When I was young, teachers, older relatives and many of my friends always asked me to read books, comics, magazines. What I always read was newspaper I was eager to know the present. Everyday I read, many, many papers. Listened to radio, radio from all around the world. I was deeply into music, drama and stories from around the world. The radio we had at home was something that got most of my attention than many of my relatives. It was sometime in 1984 when we got Television at home. Then everyday I watched T.V. Whatever stupid thing that is shown on T.V I watched it. My reading of newspaper continued but I only listened to radio once in a while. Why I didn’t read a lot of fiction? Because on everything I myself had a version or story. The world may unite in force and prove me wrong. And the world proved me wrong many, many times. People laughed at me, some still mocks me as a fool who never learned. Even the people I thought who understood me, eventually got all ‘stressed’ out and fell apart.
“Patience, world, patience”
I smiled and got up and walked around. I sat and thought about and talked to myself about another of my own version of something I’ve heard on T.V
I can stay like this for age if that’s what it takes. I won’t change a bit, because of all the people in this world, I know one thing… I am not wrong. I am not saying everyone of the rest of the 7 billion people out there is wrong. That’s not up to me to judge.
Then I asked, “What is it that you are not wrong about?” That question which sprouted from my own conscience angered me.
I took my phone, looked at the picture of the girl I love (which is the background of the phone) and it calmed me down. Then I said…
“I was not wrong in leaving my mother land and all I knew to be independent, I was not wrong in standing for the right things to do at work, where all that I got were dishonesty, lies and betrayal. I was no wrong in walking out of jobs. I was not wrong in trying to settle down in a place I love.”
Then I thought, I have gone through all that for a reason. And that reason was a decision which I took long time back before I came to USA to find love on my own. Find a girl whom I can love, make her understand who I am. Understand her and earn her love, share my life to the fullest with her and live a long, long life. I know if I stayed in India none of this might have happened. I would have faced the incredible interference of people who love me unconditionally.
I came to USA…
I looked for love
I found her, I made her understand who I am…. She loved me…
I found a version of my story for that love….
All that I said through that story ended up as criticism of her actions… The one story I wish I can rewrite. The one story like a stone thrown hurt her.. The one person I should have never hurted.
For the first time directly I admit… I love her
There is none to listen…. It is all becoming the crazy ramblings of a story teller. Whose story none understood…
Ah’ hey, my version of my own self is…I am just a vagabond who stopped by at her door step and sought a blessing and she gave me love. That one moment I felt it… I will cherish it forever.
Now when another girl comes to me and even gives me a hint of getting close to me… I will pull my phone out and show the background to her saying “Here is my girl”. Such is the prettiness of my darling… most of the them walk away saying “Lucky you”
Ah’ luck……I will speak about it another day.