#17: The God Next Door

Oh Dear man Above,

When you open your eyes

and help open his eyes,

I swear to you, I will keep him

happy, every minute of my life.

I will write little notes 

of motivation,

of happiness

to make him smile all day,

of love,

to make sure he knows

how much he means to me,

so that he never forgets me. 

So, the Man Above,

Open your eyes, please

and open his too. 


#16: Paper thick skin

A very cheesy happy one.

Whenever I see you,

your eyes light up,

mirroring mine.

And then, as you come closer,

I tremble

with anticipation and fear

and my cheeks feel hot

and I try to smile

but the moment your skin touches mine,

I melt.

#7: An echo and A reminder

I’m going to stab myself to death writing this.

Another poem, yet again inspired by another one of my favourite fictional couples, Eleanor and Park.

I miss the sound of your footsteps,

early in the morning, bare footed

making breakfast,

in the evening when

I eagerly anticipate your return

The soft muffled sounds in the middle of the night

for a sugared midnight snack.

I miss the sound of your laughter,

the eye-blinding smile,

the twinkle in your eyes when you have a surprise for me,

the look of amazement when you find the note,

which I wrote everyday for you.

If you stepped into my house today,

it will be empty; lonely; sad;

without the splash of red, which follows you everywhere,

except for the hundreds of small, colourful notes

that I wrote to you

for each day that I missed you.

Under The Stars (Her)

If you haven’t read Under The Stars (Him), please click here


I can’t let him walk away without him knowing how I feel about him. He’s already devastated, and I know I’ll only make it worse for him, but I have to. It’s only right. And he deserves so much explanation.

“Wait,” I call out to him. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks back and I can see the pain in his eyes. I could feel tears stinging at the back of my eyes. I shake my head and go over to him and take his hand, just like I did when I entered the party. I dragged him to my best friend’s backyard, which has a swing set (Also because my parents can’t see us.) and make him sit down. I can see the confusion on his face.

I take a deep breath and sit next to him. He still doesn’t say anything.

“There’s something you need to know.” I say.

He crosses his arms. “I think I got that covered. What’s new?”

Ouch. That hurts. But, I know he’s hurting more. For wanting me. Even if he has no idea what’s wrong with me.

And that just makes me more sure about him.

“No interrupting me, again,” I say. He nods.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” I begin. “I’ve enjoyed being with you all these days. And, I know I like you. You like me. And I know you want to take this a step further, and I want it too, but I also want you to know that… I need time. I know that a bitch broke your heart a while back and someone did it to me, too. I guess we’re both healing.”

I take a deep breath. This was NOT easy. Thinking about the guy who broke my heart is probably the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. And talking about it to someone who genuinely likes me back? It’s worse.

I can’t continue. Not with him looking at me as if my every word is breaking his heart. Not with me hurting like this. Even after almost a year after the break-up.

“Thank you,” I finally say, which was definitely not what I wanted to say and I know it was not what he wanted to hear but I can’t bring myself to say anything more. I breathe out, not knowing I was holding my breath, and stand up. He’s still transfixed on me. I lean in and peck his cheek, and turn away quickly. I don’t want him to see these tears. They’re not worth him. 

I turn and run back to my house, second time today, and all because of him. I ran to open the door for him a little while ago and now I’m running away from him. Running away from the only person that can most probably heal my heart.  And, I may also be able to heal his, if I could just allow these feelings to wash over me.

I reach the back door and go inside and shut it behind me. I slide down to the floor, trying hard to not make any sound while sobbing. The position reminds me of the party.

It’s funny, how, just a few days ago, before I even knew he existed, I was aware of every movement, every gesture I made, and how that connected, or how often I made those when I was back home. With him. 

And after only a week of meeting him and spending only three days with him, I no longer thought about the one back home. The only thing I was aware of was how intently he looked at me when I laughed at something stupid or when I hi-fived his cousin (AKA my best friend) when he did something stupid.

I cannot believe I’m allowed to feel this way.

I somehow tell my parents that I’m home and that I’m exhausted and head to my room. They don’t ask if I’ve had dinner. I was honestly relieved because I do not want to eat anything tonight. I go to my room, flop on my bed and try not to think about all the bad things that happened over the year.

Flashes of his wedding run through my head like a slideshow. They’re all random, and I know most people there. Then suddenly, I’m aware that he’s in my bed for the first time. The bed in my room back home. And we’re naked underneath the covers.

I scream and close my eyes, wishing it to all go away. Closing my eyes only makes it worse.

That night, the night I thought I became his, the night he’d told me he’d loved me, the night I finally decide to defy my parents.

But, the truth hit me hard. A girl should always belong to herself.

I opened my eyes and it was daylight already. My phone was flooded with missed calls and texts from my best friend, who was having a family get together during the whole festive season and I was a part of it. A part of her family. And it made me whole again. Almost.

I quickly bathe, and put on the clothes I had prepped previous night and head out. My parents know where I’m going and where I’ll be all day today, so I don’t bother telling them.

I almost wish I could skip today, because I don’t really know if I can face him. But I owe it her. She’s done nothing but tell me over and over again that it’ll eventually be fine. All the times I’ve cried on her shoulder hits me square in the face and I go.

He’s the first person I see when I go over and his back is to me. Just like the first day I saw him. The same day he offered me his amazing chocolate chip cookies. The same day I refused them because I loathed seeing chocolate.

Because he always brought me chocolate. Rice crisps with chocolate which burst and crackle like fireworks in your mouth.  

He turns around and sees me and his eyes soften. He comes over me and looks at me for several seconds.

“You look like you didn’t sleep too well last night. More nightmares?” He asks.

I nod. I don’t know how he knows this, but I want to hold him and cry. And thank him over and over again for everything he’s done.

I go into the house with him, and look for my best friend. I help her with some work and she keeps me busy all day. Talking to people. Making sure they’re eating right. Serving amazing food that he cooks. Serving amazing snacks. I ate a little breakfast, the breakfast that he cooked, and some lunch too. Also, dinner. It was around midnight when I finally went back home.

I was offered to stay back and sleep in her house, but I couldn’t bear the thought of him being so close to me. Also, there were too many people in her house already.

All through the day, I steal glances at him, and he at me. Also, sometimes smiles. Those times, and the times he came really close to me, my heart would do the flitter flutter. It sometimes felt that he could probably hear it. And I would look elsewhere.

I know he felt it, too. That just makes me feel worse. But not anymore. I can’t take this heart break anymore. I can’t do this to him.

That night was the most pleasant night in what feels like ages. Also, it was about him. That gave me strength to do what I had to do today.

I went to my best friends house, since her parties don’t last for just a night. They’re several days long, and themed. Anyone not fit for the theme was not allowed.

I go over with a huge smile. When she sees me, she clutches her hand to her heart and asks, “Who are you and what did you do to my mopey best friend?”

I laugh and brush off her comment. She hugs me and whispers, “I love this girl. I missed her,”

And I turn around to see him looking at us, with a huge smile on his face.

When my heart does the flitter flutter this time, it’s not nervousness. Or anticipation. Or fear. Or hurt. Or like. 

It was on the way to love.

I notice the pain has subsided in his eyes and probably in mine too. We don’t talk much again today, but I can see the tension has diminished. Completely.

Sometime in the afternoon, I find him alone in the kitchen. And guess what he was doing? Staring at the oven which had his chocolate chip cookies.


I go over and sit on a stool at the breakfast table, carefully watching him. He turns around and smiles when he sees me.

Yes! I’d been waiting for that unhurt smile.

He says, “Why do I get the feeling that I’m in trouble?”

I raise my eyebrow. “Maybe because you are.”

He walks toward me, opposite to me, slowly, not taking his eyes off of me. Not once.

“And,” He says, slowly, “why do I get the feeling that something good is happening?”

“Maybe because it is,” I say coyly, and I point to the oven. “I want to eat them, you know.”

“Really? Is someone over her hatred for chocolate?”

“It was never there,” I confess. “It was the person that I hated.”

He touches my cheek and I can’t believe the first time he did that was only two days ago. It seemed like a long time ago.

“You ready to talk about it?” He whispers.

I shake my head. “I don’t need to. It’s not worthy of you.”

He leans in, and the oven timer goes off.

We laugh. He pulls away from me and the moment has simply vanished, but pleasantly. I watch him take them out carefully and put them on plates for cooling. After he’s done, he goes over to the plate of cookies from the first tray and hands them to me.

“To a new beginning,” he toasts.

“To a beautiful new beginning,” I say.

And he kisses me.

He was chocolate, and I was totally in love with it.


Prakrit stared at his laptop screen. He was waiting for Sara to call. She was his best friend and their story of friendship is an unusual one.

Prakrit had read Sara’s blog a few months ago, when he had moved to Shimla with his father. Its content was very funny and at the same time, heartrending. He soon discovered that they had something in common— both were lonely.

Even though Sara was an extrovert, she didn’t trust people. Prakrit was the exact opposite of her. He was shy, didn’t talk to people much and hated making new friends. Sara’s blog had given him confidence to do so.

When he had complimented and thanked her in the ‘comments’ box, she’d immediately replied asking if he wanted to be friends with her. Prakrit, who usually hesitated, agreed. They exchanged e-mail ids first. Then they became friends on Skype, hoping to video chat. When they did, it was hard for either of them to let go.

It was arranged to video chat at 6:00 PM sharp on the 17th of June. When they did, both were at a loss for words the moment they saw each other. Sara had skin the color of chocolate, big brown eyes, hair as short as his, and was skinny as a scarecrow. And even though Sara had warned him about her being very talkative, he had no idea that one could talk so much. Prakrit’s skin was light. His eyes were small and he wore striking red glasses.

They began their conversation. During their first chat, Sara didn’t talk much about herself. She asked him plenty of questions. She was a good listener. She found out that Prakrit moved from Mizoram to Shimla with his father in May, who was a wealthy scientist. When she heard that, she teased him for being such an introvert.  She explained to him how wonderful being in Kanyakumari was, with the ocean all around her, but somehow she seemed lost.

“Why? What’s wrong?”Prakrit asked her, once they’d become closer. She simply shook her head to his question and went back to talking. They’d planned on video chatting three to four times a month but they loved each other’s company so much that they spoke nearly every day.

On a chilly October evening, Prakrit waited and waited for her to come online. When she didn’t, he felt frustrated. Frustrated not because she didn’t show up, but because he missed telling her things and listening to her talk, however wacky it was. She could always make things easy for him. Once, he felt so lost in the new city that he poured all his grief to her. He compared his life to hers, saying hers was so easy to live in. She shook her head, showed him the beautiful blue ocean behind her and said, “The ocean is full of dangers and has its own problems. Do you see any of that?”

A week passed by. Prakrit didn’t come online. Sara kept waiting for him. She messaged him and emailed him from time to time. But he didn’t reply to any of them. Finally, he couldn’t tolerate it for much longer. He had to know the reason for her being forgetful.

When they both finally came online, Prakrit was shocked to see a different side of Sara. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she kept blowing her nose. He realized that she had been crying.

“Why are you crying?” asked Prakrit with a bewildered look.

“Do you have any idea how high the sea level rose in the past week? I don’t have enough tear glands to spare!” she replied. He had to smile.

“What happened?” he asked her gently.

“Why didn’t you reply to any of my messages?”

“Why didn’t you show up last week?”

This took her by surprise and she stared at him, unsure of how to answer. She took a deep breath and said, “I had my reasons.”

“Which were…?” She knew he wasn’t going to let this one slip away.

She thought and answered carefully. “I had to see someone who was far from home.”

“Who was it?”

She shook her head in absolute frustration and said, “I’ll come clean. I need to tell you something important.”

He narrowed his eyes, if it were even possible, and asked, “What is it?”

Prakrit heard someone call her in her house. She looked like a piece of glass that was about to shatter but she contained her anger and went to the door, yelled something and slammed the door shut.

“What was that?”

“My mother. She keeps telling me to do stuff I don’t like, which is why I cut her off. That reminds me, Prakrit, you’ve never told me about yours.”

“I lost her two years ago.”

Sara gasped. “What happened?”

“A fatal heart attack. She died very young. God took away the only person I looked up to.”

And he became teary eyed.

“Which is why it hurts to make friends, doesn’t it? One day you have complete faith in them and the next, it’s like you’re complete strangers. I know how it feels. I’m sorry.”  She consoled him. She would’ve let him cry on her shoulder if she was next to her.

“Anyways, forget about me,” Prakrit took a deep breath and forced a smile, “What was it that you needed to tell me?”

A moment ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But after listening to him losing his mother, she didn’t know how he would take this news. “You know how the scientists from all over the country are conducting experiments to know the root cause of all types of cancer and find drugs to cure it?”

“Yeah,” Prakrit said, unsure of why she brought this topic up as she loathed science. “It’s called ‘Cancer- Root and Cure’. I’ve heard about it. They’re making excellent progress. But, what about it?”

“They obviously needed volunteers for it and I became one.”

“But that’s for cancer patients only! Why would you…” he stopped short and the air suddenly became still. “Don’t tell me…” he couldn’t even finish.

“Yes, genius, I’m a cancer patient.” She said gently. Prakrit couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He buried his head in his hands and tried to control his grief. He didn’t look up for a while. But, when he did, the look on his face was somewhere between anxiety and fear. Sara was amazed to even hear him speak.

“When?” he asked shakily.

“Two years ago, I’d been diagnosed with leukemia. I’ve been getting treatment from everywhere, which explains the very short hair, but in vain. This is why I’ve volunteered for this research program. I’m using every opportunity I get.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked. His voice had a slight edge of anger. She just shrugged. “The truth is that I didn’t want you to know at all.”

He looked up. She smiled and he realized how nice she looked when she smiled.

“I wanted you to be happy,” she continued, “I wanted to keep someone happy, besides myself. I prayed to God every day, and He answered. But don’t dwell on it too much. I’ll be fine. I volunteered for the research program because of you. For you.” When she smiled, Prakrit found himself smiling without meaning to.

After that, neither Prakrit nor Sara ever mentioned cancer, or health, but she did have to travel to Bangalore and Delhi often. Whenever she went to Delhi, she used to say, “I was this close to meeting you in person,” almost touching her forefinger to her thumb without actually touching them.

On Christmas Eve, Sara was teaching Prakrit to bake brownies and chocolate chip cookies. While his cookies were baking away, he decided to take a break. He sat down, huffing and puffing, his forehead beaded with sweat, even though the temperature had dropped down to somewhere below zero.

“Who knew cooking was so tiring?” he complained.

“It isn’t, really, if you have the passion,” she replied, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“Tell me more about your mother.”

He thought for a while and said, “My mother was the best person in the world. As a kid, I was very shy and scared of small things. She used to console me, always.” He focused on the kitchen window across him and had a faraway look in his eyes. “She was probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I miss her very much, Sara.”

“I’m sure she’s very proud of what you are now,” she said.

Then all of a sudden, he got up and looked out the window.

“It’s snowing,” he whispered.

“Prakrit?! Where did you go?” she called.

“Sara!” he said excitedly.  “It’s snowing!” he picked up his laptop and showed her. Sure enough, they saw millions of light, fluffy flakes of snow falling from the grey sky, even though it was quite faint.

“Wow” they said in unison.

“I’ve always wanted to see a snowflake. With my own eyes, I mean,” Sara said.

“Now you tell me,” Prakrit looked a bit flustered.

“Hey, at least you get to see snow. I only asked for a snow flake. The pictures on the internet are rubbish, you know? Besides…” She stopped short as someone in her house called her. She shot Prakrit a queer look and disappeared. When she came back, she held a box, one foot in length and breadth and half a foot in height and set it before her.

Prakrit smiled. “Merry Christmas!”

“So, I suppose,” she crossed her arms and looked annoyed, “I shouldn’t open it today?”

Prakrit shook his head. “Open the brown wrappings only. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And I’ll do it later.”

“Now,” Prakrit took a deep breath. “Let’s get back to cooking, shall we?”

The day after Christmas, Sara told Prakrit that she would be given new drugs and treatment. Specifically, radiotherapy. He had been scared for her, and it was on the 2nd of January, which happened to be his birth date. But they both knew that Sara was braver.

After Christmas Eve, it hadn’t snowed till the weekend. When it did, he collected a few small pieces of snow on some slides. He asked his father for the use of his laboratory for a while and he set off to work. He wanted Sara’s wish to come true. He wanted her to see a snowflake, before anything happened. He scolded himself for thinking that way. She will get better, he thought. She should and she will. Prakrit’s father owned a science lab a little further away from his house. There were plenty of microscopes.  He took the help of his dad’s colleagues and prepared a slide of a single, silvery blue snowflake. It was surreal. He even took a picture of what he saw in the electron microscope.

It was very late in the night when he got home. He packed everything in a box: the slide, the picture, and even a note and was ready to send it through mail.

Finally, the 2nd of January in the New Year was here. Sara had informed that after the radiotherapy, she would come online and chat with him. And should anything happen to her, somebody else would inform him. Although Sara assured him that nothing bad would happen to her.

So, there he was. Waiting and staring nervously at his laptop screen, waiting for her to come online. Instead, a girl of around fourteen, who introduced herself as Sara’s cousin, burst into tears and said that Sara hadn’t made it through the radiotherapy. This hit him like a bucket of cold water. Two of his favorite people in the world, his mother and Sara, had left him with a heart full of memories too painful to reminisce. He asked her a few questions on where she was going to be kept and about the rituals. Her funeral rites. She said Sara didn’t agree to any. Sara’s body had to be given to the scientists, as a part of an agreement. He wanted to see her. He had never made that decision on an impulse when she was alive, and he was ashamed of it. At least now he should go and see her. He knew her house. He knew the address. He thanked her and almost immediately began packing up and leaving for the airport. He had enough money to catch a flight by himself. He left a note informing his dad about his whereabouts. He’ll be fine, he thought. He’ll understand.

It was well past eleven in the night by the time he reached the airport. The last flight to Kanyakumari had already left, but the next one was at seven o’clock the next morning. Finally, he got into the flight. As he was nearing her, he couldn’t control his grief any more. He buried his face in his hands all through the journey. After getting off the flight, he asked a taxi driver to take him to her address. The driver stared at him for a moment, unsurely, and then took him to her house. At first, he didn’t understand why he looked at him that way, but on reaching her house, he understood why. She lived in a mansion, a huge mansion overlooking the beach. All this time they were friends, he never knew that she was very rich.

He expected someone to stop him and question him. He plucked all his courage to face it. But, apparently, no such thing happened. When he entered the mansion, he wished he had more courage.

Sara was there. She lay in an open coffin, wearing a knit sweater and skirt, and his heart skipped a beat. It was the sweater and skirt Prakrit had sent her for Christmas. She was there, in front of him, all flesh and no spirit. Prakrit remembered all the times she used to say she wanted to punch him. And yet, there they were, together, and she couldn’t move. There weren’t many people, but nobody looked at him. No one asked him who he was. He moved closer to her and saw how pale she really was. She had bruises all over her body. In the photo behind her coffin, she looked like a completely different person. She had longer hair and her beautiful smile.

He took out the box in which the slide and the photo were kept. He carefully placed it in her hand. He blinked back tears from his eyes and noticed the girl who had told him the news. A tear fell down her cheek. He knew how much everybody loved her. He now understood the meaning behind her example of the ocean that she related her life to. He turned around and walked towards the door. Then he broke into a run. He ran past the people, the door, the gates and the guards.

And he didn’t look back.

(Thanks so much for reading this! There will be improved versions of this shortly! I wrote this two years ago for my college magazine and it got published! It’s the first one so far! Yay!)