Given below is the sequel to Broken Angel, a poem written by my friend Daniella. Was typed around 5 AM in the morning and I nearly slept on the keyboard after that. I hope things are making sense.
She lay battered on the floor. Only emotionally, but it was more unbearable than the physicality of pain. Nothing would make him come back. Him, time, happiness.... perhaps even sanity. They were long gone, cherished moments of something... beautiful... Never to return...
She had loved him with all her heart. Yearned for him with her entire being. Every fibre of her existence. "You keep me alive," he'd whispered to her during an unforgettable moment of... was it ecstasy? Was that the best way to describe it? The only way? She had been there when he had lain on the floor, broken, just the way she was now. His life had been a burden to him. She had lifted it off his chest. And he grew light... lighter than a feather, than a breeze on a summer day... and then he slipped through her fingers till she grasped nothing but the air.
He had taken everything she could have given him and walked away. That's it. He had never turned back, never bothered to ask if she was alive... or just struggling to be... He just left.
She picked herself off the ground and staggered to the mirror. Her kohl-lined eyes were smudged at the corners. She looked a mess. And that's because I consider myself one. Maybe it was best if she... died. There was nothing else to live for. No family, no friends... a job? Well...
She walked into her bedroom. Their picture was still on the bed. He'd moved out long ago but she never had the heart to give it away. She looked into his eyes, the ones that smiled at her through the frame. It seemed a smug one to her. As if he was jeering at her. Telling her that he could live without her, move on without looking back. The dormant rage inside her chest coiled tightly around her ribs. She clutched at the picture frame tightly.
How dare he... She threw it hard, as hard as she could throw it, across the room. The frame shattered from the devastating impact, as hard as her heart had been. She stepped on the picture again and again. Then tore it apart. Two halves, then four, then eight...till it couldn't be torn any further.
"I don't need you!" she hollered at the mutilated remains of a treasured memory. "I was living without you! And I was happy!" She was happy before him. She could be happy afer him. Who was he to determine the way her feelings flowed? Since when had he been given the power? She realized with an optimistic surge of energy that she hated him. She was delighted and began to feed off this stimulus.
"I hate you...." she hissed at the picture. "I hate you!" She spat at it, and then threw it away. She went back to the bathroom mirror. She dabbed a cotton carefully around her eyes. She applied the kohl again. It looked much better. Her untamed, unruly mass of black curly hair found its way into a prim and proper ponytail. She still looked like she was ready to grab that pathetic bastard by the tie she'd gifted him and hang him with it. Or do worse... there was a lot one could do with little.
She laughed at the thought. The reflection laughed too. It looked good... it felt amazing. She laughed some more, even though she didn't feel up to it. But then she found it came quite naturally. Fool... she chided herself. Crying over a guy... In her heart of hearts, she was bitter. Wounded and bleeding too. She was so aware of it. The laughter was such a facade... But that did not mean she could not face life... No, she could. Of course, she could! No one could stop her. No. one.
She slipped out of her faded kurti into another one. It was old too, but in comparatively better condition. She wore a pair of dark jeans instead of her usual chudidaar under it. It looked much better. She would go roam the streets. It was decided. It wasn't particularly late, and the streets were rather safe too. Hell, no! She'd take a bus and get off somewhere. An unknown destination. Explore it like it was her home.
You're crazy! the voice inside said. Just moments ago, you were... She blanked the thought out. Thinking about it won't help... She looked forward to the ride anyway. She ended up boarding one of those deluxe buses with a television. She felt like a queen.
The TV showed a scene from the movie, Life in a Metro. Irrfan Khan and Konkana Sen Sharma sat by the sea shore. He was trying to talk some sense into her about letting go. "You know," he told her, "I had a friend who had bought a car recently. But he said he'd take it out for a spin only and only if all the city's street lights were green."
"That's silly!" Konkana laughed, "you're bound to find a red light some place or the other!" Irrfan had smiled. "That's the exact same thing with life." The girl leaned deeper into her seat. She shared the duo's amusement. There was a great deal of truth in his words. She craned her neck out of the window and saw The Gateway of India in the distance. The bus did not seem to be stopping there. But she would be.
She got off at a traffic signal and walked the rest of the way there. It rained. She did not hide from it. It rained harder. She laughed. She played with the kids who danced in the puddles there. She scored her very first goal in their gully football. She ate road-side junk till she was close to bursting. She walked barefeet in the mud. On the beach. She was doing what she had forgotten to do in a while.... She lived.
She lay battered on the floor. Only emotionally, but it was more unbearable than the physicality of pain. Nothing would make him come back. Him, time, happiness.... perhaps even sanity. They were long gone, cherished moments of something... beautiful... Never to return...
She had loved him with all her heart. Yearned for him with her entire being. Every fibre of her existence. "You keep me alive," he'd whispered to her during an unforgettable moment of... was it ecstasy? Was that the best way to describe it? The only way? She had been there when he had lain on the floor, broken, just the way she was now. His life had been a burden to him. She had lifted it off his chest. And he grew light... lighter than a feather, than a breeze on a summer day... and then he slipped through her fingers till she grasped nothing but the air.
He had taken everything she could have given him and walked away. That's it. He had never turned back, never bothered to ask if she was alive... or just struggling to be... He just left.
She picked herself off the ground and staggered to the mirror. Her kohl-lined eyes were smudged at the corners. She looked a mess. And that's because I consider myself one. Maybe it was best if she... died. There was nothing else to live for. No family, no friends... a job? Well...
She walked into her bedroom. Their picture was still on the bed. He'd moved out long ago but she never had the heart to give it away. She looked into his eyes, the ones that smiled at her through the frame. It seemed a smug one to her. As if he was jeering at her. Telling her that he could live without her, move on without looking back. The dormant rage inside her chest coiled tightly around her ribs. She clutched at the picture frame tightly.
How dare he... She threw it hard, as hard as she could throw it, across the room. The frame shattered from the devastating impact, as hard as her heart had been. She stepped on the picture again and again. Then tore it apart. Two halves, then four, then eight...till it couldn't be torn any further.
"I don't need you!" she hollered at the mutilated remains of a treasured memory. "I was living without you! And I was happy!" She was happy before him. She could be happy afer him. Who was he to determine the way her feelings flowed? Since when had he been given the power? She realized with an optimistic surge of energy that she hated him. She was delighted and began to feed off this stimulus.
"I hate you...." she hissed at the picture. "I hate you!" She spat at it, and then threw it away. She went back to the bathroom mirror. She dabbed a cotton carefully around her eyes. She applied the kohl again. It looked much better. Her untamed, unruly mass of black curly hair found its way into a prim and proper ponytail. She still looked like she was ready to grab that pathetic bastard by the tie she'd gifted him and hang him with it. Or do worse... there was a lot one could do with little.
She laughed at the thought. The reflection laughed too. It looked good... it felt amazing. She laughed some more, even though she didn't feel up to it. But then she found it came quite naturally. Fool... she chided herself. Crying over a guy... In her heart of hearts, she was bitter. Wounded and bleeding too. She was so aware of it. The laughter was such a facade... But that did not mean she could not face life... No, she could. Of course, she could! No one could stop her. No. one.
She slipped out of her faded kurti into another one. It was old too, but in comparatively better condition. She wore a pair of dark jeans instead of her usual chudidaar under it. It looked much better. She would go roam the streets. It was decided. It wasn't particularly late, and the streets were rather safe too. Hell, no! She'd take a bus and get off somewhere. An unknown destination. Explore it like it was her home.
You're crazy! the voice inside said. Just moments ago, you were... She blanked the thought out. Thinking about it won't help... She looked forward to the ride anyway. She ended up boarding one of those deluxe buses with a television. She felt like a queen.
The TV showed a scene from the movie, Life in a Metro. Irrfan Khan and Konkana Sen Sharma sat by the sea shore. He was trying to talk some sense into her about letting go. "You know," he told her, "I had a friend who had bought a car recently. But he said he'd take it out for a spin only and only if all the city's street lights were green."
"That's silly!" Konkana laughed, "you're bound to find a red light some place or the other!" Irrfan had smiled. "That's the exact same thing with life." The girl leaned deeper into her seat. She shared the duo's amusement. There was a great deal of truth in his words. She craned her neck out of the window and saw The Gateway of India in the distance. The bus did not seem to be stopping there. But she would be.
She got off at a traffic signal and walked the rest of the way there. It rained. She did not hide from it. It rained harder. She laughed. She played with the kids who danced in the puddles there. She scored her very first goal in their gully football. She ate road-side junk till she was close to bursting. She walked barefeet in the mud. On the beach. She was doing what she had forgotten to do in a while.... She lived.
She walked around the majestic monument and leaned against its wall. She looked up at the sky. It was darkish purple. It's rain offering and the wind caressed her like a blessing. Like a sign from above. It was the most beautiful feeling she had ever felt. The most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Above all, it was the most beautiful moment in her life... yet.
