Tsunami

You weren't really the sort of girl I'd like to have fallen in love with. In fact, you were completely unlike – You liked Summer more than the rains. You reminded me of how being grim could also be beautiful. You reminded me that gray wasn’t necessarily a melancholic color. But most of all, you reminded me that it wasn’t happiness that I was looking for; it was contentment.

I have liked you. I have loved you. I have loved you completely and entirely, and with my whole heart. I have loved all your little nuances, like the quiet sigh of disappointment before you hung up the phone, and the grip of your hand become firmer while we crossed the roads. I still miss those scarlet etches your fingers left on my hand, and how you stared at the tea, and the crimson color reflected your eyes. I have watched you, watching me, watching you.

You were to me what the giant ocean is to a small coastal town. My life depended around you. In you, I searched for happiness. In you, I hid my sorrows. So, when you finally left, it destroyed me. It destroyed me like an enormous tsunami destroys a trifling coastal town. It rendered me catatonic and it left me helpless.

You were like collateral damage. And I wouldn't fall for it again, or so I told myself. But, like it happens so systematically in life, and almost beautifully, it was hardly surprising when I realized the Tsunami hit again, not as enormous, but that didn't matter- My town wasn't done healing yet.

x

Going all the way

Let me show you how it's done, kid. You go to the bathroom, you lock the door, you make sure no one is listening, and you laugh. You just laugh, for a minute, and then two. You pause, look into the mirror, and you laugh again, hysterically, and almost manically- even though you feel like shit. Somewhere along the way, without explicitly realizing, you'll smile, and not the half smirk you're taught to give the world, you'll smile like it's all okay, 'cause it is, kid, it is.

I've always been a tad bit smarter than I'd like to be, and cocky enough to believe I am the smartest person in the room, at any given time. I'd see stuff no one else would, look at things much differently than others would. I felt bad for the others, 'the regulars'. How boring must their lives have been? Until it started getting the better of me. Until I stopped seeing how simplicity makes for a brilliant fuckin' experience. I didn't need this now. Not for another twenty years. Right now? Right now I just want to be happy- like the regulars.

After an overly delayed breakup, and probably the most important exam I'd given till date, I had a couple of months off after my entrance tests. I spent them pretty monotonously, all I'd do was eat, read tabloids, and watch porn. And that was everyday for a month, maybe two.

Oh, and I'd sleep, I'd take countless naps throughout the day. It's a vicious cycle, really. You stay in bed one day thinking you're sick. Maybe you are. Maybe you're not. You think of everything that has gone wrong. You think of everything that will go wrong. You think you are a piece of shit. Well, at that moment, you are, kid. You are a worthless piece of shit. You try so hard not to become someone, that you end up embodying him. And then YOU HAVE to sleep.

What really fucks with you, is that you're eighteen now. You are young, kid. I was, it was the youngest I'd ever felt. There are no more second chances from here on out. You better believe that you will see the results of your actions. I was growing up faster than I wanted to.

It felt pretty unnatural. The lack of energy I'd feel, especially after staying home and sleeping all day. I used to sleep whenever I felt like shit. I'd spend entire weeks sleeping. Hoping that I'd wake up in a better place, but I didn't. It was downward gravity-spiral working beautifully, and quite methodically. I wanted to change. I wanted to fix myself. I tried to fix myself, but I gave up after I couldn't find what exactly needed fixing.

And now I'd envy 'the regulars'. They were happy, my friends, they surely didn't feel like shit like I did. Their Instagram stories would suggest otherwise, anyway. They looked happy. I tried to recollect when they looked happy- Partying, drinking, flirting, dancing, doing narcotics, everything. I waited for a week, and then two more. Obviously, there had to be another way? I wouldn't have to give up all that I believed in, just to feel happy?

I bought the only liquor I knew- a bottle of rum, Old Monk. And a cigarette. I wanted to feel like I was thinking something profound. Something worth thinking about anyway. I wanted to feel like I was going the entire path. The path that would lead to me being happy. And believe me, kid, I was. What's the worst that could've happened? I couldn't feel any shittier, right? And a temporary stroke of happiness felt pretty damn good right about then. It was a shitty argument, I am sure, but at that moment, it was enough.

I decided to do it. I called the sleaziest girl I knew. Took her to one of the more expensive clubs in the area. I didn't care, I'd stolen money from my dads cupboard before coming. No way I had that kind of money. I felt bad for my dad. It wasn't his fault, but I decided to blame him anyway. I flirted with the girl, made fake love for an hour, maybe more. I drank, more than I should've. You can feel your esophagus burning up, asking you to stop. But why would I? I was doing the entire cliched thing. This was going to make me happy. I threw up all over the clubs bathroom, and I went back, and drank some more. After spending multiple thousands of ruppees and more shots than I can care to remember, I gave up. Fuck, this wasn't making me happy. Who was I kidding- this was one battle I couldn't win.

Maybe it was the dancing. I took my girl to the dance floor, and we danced. I touched her. She touched me back. I took her home. We drove back, probably the stupidest fuckin' idea, but I just hoped the car lights had eyes better than mine. I was half unconscious anyway. She could probably see how much pain I was in, but then again, I didn't care about that. We went all the way. I didn't like it. How could anyone like this? But their stories always have such happy undertones to them.

I woke up the next morning, she had already gone. I felt pretty shitty. Shittier than I'd ever felt. I had tried life my way, didn't like it. I tried life the other way, I didn't like it. At least until yesterday there was a possibility that there was something that could change it. And now that was gone. The grass looks greener on the other side, but fuck if you know if it's true. Maybe it is. Maybe it's not. But kid, there are times you don't really want to know. Maybe the ignorance will lead the way.

Every morning is the same

To be completely honest, I had no idea what time it was. It wasn't one of those days when you couldn't tell seven in the evening from nine. It was one of those when you suddenly wake up from deep sleep only to see that it's still dark outside and you can't figure out if you've slept too much, or not enough. Except I hadn't been asleep, I'd Just been lost in my thoughts.
I had just been back home, after what seemed like a really long run. My house was exactly how it was when I left, well, I'd only just gone for a run. I guess my wife knew I didn't like change, but still, it can't be easy maintaining a large, beautiful house with two boys, twins, my twelve year olds.
Everything was just as perfect as it had been when I left. Except, my wife and kids, they weren't here anymore. It wouldn't have been as serious had it not been three in the morning. Don't ask me what I was doing running till three in the morning, cardio is important. All their numbers were out of service. I did the only thing I knew, I called the police, and I didn't realize when they had reached, until I found myself subconsciously answering them.
'Sir, I know this is tough for you. But the faster you cooperate, the faster we could get on with our search.'
'Hmm...' I looked up, bemused. Two senior policemen looking down at me.
'Sir, I said the faster-'
'Oh, right, yes. What do you guys want from me?'
'We don't really know anything about what has happened. These cases aren't very common. We need to know what happened. It's protocol.'
'I have just come back. I don't know why she did what she did.'
'Would you call your relationship abusive?'
'No.'
'What would you call it then?'
'Many things.'
'Sir..' He sighed. 'The sooner we know ever-'
I knew what he was going to say. I'd seen enough CSI shows with my wife to know I had no other option to tell them everything I knew, or rather, everything I understood. And so I did.
They heard whatever I had to say with a slight doubt on their face. Then, I saw them speak, the officials.
'This sounds exactly like the statement we received ten years ago from the gentleman who had witnessed his family getting murdered, and him losing his sanity in the event.' The official with the book whispered to the other.
'Yes, Mr. Joshi and his family. An unforgettable case. You think this guy's playing a prank?' Asked the other.
'Maybe'

It had happened ten years ago, on 22nd June, 1996. The devastating event occurred at around 3.10am. Local investigators worked through the night to gather evidence related to the case. It was a small town, the only place in India with a controlled population, the only place where everyone knew their neighbors, and had a good relationship with the vegetable vendor. The Joshi's were a very respected and loved family, except for the fact that Hardik Joshi, the breadwinner of the family, was an international athlete, and had several competitors- which lead to several enemies, which lead to the catastrophic event. It was supposed to be him, not the family, but Hardik wasn't a man of habit. He was out for a run. His body was never found. No one really knew what had happened to him for the next two years. Finally, someone recognized him. He had lost his sanity. It was a shame. He had been sent to a mental hospital. There had been extra precaution to make sure the incident never made it to the media. He was an international entity, and it was in the country's best interest if it never made it to the books.

I couldn't get myself to pay any attention to what they were saying. I was just too lost in my own oblivion.
Her laugh, a soft mellow laugh, it became my existence, I had found my solace is in it. I remember so vividly, before I went out for my run, we were lying together, watching the stars, through our bedroom window. I remember how the cloud had come in the way, and hidden most of them.
I knew they thought she'd ran away, but it wasn't like that. I loved her, and she loved me. My children were happy. We all were. When I was with my family, I felt warm, I felt secure. The feeling you get when you're wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold winter night.
I had gotten lost in my thoughts again.
After what seemed like forever, they caught my attention again. The official reading the book which had the case details broke the silence.
'Okay, Sir, I see this is going nowhere. We'll give you some time to get yourself together. Thank you Mr. Jos-'

I could see the blood drain away from his face.
'Wh-What is your name' He asked, stuttering, with the most numb voice I've ever heard.
'Hardik, Sir, Hardik Joshi.'
The news was playing in the background. Everybody's attention seemed to be glued to it.
6 A.M
22nd June, 2006.

Headlines: Mental patient escapes from hospital. Local PD alerted.