Disclaimer: For a while now, I disappear. More often than not, for the better. I touch base with myself, sometimes meet new people, cry over silly things, and live dangerously - at least I try. Last year, I took the train to Mysore. Saw the palace, touched the walls, fell in love with the history. While it was beautiful, it felt uneventful... till the 27th of January, 2018. Two days with a man who shared my spirit, my passion, my drive, and my vibes. He was part of my tribe - part of the rejects. He is the hero of this. Not me.
I have no writing style. I write as I feel. I write to document. I write because something or someone was too powerful and I needed help containing it. These are personal reflections.
I have no writing style. I write as I feel. I write to document. I write because something or someone was too powerful and I needed help containing it. These are personal reflections.
Subject: The Soulmate Backpacker
"Have you ever lived in a cloud?"
"If you mean like a fog of sorts, sure", the stupid, naive city girl in me replies.
"No. A cloud. High up above it all. In the sky."
"No."
------
I was bored. I am back in Bangalore, the city I am always reckless in. The city that taught me good from bad. The city that is home to a lot of us misfits. But it's was a long weekend and people had pre-planned lives. I was okay being not significant in their grand scheme of things.
But I do get bored. A lot. And easily.
I did what any single, lonely, introvert would. I logged onto a dating app. I wanted to meet someone cute, down a couple of drinks, validate the existence of my womanhood, and fuck the shit out of the country in 5 days. Clean, neat, with no strings attached.
I matched best with him - Maankhod (Monkey in Konkani - my dialect).
I may have gotten more than I bargained for. And I may have lost it all, yet again.
------
He found me. He knew it was me.
The first time I laid eyes on him, was when he walked up to introduce himself. There was not a feather of doubt in his head that he had come for me.
He stood almost at my height, was dark as the beautiful night sky, with a smile that hit me like a constellation. There was something, yet there was nothing.
We picked a table under the open skies and dined, drowning out the world.
He clearly wasn't of this world. He was untowardly perfect.
-----
I am rambling, aren't I?
You should've seen me with him. Unfiltered, raw, and juggling with my defenses and my vulnerability. The absolute havoc he wrecked on me in those initial 12 hours blew my mind.
He didn't kiss me. He spoke my soul.
He didn't hold on to me. He tethered his spirit to mine.
His 'creepy stare', spoke of how happy he was.
That's how I knew I broke his heart when I upped and left for those few hours.
------
Maankhod did more than help me calm down. He won my heart, my trust, and my mind. For a restless spirit, he felt like a port. But I didn't know my own strength. (Add that to the list of things I cannot love about myself.)
We decided to answer our footloose instincts and disappear to together for three days. Two wonderfully broken people, coping in ways that were detrimental to the other. But oh how beautiful that pain felt. How it tore us inside.
We ran to Kodaikanal in TamilNadu. We wanted to escape this dimension and I wanted to do it with him. We trekked mountains, and slippery slopes in search for 'shrooms. All throughout he held firmly onto my cold hands, unwilling to let go. That raw and untapped was his love. That much I trusted him. I trusted a complete stranger with my life.
Here's something you learn when you constantly battle on the need to keep breathing - you know pure vibes when it hits you. You know this because it gives you a reason to go in. It shows your worth beyond your paycheck. It shows how perfectly molded you are beneath those clothes. It shows all wars fought in those scars. It shows all those gaps left from years of unrequited love. As damaged as my Maankhod was, that magnificent his spirit was to me.
That night, the 27th of Jan 2018, after failing to score some 'shrooms, we smoked and drank a whole bottle of Old Monk. We danced, we laughed, we cried, and we loved deeply. As we kids say - pure as fuck! We saw our constellation of Taurus above our modest little cottage, headbutting the moon. Zidane skills, if I may! I loved how vulnerable he was and I loved holding him tight in protection. For a change, I saw someone worth protecting with every fiber of my love. Here's where I fucked up. I didn't factor in protection from myself.
I am extremely sarcastic. I use it all the time as a shield to defend myself. The less I feel, the less I get hurt. The logic was simple. I met too many men and I have learned one thing. Diffuse and defer. But Maankhod was sensitive. I didn't see it then.
The next morning, my impatience got the better of me. I was restless. I needed to run away. He was perfect but he didn't match my restlessness. I spat out a few hurtful words at him and disappeared. I ran through an empty church, Coaker's Walk, Bryant National Park, the open market, stalls of hawkers, streets filled with the smell of Eucalyptus, lazy cows, steep uphill roads, fresh cotton candy, and the smell of fresh coffee brewing and it did the opposite of liberating. I lost contact with him and not even the pure air could help fix the way I felt. I bought a kiwi as a peace offering and ran back to him.
My Maankhod wasn't there. It was just a shell of him. Shutting me out. Just a cold, distant man staring brokenly. We were inside a cloud together and not even the crisp, clean, cold air could do anything to fix anything.
"I am going back. I am done. I'm heading into town to see if there are any tickets available. You can stay behind. You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself"
"What do you mean?
"I am not happy anymore. I spent an hour alone, dwelling on the words you said, feeling worthless. I am done. I am going back."
"But, I want to be with you."
"Shit happens"
------------
In some obscure way, our journeys matched a lot. He had vibes that spoke to me. Vibes that freed me, vibes that made me strong, yet weak. Vibes that made me a strong woman, unashamed of my vulnerabilities. Vibes that made me see a kind of love that wasn't purely sexual.
And I chased it away with my reckless, impatient behavior.
I killed a love that felt pure and real.
I let it go.
------------
"If you mean like a fog of sorts, sure", the stupid, naive city girl in me replies.
"No. A cloud. High up above it all. In the sky."
"No."
------
I was bored. I am back in Bangalore, the city I am always reckless in. The city that taught me good from bad. The city that is home to a lot of us misfits. But it's was a long weekend and people had pre-planned lives. I was okay being not significant in their grand scheme of things.
But I do get bored. A lot. And easily.
I did what any single, lonely, introvert would. I logged onto a dating app. I wanted to meet someone cute, down a couple of drinks, validate the existence of my womanhood, and fuck the shit out of the country in 5 days. Clean, neat, with no strings attached.
I matched best with him - Maankhod (Monkey in Konkani - my dialect).
I may have gotten more than I bargained for. And I may have lost it all, yet again.
------
He found me. He knew it was me.
The first time I laid eyes on him, was when he walked up to introduce himself. There was not a feather of doubt in his head that he had come for me.
He stood almost at my height, was dark as the beautiful night sky, with a smile that hit me like a constellation. There was something, yet there was nothing.
We picked a table under the open skies and dined, drowning out the world.
He clearly wasn't of this world. He was untowardly perfect.
-----
I am rambling, aren't I?
You should've seen me with him. Unfiltered, raw, and juggling with my defenses and my vulnerability. The absolute havoc he wrecked on me in those initial 12 hours blew my mind.
He didn't kiss me. He spoke my soul.
He didn't hold on to me. He tethered his spirit to mine.
His 'creepy stare', spoke of how happy he was.
That's how I knew I broke his heart when I upped and left for those few hours.
------
Maankhod did more than help me calm down. He won my heart, my trust, and my mind. For a restless spirit, he felt like a port. But I didn't know my own strength. (Add that to the list of things I cannot love about myself.)
We decided to answer our footloose instincts and disappear to together for three days. Two wonderfully broken people, coping in ways that were detrimental to the other. But oh how beautiful that pain felt. How it tore us inside.
We ran to Kodaikanal in TamilNadu. We wanted to escape this dimension and I wanted to do it with him. We trekked mountains, and slippery slopes in search for 'shrooms. All throughout he held firmly onto my cold hands, unwilling to let go. That raw and untapped was his love. That much I trusted him. I trusted a complete stranger with my life.
Here's something you learn when you constantly battle on the need to keep breathing - you know pure vibes when it hits you. You know this because it gives you a reason to go in. It shows your worth beyond your paycheck. It shows how perfectly molded you are beneath those clothes. It shows all wars fought in those scars. It shows all those gaps left from years of unrequited love. As damaged as my Maankhod was, that magnificent his spirit was to me.
That night, the 27th of Jan 2018, after failing to score some 'shrooms, we smoked and drank a whole bottle of Old Monk. We danced, we laughed, we cried, and we loved deeply. As we kids say - pure as fuck! We saw our constellation of Taurus above our modest little cottage, headbutting the moon. Zidane skills, if I may! I loved how vulnerable he was and I loved holding him tight in protection. For a change, I saw someone worth protecting with every fiber of my love. Here's where I fucked up. I didn't factor in protection from myself.
I am extremely sarcastic. I use it all the time as a shield to defend myself. The less I feel, the less I get hurt. The logic was simple. I met too many men and I have learned one thing. Diffuse and defer. But Maankhod was sensitive. I didn't see it then.
The next morning, my impatience got the better of me. I was restless. I needed to run away. He was perfect but he didn't match my restlessness. I spat out a few hurtful words at him and disappeared. I ran through an empty church, Coaker's Walk, Bryant National Park, the open market, stalls of hawkers, streets filled with the smell of Eucalyptus, lazy cows, steep uphill roads, fresh cotton candy, and the smell of fresh coffee brewing and it did the opposite of liberating. I lost contact with him and not even the pure air could help fix the way I felt. I bought a kiwi as a peace offering and ran back to him.
My Maankhod wasn't there. It was just a shell of him. Shutting me out. Just a cold, distant man staring brokenly. We were inside a cloud together and not even the crisp, clean, cold air could do anything to fix anything.
"I am going back. I am done. I'm heading into town to see if there are any tickets available. You can stay behind. You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself"
"What do you mean?
"I am not happy anymore. I spent an hour alone, dwelling on the words you said, feeling worthless. I am done. I am going back."
"But, I want to be with you."
"Shit happens"
------------
In some obscure way, our journeys matched a lot. He had vibes that spoke to me. Vibes that freed me, vibes that made me strong, yet weak. Vibes that made me a strong woman, unashamed of my vulnerabilities. Vibes that made me see a kind of love that wasn't purely sexual.
And I chased it away with my reckless, impatient behavior.
I killed a love that felt pure and real.
I let it go.
------------
Maankhod,
I am broken
without you.
I am broken
with you.
I may have
forfeited all now.
But for those
tiny brief moments:
You were
my everything.
You were
my love.
You were
my soulmate.
You were
pure melody.
You were
my everything.
I am broken
with you.
I am broken
without you too.
-------
Forgive me, my love. I can't do justice.
-------
"Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." Proverbs 4:33
