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Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

***

Ruhi woke up from her afternoon siesta. The sun was blazing at the beach today and her pinstriped umbrella was her only savior. Sand stuck to her sweaty palms and her legs were a warm brown color, a little darker than the tan she wanted but it would do. Ruhi sat up and looked around. The water was sparkling, children were building castles in the sand while the parents soaked up the sun. There were a group of rowdy boys nearby playing volleyball and a gaggle of girls gossiping and tanning.

Ruhi was alone. The only company she had was a book and a half eaten sandwich. She did not mind being alone. In fact, she enjoyed her company. She lied to get herself out of a brunch. Today she didn’t need to be around people. Today she just needed to be with herself.

This new life she was having, she appreciated it more than her last. Her past life was filled with emotions, drama and situations she really didn’t want to be in. This time around she was going to free, take it light, take it slow. No more being obligated to people and no more feeling she owed someone all the time.

Her mind drifted to Farhan. He was so perfect. And kind. And loving. The worst thing was he expected her to be the same – Perfect, Kind, Loving. She was a time bomb, exploding at the worst times. He didn’t love her inspite of that. He wanted to change her in to his version of Ruhi, the one that resided in his head.

The moment she felt his presence nudging her in directions she didn’t want to go, Ruhi backed off. She wanted an education, a grand job, “and travel! And adventure!”. All the things Farhan thought were obsolete. So the moment she got her dream job as a travel writer she jumped at the opportunity. Farhan pleaded with her not to leave. “We’ve had so many wonderful times together, Ruhi, please stay. Stay for me. We’ll even get married one day and I will keep you happy.”

All she heard from that conversation was “Stay for me”.

Stay for me.

Stay for me.

Stay for me.

That meant giving him a part of herself. Ruhi did not want that. She did not want to wake up six years from now regretting marrying the man who slept next her. She did not want to look out the bedroom window and sigh thinking about all the missed opportunities and adventures she never had. Marrying him would mean the end of Ruhi and the beginning of Mrs. Farhan. She did want to get married one day but not half heartedly.

So she left Farhan and that awful city for the sun and the sand. Here, the water seemed endless, just like opportunities. And that’s the kind of life she wanted to lead, free from regrets. She stuck to her guns and look at where that got her!

“There will be time for relationships”, she thought, “There will be time for love. But now is all about me.”

Ruhi sipped on her tall blue drink with a rainbow colored umbrella. Everything was just as she imagined it would be. She snuggled back in to her beach towel.

“Everything was just perfect.”

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Posted on by Zarine Mohideen · 13 Comments

I lost my grandfather over the weekend. It was the kind of thing I knew would happen sometime but wasn’t ready to accept. It still is a hard for me to really grasp the reality of it but I guess I never will.

I realize that God puts us through these situations for us to come to terms with the magnitude of our living. For every beginning there is an end. To dust do we belong and to that shall we return. But what we do within the time that is given to us is important. I feel that time is flying by and I need to stop, make myself useful, do good things and not wish for my purpose to be sent to me but to make a purpose out of myself.

This world is like a fistful of sand. The more we try to hold on to it, the more it slips away from us.

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Day 5

The sudden stop of the plane jolted her awake. She craned her neck to look out the plane window, past the man with the greasy hair. It was still early. She could see the golden rays of the sun inching slowly through the clouds. Clouds – fluffy – white- vanilla – ice cream – Ian’s – Asl— her mind immediately made the connection. She shook her head hoping that it would empty itself of the memories.

It was half an hour before she could collect her bags. The descent from the aircraft had been uneventful. After being away for so long she expected small things to give her that spark of excitement, but no. She saw a girl who had the word fear tattooed across her arm in Italian.

“Exactly what I needed”, she whispered under her breath.

Finally, she saw the polka dotted ribbon of her suitcase. She collected her things and pushed the trolley towards the exit. The butterflies were going crazy in her stomach, a mixture of excitement and fear, of the unknown.

“Just remember its not going to be the same, Hana. Remember you can change everything about you.”

With this chorus in her heart and a prayer on her mouth she stepped out on to the busy streets of New York. It was a mixture of people and taxi cabs. Everyone was heading somewhere. Everyone had a purpose. But she was stuck to the pavement. There it was, bang opposite the airport exit – Ian’s Ice Cream Parlor written in a cheery red color. The moment she saw that, all the memories came flooding back and it took all the strength she had to move forward.

“I can make it through one day without thinking about him.” T

his was just one of the many lies she told herself to get through the day.

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Big houses. Construction. Tiny streets disappear and with that, my childhood. T town, I hope you don’t look hella different the next time I see you.

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“Fortune does favor the bold and you’ll never know what you’re capable of if you don’t try.”

– Lean In: Women, Work and the Will to Lead, Sheryl Sandberg

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Last week I took a seventeen hour flight from San Francisco to Dubai and another five hour flight from Dubai to Madras. In the first leg of my journey I sat with two boisterous Afghan women, one whose hair rivalled Cruella De Vil.

The Economy class gives one no option but to befriend your fellow passenger, and considering its seventeen hours you’d almost become BFFs. But isn’t that the most basic of human tendencies? The ability to friend a stranger? Growing up my mother always warned me about strangers. She would drill the Little Red Riding Hood story in to my head and would remind me about the wolf every time I walked alone to my bus stop.

But growing up I’ve realised that not all strangers are bad. In fact the wolves could be people you meet every day.

***
My theory that urine and phenol is the first smell that hits you when you land in Madras has been verified yet again. Honestly speaking though, I missed the smell of phenol. I always associated it with cleanliness.

***
Seeing foreign returned Uncles and Aunties at the airport is a nice time pass while waiting in line for immigration. The clothes they come up with are mind boggling. I saw an uncle wearing grey satin pants carrying a leather backpack. Go ahead, imagine.
Aunties wearing silk sarees and sneakers is the norm.

***
Madras seems a little different, like it’s lost its old world charm. I’ve only been away a year so maybe I’ve lost mine.

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“… while I bathed, while I tried but failed to sleep, I considered how I might become more like the women I respected and admired. Surrounded as I was by ambitious, accomplished women, I couldn’t ignore the little voice in my head that said maybe I was supposed to shed halfway, and do something significant. Contribute something. Accomplish something. Choose. Be.”

– Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald, Therese Anne Fowler

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We bought a new coffee machine this week. It’s safe to say I am permanently on a coffee high. I have about three cups of coffee a day. Two, if I’m feeling guilty. I want to cut down to one but the smell of freshly brewed coffee is such a beautiful thing. So if my hands are twitching or if I’m being crazier than normal, you know why.

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It was one thing to make a mistake; it was another thing to keep making it. I knew what happened when you let yourself get close to someone, when you started to believe they loved you: you’d be disappointed. Depend on someone, and you might as well admit you’re going to be crushed, because when you really needed them, they wouldn’t be there. Either that, or you’d confide in them and you added to their problems. All you ever really had was yourself, and that sort of sucked if you were less than reliable.  

– Jodi Picolt, Handle With Care