Eye in the sky

I was in school when I first fell in love with a cocky Gujarati boy with whom it ended badly. But I managed to get the last word in. A year after we broke up when I called him to wish him on his birthday he was mean and small. And I said knowing it was his birthday and this I remember oh so well because it just came to me – inspired as it were, ‘Some people never change; they remain just as bad as they always were.’ And promptly hung up on him.

He didn’t teach me anything except to hate the word ‘dumb’ because when he started getting bitchy, he started calling me ‘dumb’. When someone I don’t like too much calls me dumb, to this day, I draw a little extra blood from them and feel vindicated.

The next time I fell in love with a man, it fucked me up. We fucked each other up as much as we could and even enjoyed it most times. From him I learnt a lot of nice things about myself – the gloriousness of my own body. And he is slowly learning even to this day that everything I expected and believed of him and his goodness was true. So we are still friends. And we still care a whole lot about each other in a quiet, non-interfering way. And we have decided never to meet because we are extremely scared that the fire-works that brought us together might explode in newer and destructive ways. So we don’t.

From him, I got a story, my own novel in the making.

And then it was a man who started out as my best friend. I gave and gave and gave to him. He did too – purple perfume, purple pencil in burlesque, purple gem stones, purple candles and purple dreams. Then we loved and I resigned myself to comfort and love instead of fireworks and magic. And then he broke me. Or we broke me together because I let him. He said things I never refuted. I took it all in. I shattered and sickened.

And that’s what he really gave me – too many auto-immune diseases to name. And every time, my RA flares up I think about him and wish that he suffers at least one per cent of what I go through every day in my hopelessly disabled life.

So I gave up on love-making and concentrated on loving instead.

Now I’m staring in disbelief that love – no matter in what form – can make you so vulnerable and can cause you so much pain. And make you feel so small. So infinitesimal that you might as well not live. But you have to. And so you do. And so this cycle of loving and knowing and hurting goes on.

Only now, there is no lesson to learn. Only now, I’ve heard the accusations before. Only now, I feel I can’t take any more.

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About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
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6 Responses to Eye in the sky

  1. W.O.W. I cannot empathise enough!

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  2. Anu says:

    I strongly believe the RA is going to flee as suddenly as it came one of these days. Hang in there. As for men, we live and learn and hopefully we all have learnt enough.

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  3. BB, thank you so much. I know. I know. Anu, I really hope that happens. My neck's been hurting like mad since two days. And as for men, again, much better when they are just lovers. For now, I've kissed and made up with one of the great loves of my life. I doubt that's possible in a relationship. But this same thought process of mine is what pissed him off in the first place. LOL.

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  4. Been there, done that, empathise completely & totally!

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  5. Eveline says:

    Oh man, I think I've had variations on ALL of your exes. Oh the memories. I sometimes wonder whether any of those boys/men ever pined over me half as much. If you'll excuse me, now I need to go google/yahoo 4 people I haven't thought of in years. Way to have an impact on my day.

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  6. IMM. Sigh. I know. Eve, don't be silly. The exes I've blogged about are not worth it. The men who've left you are not ever worth it.

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