Home Wrecker

By Tapashi Choudhury

"I was at peace, accepting my flaws and strengths, accepting my fate of all positives and negatives, with negatives, of course, preponderating. There were no complaints of not being happy, as peace was the highest level I could reach. My heart came on terms with this reality. There was no desire to perish, no desire to live life to the fullest. Yet there was strength to go where the slow breeze of fate was taking me towards.

Everything seems like a mistake now. Should I have gone against the flow? Perhaps I would have avoided certain weeds that resembled sweet smelling flowers? Perhaps I could have avoided the slices of life that camouflaged happiness and love?

My heart wasn't an open house. It was locked so tight that if even Cupid, with all the strength, struggled to enter, would have to head back with disappointment. The love was buried inside in the lowest basement.

Your entry in my life was sudden, very sudden. Was I scared? Yes! Was I happy? Yes!

The newness played with the chemistry inside my head, which obviously, created a mess.

Fear was at its peak the day you desired to enter that house of mine. I didn't give you the keys. You broke the door with your affection. Slowly and steadily, you got the access towards the basement. I tried, tried really hard to stop you from finding the route towards that place. Was I not powerful enough?

Your stay in that house came with lots of tranquility and happiness. The love that had been suppressed for too long was, for some obvious reasons, stronger than ever, that filled each and every corner of my heart. The love smelled sweet.

But, what about the rent that you have to pay me? Don't you think it's a bit unfair to smell the aroma of my love all day all night, without the rent of commitment? There was fidelity but no devotion.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if everything was my fault. Was the lock at the doorstep not strong enough ? Did I not suppress the love with great strength? Was it too easy to enter my house?

Now that the house is wrecked, everything seems messed up. Things are not at their place. The aroma still persists with you still inside. And no matter how hard I try to push you out of the house, you're just too stubborn to leave. I suppose you're stuck here.

Why does the short lived spring of your stay had to create a mess that'll take too long to clean up? And I'll be the one cleaning the muddle you created."

Closing her diary, she looked out the window. The spring is on its way to leave. She doesn't want it to come back, as the colorful spring will always feel dull and sorrowful for her. With no hopes left, she left her incomplete work and headed off to bed and covered herself with the blanket. Dreamland is where she might find him in her embrace.

By Tapashi Choudhury