It was finally time. The hour has finally come. I stood outside my apartment, placed my fingers slowly on the doorbell switch, watching as my mom opened the door with a smile like she always does. I took a glance at the stack of shoes near the door. The stickers on the door reverberating hospitality. I called this place home for 10 years. Now my journey has left me at crossroads. This time I had there was no shortcuts or cheat codes to find a way to cling on to my sanctuary spot. In 6 months I will be moving to new lands, looking for opportunities of study to pursue my higher education. I had no choice but to move on. I never believed in being overly attached to inanimate objects, even though I’d argue the case for my phone and computer, I would never really have thought that I would indeed, miss my apartment so much. Every time I stepped out of the doorway and locked the door, my subconscious was keeping a subtle count of how many times I get to repeat the action until I leave the place for good. Suddenly I was flying, as a wild familiar storm of Deja vu blew me off my toes.
Drowsy, maybe it was a boring class. I slowly opened my eyes, with an unpleasant aftertaste of anxiety. Maybe the feeling of separation however did not contain itself within my living premises. The grimness lurked it’s way into my personal and college life. Like every other student would agree, the people and the experiences pulled me towards the college, like a moth towards a candle flame. We were in our final year of study, counting days left for each of us where we can meet, share and have fun together. Many of us chose to follow their path towards a successful career, which meant that many of them would be leaving many of the others behind as they slowly learn to make the transition to work life. A few rare cases of friends ending up in the same workplace proved as exceptions, as the others dreaded the moment when they will have to face the reality of letting their best friends with whom they have spent the best parts of 4 years spent on and off university grounds. This transition apparently presenting itself to be a stumbling block in the smooth road of relationship for couples and friendship in best friends.
Maybe I was a little fortunate in that aspect. I managed to hold onto my love and my boys, at least until the end of the academic year. But it was never going to be easy watching your friends go, and even worse; watch the ones you love suffer from letting go of people close to them. It was like classic cinema; what started off as drama and romance had spiraled into mystery; Everyone quite anxious and filled with speculation of what is to become of their future. It was overwhelming, I was falling deep into that endless pit; and I opened my eyes, finding myself staring at an uninteresting roof.
My phone rung so loud that it deafened me for a second. Rather strange, to receive a call this late. I looked at the time, and then at the date. I smiled as I knew what came next is going to stay in my head for a long time to come. The next moment, I was lying on the bed eyes wide open, trying to find that glorious moment that would put me into a deep peaceful sleep; something that has evaded me since the thought of moving out was planted in my head. I looked around me and I saw three absolutely crazy, weird misfits around me, sleep deprived, tired, all passed out with tiny stains of my birthday cake near their mouths. These guys welcomed me to this place when I was just a boy, just 10 years of age. From somewhere between fighting for our favorite seats in school buses and long spicy conversations about our love lives we managed to enjoy each other’s company; and also put up with each other’s anomalies.
My head hit the window and I woke up with a start. I could see my buddy complaining onto my face about how I fell asleep in the bus when I was actually supposed to be sharing some of my interesting stories with him. Him reminding that I had only six months left to do all these did not help my anxiety. I had to remind him often that I would be in fact moving onto higher levels of education and not afterlife. Even though we had to endure long hours of travel to commute between our homes and college, it presented us with the gift of time to share and engage. The conversations kept the trip alive and joyful, at least when I was not dozing off next to a very curious person sitting next to me disgruntled at my choice of nap times. I’m a late night person, so it was only natural that a second later I found the same window pane I had just crashed onto; to be a soft quilt for me to fall asleep on.
I felt a soft hand around my face. Slowly tapping my nose, in a cute way to wake up. I moved my head around a bit, enjoying the comfort and warmth I felt resting on those legs. I opened my eyes and I knew I was looking at my favorite person in the whole wide world. I was treated to a menacing smile, something that was in equilibrium with ‘that felt good’ and ‘we’re late for class!’. Sometimes I enjoyed being a bit of a rebel, as I reasoned with her to let me get comfortable for some more time. But I was dealing with a rather responsible person here. Soon I was dragging myself to a class I absolutely did not like attending; A necessary evil in this case maybe. Maybe physically present, but again little did I know I’d be drifting into another world which had nothing much to do with computers and e-commerce.
The alarm was screaming into my ears. I felt like I’d just been dizzy punched by a bear. I wish I could just go back to sleep. My eyes looked tired, my mind weakened with fatigue. But it was another day. A new window for new experiences. Another chance to do something new with the people I love spending time with. Another day of the six months. I thought going back into the trance of sleep where I could relive my moments made me happy, at least until I realized that looking forward to a new day, to meet everyone again was actually what was driving me forward.
It was another cloudy day. The end of my school vacation was approaching, marking the end of summer as well. It was a smooth transition from the scorching heat and shining sun to heavy rains and cold breeze. I was out for a walk with my grandfather, something I have enjoyed throughout my childhood and even today. I was just a 10 year old boy scared of speeding vehicles on the highway so close to my house I could hear the buses waging wars against each other. I held onto his hands, refusing to let go; The sense of responsibility regarding the safety and well being of my old grandfather prioritized over my fears of the asphalt. As we entered the shop, we met a relative of ours, a very witty old man. Accompanying him, was a beast, thick brown and black coat, sharp ears and eyes blazing with authority. Even though now, the 21 year old me would go running to give the Alsatian a hug, the small boy who stood in front of the elegant creature experienced only the feeling of fear. I held my grandfather’s hand firmly, believing I would take off along with him the first chance I get. The next thing that happened was nothing short of spectacular; as we bid farewell, the old man got into his car, and spoke to his dog like he was a small child. “Get into the car Shera!”. You could say the same thing to a child, Maybe he would listen; probably he wouldn’t. But I realized this dog was no child, it was a soldier. He got into the car, not hesitating, paying no attention to the small boy who was gaping at him in amazement.
Fast forward a few years, I was studying in a new school. Made new friends, experiencing new culture. A lot had changed; Yet I was still unsure about dogs. I was still intimidated. I can still vividly remember being chased around by strays, deafened by the screams of my younger friends who were on the run along with me. My dad used to tell me that it is only humans, and not animals that hurt you when even when you don’t hurt them. It seemed a little far fetched for a kid to actually believe that, as we often plotted to show the dogs who’s alpha. We were keeping a lookout for one particular dog. One with a chestnut brown colored coat. The one which would chase us away growling, if we were ever present in vicinity. After many days of being chased, we finally grew tired of it. We decided to go on the offensive, as we packed our soft bullet air guns as we approached the dog when it was sleeping. As we moved in closer, the dog saw us coming and suddenly raised it’s head gazing at us. Our hearts skipped a beat as we prepared to resort to running away. The dog looked at us for a few seconds, and went back to sleep. I don’t know what did the trick, whether if the smell of fear was masked by that of false courage, or just because it felt we meant no harm, after all. We took another look at the dog, all of our faces which carried a grimace slowly turned into smiles as we saw tiny puppies lying next to the dog. We went back home. We never forgot about the event. We finally came to the conclusion that the dog was aggressive because it was carrying it’s puppies and felt that any external interference would put their lives in danger. The sense of protection and care are forever embedded in a mother’s heart; may it be human, a dog or any other living being. Maybe my father was right. They don’t attack with no reason. I felt like I understood these amazing beings better. How they think and how they feel.
I had a friend who used to help me out with math. I used to go to his house on weekends. He too happened to have a cute little dog, a dachshund. A very playful and pleasant dog. It used to play around, used to climb on my legs. It was however not a big fan of goodbyes. One of the days my mom came over to take me home, as I was saying goodbye, the dog climbed over me and was playfully looking at me; asking me to stay. My friend pulled her leash to make her let go of me. She still tried to hold on, when she couldn’t use her paws she decided to bite onto the end of my pants which eventually tore in half. I ran crying to my mother. A rather funny sight. It looked like I was wearing a poorly tailored shorts one side longer than the other, with me holding the lower half of the pants in my hands crying. It took me a while to understand why this happened. Maybe fear was still there, but my fascination for dogs grew a little more, day after day.
Time flies. Years passed. I was living in an apartment; and by apartment I refer to someplace where only people are supposed to live. NO PETS. I didn’t realize this was just something they were expected to say and didn’t intend, and I was left in dismay as the officials told me this the moment I stepped into my new home. I made peace with the fact that there was no way I could have a dog in this space, and even if I could keep one, there’s no way everyone at home would support this, as they had a rather realistic view on the difficulties of keeping a pet in an apartment. I still wrestled with the idea of getting a dog into the house. At that point in time I was completely alien to the idea of adopting a puppy; throughout my life I’ve met owners who bought a puppy from someone else who owned a dog. I wanted a dog for myself real bad. The situation only got further serious when I met the cute small puppy one of my close friends had got for himself. I was extremely thrilled, I loved playing with the puppy. And this time, it was not the dog, but me who had trouble saying goodbye and letting go. He had bought the dog from someone who knew about puppies, so I decided that I’d take the same road, and get one for myself. If my dad wasn’t going to fund, I was going to generate the funds by myself. I decide to work during the summer on an internship which paid me enough to get a Golden Retriever. A breed I absolutely adored. The playful, loyal, happy, elegant looking dogs.
With a little help from my grandma, my sister and my friends, I was finally able to put together enough to get the puppy. Everything was set in place, and the puppy was in transit to my home. I was jumping with joy. It was almost like how you fall in love with someone, and you imagine all series of events in life you experience with them; I could see the puppy growing up into a majestic dog in my head. But unfortunately, I couldn’t meet my little one right away, as my internship was still on, and I was expected to complete the assigned duration of 2 months. The few days I had to go work, I believe taught me the true pain of separation. I have to owe it to the fact that I have so many wonderful friends; another close friend of mine decided to help me out and let the puppy stay with him and his own dog when I was away. He used to send me pictures of her everyday, and I was pretty much guilty of spending a lot of time looking at how cute she looked with all the golden fur; when I actually should’ve been working. We didn’t come up with a name for her initially. I was on a hunt for names, and we finally decided to stick with Zoey.
As soon as I received the permission to complete the internship and return home, I pounced at the opportunity and went to my friend’s house to meet the puppy. I cannot possibly put the feeling of meeting Zoey for the first time in words; but if you ever see me smiling out of the blue it is probably me remembering about the time we met. I took her home in my car, she was moving around restlessly at the back, as it was her first time travelling in car. My parents weren’t around at the time, so we both had the whole house to ourselves. Sometimes it was raining outside and sometimes I was too lazy, so I spent a lot of time cleaning up after the mess she makes. But i still cherish the moments when she used to give me a guilty smile after I had to clean up. The nights were the hardest. I used to tie her to the door on the way to my room. The bed used to have a tall cover beside the headrest, and when I finally decided to go to sleep; I closed my eyes for a few seconds I could hear a small cry for help. That’s when I woke up to see Zoey looking at me. She stood silent for a while looking at me. I went back to sleep and she started crying again. I realized that she was afraid I was going away every time I lied down, because she couldn’t see my when I went to sleep. I felt like a dad with a cranky baby, as I got up, went to her, petted her and reassured her that I was still there. The adjusting period was not simple. But we got through it together.
Soon my parents were back home. They couldn’t stay mad at me for bringing a dog home after looking at her. They too fell in love with her as we all agreed on welcoming her to our family. Days went by so quickly, she grew bigger each day. My mom and dad spending more time with her as I had to soon return to college. Amidst all the fun, the cleaning up was getting harder, with the dog getting bigger and shedding fur. But we were so much in love with her, there is no way we could let the work behind cleaning or caring for her be an obstacle.
I thought this would work. I believed it would sustain forever. Months passed. We soon learned that due to medical complications, my sister had to deliver a baby prematurely, which meant that the baby was more vulnerable to infections and diseases than others. A new born baby in the family! An event that should normally bring us joy was now mixed with our feelings of anxiety for the wellness of my sister and the baby. After weeks of fear and anxiety, a baby girl was born. A tiny person wrapped in multiple layers of cotton sheets. I felt the bad times had passed; that the days to come will be filled with more happiness. Yet it didn’t stop there. When I kept my faith in a better future, that’s when the doctor advised that we move Zoey away because it’s fur could compromise the health of the newborn baby.
I found it impossible to accept the fact that I had to part ways with my little one. In fact, it was the same with everyone who saw her grow up. Everyone at home were crestfallen when they realized Zoey couldn’t stay with us anymore. I tried to argue my cause; but I lost the battle between something I loved more than myself, something I’d watched grow up against the sensitivities of human sentiments. I decided to give her away. My dad told me about his friend who wanted to get a dog, so we decided to let Zoey stay with him. I saw the thin line of hope of bringing her back home once the situation had passed.
It was a rather terrible moment when everyone at home had to say goodbye to Zoey. We got her into the car, as we drove towards the place which was to be her new home. I was crying profusely, my dad had his hands on the wheel, and a rather stern look; but I could see him holding back what he actually felt. When I met the people who would be taking care of her, I felt confident in their commitment for Zoey and her care. I left her in the house, and I rushed back into the car as I tried my best to not come off looking weak and helpless. I stayed in the car, silent and stuck in a trance of shock and despair.
But it is what they say; Time heals everything. I was soon used to opening the front door not being welcomed happily by a cute ball of fur. I found myself with a lot of free time as I was relieved from the duties of walking and playing with my little puppy.
I visit her whenever I get a chance. Maybe we don’t stay together and meet everyday, but we know how much we care for each other. It is not to say I miss her any less. Everyday when I eat at the table, I remember her looking at me yearning for a bite of whatever I was eating. When I bite into an apple I remember her appearing out of nowhere because she really did love apples. When the vacuum cleaner is turned on, I remember her running away scared of the noise and hide herself under the couch with her tail outside.
But when I meet her today, I don’t find a myself in a situation where I ask myself if I need to bring her back home. I know she has a family who cares a lot for her, I know she has a big house with a lot of space to run and play. I believe she is happier here than she could be anywhere else. And I feel a whole lot better knowing that she is happy and well.
Because I think maybe I did love her enough to let her go.
Dogs are wonderful creatures gifted with the ability to love and care. Stray or domestic, it is important we treat them with affection and care and learn to respect their existence. Let us stand for our furry friends, and fight against their ill-treatment and abuse.
We use the phrase falling in love. Not often do we say ‘being in love’. We say – you fell in love, “I think I’ve fallen in love with her”. I’ve been left wondering how that particular expression came into existence. Falling is a term we use to describe a negative situation. The prices of my shares fell in the stock market. I fell from the tree. ouch.
Well maybe I experienced a bit of falling myself. And I realized that the phrase falling in love deserved a definition of my own; for I believe, we fall only to rise up stronger. So it’s falling in love; because unless you magnificently succeed in your first impression to the person who you want to impress, you fail and learn what you did wrong, and how it could be done better the next time.
So let’s say you failed to create an impression. And you left the person wondering if you were even close to the person they would want to be with. They have two options left in front of them. Either they tell it your face which is difficult for them, but will eventually make it easier for you; or the easier option for them is to just let it slide, and ignore your existence; because indeed they do not want to hurt your feelings. You see that’s the worst kind, the one which goes close to smothering the person being denied of affection and attention. The best thing you can do if you want to convey to someone who likes you that you don’t like them in the same way would be to just say it straight away. Yes of course it might hurt them. But the temporary pain of the sting is definitely better than the slow poison of hope that you make them consume each time they feel that you might give them another chance. Every time you look at them, even accidentally, they feel like you earn their attention. Every time you speak to them they believe you don’t want to let them go. And popping up every now and then to remind them of your existence and at the same time let your action scream out the fact that you do not care enough about them to love them back, these people deserve the darkest depths of hell.
Yes it’s not Utopia. Not everybody fits with everyone else like a jigsaw. There are differences. Sometimes enough differences so that you can weigh the good against the bad and you believe you can compromise and not dwell on the bad because the good is worth fighting for. Sometimes the differences may be too much, Conflict of principles. Difference in thinking. Sometimes it’s difficult to overlook all of it. To be fair it’s not falling in love with the wrong person that will gift you disappointment, it’s the falsities you believed would materialize with the person you fell in love with that kills you.
We all love to dream. Dreams are often born out of boredom and overthinking. People believe that dreams are thoughts and desires of the dreamer buried deep within his conscience. We dream when we are not engaged with anything else. We dream when we sleep. We dream when we are sitting on the bank of a river. We dream when we are forced to attend a boring class. They say an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. While there is nothing satanic about being in love, the ideas we bring up surely would fall in line with that. Imagining yourself in situations that could possibly never exist. One second you look at the person, the next moment you find yourself trying to pick names for children you both will have in the future, leaving Bill Gates and Elon Musk envying your vision. Surely it’s more difficult to engineer an entire life with a person than sending a car into space? I’d say so.
So she said no. Big deal. It’s not the end. There could only possibly be three outcomes for this situations. Either you go into a reflection mode, where you look at whatever you did and everything you said in retrospective, only to conclude that you have indeed not been good enough for her to accept who you are. Acceptance is what we all yearn. Humans are social, no sane man would be capable of leading solo life detached from all kinds of life, and acceptance is a core feature hardwired into the system of society. If it’s not self-reflection, you become vengeful. While the former is a likely agent of self induction of pain, a slow train to the gloomy station of depression. Being vengeful is something absolutely different. You start believing that the person was wrong to say no to you and you would do anything to prove to them that you were not worth losing. For a person who’s not cynical, would rather benefit from this approach. The vengeful nature can fuel the desire to do things better, to try more, to explore more and risk more to obtain a productive change that could make the person stronger. But the thought behind the third approach which is neutrality, questions everything else. Is it really worth crying over someone who is not able to see the good within you? Is it worth making an effort to change who you are just because one person didn’t like you for what you are? The neutral approach pushes the impulsive responses off the ledge, as it offers a better sense of practicality. So she said no. Does it matter? I don’t care there’s always someone else who will appreciate me better.
It’s actually a battle between dwelling on and moving on. Being depressed or being vengeful, it’s like a treadmill in the gym. You seem to be walking, running away from the problem, but you are actually stuck at the same point. If you want to really get away from it, step out of the treadmill, do not change your approach change your cause. This is just like the example of apples the psychiatrists like to use. There’s one green apple you’d love to eat more than the red apples which are equally good placed in the same basket. But unfortunately, the green apple goes bad because of some reason. Now the question is would you be willing to throw the green apple away and save the red apples from going bad as well; or would you rather choose to be obsessed with the green apple and try to save it some way while ignoring the other apples, which could eventually go bad. We have people around us who care about us who do put in a lot of effort to make our lives better, in return they ask only for our love and care. It would be unfair to them if we ignored their efforts just so that we can hang onto something which was never worth our time anyway.
So what does this conclude? Is it wrong to fall in love? Absolutely not. It’s important that we experience the feeling of love, and also build up the courage to admit it. But is it important to have our priorities sorted. Totally. We all have a duty to fulfill, we have the ticket to our purpose. Maybe it’s not worth sacrificing the ticket to a journey of experiences filled with anxiety and curiosity in copious amounts, for a small moment of denial.
Bubble 