A fictitious story of a girl with out-of-bound imagination and lots to tell about the world. its not a diary, just a space i can put to words my stories in. STORY TO BE READ STARTING FROM BELOW... damn...sorry
13 years old, Female, mumbai
I know AM since I was days-old. To put it in better words, AM knew me since I was days-old.
However, I never understood how this lady, who doesn't have enough for herself or her own kids, could provide so much for someone she isn't even blood-related to. this is when I understood that THERE IS MORE TO A RELATION THAN JUST BLOOD.
I love AM and her love for me is seamless. She has a daughter of my age and a son younger to me. I love both of them too. But my love for AM is not simply love. I admire her and respect her from the bottom of my heart. She is an industrious woman, humourous and sincere, both at the same time and she knows how to stand firm.
Did I say something wrong? Should I say sorry? No! Why should i apologise if there is no fault of mine? Perhaps, I should; only for the sake of our friendship?But what's wrong? Will dhruv ever talk to me again?
There were so many questions that circled around in my head.; but without answers. My brain seemed as it would burst any time.
While i lived with my on-the-verge-of-bursting head and had a shaky school-life, life at home went quite smoothly. AM was always by my side when I needed her, though she wouldn't be at home most of the time. Working as a domestic help, she always had least time for her kids. But I - I was special. AM was never busy for me. She was my maid, but I've had always respected her. I didn't call her Maa, because I can never let anyone replace my mother but I called her something more suitable - Aunty Mamma aka AM. She is 'My Dearest AM' even now. I can never forget her face. She was not beautiful; she was dark, curly-haired,and had those always swollen eyes and a weary body.
After the death of my Maa and Dad, I had no one but AM. I was just 7 then, so I really couldn't accept that they were eternally taken away from me. I didn't cry because AM had said that Maa and Dad were waiting for me to become a 'Big Girl', especially one who doesn't cry.
Then, something really strange happened. I have got vivid memories of that day. It was a Monday. I really don't like over-worked Mondays shortly after lousy Sundays. But this one- it was different.
All of the lectures passed just as they should have, quite normal and mechanical.It was all the same except for one thing - my gaze.
It was , not surprisingly, fixed with complete concentration towards the blackboard -but not at the blackboard, a little at the left on the first bench. Yes, at Maitreya. This continued to be the scene until the bell for lunch break rang when, without a moment's thought, I blurted out- I love you, Maitreya. "oh, no!" He stepped back, hands on his face, completely covering it. "what? Say something. You asked me, I answered. Now when I..."He interrupted by replying,"Yes, yaar. but why were you so late, i mean, you could have told me that day, um...ah...when.."
"Okay, bye!"I smiled and turned away.
The days ahead passed in a very lovey-dovey way as if two naive hearts, whose immunity didn't naturally seem much strong, were infected with the much dreaded 'love disease'. We would chat, text and phone each other. If something good happens, I catch hold of my best friends. I told this to Dhruv. I narrated the entire story exactly the way it occurred. He patiently listened to me but wasn't as happy. I realised he was rather angry and didn't even speak to me fr the next few days.
How could I ever tell him? I may have the guts to speak, but does he have the guts to listen? I know him as a very strong person yet, it's for me (and me only) that I'm finding various reasons to avoid the question. I fear I might break into an effusion; I fear I might lose that 'me' I had taken hell lot of time to create.
Zer0-I'm sorry I was Ruqqayyah then-couldn't be accepted in her family for no reason or any mistake of hers.I don't blame my parents for this- they did everything they could for me. It was the other people who are at fault. It was unbearably difficult for them to marry without the contentment of their parents.
My Maa, as usual, was dressed in a beautiful saree, not a 'wedding-saree' though. My Dad was clothed in a blue, checked shirt and black trouser, quite formal and normal, nothing much of the wedding kind. He drove straight to Maa's house and rung her up. How can someone possibly learn, just ten minutes before, that she's to be wed. My Maa ran down to Dad's bike and gave him a huge hug. They went to register their marriage. Then they went to their favourite restaurant to eat Pav Bhaji. Since my Maa was brought up in a humble environment, she had never Bhaji and her father never gave her an extra paisa for anything. He would count and give specific amount of money,substantial for a day's passage. When she first tasted Pav Bhaji, with my Dad on her first date, she loved it. My Dad, as mentioned earlier, would spend any amount just for the sake of spending and so he would, almost everyday, take my mother to wherever she wants and wherever she ever imagined to go.
I thought and I realised that, maybe, I also like him...LOVE him indeed. No that's not possible. I'm a girl on whose shoulder you can cry and complain that your girlfriend broke up with you not a girl whom you can call your girlfriend. I tried to avoid those thoughts. Now I tried to deviate my mind from the topic by thinking about the upcoming Assets examinations.
Then life went on like normal for quite some good time when suddenly Maitreya spoke out his feelings. He did not say 'I love you' but it went something like this:
We had our english project in groups. Five people were selected as leaders and I was one. Each leader had to choose five chits from the bits of papers in the bowl with names of the remaining students written on them. When I was choosing I wanted Dhruv to be there for sure. I took my first chit out- Prerna. now I also wanted Jay Bhai to be there, How can I ever forget him? I picked another chit- Jay. Yes. At last, there was one good person in the group. Now the third and the last chit and I was still wishing for Dhruv when I saw the word 'Rylan'. Just a few days back Maitreya had told me that Rylan loved me but couldn't say. He didn't have the courage to.
Getting Rylan in my team meant giving Maitreya a chance to tease me. I don't like getting linked to boys. They can always be friends. What on earth is a boyfriend? Such a nerd, geek and biggest bookworm like me doesn't know that in spite of hearing the typical 'I love you' from many boys. It's not new for me. Boys keep proposing me but they really need to get this into their heads that I can be someone's best friend but not anyone's girlfriend.
After the team members got selected, everyone discussed about the place of meeting and practice time. We decide to meet after school and practice. There were two teams that day staying back in the library - mine, of course, and Maitreya's. After practice most of them were gone with only Jay, Rylan, Maitreya and I were remaining. We chatted for a long time and I laughed my heart out at Maitreya's jokes. Then, suddenly we touched upon a topic and Rylan whispered something in Maitreya's ears. Maitreya shook his head, "what do you think?" he said. Rylan gave me a look with that mischievous smile of his, his 'Dracula-teeth' touching his lower lip and almost eating away all joyfulness from the conversation. As he and Maitreya were known to be best of friends, I decided to ask him if I could help. He looked at Jay and whispered something in his ears. Jay looked at me and said," He loves you." "It's true, whatever he said. Do you like me?" said Maitreya. Coward. He didn't have the courage to tell it himself. I hate cowards and, anyways, I don't love."No. It's against Ruqqayyah protocol to love. No," I said and I went home thinking about it. He had taken my number that day and called to asked me for an answer and I replied the same. However, when he asked me why I didn't love. I couldn't speak, not that I didn't have an answer but it was a little too complicated to explain and haunting to recall.
History was repeating itself, and guess what, with such a person. He became my best friend in a very predictable but memorable way. I still remember the date, day, time and place when we fell in love. It was a Friday, the third of October, in school during a party. It was his birthday, that is why he calls(I mean, used to call) me 'my birthday gift'. His name was Maitreya- it means friendly. however, he is now the worst enemy I can ever think of. There was a boy and I used to call him Jay Bhai. he really was a brother to me. I don't know what exactly, but something happened that Jay got angry on me and we had a bitter row. I started crying. this was when, Maitreya, consoled me. He came to me and we sat and spoke about things almost forgetting what happened. On the other and, the entire class started criticising Jay of what he had just done. He kept mum all through the day. I felt sad for him but I couldn't understand what to say. Maitreya, who I, originally, thought wasn't a good student nor a good person to speak to; was rather consoling and supportive. I didn't realise I love him but I could read him,as I can still do, and got a cue that he did love me.
Before entering the bus, Jay Bhai apologised and I just said in a voice as little as an ant's heart-beat 'I'm sorry'. That was all I could say. Not that I did not have the guts to, but I cannot express my feelings. No matter what the situation demands, I only speak when spoken to. Most people hate that about me. I sat the entire journey back home thinking about what Jay said and what a big fool I had been to tell Jay how I wished he never said sorry to me.
We had our vacations then and Shruti was home from the stupid, little boarding she had been put to. I called and told her all that happened. "You know it's even boring to get bored without you," I said. "Okay. forget it . How's life?""Nothing much. nothing much without you." "I know you want to tell me something. Say and don't lie!" I really wonder how she ever comes to know what my mind thinks about. "Okay. There was this guy, remember..." and I recounted the exact story in the similar manner and sheepishly voiced my opinions on Maitreya. I didn't say anything more than that he was cute, understanding and however bad he may be with his language,be it english or Hindi, he was still a good friend. I shouldn't have done that. I called him a friend without once thinking about his response. she replied ,"Ooooooh. Friend or something more..." I shouted at her for saying something like that. Love, it was against my rules. Against Ruqqayyah protocol.
however, her words make me think.
I believe in God and thank him for all he has given me because I have learnt to grow with all difficulties by turning them into positive challenges.
It was in the seventh grade, I remember vividly, my favourite school and my first love. Everyone shared a good camaraderie and there was hate, love, fun, trouble; pouncing at you all at once. Yes. That's what school life's actually all about. I can't remember a day when, for at least one lecture, we wouldn't be punished. I had realised what true friendship is in this year. it was the seventh grade that taught me almost all lessons in life. From learning to swear(and knowing that idiot is still not a bad word, whether you like saying it or not) to lying for your best friends; from cheating to being cheated; from loving to be loved; and from having a friend to BEING a friend myself.
I remember there was this one friend of mine, Shruti, who had gone to a hostel in Gujarat the last year. She was the only best friend I had, and also a boy called Dhruv. But Shruti was closer to me and she stood by me in all times, so much that i always called her 'Meri Maa'. I mean it. she was the best help at school and i still can't forget her. When i sit back to recall, a feeling of nostalgia surrounds me. "I'm going to Gujarat,"she said."You don't need to. You can't do that I'll miss you,"I replied, trying to speak in spite of the lump in my throat. "mera admission ho gaya hai, Ruqqayah. Tu kuch nahi kar sakti.Arey, I'll become more responsible. Don't you want that?" And we sat quietly sobbing.
I wanted her to be there the year ahead, but she wasn't there. The next year there was someone else and the story was repeated, but this time I didn't want him to come. It was awful.
It is an old story, but not quite predictable. Zer0 - how it became a part of my life, how I realised why I value zer0 so much?
She was a girl of seventeen,or eighteen, maybe, and was beautiful, stunningly gorgeous and extremely potential with extra-ordinary talents. I mean , how can someone sing so well; plus, be so good in academics; and have such a good handwriting(considering the fact that she was a medical student and now a successful doctor); and can be able to kick some really good butts? she was a brown-belt.
He was a naughty spendthrift, someone you would possibly call 'ameer baap ki bigdi aulad' and a person who doesn't bother to bother about anything but his own self. He was a brave-heart and this is what he always usedc to say,"Mai kisi ke baap se nahi darta...sirf apne baap ko chodkar!" studies, I wish there would have been something that irks him more than anything else on Earth. A person who can get so angry on his principal that,along with some of his friends, he plans to bomb him can do lot more than just unimaginable.
And who possibly knew he was the maker of all the confusion? The confusion called Zer0. I call Zer0 me. Zer0 is me. I am Zer0.
Who is zer0? she's a person without a family, or people whom she includes in her family don't make her feel like her family. She had a Maa who would always be there with her. her dad couldn't be always there for her. I feel sorry, not only for little Zer0, but also for the dad who would come home late only to find his angel sleeping and could do nothing but kiss her.
Nowadays I really don't bother anymore about the time. All i know and i care about is, not quite surprisingly, NOTHING. zero number of things I care about.
It was just last night as i was studying French, my maid's daughter, whom I consider not less than my very own sister,suddenly associated my 'madame' with her favourite 'badaam'. I am a slightly political person who sees politics, not simply as corruption or blame-game, but as a means of development where each and every individual has to contribute to the development of one's nation. All I said was, just to add a little bit of humour without ever realising what it would lead to,"badaam ka bhav badh gaya hai, beta. Kitna badaam khaeyegi?" "Haan, badaam bhi khattey angur hai. Politicians ki pahunch me hi aatey hai, nahi?" This statement, I couldn't identify what its tone actually was? Of humour or of regret,of simple 'poli-tickle' type or sad or may be just a lame thought coming to mind with no reason. I rather thought it was questioning. It didn't just question our government but also questioned my own feelings on my life and the reason why I think dying would be better for me than living a life to bear hopeless and lifeless tears falling off my eyes,which i have now learned to control, and trying to be what i actually am.
I'm searching for myself, and this day reminded me of the stupid, haunting past I've been related to. Haunting it is- but only to me. Zer0, as I now call myself, reminds me about the zer0 from which I began my life and the zer0 I had become for someone. Zer0 holds an important place in my life.
Own a diary. Keep note of what is going on in your life. It would be amazing to look at it few years down the line. Or, you can have a diary of your imagination. A life you want to live. Note down what your character will be doing each day. Live a different life. You can keep it personal. Create one now. You'll love this concept. Login to create new.