The day I lived everyday.

This was the same breeze which touched my brow since I was a child, but today I couldn't feel it. Maybe it's because I was happy. I was also numb, I was not in peace, but was very happy. I joined this club 'Incomplete' formed by some unknown guy several years ago. It was being run so secretly that, being a local even I didn't know about it until today.

This club really felt like heaven. I was free here. All day long, we sleep over the branches of this great Banyan tree, which was beside a graveyard and at night our activities started. We sing, dance, say horror stories, we race and sometimes also cry. But, from the day I joined this club I never went back to my home nor did I wanted to. I was just happy here, reciting poems that I wrote and sometimes adding a tune to them.

As usually, all night long we jammed hard. It was morning again and I climbed up to a branch, the highest one from which I could feel the warmth of the sun and the colour of the golden greens. I wasn't thinking but was just lying on that branch, carelessly. Jane was below me to a little left.

“So, do you wanna talk now?" asked Jane.

 She had a beautiful voice with a sexy husk, which could just hypnotize even the dead. I met her the day I joined Incomplete. She too joined the same day. She was so pretty. Her expressive brown eyes made her even more pretty. We didn't talk much, used to look at each other a lot. But this time, only she was looking at me without an exchange.

"About what?" I asked her in a straight voice, not being over enthusiastic to hide my lean towards her.

"Anything… Maybe about your poems?"

“Poems…. Mm...they are just lines which are inked by my pain."

“Do you people genuinely speak like this or making words a riddle is your way to impress someone ?" she asked with a soft-sharp tone.

" Why?"

"Because… I AM IMPRESSED."

I smiled softly and leaned to her direction, to see her face clearly. I wanted to see her reactions while she was talking.

She continued, "People with no pain don't attract me, they are so unrelatable"

“Is it..? What pain were you attracted to at your first teenage crush then?" I asked to help unveiling her story.

“He was a charming guy. His blue eyes always melted my heart. He also always used to top the class. I had a huge crush on him, but I didn't say it to him. "

“Why?? "

“I didn't want to be called as a gay then."

I was shocked, like really really shocked.

“W-w-what…? You were a boy?"

"Yes" she replied calmly, "I was."

I just looked at her and she at me for a couple of seconds. We weren't talking; she smiled and broke the silence.

" So, what's your story?, What pain do you hide?” She diverted the topic.

Anyword related to literature was my trigger point. I suddenly had the flashes of everything since my childhood. I recollected my whole life.

“My life…My life wasn't really mine. It was occupied by the ideologies and goals they rubbed on me since I was a child. I was never allowed to love but, I did anyway."

"Ohhh...so you are one of those typical love failure guys. Heartbroken and cliché."

“Yea.. But the thing I loved was music and poetry, which my Dad didn't find any sense in."

“Typical parents dude, strict from the outside and shitting in their pants from the inside."

“He forced me to take up science. I didn't liked it at all and also shat in my pants to tell him about it. So….. "

“So….. That's it? " she asked," That was the end…?"

I nodded; she paused for a minute and said, “You know what… I don't have any regret, even after I killed myself. I at least tried to fight. Why would you give up so easily? You can't blame them for everything." she said. It was not in a nice way she put it in which ofcourse offended me. I couldn't take criticism very well.

“Don’t take sides without knowing both. They never allowed me even to express what I felt. How do you think I will be in a state to fight that I am not even aware of?" I said furiously. My tone also seemed a bit rude, which I was regretting instantly as I was speaking.

She was silent for some time. Her silence was not that I was expecting, it made me restless.

“Hey.. Sorry.” I said.

“No. Don't be. I just recollected something." Her eyes were wet, she took a gap and resumed. “Why do they want us to like and be like they expect us to be?" exploding the frustration through her red eyes.

“Maybe they think that everything that comes from them, owe them something. We owe them our submission. Their love seemed like a dictatorship." I was also in tears by the time I ended saying that.

"Yes" she clearly did not want to talk about her past so she asked mine, " Was it poison….? Or no…let me guess… I think you hanged yourself"

“Yea, I hung myself to the ceiling fan."

She clapped for guessing it right and asked," Do you have any regrets?"

I turned back to the sky. I didn't answer her this time. I didn't want to. I think she understood that, she said,

“How good would it be if you could change your last day.."

I too wanted to, but I knew what would happen, but still I wanted to visit that imaginary past again. So, I closed my eyes and drowned into my room to live my last day again.

I was sitting on my study table, ' H. C. Verma- Concept of Physics' chapter 2. I had my engineering entrance exams in a week. My dad was checking up on me for every five minutes. He doesn't want me to take any rest until I secure a good rank. I was just waiting for a moment to tell him that I don't like to pursue engineering. I wrote a poem to tell him exactly how was I feeling.

He was sitting in the drawing room, sipping tea, reading the newspaper. I accumulated every bit of courage I had in every minute bit of my body and went to the drawing room. He slowly folded one side of the newspaper and gave me a deadly stare.

I was sweating my body off. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and recited what I wanted to say,

" Tears of blood, from the eyes dead, rolling down the cheeks, painting paths red...

Assault on the soul, even rues are caged,

Quit thinking, cause also thoughts are stained...

Don't lock me up, to do the saving,

My own body gave up, cages can't do containing...

Alterations you paint on me are actually stunting,

Insisting me to walk, you cut off my wings…

The barren blue skies, waiting to hug me,

Are only the half-done paintings of my unfulfilled dreams… "

I opened my eyes and he was in tears. He put the newspaper aside and walked to me. He grabbed my hand and hugged me tight. His tears dropped on my shoulders and mine made his shirt wet.

He said what I thought that I would never hear from his mouth, "I'M PROUD OF YOU MY SON."