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Story of Rebellion

Queen crashed one night.  Queen's my motorbike. My constant companion to all my rides. Without her, I'd be stranded. Unable to move. Two wheels and a lot of room for me and my dreams. One night, we rode down the familiar road back home. A man drove his autorickshaw into the middle of the road. So queen crashed into it. He told me it was my fault.  Itokke sredhikkande ambane? He said. You should watch were you are going young girl. Oh how my voice raised. I noticed bits and pieces of queen down the road. Broke my heart. Her body full of scars.  It was your fault - he insisted! So I called him every word in the dictionary. Funny how we all think we are the victim in our version of the story. Then I picked up the parts of my motorbike and left, still angry. Yet another day, I took her for a ride. She did not complain. I see people staring at her when we pass by. They probably are looking at her scars, her damages. I smirk. It wasn't our fault. We knew it. My body just like her
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Old Diaries

I re-read my old diary again. 
The diary I wrote when I was fighting cancer. Reading it felt so easy. Like it wasn't so bad. Because the way I wrote about things seemed subtle.
Sure I wrote about the pain, the medicines, the feeling of being left out.
But, I saw a girl, writing for a future she didn't know would be possible for her.
She didn't ask for love. 
She asked for simple things. 
For to be out in the sun, to walk amid people without the fear of getting an infection that could risk her life. 
To feel the hair on her head. To have her thick eyebrows back. 
Health and happiness is what she craved for.
I do now.
Sure. I have had my heart broken a few times. 
Happiness feels so far away a lot of the days. But at least I can walk in the sun, feel my hair, thread my thick eyebrows when they grow too thick. 
The pain-struck teenager with a disease, causing her too much suffering, wrote about an uncertain future. 
Will I get to do all of these things?- she wondered, crying at night.
Will the pain go away? Do I get friends that'll love me? Will I get to have a job? A dog? 
Oh, you naive, pure thing. You do.
Pain, like happiness often visits, stays, and places a kiss on your forehead and leaves. You'd miss her if she wasn't around. We need her around, not always, but some days. She teaches important lessons.
But you'll get to have 2 dogs of your own.
Both'll wag their tails when they hear the sound of your two-wheeler.Yes, you'll learn how to drive, don't be so surprised.
You'll land a small but good job, and work under a great senior, who'll remind you of your brother.
You'll make your money and buy the things you love with it.
You'll feel good even though your health takes a toll on you at times. 
Maybe the pain that I write down right now, will someday make my future-self smile with sympathy and love for the grieving 27-year-old.
A 27-year-old, who watches everyone around her falling in love, getting married, having babies, going on world tours, and thinking she's unlovable. The pain of spending time alone and no one to share the peculiar thoughts with. As I said, pain often visits. She didn't leave yet.
Maybe the pain-filled pages will turn when it's time.
Maybe I will find someone to truly love and be loved back. 
All the heartbreaks will teach me great things.
Maybe all will work out for me too.
What life teaches you, is to be patient.
Maybe it will work out.
Maybe it won't. 
I hope happiness stays a bit longer the next time.!

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