Change the locks, change the scene. Change it all, but can't change what we've been.

The agitation on his face, clear as day. The frustration with which he thrashed his bat on the field made me wince. He got out early, yet again. I could barely restrain myself from running over to him enveloping him in a bear hug, and cooing words in his ears to calm him down; but I thought better of it- after all I would not always be there to shield him from the adversities of life. Let this be a learning experience.

The clock ticked by. The sun seemed to gleam at us evilly. The air heavy with tension. And the match seemed to pull on. 

The first innings finally ended. The second one had my eyes glued to my little dimple-cheeked brother, standing in an aggressive stance behind the stumps, waiting with bated breath for the batsman to give the slightest room for an error, or rather a wicket. 

This innings was rather uneventful, so to say. They ended up levelling the scores. I restlessly waited. They were going to have a super over. My leg was rhythmically thumping, while I waved a magazine near my face to get some relief from the scorching heat. I couldn't wait to get home, and into the haven of the mighty air conditioner. 

The opponent team made a total of five in their over. Now it was our turn.

All of a sudden I noticed my little boy being called back to his trainer, who seemed to be in a discussion with another one of his teammate. The trainer bent a little and spoke with the two boys, confidentially. 

The talk lasted for a couple of minutes. I felt my hopes pummel as my little guy walked towards the pitch with renewed confidence. But I tried to turn it down a few notches, because let's face it- he hasn't been in form for a while now, and I'm going to have to see that dejected little soul back at home. 

My baby brother was on the non-striker's end. They ran and took a single. It was his turn to face the bowler. 

The bowler committed a big mistake of throwing a full toss ball, and my brother did not falter. He smashed it away for a six! 

A roar of cheers erupted from their camp and supporters. I jumped out of my seat clapping crazily, only to find him pointing his bat in the direction where I was seated, and then ran towards his trainer and engulfed him in a hug. 

Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and a tear rolled down my cheek. They had just won the cup, no biggie ;) 

Just hold on, we're going home.

You always have a choice. A decision to make. A decision that is yours. The options are laid out in front of you, and you choose.

Your decision could have been one that you put too much thought and calculation into, or none at all. Weighed the pros and cons, or you may have just taken the plunge- thrown caution to the air, and taken that leap of faith. The events that unfurled are all a result of what you decided. Maybe it was the right choice. Or maybe it wasn't.

I made a choice that may or may not have been the right one. I may or may not have been selfish. But the decision is cemented now. There's no going back. I often wonder what would have happened if I had chosen otherwise?  Would I be happier than before? Would it have been better than the starchy life I lead now?

To be honest, I often catch myself thinking about what-ifs. But then quickly remind myself that the truth remains unchanged and that there is no point in dwelling in what could have been. I lead my life. And you lead yours. Separately. As if they never crossed paths. As if they were never that tangled mess that they were- similar to my bunched up earphones, or the entangled ball of my grandmother's yarn. 

I remember reading somewhere that, with every choice that the universe makes, there is an infinite number of alternate realities that are created, where the paths not taken unfold. This might be a load of crap, but it gives me hope that won't burn out, that perhaps in one world atleast,there would be a 'happy ever after'.

And I just enormously wish for this world to have had that reality. 

And I've been waiting for this time to come around, but baby running after you is like chasing the clouds.

Staring mindlessly at the noticeboard in the lobby with what were once-lively brown eyes and now lacked luster, Adam let out a sigh. As the valet brought up his car, he reached into his back pocket to take out his cellphone. He sighed as he listened to his voice-mail while he drove out of those big black gates.

None of the messages held his attention. None, but one.

It was from her.
Her condition was deteriorating. Being away from him for the past year had done nothing but give her mental health a nosedive. She had phases. Phases when she got attacks of what she claimed were memories of her past-life. This was an ill-effect of her loneliness, the psychologist diagnosed.

This was one of those phases. She said she missed him and begged him to come back to her, and called him 'Steve'. It hurt him to see her like that.

They had said I do at the altar seven months ago, after seven years of dating. He could still remember that day so clearly, as if it was just yesterday. How could he ever forget the sight of her walking down the aisle in the white gown, that autumn morning? He could never forget the surge his heart felt, when they were finally pronounced man and wife.

Tears lined his eyes. He never cried. So why now?
He needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off the Cirque du soleil that his life had become.

So instead of going straight home, he drove towards the city and found himself in front of a downtown pub. He was not an avid drinker. He rarely consumed alcohol.
But he needed this today.

The door chimed, as if to announce his arrival. He shrugged his coat off and took a seat at the bar, while telling the bartender to fix him a whiskey, on the rocks.Taking a good look around the bar, he suddenly found a red-head sauntering up to him. She took a seat beside him, and offered him a flirty smile.

A look at the girl's wild mass of curly red hair reminded him of her. He had always had a thing for red-heads. But she was an exception.
Her remembered her silky strawberry-blond tresses, and the way they felt in his fingers. Oh so soft.

The red-head scooted over, and her overpowering perfume caused him to shudder.
He was sure it was dabbed with the intention of attracting attention, but it did nothing to him.
He reminisced her fragrance.
 She always smelled of daisies. Came with the little flower shop she used to own, he guessed.

Everything about her screamed 'wrong'.

He immediately downed the amber colored liquid in his glass, left a bill on the table and made his way to the car. Driving to the apartment he used to share with her until he moved out, he was flooded with memories of their past. The way they had once been. So truly, madly and deeply in love.
Then it hit him. Like a wave of realization.
It was her.


It had been her all along. Nobody else would do anymore. She was all he needed. Everything about her pulled him towards her. Her witty humor, her intelligence, her pretty head. And even her self-consciousness. He felt as if he was giving up on them without a struggle. Without a fight. He knew abandoning her at her time of need, was the wrong thing to do but with his father's death and her issues he felt as if he was breaking into pieces. This was just a minor glitch in their life together, he was sure. He'll take care of it. Everything would be okay again.

He pulled in into the parking lot and dashed for the door. He punched in the buttons of the elevator, but he couldn't contain this sudden rush he felt so up the stairs he ran, two at a time.

He had to just hold her. Everything would be okay after that. It was her. It had always been her.

He fished the keys from his pocket and gently stepped into the apartment. It was dark. Fear clouded his senses.

He groped around in the darkness, and switched on the over head lamp. Light flooded the living room, his eyes desperately searching for her.  He called her name. No response. Shouted her name.
No response. All this while frantically running through all the rooms.


And there in the bathroom she lay.


Her fragile body lay limp against the white cold marble floor. A bottle of pills broken, with its glass shattered next to her, with one shard piercing her thigh. A scrap of blood-stained paper clenched in her pale white fingers-

I'm sorry Adam. 




PS: This is based on a real incident. All I tried to insinuate through this, is Carpe Diem. Seize the day, live in the moment. Tell the ones you love, so. Because you never know, when the chance would slip right out of your fingers.

PPS: Oh, and I turn sixteen tomorrow.