made me feel that my words are better unsaid, unwritten and feelings unexpressed.

As much as I love the old you, I hate the you, you’ve become.

So this birthday no wishes, no midnight calls, no cards and no gifts.

© Samridhi Dutta.

The girl next door (#64)

Nostalgia

You know why I like him so much because he doesn’t have to say good things to make me feel good. He doesn’t have to tell me I’m beautiful he makes me feel so.

If he’s there things seem a little easier to deal with, I don’t have to ask him for anything he just knows.

He knows what my quiet means, any one can interpret my words but he knows my silence. Like you he also despises it, somehow he doesn’t like you a lot because you’re why I’m quiet.

There’s him who’s drunk but calling me up at 11:30 PM because my text read – “I’m upset”. He’s not a man of words but actions.

After 45 minutes and 12 seconds and approximately 25 topics we talk about our dreams.

“We dream the same dream” I say.

He laughs ” I want to say something but I’ll sound super cheesy”

“Go ahead,say it ?”

” I’ll say what I always tell you- we’re perfect for each other”

I pause , I think of you.

” I’m not worth it, I’m not good enough for you. I’m not good enough for anyone.” I tell him.

” Are you kidding me?” He snaps at me from the other side.

” It’s how it is, trust me I’m not the person for you. You deserve better than me. I’m not that good.”

“Are you fucking serious? I’m the one who’s drunk, why are you talking crap?. Trust me you don’t know your self well enough to say you’re not good.”

I say nothing, your face flashes right before me. Things you used to say when I’d belittle my self echo in my ears. Your scolding me. I shrug it off.

“I know nothing, I’m an idiot”

” Do you really hear yourself when you say all of it? Would you please stop belittling yourself? Why don’t you get it – You’re a wonderful person you need no one’s not even your own approval to that because that’s a well established fact and you saying anything otherwise wouldn’t change it. “

I sit quietly, hearing him out not believing him. You see I once believed this guy, this one guy and I screwed up.

“Are you there?” He says.

” Yes, where else would I be.”

©Samridhi Dutta