Melting Facades Of The Crippled

While going out for a crime, conviction caps confidence. While going out to continue an affair, conviction again trumps all other qualities in pushing the sinner. In my head, the heedless romance in public washrooms were nothing more than actually using those washrooms. She believed and I made believe that it was love. I wanted her to believe that someone loves her and wants to give her everything he has – not that I understood exactly what giving and taking was. Besides, I wasn’t part of the romance, the façade was.

Before I wanted it, the façade was already taking the decisions relating to one relationship, but I believed it was just one, mind it. The façade made me stronger in that I had to live constricted, always. It was unnerving me of many faculties that it had started drawing upon – why? I surmised, it was either for its growth or so that it could continue keeping up with my pretense of always cloaking a façade on myself.

 Somewhere, we all know that time is what will free us, even if there is no apparent way out of a ditch, we have gotten ourselves into. I said I loved her, loved her the most, would do anything for her – on behalf of my façade. My façade couldn’t speak, it could only act, which it did like an adept. Then came the crossing where all characters of this play – parents and families of each of the lover’s met and clashed.

They talked about a lot of shortcomings in me, perhaps people wait for such chances – to point out, when they themselves can’t do anything about their own fallacies. Pointing out is not clearly complaining, it is more of a condescension. Thus, I comfortably ignored it. A snob can’t wait at condescension, he needs retribution. The retribution from a second party of its crummy, so that they can avenge themselves of their personal crummy. The snobs, I tell you are elitists of passionate cursing, with the hue of making death threats.

My façade was melting away in this heat. The facades victim, my then girlfriend was leaving from my circle. The decisions that the façade had by now taken for more than one relationship in my life, had started devouring me of my semblance at that time. I somewhere knew that it was only for that particular time, though the longevity of which I knew not. My quiddity aside, my presence itself was in question.

How cunningly each of them took at me, part by part for retributing themselves. How she too stood in some dark corner, hiding from me, the leech of my façade. How my own had questioned my integrity. Oh, how horrid was that time that left me crippled and dumb founded. At one side they threatened to kill me and my kin, on the other side they shamed me for my lowliness. As an abject ravenous rat, I regressed to whichever filthy place I found – wherever I went.

Questions followed by judgements and judgements followed by their sorrow was what my side gave me, graciously. Shouting followed by hooting and hooting followed by slaps - to my then girlfriend and her mother, is what that side gave me. My dying façade didn’t dare look at me when it melted away in the drains of this big city of dreams.

My façade gone, I thought I would have been better off gone with it. Perhaps, in the darkness of the gutter and sanitation, it would help me survive. Anyway, that ship had passed and what was left was me, only me. No embellishments, no face, only my raw erudite form. I was and still am just a form, the substance doesn’t get bothered  with these banalities. It is the substance – that intangible backbone that kept me sailing in those waters.

A day came when I was too weak to believe on my substance, so I took it to threaten her with suicide. She too did the same. Oh, how horrid it was to put that one on her, and more horrifying was to have it put back on me – when all I wanted was a touch of care. I had but forgotten that it was my façade that was the rightful owner of all this love and care from this stiff neck of a girl and not me.

Six months under this melancholy, then six more to stand up, is what I needed to kiss my substance into youth. The youth that had forgotten what innocence looked like, had to be watered with anti-depressants and sleeping pills. The youth that had been on real roller coasters was pushed to be on ones that fell into the sea and rose back to a cliff. Each that moment, this bloom of a boy was crumpled into bunches of abandoned flowers.

The impotence that followed was embarrassing, but who was there to complain or nag. I realized that having impotence without having anyone who nagged about it was worse. The impotence that stayed for a long time. The fledgling aged youth just slept and slept. The sleep that tried to contain the pain of memories the façade had left. He concurred that the façade was not just a face, it was a living demon in his body, which had made decisions for itself and after seeing the ramifications, melted away to another victim in the hopes of a better job.

‘Victim’ was the word he used for himself for some time. Time the infallible partner was walking with him always, and now it seemed to go faster. As it sped, he had to give up this façade of calling himself a victim – because now, time was speeding the moments of pain. Now, the time was quick to take away the scent of melancholy and embarrassment. The façade melting also made natural the relations with his kin.

How hopeless he felt in the face of the strength of facades to creep into his body and take decisions. It is the illusions that are harder to get away from than getting close to material successes. While the later too is difficult, he surmised, the former was an unfair witch that could swallow all blood away and make him inutile. The power of experience had made way for a different priority and the power of time had dealt with the pressure this machine could withstand.