Captain Jack Sparrow Part 1

Rains. Mud. Splashing dirt. Killer stingy mosquitoes. Tea. Delayed trains. Water blockage. Amongst all of this, something truly beautiful knocked twice on my fragile door.

“Who’d take you seriously”, being the initial question that popped in my head, I still managed to smile. Antique talks, mischievous grins and lots of money splurging dint manage to impress me. What did catch my minuscule attention was the unbelievably robust self-confidence.

I paid no heed. Captain Jack Sparrow.

Post 2 weeks of being myself, the forces of nature dint seem quite elated with me adhereing to the “Always Yes” attitude. Captain Jack Sparrow found the right moment, wherein I shed my defences to the floor. It dint seem quite a pirates job but captain insisted. I trailed.

Work with me, was the anthem. Do I look the anthem sorts? Nope. Adamant that the male homo-sapiens can get, captain got his way. I gave up. Victory in the pirate’s land.

Morning’s now came with a mission, and of course – a smile.

I knew I was being fooled into anoder macho conspiracy. I dint mind it. Don’t ask me why, just read further. Scrolling through the scraps of the ex’s deceitful love triangle, I found my self equally vulnerable to the other deceit cob web. I think I wanted it. I was used to the agony that was a bonus with the starry eyed world of affection and intimacy.

Alcohol, smoke in pipes, cigarettes, the glances, the touch – all in all a recipe for a disastrous bond. I dreamed of being in the arms of Captain Jack Sparrow, but guilt sweeped right in, like bolts of flames in a chimney. I could not cheat on my mount of infidelity. My world crossed over, my jilted thoughts on a rampage. Jack made me feel wanted and to be pretty honest, it had been long since anyone had made me feel that way.

Although intentions could not be judged, i enjoyed every bit of the sadist pleasure of being wooed by Jack Sparrow, who probably was a mirror image of something I detested. I was surrendering, not knowing it was beautiful in the inside. He was beautiful in the inside. :) he made me beautiful in the inside!

Beneath the wound lies the pain of the untold

The words of the unborn are far more clear to a mother-to-be than the world it's gonna see!

With every glance the world seems smaller,

Skip a heartbeat & you grow stronger.

You grow stronger within me,

The apprehension I wish you could see.

Im not afraid to say, you hurt me a million times,

Im not afraid to stay, even though there’s no sunshine.

Clouds rolled over to my feet and made them numb,

My senses still hold the minute hope, You’ll come.

I know you love me, I know you do!

I know you want me, the way I do.

The tender touch of your fingers, my skin awaits

Sweet symphony in our hearts, crashes every limit gate.

Every thought rolls over to your hold,

Every dream ends on your unfold.

This does not feel the same anymore,

Coz its fiery to my very core!

The challenge to retain the 'We' until eternity and to retain the 'Me' in its entirety.

The reason this post came alive; it was a realization, this morning that I won't be able to sleep until 12 in the afternoon ever again. Why? The 17th of December.

 

10 months of being hitched to a person, to whom you've sworn the rights of your celibacy to, you know, you definitely know that you can't take it anymore.

The husband need not take offence. None. Because, (pay careful attention) it's the "being married" phenomenon and not the "whom you are married to". (I won't bother repeating if you've misconstrued this one)

Now, if you've got million-light-years of queries waiting to bounce my direction. Hold. Breathe. Relax. It's just the routine. The routine is a task.

Yes. Now you're going to advice me or give me some Einstein gyaan on how millions of women have made through it and it's going to be fine.
Thank you. I know I'll make it through. I bloody well will. I will sail through like Puss in Boots on a Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-boat, on a stormy n' wintry night. But guess what I need more than that.

As an individual, who by all fair means is 'clonically' (pardon the newest oxford diction; created from = clone) a tad-bit-different from the millions we've just mentioned, I would like my life to peddle in a direction much smoother, much in control.

(Don not raise your perky eye-brows). We cook. We feed each other. We read books. We argue. We love our cliché jokes. We wash each other's clothes. We talk like babies. We have fun muddling gossip at each other. We have fun ogling at the opposite sex. We have fun on a dinner night, binging on prawns n' beer (preferably Carlsberg/Tuborg). We love family/cousins night-outs. We love friends around. (Mine are rarely around him) (Don't ask). We love the company we share with each other. I love that piece of self-obsessed masculine character in my life. 

But, yet again, I miss something. I miss the 'Me'. I miss the cold-warm-crazy-fun-abusive-short-boyish-singing-confused-yet funny-messy-lousy-loud - ME.

Yo! Now you know what I'm talking about!

(Now I'll get to the gyaan)

Being married brings along a task; a task to balance the 'We' and the 'Me' life. And I'm dearly sorry, it's not close to being a cake-walk. It's a challenge. A challenge to retain the 'We' until eternity and the challenge to retain the 'Me' in its entirety. (Now is when I found the title to this post)

 I'm not done here. Part 2 coming in shortly...

Live the perfect lie!

No matter how bad you want it, it’s never going to be worth it.

When was the last time you desired a fatal desire and fulfilled it? Face it, you didn’t.
Get over it. Life's not going give you lemons for a vodka recipe. You're not going to be handed roses mid-street or your prayers are not going to be answered with a smile. Earn it.

All you have, is you. A very ugly version of what the world sees. Someone living a pretentious life and more so expecting a perfect life in return! That’s what you’ve become. A lie!

Even if you're living one, why not make it perfect. A perfect lie? 

There's nothing left from me and you!

             

It's been a long day,
Quite so it seems ahead too.
Would I like another piece of you?

I hold on to a thread that isn’t in my control,
I see the clouds hovering over my abode,
Sitting isolated at my desk, I write aimlessly,
Words jumbling in my mouth, pouring out pointlessly.

I need not know what you need to walk along,
But I simply know what my post needs to complete this song.

Yet again, I hold on to a thread that isn’t in my control,
I see the clouds hovering over my abode.

Ohh darling, this closet does not need you,
My world stinks of you,
I've cleared every inch of doubt,
Move away dear friend, it's time you walked out.

Ohh sweet master of my thoughts,
I decide to empty every inch of you,
It's now that you should know,
There is nothing left from me and you!