The Journal Entry -- A short story

As I pick up the pen to write, why do my hands tremble so? I ask myself questions that I’ve disallowed my mind to wander towards for years in the past. I look outside the window at the barren trees that have been stripped off their leaves by the cruel East Coast winter that so resembles my life and feel my heart ache. Memories, of oh so long ago, seem to flood my mind. These memories are from so long ago and yet are as vivid as if it were just yesterday. For time immemorial I had kept those memories locked in a box and thrown the key away into a bottomless ocean. But lifting a pen to write seems to have unlocked that lock and let the flood gates open.

I used to write a journal from the age of seven, and went on writing them until one fateful day. It was the 26 of July 1990. I close my eyes, and see a bloody face which has been completely disfigured. I open my eyes and take a deep breath. The image of the bloodied face makes my hands tremble even more. I shake my head and feel my eyes well up with tears that threaten to overflow. I close my eyes and let them fall. The tears roll down my cheeks. I raise my left hand to wipe them, but decide to let them be. I want to let them be. I want to feel sad. I don’t want to pretend as if everything is ok, because it is not!

I shake my head at my thoughts, and uncap the pen. I look down at the paper and observe the lines on the page with imperceptivity. It’s the new journal I bought on my way home this afternoon. I need so badly to let out my feelings and who else but my journal can I share it with?

Tuesday, 4 March 04

The dryness in my throat and the constant flowing of tears remind me of the decree the judge passed this afternoon. I weep at the death of my twelve year old marriage. I weep for the fate of my children. I weep for my long lost love. I weep and weep. I weep in the hope of lessening the burden of my pain, and I hope it works.

I’ve tried everything I possibly could, to sustain my marriage. It hurts to see that none of my efforts paid off. Not just my efforts. I would be lying if I say that Sahil didn’t put in his bit. In fact he was the one who’d put in most of the efforts and made the maximum compromises. We both wanted it to work, if not for our sakes, at least for the sake of our children. Diya and Armaan, both too young to understand the implications of their parents’ divorce.

Sahil and I were married for twelve years. In those twelve years we were close and yet very distant. Ours was a marriage of convenience. It was, at least for me. We, of course, liked each other a lot and cared for each other. But that spark that one looks for in a romantic relationship was always missing between us. We’d been friends in B-School. After Aftab’s death I started to lean a lot on his shoulders, and thus began our story.

Aftab was my first and perhaps only love. He was my best friend’s older brother. I’d known him since I was a child. Aftab and I fell in love when I was thirteen and he was eighteen. We both knew from the very start that we were meant to be together forever. It was almost like a fairy tale love story. It was a very special relationship. There was so much love and trust between us, that even today, after fourteen years of his passing on, I can’t fathom people in relationships being possessive and jealous. He was my pillar of strength. He’d help me through my toughest times and make them feel like a cake walk.

When I had to take up my Bachelors in Arts instead of Science because I wanted to major in Psychology, he was the only one who stood by me and promised me that come what may, he’d always support me. After my bachelors, he was the one who helped me with my MBA entrance tests, and B-School admissions. Whenever I faltered and didn’t feel upto doing something, he’d always be there for me, listen to me, and guide me to do the right thing. He was my conscience keeper. He was everything to me. My days used to start with him, and end with him.

Aftab and I were to get married soon after the completion of my Masters Degree. I was counting days. The thought of waking up each morning next to him was the only thing I looked forward to. I, being an only child, and my parents having separated when I was ten, made me a very lonely person. The only security I had in my life was Aftab. I knew he wouldn’t let me down, ever. I trusted him more than God. I guess that was the mistake I made, and God got pissed with me.

One fine day Aftab left without a word or a final farewell. He died in a car crash on the way to a picnic with his friends. My world came crashing down. After being in a relationship with him for close to eight years, I couldn’t believe he was no more. Every morning I would wake up thinking he’d come, plant a kiss on my cheek and say he was sorry for playing a joke on me. And when he’d do that, I’d get mad at him for making me so sad. But he didn’t come, and after three long months of waiting for him, the truth began to sink into my head.

Those were really tough times for me. Having lost Aftab I couldn’t find my bearings. I’d become like a Zombie. It was then, that Sahil became an integral part of my life. We became close friends, and he supported me emotionally to help me get over Aftab. The emotional dependence between us was quite strong. I, to date, believe I was the dependent one. He helped me live through those times and taught me to laugh again.

Sahil mistook my gratitude towards the compassion he had for me to be love. Sahil was always trying to convince me to move on. Little did he realize that moving on didn’t come so easy. Whenever I was with Sahil, the pain of not having Aftab dimmed quite a bit, and I assumed that my wounds would heal themselves over a period of time.

When Mom used to tell me about familiarity breeding feelings, I would always ignore her words thinking it to be the ranting of a crazy woman. In my “I don’t care and I know it all mode” I didn’t realize that Sahil had started to think of me as someone special. It was only when Sahil professed his love for me that I stood there looking shell shocked.

My first reaction was, “How could you? Don’t you know I can never love anyone else but Aftab?” I said it in such a matter of fact tone, without realising it; I trampled all over Sahil’s heart. I said this, and walked out in a huff, without once giving him a chance to explain himself. He just stood there, looking crestfallen.

It was only when he didn’t come to college for the next few days, the magnitude of my insensitivity dawned upon me. I called his house. I was told he’d gone out and would be back later in the evening. I went to his house later that night. One look at his face and I knew I’d done the worst thing in my life by hurting him so much. Back then, I didn’t know I was capable of being much more insensitive, now did I?

We went for a long walk that night and I explained to him my fears of not being able to love anyone again. He convinced me that it wasn’t important for him to be loved by me, but he wanted me to give him a chance to make me feel loved. If I loved him in return, it would be a bonus. To me, this seemed unrealistic, and I said so too. To me, a relationship is like a transaction. If you give, you have to get in return. I told him how pointless being in a one sided relationship seemed to me.

We talked a lot. When I didn’t relent, he finally turned to me and asked me a straight question, “If I die tomorrow, will you cry?” I retorted with a tight slap when I heard him say that. I still don’t know why I reacted so badly to what he’d said. But my reaction brought a smile to his face instead of anger which confused me completely.

I shook my head and was about to walk away, when he drew me close to him and said, “See, you can’t even bear the thought of my death, and yet, you call this one sided! How can you?”

“I care about you Sahil, but it’s not the same as being in love! Why can’t you understand?” his behaviour was crazy and driving me crazy too.

But my words didn’t change his feelings one bit. He quite adamantly said, “I don’t care if you don’t love me today. I know I can make you fall in love with me over a period of time. Aarya, at least give it a chance.” “Let me think about it.” is all I said. He walked me to my house in silence and we didn’t talk about this for a very long time.

We met in college everyday, and life went on. We had our final exams. We were engrossed in projects, studies and revisions. After our exams, we got placed in reputed organisations. Sahil and I met on weekends. We hung out together. We had some quiet times and some fun times. But all in all, if we didn’t meet on weekends, I’d miss him. I then began to realize that my Mom’s words were indeed true. Familiarity does breed feelings!

When Sahil was given an option to get transferred to the US, I felt as if God was taking away from me, once again, someone I had begun to depend on. It was then that Sahil came to me with the same question he’d asked me almost a year and a half ago, however, this time around, he popped the question with a diamond ring. He asked me to marry him, and in an attempt to hold onto the companionship I shared with him, I said yes instantly.

Sahil wanted a big wedding, but I didn’t. He respected my decision. We had a small wedding in an Arya Samaj Mandir in one of Mumbai’s popular suburbs, and a small dinner party just for close friends and family. Sahil left for the US within two weeks of our wedding. After my visas were done, I quit my job in Mumbai and joined him.

We lived in Edison, a small suburb in New Jersey that is filled with Indians. I had no friends, and couldn’t even look for a job because I was on a “Dependant Visa”. I started to do part-time assignments and fill my time. Sahil was always very concerned about my ambitions and aspirations. He was always a considerate and caring husband. He’d let me do what I wanted to, and always gave me the space I wanted and needed from time to time.

I began to appreciate and respect Sahil. In the second year of our marriage I landed a job and got my own work permit. Our life sailed smoothly. Both of us got regular promotions. That made it possible for us to move out of Edison and into nicer suburb of New Jersey called Morris Town. Morris Town is a quaint little town with a very Victorian look. We bought a four bedroom house with huge lawns and a back yard on mortgage; we both had our own cars, and were doing pretty well for ourselves.

After the first three years when we didn’t have kids, every time we’d travel to India for vacations, our parents asked us about our plans for kids. And every time we’d tell them, there’s still a lot of time for us to get there. We’d tell people that we wanted to enjoy our freedom and time together a little longer. But in reality, we were drifting apart. Sahil had become a SVP in a large corporation, and I was a Senior Manager in an equally large corporation. Both had demanding jobs, and because I enjoyed my space so much, Sahil had learnt to adapt to it by then.

With long working hours, separate activities and interests, and separate social lives, we hardly found time for each other. In the name of marriage, all we did was eat one meal of the day together, sleep on the same bed in one room, and make love occasionally. We didn’t even laugh together anymore.

After five years of being married we finally decided to have children. We tried to, but with no luck, and so began our regular trips to gynecologists. At first, the doctor got us to do a battery of tests. Everything was normal, and yet I wasn’t able to conceive. We started trying even harder, and with every delayed cycle, I would get a pregnancy test done with a lot of hope, and every time my hopes would be crushed when it turned out negative.

After trying for a year and a half of no success, I suggested that we adopt. I was tired of the medical circus I had to go through every month, and didn’t feel like humiliating my body anymore. Sahil was very supportive, and backed my decision. On our next trip to India in 1998, we adopted Diya. She was just a month old when we got her home on Aug 28, 98.

She filled our lives with so much of bliss. Diya was the one to bring Sahil and me together again. We began to spend more time together because Diya was an absolutely adorable child and we wanted her to have our love, attention and affection. We immersed ourselves in Diya. I stopped working from the office, and started working from home with an arrangement of going to office only once in two weeks. I absolutely felt that my first responsibility was to Diya. I’d stay home, cook, and spend time with Diya. Sahil began coming home earlier than he used to. Now we did two meals in a day together. We felt like a close family.

My respect for Sahil had doubled over the years because he was always so understanding and accommodating. It’s just so sad that I couldn’t feel passion for him. He tried in all ways possible to create a spark in our marriage, but I guess I’d closed the door to my heart with Aftab’s death. Every time he tried to reach out to me and increase intimacy levels of our relationship, I would recoil and withdraw.

Over the next one year, we talked about adopting a second child so that Diya didn’t have to grow up alone. On our next trip to India, we brought home Armaan. We now had two children, and to everyone around, we seemed like a picture perfect family.

People always told me how much they envied what I had, be it friends, relatives or colleagues. I always smiled when they said things like this. At first even I started to believe that what I had was enviable. I had an amazing husband, who respected me, supported me, and understood me. I had two absolutely adorable kids, and if people didn’t know they were adopted, they’d have sworn that Diya and Armaan were our biological children; such was the resemblance between us.

Everything went well for the first two years. It was only on Diya’s third birthday the friction between Sahil and me started on a vocal level. That night, after the party, I cleaned up whilst Sahil put the kids to bed. After I was done with my chores I went to our bedroom and was cleaning up to get into bed.

Sahil came to me and began rubbing my shoulders. He complimented me at the party being a big success. I smiled. When he lowered himself to kiss my nape, I almost shoved him off. I don’t know what made me do something so derogatory, but well, I did it. That pissed him off completely. The intimacy between us was at an all time low with two small children. From making love once a week it had gone to making love once in three months. He had a right to be pissed, but I didn’t look at it in that light, now, did I?

I saw a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the dresser. I turned away because I knew this meant he wanted us to make love tonight. It was always his way of trying to celebrate our togetherness. Most women would have thought of this as a beautiful gesture, but I didn’t. I got into bed, pulled the comforter upto my chin, switched the lamp of my side of the bed off, and pretended to fall asleep immediately. How I wish I didn’t do that!

The next morning, I woke up as usual, and went down to get chai and the breakfast ready. Diya then went to pre-school, and I needed to leave Armaan at the baby-sitters because I had a meeting that morning. I got busy with my routine stuff, and didn’t even realise that Sahil didn’t give me my daily morning peck on the cheek, or that he was in a sullen mood. I pretended as if nothing had gone wrong the previous night. I got the kids ready, and served the breakfast on the table. It was only when I went for my second cup of chai into the kitchen that I saw Sahil bent over the sink with his eyes closed and tears rolling down his cheeks. This is one form of Sahil that I hadn’t seen before, and was really upset. I didn’t know what to do, so I chose to ignore it.

Sahil didn’t eat breakfast that morning. He stood by the kitchen sink for a long time. I’d dressed, packed the kids up, got them down to feed them breakfast and Sahil was still standing there motionless, as if he were paralyzed in that position. I didn’t have the time to attend to him at that moment, and so I chose to ignore it again. I fed the kids, pecked him bye on the cheek, the kids said bye to him too, and I dropped Diya at the play school and Armaan at the baby-sitter’s.

The baby-sitter used to pick Diya up from play school and I’d pick up the kids together from the baby-sitter’s in the evening. That evening when I went to the baby-sitter’s, I was surprised to find out that Sahil had picked them up in the afternoon. Which meant Sahil had taken the day off? He was so quiet that morning. Could it be the calm before the storm? I decided not to read too much into this and breezed into the house with a smile on my face. The kids were playing in the garden with the neighbour’s kids, and Sahil was sitting on the coffee table reading a book.

I went and gave him a peck on his cheek and asked him about his day. He didn’t answer for a long time. And so I started an animated narration of how my day was and what I’d done all through the day. He was quiet all along. When I asked him if he wanted some chai because I was going to go inside and get some, he held my hand and gently pulled it gesturing me to sit.

He looked me straight in the eyes; the look in his eyes reminded me of the day he’d professed his love to me for the first time. “Have I done something wrong Aarya? Am I a bad husband? What is it? Why do you always turn your back on me? Don’t my needs count at all?” He said this in a very soft voice filled with immense sadness. I lowered my eyes, I couldn’t meet his gaze. I was so guilty from within. I was hurting because I’d hurt him. And yet, I didn’t understand that the only reason I felt guilty or hurt so much is because I loved him. I’d refused to allow myself to feel love for him.

“I’m sorry Sahil. I really am. I don’t know what got into me last night. I was probably tired from all the party arrangements.” My words sounded like complete crap to my own ears too.

“It’s not that Aarya, and we both know it! It’s been eleven years since Aftab has gone, and I’m still fighting with his ghost for your attention and affection! How long do you think I can go on like this? How long can I share the person I love the most with a ghost? Tell me Aarya!” He said this in a soft voice so that the children wouldn’t hear this. His words stabbed me in the heart, and felt like an accusation. I shot him an angry look and stared straight into his eyes. In a very sharp tone I said to him, “You knew exactly what you were getting into. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! You were the one who made tall claims of not wanting my love in return and shit like that! And now, all of a sudden, you feel cheated! You’re trying to say, I’m cheating you!”

“I didn’t say that Aarya! I just said I can’t take it anymore! If it were a person I would have fought him to get you, but how can I fight a ghost! Don’t you think I deserve at least some love for the amount of love and care I shower you with?” He almost looked like a love sick puppy with pleading eyes at me. I turned away and said “What do you want from me? Am I not a good wife? Don’t I make sure you’re clothes are ironed, you’re well fed, the kids are taken care of?” Don’t I do what a good wife is supposed to do?” With this I got up and walked into the house to make chai.

After that confrontation our relationship started to deteriorate to a point of no return. Sahil spent most of his time out, and whenever he was home, he would spend all his time at home with the kids. He took the kids out when I was not around. We grew more and more distant. There were times when he gave me chances to get close to him, which I chose to ignore. To me, in my subconscious, reciprocating Sahil’s emotions would mean cheating on Aftab’s memories.

Weeks turned to months, and months into a year. This time around, when we went to India for our vacation, we were very irritable around each other. We’d snap at each other all the time. Even his parents and my Mom began to notice this. My Mom tried to talk to me about this, but she didn’t get too far because I shut her out. By the time we were back in the US, Sahil and I could hardly see eye to eye.

A week after we got back from our vacation, Sahil decided to have a head on confrontation with me on where our marriage was headed. I was already in bed reading a book, when he joined me after putting the kids to bed. “We need to talk.” He said. “What about?” I retorted still engrossed in my book. “About “us”. I am tired of living like this!” he said indignantly. I closed my book, and turned towards him and asked him, “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. I am tired of living like this. I am tired of coming home to a wife who treats me like an acquaintance. A wife, who is polite, but cold! I am tired of being the only one who has to make efforts in our relationship because you choose to ignore the problem that has been hovering over our heads for so many years. I am tired of being shoved off every time I come close to you or touch you. I am tired of feeling like an outsider in our marriage. I am very tired Aarya, and I want to know is how long is it going to be before you decide to wake up to reality and look at the true picture of this farce of a marriage we are in!” he let out a sigh after saying all this in a single breath.

“How can you say such things? How can you? How dare you call our marriage a farce? Does this look like a farce? Are our children not real? Is our home not real? Are the years we’ve spent together not real? This is about sex, isn’t it? That’s all you can think about! If you wanna have sex, go ahead, rip my clothes apart and do it. Don’t say that our marriage is not real just because I am not in a mood for sex as often as you are! Do you really believe this crap you’ve just said? What problem are you talking about anyways? The problems are all imaginary problems you’ve created in your head!” this time I was really angry, my voice was raised and my hands lashing out in accusation.

“Bullshit!” this was the first time in so many years I heard Sahil swear. “Fucking Bullshit! Just because you’re raising your voice and talking to me, it doesn’t prove that you’re right and I am wrong, and we both know who is right in this conversation. We have a problem! The sooner you admit it, the better it is. By sweeping our increasing differences under the blanket, it is not going to disappear, Aarya. And, no! It is not sex that I want. If I wanted sex, I could go to any woman on the road; I wouldn’t be vying for your attention for the last twelve or so, hoping that someday I will see love for me in your eyes. Hoping that you would want me just the way I want you, hoping that you would need me just the way I need you. You’ve been shutting me out, you have been running behind a ghost, and I've been patient enough, but not anymore. I want us to work on this together. I want us to meet with a marriage counselor, and get help in sorting stuff out. And I want this ASAP!” the finality in his voice kind of shook me up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We have no differences and I am not running behind ghosts. Stop saying it again and again. We both wanted the same things, and we both got what we wanted. There is nothing wrong with the intimacy in our relationship, and just because I don’t tell you that I love you every day, that doesn’t mean, that I don’t. I am tired after taking care of two kids, cooking, cleaning and attending to work as well. So if I’m not in a mood for sex, you think I’m not giving you attention. You are simply maximizing the situation Sahil and behaving like a stubborn kid throwing a tantrum when he doesn’t get the candy he wants. I am going to say this just once, so you better listen to it clearly. There are absolutely no issues from my side in this marriage; I am not going to any counselor, or getting any kind of help. I already have too much on my plate, and I don’t see the need to add more clutter to it. If you feel the need of anything of this sort, please feel free to go and get any kind of help or advice you may need, but count me out of it. I hope I have made myself clear!” I sounded so sure on the outside, but inside me, I was going to pieces.

“Crystal clear!” is all Sahil said before turning to the other side and switching the bedside lamp off. I went back to my book, and drifted into oblivion in my sleep without a clue that my world was going to go down in pieces very soon.

The next morning things had definitely gotten worse between Sahil and me. His face seemed distorted with a mix of rage and grief; he seemed far away in a place where I couldn’t reach out to him, it’s not like I tried reaching out to him in the first place. We didn’t exchange a single word before he left for work.

That evening after getting back from work Sahil announced that he was renting an apartment in the city and moving out. He didn’t see any sense in coming home each day to a wife who didn’t want him. I asked him, what about the kids, and he said, he loved them dearly, and would spend all his weekends with them. When I asked him if he would ever see the light of the day and decide to move back home, to which he just said, he would see the light of the day, the day, I realised a new morning had come and stopped living in the past.

I could see history repeating itself. I was ten when my parents walked out on each other, and I still haven’t come to terms with it. Our kids were so much younger. I couldn’t imagine dealing with it. I asked him to reconsider his decision, to which, he simply said, I was the one who had to reconsider the decisions I’d taken almost twelve years ago. Sahil said to me in plain words, that I was the one who chose to ignore someone who was alive and right in front of me, to be faithful to a dead lover.

I didn’t say anything. I just went quiet. After twelve years I could feel warm tears fall from my eyes onto my cheeks. When Sahil saw me crying, he didn’t know how to react, because he’d not seen me cry in a long long time. Sahil was my best friend, and I’d shut him out so often, that now, he didn’t want to be there for me anymore. I felt as if I’d driven him to abandon me and I hadn’t a clue how to make things right.

He drew me in his arms, and let me cry on his shoulder. I don’t remember how long I cried, or that I fell asleep crying that night. The next morning when I woke up, Sahil was gone – lock, stock and barrel. At first I was hysterical but calmed down soon enough.

I woke the kids, got them dressed, fed them, and dropped them off at the baby-sitter’s. I cancelled all my appointments, meetings and deliverables for the day. I just sat on the rocking chair in our bedroom trying to hang onto every memory I had created in that room with Sahil. With each memory I recalled, I cried even harder. By evening, I was exhausted from crying. I had a long bath, got dressed, picked the kids up, and took them out for Pizzas that night.

Over Pizza, I explained to them in the best possible way that their Daddy wouldn’t be staying at home anymore because it was difficult for him to travel everyday. But he would definitely come and take them every weekend. Diya was such a bright child even at the age of just three and a half years. She instantly asked me, “Mammy, are you and Daddy getting divorced like Dave’s Mom and Dad?” Sometimes children are wise beyond their years, and it’s then that you regret your bad decisions that would hurt and haunt them in the future. I shook my head and hoped that I was right.

From next morning on, I made sure that their days were as normal as possible, and that they didn’t miss their father too much. I began working more often from home. On the weekend when Sahil came, we shook hands, exchanged customary greetings like strangers; he’d pick up the kids and leave as quickly as possible.

I hoped that things between Sahil and me would somehow get better so that he could move back with us and we could be a family again. It was unfair for the kids to have a dad only over the weekends and for them to be without their mom on weekends, but I didn’t have a clue on how to bring him back home.

Unfortunately, before I could even conjure up the guts to talk to him about giving our marriage another shot, one weekend when Sahil came home to pick the kids up he told me that he’d been seeing someone, and that they were planning to move-in together. He was seriously considering a fresh beginning and wanted a Divorce.

I knew it was a matter of time before Sahil would find someone who could appreciate him for what he was and give him the love he truly deserved. I felt a pang of jealousy, but suppressed it. I told him that was fine with me, and asked him about what were his plans for the kids. He said, I could keep the house, and we could continue the same arrangement with the kids.

I agreed. Today, after a year of filing the “Petition for Divorce” we, Sahil and Aarya are no longer married.

Over the past one year I have more than a million times wished I could retract my steps and express to Sahil the way I felt about him then, and even now. Unfortunately, I’d missed the bus. I threw away, with my own two hands, a beautiful marriage to a wonderful man. I threw away the chance of my kids growing up with both their parents in the same home. I threw away my chance at being loved by a man who truly loved me.

Today, for the final hearing of our Divorce decree Sahil had come with his girlfriend Amanda. They were sitting in the other side of the Court Room. I stole a glance at him, and I could see his eyes filled with happiness. I was truly glad that someone saw him for the great guy that he is and loves him.

After the decree was final, I walked out of the room without a second glance. I didn’t want to look at him; I knew I would cry if I did. I didn’t want to show my weakness in front of him or Amanda. I’d heard Amanda’s name from the kids several times, but hadn’t been introduced to her. Not that I needed or wanted to be introduced. I heard Sahil’s voice call out to me from behind. I turned and saw him standing there, with his hand entwined with Amanda’s.

I felt stung. We’d never done that in twelve years of being married, but that was in all probability because I would always push his hand away. I pushed those thoughts away and smiled. They walked towards me, and he released his hand that was entwined with Amanda. He introduced Amanda to me. We exchanged customary greetings and I was about to bid them goodbye when he said and did something that truly touched my heart.

He gave me a warm hug and said, “Aarya, though we’re not married anymore, I’d like you to think of me as the same best friend you had in college. If you ever need me, at any time of the day or night, feel free to call me. I will always be there for the kids, but more importantly, I will always be there for you.” I wanted so badly to tell him that I love him so much, and that I want to make “us” work somehow, but I didn’t.

I withdrew from his embrace, pecked him on his cheek the way I always used to, and said “And the same goes for you too Sahil. If you ever need me, you know I’m there for you too.” With that, I turned around, and almost ran out of that place for the fear of being seen with tears in my eyes.

So here I am, sitting alone in the study of my huge home in Morristown whilst both the kids are away at the baby-sitter’s, pouring my heart into you, my dear journal. Please keep my secrets safe, and help me release the pain I feel within. Help me pour the hurt from me, into you, in the hope that I feel better soon.

Today I feel like a part of me has died, just the way it did when Aftab died. The Decree of Divorce was like a final nail in the coffin of my relationships. I feel the same pain I felt almost fourteen years ago when I saw Aftab’s bloody face on the hospital stretcher in Navi Mumbai.

Journeying through life with Mitch Albom

It all started on a rainy evening more than five years ago. I’d just about returned from a hectic day at work. Pretty beat from my drive through torrential rains, thunder and lightning I felt the need to unwind. I logged onto my computer system hoping to catch up with some friends online. To my dismay, the broadband connection was down because of the rain and I was left with no other option than to flip channels on TV until I could find something worth watching.

The screen flashed - Coming up next, “Tuesdays with Morrie” whilst I was flipping thought Hallmark Channel so I finally settled down to watch that. The title of the movie aroused some amount of curiosity in me. Whilst Oprah Winfrey was doing an introduction to the movie, I went into the kitchen to serve myself some food, and settled comfortably onto the couch waiting for the movie to begin.

I was fascinated with it right from the beginning. The titles started with a scene of an old man waltzing by himself oblivious of the world around him. The scene touched a chord in me. I sat through the entire movie, enraptured and yet very emotionally volatile. There were moments where I laughed, and moments when I sobbed, but most of all, there were moments of enlightenment and breakthrough that I’d never experienced before. It was during this movie I realized how much unnecessary baggage I was holding onto and making my life so much harder than it needed to be. I learnt the importance of love, forgiveness and the beauty of living life to the fullest. This movie opened my heart and gave me the courage to love again.

It was much later that I bought the book, and read it, which of course was a lovely experience, but the initial impact of the movie always stayed in my mind.

Time flew by, and life went on as usual. Almost two years later, life hit me with a serious blow. My Dad passed away very suddenly. He and I always had our differences, we hardly ever saw eye to eye on anything. In fact, we were barely in touch towards the end. One fine evening I got the news that he’d had a massive heart attack and wasn't going to make it, but before I could get there to say my final goodbye he was gone.

There were, of course, a lot of unresolved issues between my Dad and me. I was living in some kind of a limbo after his death all through the journey from Sholapur to Mumbai, the funeral, and the days that followed. The unresolved issues I had with Dad tormented me. There were questions that needed answers, but he wasn’t around anymore to give me those answers. My black hole of limbo got a lot darker and heavier than when it’d all started. When I was leaving Mumbai, I left with a huge burden of unanswered questions that were weighing me down.

On the way back home, my flight from Mumbai to Bangalore was delayed indefinitely. To pass time I went to the Crossword store at the Airport. To my delight I found Mitch Albom’s new book “For One More Day”. I picked it up without even looking at the synopsis of the book and settled down to read it with a glass of beer at the airport restaurant.

I had absolutely no clue about the subject of the book, but as I read one chapter after another, the burden I'd carried since my father's death began to evaporate slowly. Even my breathing became a lot easier than it had been for more than a week. I’d like to believe, the indefinite flight delay, seeing this particular book on the bookstand, picking it up without so much as seeing what ‘twas all about; whatever happened that evening happened only because I needed it to happen to me at that point in time. I’d like to believe that whenever I need to learn an important and life altering lesson in life, I somehow learn it from one of Mitch Albom’s books.

The story of Charles and his mother Pauline, his misconceptions about how she let him down when in reality, he was the one letting her down every time. About how Charles didn’t tell his mother often enough that he loved her, about all the times he didn’t stand up for her, and most of all the one extra day he got with the spirit of his mother, where they mended their relationship, or rather he sought redemption. This entire story hit home hard!

"For One More Day" opened my eyes to the reality of my relationship with my Dad. It made me realize that I’d never really given him a chance at all. I’d had these unrealistic expectations of our relationship, and when it turned out differently, I just shut him out! "For One More Day" taught me forgiveness and acceptance. It taught me to make peace with my circumstances and move on!

A little over a year ago life took a drastic turn. Things that shouldn’t happen to anyone, happened to me. I was shocked, angry and bitter. Most of all, I lost faith and hope. I was losing everything I grew up believing as quickly as a person drowning into quicksand and was very close to getting into a depression. Sometimes I feel being hopeless is worst than dying of cancer. It was then, that I saw this book called “Have a little faith”, and once again, Mitch Albom came to my rescue. His book gave me hope and helped me restore my faith just in time.

Mitch Albom has a way of being profound without being preachy. Each of his books has touched my soul and has found ways into my life when I needed them the most. I can’t imagine what life would’ve been like without those books being there to guide me and teach me life’s most important lessons of Love, Forgiveness, Hope and Faith.

Earlier this year, when a close friend of mine gave me my second copy of "Have a little Faith" autographed by Mitch Albom, and a message written by him. His message said "Dear Alisha, Always have faith!" I instantly knew that God was looking out for me through Mitch Albom's books.

Darlin' you're amazing thru n thru... - My first attempt at writing a song

Darlin’ you’re amazing thru n thru

1. Are you my friend or my lover
This my darlin’ I can’t decipher
All I know is that you make me smile
With you I’ve woven a thread of memories that’s as long as a mile

Chorus
Honey you are awesome in every way
I could sit by your side night and day
Coz all I want to do is keep gazing at you
Darlin’ you’re amazing thru n thru

2. When I look into your eyes, I can see that you care
And just then, it is my soul I want to bare
When you hold me you make me feel complete
The rest of the world becomes obsolete

Chorus
Honey you are awesome in every way
I could sit by your side night and day
Coz all I want to do is keep gazing at you
Darlin’ you’re amazing thru n thru

3. Though I know we’re soon going to part
You will always have a special place in my heart
Cos it’s with you that I’ve felt happiness so pure
There will never be another one like you, of this I’m sure

Chorus
Honey you are awesome in every way
I could sit by your side night and day
Coz all I want to do is keep gazing at you
Darlin’ you’re amazing thru n thru

4. I’ve known you for oh so long
But it’s just today that I’m writing you a song
Because I want you to always remember me
Even after I’m gone, in your heart I want to be

Chorus
Honey you are awesome in every way
I could sit by your side night and day
Coz all I want to do is keep gazing at you
Darlin’ you’re amazing thru n thru

Who am I?

Have you ever wondered what could the answer to this question be?

Last night I randomly picked out a book from my library at home and decided to read the first 20 pages of the book to kill my boredom. I picked up Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder. By the time I reached the fifth page, I was completely absorbed into it. I came across this question "Who are you?" asked to Sophie in an anonymous letter, and couldn't help but ask myself the same.

Who am I? I asked myself, and the very first answer that came to my mind was, "I am Alisha Thomas!" But then, I went on to think, who the hell is Alisha Thomas? It was then that I sat down and began writing the answer to this question and to my own surprise, I could define myself in more than fifty different ways!

Sometimes, out of the blue when we sit down and let random thoughts into our minds, we'd be surprised at how creative we can get, and to what extent we can explore possibilities within ourselves.

Long Days

There have been long days in my life before,

But not a one like this;

So dark, so lonely, so painful n harsh,

That the ones before seem like bliss.

I was sitting in solitude,

And thinking about the past;

Memories that I want to forget,

But in my mind they seem to last.

In anticipation that the sun will shine,

And the darkness pass away;

I wait for you to walk in n smile,

And make my heart sway.

But alas my waiting is all in vain,

'Cause you never come;

I wonder about our love,

And what it has become.

The long day has still not ended,

For I am still waiting;

I'm waiting for you to come,

Come home to my love n back into my life.

Monsoons……. A season closest to my heart

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head……. Every time I hear this song, childhood memories flood my mind.

Having grown up in Mumbai, where Monsoons are pretty rough and the rainfall is generally heavy, monsoons have always marked special occasions in my life. Whether it was moving to a new class at the beginning of a new academic year, or something as simple as ganging up with friends and dancing in the rain. It’s all been a part of growing up, a part of my life that will always remain close to my heart!!

Memories of bygones, the fun, the laughter, those carefree days, I miss them all, and wonder whether life would ever be the same. I could just dance in the rain with friends, or eat garam garam butthas at Marine Drive with the waves lashing at the rocks and rain drops falling on my head.

Those were the days when simple things gave me pleasure, when small things made me smile. I wonder where it’s lost now. I wonder where it's gone? Amidst ambitions, long working hours, financial needs, future plans, all those beautiful ol’ times seem so far away. Sometimes I sit and wonder, what am I getting at? Why can’t I derive pleasure and happiness from small things in life? Why can’t I just get myself to dance in the rain again, like I used to, for so many years as a kid. Why can’t I relive that anticipation and excitement of going to the next class as I used to when I was younger.

As we grow up, most of us get lost in our daily mundane chores that leave us no time to experience what we used to love the most. We run behind material things without even realizing what we’re probably missing by ignoring the small joys that come our way.

Every time I stand in my balcony and watch the rain, I wonder, what stops me from taking a walk in the rain like I used to. I wonder why I am worried about what people would say. Those little joys that could fill my life with happiness are just around the corner, but something stops me from getting to them, and that something is my own reservations.

Maybe sometime soon, I will chuck those reservations, and just take a walk in the rain like I used to, and have fun like always, and experience the sheer thrill of it, just the same way as I used to as a small child. I will let the monsoons touch my soul like it used to when I was younger and feel the joy of it.

Rain Rain, come my way, and let me play again today!