Unfulfilled Longings – Fictional Short Story

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I’ve been trying to forget her for a long long time and failing really badly at it. It felt like I enjoyed how I felt about her to such an intensity that I struggled to let it go.., but I knew that I had to. God had strictly asked me to let her go.., but I am not a powerful Creator who is mature and absolutely perfect, and who has never made mistakes for billions upon billions of years.., I struggle with my humanity, I struggle with my version of love which involves me falling for people that I like but to whom I can never become loved in their own version of reality. I know that life is unfair this way.. but I get it.., I really do.., It’s not exactly a delightful truth.., but you gradually begin to take it impersonally and learn to accept people for their mistakes and maybe forgive them someday, and accept the fact that their rejection of you is no fault of their own.. It’s just that they can’t see deep inside of your soul, your inner person and your hidden character. People are blind to what is unseen, and the unseen is the very birthplace of romantic love.

It was a dream that helped me remember her again. I would be lying if I were to tell you that she was never in my thoughts. Her name was ingrained into my brain, a mere uttering of her name brought delights into me that prompted much fancy and imagination. She had blocked me on instagram, and on facebook she avoided my messages. She had even friendzoned me in the past, did the universal women’s code for disinterest by not replying to any of my messages for a year, and the last time that she had breezed in acting like there was nothing wrong between us.., she acted like she and I talked daily for hours upon hours.., she played with my feelings before leaving as quickly as she came. Nothing new here. Just a universal female act and drama, since I am highly sensitive.., I felt the familiar meltdown and inner accusation begin. I wrestled with thoughts that insulted my lack of self restraint, I heard voices of painful condemnation that let me know that I should’ve known better with all my years of experiencing rejection. Rejection did not sit well with me.., it would be a thorn in my flesh and sting deep and hurt deep whenever my mind wished to torment me. Perhaps i’m in a war with finding love.

I should describe to you the dream. I remember it vaguely. But the message and the moral of it was clear, it was defeat. I was suffering defeat and rejection from her. If you know me, you should know well that I don’t take defeat well. I remember those who have defeated me, it’s like a curse.., even though Christ has helped me forgive them.., I can’t easily forget those in whose presence I suffered embarrassment, shame and disgrace. As a man, I would avenge my losses.., I had to struggle with such feelings in my faith and force myself to let it go. What I loved about Christ was that, He helped me see that my inner problems were far more greater than the problems of the world and far more dangerous and deadly than all the celebrities, famed ones and writers.

I have no clue as to what triggered me to dream about her. I remember that week well, my faith had just overcome a deadly fear of facing murderous henchmen as I preached the gospel. All day long I would be bombarded by these images, it felt like I was drowning in them and the voices would condemn me about my fears, and about my lack of courage.., and they would whisper that they knew that I was afraid to die for Christ. No matter how strong I attempted to make myself courageous, I lost heart.., because all my life I’ve been afraid of pain, of suffering, of falling victim to poverty, of losing my parents to an accident.., and to many horrors that were all too common in my world. But I remember the LORD just transferring a strange sense of inner burning within me. I was burning and burning within myself, in my heart and just on fire for Christ. I witnessed people drawn to the Gospel and it felt surreal.. how was it possible in this town brimming with strong inner tensions and spiritual evils..? It felt like the fire was living within me made the gospel become more truer than human understanding and affirmations could confirm. I started to receive incredible dreams, many of them were prophetic..,revealing things about my life and calling that I did not wish to be true.

The Lord was again asking me stop longing after her. Believe me when I say to you that I tried to forget her.., I really really did.. but not really. No disrespect to the Lord.., but I couldn’t understand what that even meant. For three years I had stayed pure, moral and single. Despite a bit of fame, I was a saint in my public life, I resisted temptation and ran away from fair maidens in an attempt to please God and to reveal to Him that I was serious about Him this time. I still struggled with lusts in my personal life, but I never gave up in my vision to become more and more Godly. She seemed to initiate in me a delight and joy that I didn’t have a reference to compare it to. I fell for her three years before in a way that I had not done in my entire life, and believe me I’ve fallen many times into empty one sided infatuations. I knew that the Lord’s sharpness of language was done more out of a protective instinct.., i’ve been around Him enough to sense that the deeper and the more deadlier the danger, the sharper His language becomes. I’ve picked up on nuances when i’m around Him.., He speaks a lot when He is still, silent and non-responsive. The Lord is my best friend, I’ve learned to trust Him and even love Him when He is angry and upset with me.., I love how passionate, zealous and possessive He is of me.. even though I pathetically suck at things like immediate obedience. I fail to satisfy Him, but He satisfies me more than words can ever comprehend.

The dream started with me in a place filled with busy people. The people around me felt like they were worldly, a theme that my spirit feels a deep seated unrest with. Since I could always sense that there was something wrong with the picture that I was forced to live in, and I grew always in a state of rattled nerves and disturbed confusion of the world around me. She was there.., I refuse to say her name since it triggers intense longings,wishes and dreams. But she was there.. Perhaps the whole dream was indicative of why she said no to me. I have mistakenly and accidentally tied the knot to somebody for whom I feel nothing, and I am overcome with sorrow at my choice. She meanwhile is stronger than my emotional dilemma, she is stronger to push herself to reach professional success.., I feel like the visual scene despite being hazy was a mixture of college energy and professional glory.., and I could sense another character as well.., a character who possessed her, it was not love.., but it was more of a symbol of belonging. She belonged to him.., he had her wrapped in his fingers despite her fiery, independent nature. And as the reality sinks into me, I break down in shame and defeat. I shudder with my hands above my head in tears, and nobody pays me any notice in this scene. As a fan of Jung, I can read much into the yearnings,the themes and the way that they play out. But I’m convinced that this means that she is trouble. Trouble for my spirit, trouble for my heart and trouble for my mind. I had to abort all of my longings for her that were spawning endless stories, poems and dialogues that I wrote like scripts.. memorizing their ability to transport me to an imaginary confrontation with her.

I woke up feeling melancholic, irate and fully clear about what that dream conveyed, even though I hadn’t discovered the words to explain it yet. I initially struggled to hastily speak this dream to a Gifted Dream interpreter, since the Lord has not enabled that gift within me much to my hurt and pain. I get dreams though, every now and then, it feels like the Lord does not me to become a vision interpreter, or a seer.., and I struggle to deal with that. But I guess it’s okay, even though it’s not. If only I could do something about it, if only I could.

I still remember running into her for the first time. I was just recovering from alcoholic addiction and desperately wanted to stay away from temptation. It was on one of those short story sites, I wrote haunting, melancholic and incomplete stories brimming with passion, love and sadness. I wrote what I struggled to let go. I wrote what saddened me about people that I knew who lived with broken spirits, and I wrote to console other lost souls struggling with similar themes. Believe it or not, my writing was far better then. No, seriously it was.. I had had a dramatic encounter with Jesus Christ, and that had flipped me over upside down, all the fears that had bound me and destroyed me inwardly were asked to leave. I knew that they were fallen spirits, evil to their core.. Who belonged to a realm that the non spiritual eye and mind could not see. The Bible was the only way through which people understood the reality of these dark, hideous beings who worked for lucifer, they enjoyed destroying a man through his mind. I have literally been near the shore of madness, I have stared at myself through the eyes of madness, I know well that only Christ rescued me from such a dangerous and dark evil. My Savior did incredible wonders for me, chiefly to my creative tools, He reminded me time and time again that my imagination, my love for words, stories and my love to understand people as stories came from Him. He even reminded me of His own style of speaking to people through parables the truths of Heaven.

Writing became easier for me because God’s presence in my heart, mind and soul was doing wonders for my creativity. His gift of a new spirit added newer dimensions to my thoughts, to my fertile imagination and to my human longings. My stories were vivid, deep, clear and less tormented.., but yet they were haunting since they spoke truthfully of the sadness of unfulfilled love. How ironic that one such story prompted her friendship..? I still can’t understand why she talked to me.., her friends..i.e her profile friends were well established artists, connoisseurs and craftsmen.. I was an unseen artist who lived for creative glory and art. I’ve often wondered if it was a deception sparked by the fallen ones done in order to remind me of my past blunders and romantic suffering or if it was an incident where I assumed that she was my God ordained muse, lover and wife. I tend to forget often that I am not attractive in some people’s eyes.., especially over an electronic space.., where millions of people portray parts and bits of them in order to draw, lure and attract souls in a revolting worship. It’s not easy for someone to really discover you in the way and intensity that you wish to be found.

I had written a tremendously upbeat tragedy of a love affair. I had utilized the settings to create emotional .. Much like Scorsese’s love for neighborhoods.., I painted a vivid picture of Madras.., and poured into it the longings of human beings beguiled and desperate for love, but often wounding seekers by rapidly retreating. The hero was a struggling writer, the heroine was an Anglo-Indian.., The writer’s friend has a thing for him, and it is her friend who is the heroine.., they are drawn to each other.., but being the rationalist that the heroine is she reasons everything.., and plays a dangerous game of engaging and disengaging the hapless hero, who struggles to find a muse, and a proper intuitive settings for his love. Much of it was from my own life obviously, the heroine character was someone that I had wrongly fallen for at a friend’s wedding. I never saw her again.. Ever. I wished to memorize and commemorate her intrusion into my life with a story that I had written over many many sad songs.

She waltzed in with her usual, girly feminism and joy. Sparkling a conversation that was overwhelming, unexpected and deeply useful for a recovering alcoholic, she revealed everything about herself on that first day. I am still surprised by how in control I was on that particular day, midway through our many hour long conversation…her joy at meeting a genuine artist had faded, my charm had faded and she slwoly began to realize that she was out of control. Reason entered, warnings entered, multiple news stories of creeps online entered her mind.., she freaked and got distant. I could swear to you that on that first day – she fell for me, that she fell in love with me. I might sound desperate, unreasonable and clingy but believe me it’s true. But after that something changed. She never opened up, I wondered rationally if she felt that she didn’t wish to lead me on, I wondered if it was something about how I looked in my online profile, or was it some feminine danger radar that had alerted her.. I didn’t know. By then I had flung my well reasoned control out, and started to become more honest with her.. I would have to wait for hours to get her online, and when she was there she was distant.., aloof, detached.. She didn’t open up.., she spoke briefly and left. There would be occasional signs of life.., a post of mine would get liked.., or she would send some song suggestion on Facebook directly to my messenger.., but after that again the deafening silence would continue… how we had vibed together as people the first time never happened another time.. I could sense her longings, her desires.., but yet again the block was there….I would send non creepy messages well stretched over a space of time, well stretched over months.., and again her defense was impregnable. Something was up. I started to divert my mind, I had been down this road one too many times before, I was on the brink of eternity.. I didn’t wish to fall back into the pit from which the Lord had saved me from. Because I knew with spiritual discernment that it always ended up in the same romantic hell – unfulfilled agony and endless inner hurt. I wanted to protect myself and take myself out of the situation. Because I knew so many souls who were still chasing something they believed was true a million years ago. This was the real ugly nature of female interaction, they start more doubts than calm one’s fears.

After many months and months of shame, defeat and hurt. I walked down to the Lord and asked Him to help me. Can you believe that..? I had forgotten all about my best friend the whole time on this one issue alone and run down yet another fruitless rabbit hole..? How absurd and idiotic. From His comforting side, I stared down into my choice and realized how blind I had been to all the danger signs. I finally allowed myself to be still and comforted myself with my Lord, I was not wrong for believing in something true, noble and beautiful between two human souls.. People are more calculated when it came to matters of the human heart, let’s just say that I believed in it with more innocence, truth and effort.

So that’s the whole deal.. but hey this could’ve happened to anyone right..?

First hit… Memories of shame

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I am always trying to ponder inner realities that exist within me. Coming to terms with what they are conveying.., I perhaps to write to understand what I feel so powerfully within me.., I write to share my side of the fence.., I write to live.., I write because I am in love with words, stories, prose, beauty, literature and secrets and feel compelled to treasure this gift of gab. I believe that a writer is someone whose soul can see past the nature of make believe outer reality, and into the real heart of things.

I can’t understand what is happening in my heart.., but I feel a tremendous heaviness on it right now. My Father and I had had our usual Saturday night conversation.., the topics varied from England dropping out of the EU to my sermon that I had just finished delivering in the church opposite to our house. He highlighted things in my sermon that were hard to take.., it was the usual criticism.., ‘repetitions, unwanted honesty, forgetfulness…’ etc.., I had to listen to my parents and their observations since they were just as sensitive as me when it comes to not realizing the brevity and reality of things. All my happiness and joy at battling intense inner fear, nervous anxiety, strain etc and then standing before young people who were so cynical, dismissive and attempted to mockingly laugh and smile at your face and delivering a message fizzled away as I listened to what he was saying.., He could be really persistent when he wished to convey truths about my sermon that I could never see…, Call me insane but.., I don’t understand criticism because I deal with my own inner insecurity.., and to heave a dose of observation right after a tremendous test was quite horrifying to me…I sometimes wish people listened with their heart and not with their mind.., but he is my dad and I love him in ways that I can’t even comprehend.., he has done so much for me.., and struggles with a burden so big.., for my sake…, I can’t help but listen to my hero…but I have to remind myself to sit alone with my Lord.., perhaps I can climb above the slab of the upper floor and be alone.., and pour my heart, my tears and my feelings to Him who truly cares…, maybe I can become sane again.

I’ve discovered that most of us are expert talkers.., but few can look beneath the layers and words and understand the heart.., and find the selflessness to love back courageously and look past our own scars, wounds and weaknesses…, True Love seems to be too easy to long for and so hard to find. I am no longer content with human love.., I demand, desire and hunger for a love that can conquer.., accept me at my absolute worst and encounter me at my most insane and still love me fiercely, ferociously and insanely.., So far I can only count Jesus in that list.., nobody else comes even close.., perhaps my parents, sis and doggy can be added after a billion kilometers.., but then again God gave them to me.., and they ask me to love God more than them.., maybe I could place them after a million kms since for the first 25 years or so they were the only reflection of God that I could see, feel and enjoy and they were incredible, amazing and otherworldly at it. I’m blessed and thankful always.

I remember not so long ago when I bumped into an old acquaintance of mine. He had been a mentor to me in my past.., but a hard, no compassion showing dictator who was relentless in his handling of me.., I was chastised often.., rebuked often.., told to study hard.., and it always felt like his methods were too extreme.., too hard and too painful for a hyper sensitive, dreamer in love with his imagination such as myself… and I could clearly see that I was nothing like him… He had built up his own empire from scratch.., he started one of the most powerful ministries during the 90’s and had been responsible for a wave of revival that had hit Vellore during that time.., all of a sudden there was a surge of meetings, revival meetings, youth meetings, Godly sightings.., Angelic Sightings.., curing of terminal illnesses such as Cancer, Aids, Tumors etc… God had touched the sun scorched soil of Vellore in centuries.., and my Ex Mentor had been in the thick of things.., He was a disciplinarian, who was a hardcore perfectionist… He had a soft side to him and I could see it work on certain people.., but he was above the pack and was always leading the charge and taking all hostages with him.

Growing up I had always struggled with feelings that I could never be good at anything. I saw people naturally blooming all around me.., and I was never good at anything…, I struggled with insecurity.., inferiority and shame.., I always dreamt of killing myself in my early years.

I was his polar opposite, ie of my Imperfect Mentor.., I was a free spirit, but I could feel too powerfully the pain of a hurting, broken world.., I was deeply hurt at the plight of the street dogs whose stomachs had shrunk and the bones of their rib cage showed real clearly.., I felt pained when I saw people throwing stones at their feet, I was hurt by the fact that dogs and human beings had to search in the trash for food…, I was hurt by how some people never had the freedoms and privileges that I enjoyed.., my heart was always reaching out to the lonely, the hurt and the broken… I disliked the life that everybody led, I wanted to live a life that I enjoyed.. the childhood version of it was to live on an island away from people and that island would have libraries, food for eternity and a world class view of the stars that I would see every single night.., I enjoyed freedom, I loved being free.., I did not like to be tied down, I always dreamt of freedom the more I found myself in systems.., I enjoyed sports.., and I had a hunger in my soul to reach for the stars.. I dreamt all day long of fame.., of fortune and of beautiful stories that I could imagine, and maybe create someday.

After the initial years of growing up next to him, my parents decided that I would do a year in my Dad’s Alma Mater – MCC.., up and until that moment I felt trapped in Vellore.., Vellore was too raw and primal.., there wasn’t class, refinement, integrity or friendliness here…, I felt nothing but inner torment, anguish and boredom in my early years.., School was a bore.., I struggled to cope up…, I was detained after classes all the time.., or I had to cross paths with stronger, more assertive seniors who used me to beef up their own credentials.., I was either a punching bag or a source of teasing and scorn.., My skin color was highlighted which made me feel ugly, unwanted and awkward.., I was never accepted by my peers for some strange reason.., most of them were the sons and daughters of either rich industrialists or doctors.., I guess I was not their type.., I felt unwanted by them .. My teachers did not exactly convey any feelings of me being embraced or celebrated either…, You remember what people don’t say to you and what people can’t see in you.., I still do to this day.., I remember feeling like I was of no use to this world and I dreamt often of death and suicide… I was an invisible person who had to live like I was different.., like I was not special and like I was of a lower species…, My language speaking skills would be highlighted often.., or my grades would be brought up.., Nobody worried for me.., they were just shoving my lack of interest in academia into my face and telling me that I was useless. The hardest part of it was to feel shame for the sake of my parents.., who I could see were such kind, gentle souls and here I was shoving a brutal reality pill into their faces because of my sensitive soul… They had worked hard to get to where they were.., my Dad had undergone tremendous trials.., losing both his parents.. moving here and there.., taking care of his sisters…, struggling to come up in his own life, and my mother came from a very poverty stricken family and had studied hard to reach the management ranks of the most prestigious hospitals in our town… I had let them down.., here they were working so hard under really hard circumstances to make something of me, and here I was just wasting it all away.., I was never considered for anything or thought to be anything.., I loved sports.., but nobody took a special interest in me.., or thought that I could amount to much.., Growing up I so badly wanted somebody to believe in me and push me in fields that I was interested in.., but sadly I had none.

Such experiences with the unkind, non grace offering parts of life made me really hunger and long for love, for empathy.., for being understood despite what was going on on the surface.., I wanted people to feel sorrow for me.., but I was confused since I saw people from even lower places than me survive, fight and live.., this further made me despise myself and made me close my mouth. I did not want to talk it out to somebody and listen to them talk about things on the surface.. Nobody had the power to perceive the depths of me.. No one.. Unless I talked about it.., and when I did.., it did not impact them in the level that it impacted me.., my inner struggles helped me listen deeply to other warriors dealing with a cruel cruel life.., late on in my life.., my wounds, scars and inner demons created an artist…, created a resource so deep for my craft.., but the same feelings that I heard in my earlier years would trickle into my heart after any accomplishment.., ‘This is not good enough..’, ‘ Is this the best that you can give..?’…, ‘ Look at him/her they seem to do it in a way that feels easier than you..’.., ‘ This felt easy.., you’ve not been really challenged yet..’.., ‘ You call this writing..? A 8 year old with no understanding can write better stuff than what you just did…’ …, and so on and so forth.

When we had moved into the colony that we are staying at right now, he was the only person who was caring enough to welcome us and to also help us ingratiate ourselves to the culture of the small island of Christian only homes that stretched down two parallel streets. He was so kind.., and took such genuine efforts to include us and make us feel welcome…, but I remember the initial awkwardness of it all.., I remember my neighbors treat my mother with disrespect as she attempted friendly conversations with them.. I could not see it in their faces but I got a hint of it in my heart.., I was offended that they could respond to my mother’s genuine smile with a calculated one, how inconsiderate were they that they offered hate for love..? And I was never wrong about them.., all those highly rude individuals always seemed to find newer ways to establish their supremacy in our lives, their facial coldness seldom seemed to still.., they were always wound up, always ready to attack and always eager to express their imaginary dominance… and I am a really objective guy.., but I have always abstained from those who don’t welcome… I believe that it all comes down to early experiences. I have always struggled with being rejected.., I still do.., now I am a tough nut to crack.., but my heart is too soft. I am like my mom.., dedicated, personal and intense.., I used to alienate myself and rebel to gain strength briefly but I comply, conform and humble myself for the sake of the gospel these days, and the friendship of my Lord has really helped me forget those initial difficulties.

Nothing special seemed to happen to me.., nobody wanted to talk to me.., nobody seemed excited to be my friend.., nobody could really see me.., I understand it all now.., but the heart of a guy who knows and desires love but finds emptiness.., egoism and hostility can be hurt eternally. I did not get any love letters.., I was not anybody’s best friend.., I was hurt by the lack of interest.. by the indifference.. by the unkindness and chiefly by the inability to perceive one as being important, necessary, needed etc hurt me. But I guess those initial years and the senses that I absorbed have made me the person that I am today.., have helped me take on the cross for Christ’s sake.., and have created in me a hunger to find people who suffer the same silence that I did.., and perhaps lead them with the help of the Holy Spirit to the Lord Himself.

I don’t know who ends up reading this.., but I will beckon you to attempt to make the world a better place than the way you found it. I implore you to know Jesus as your personal Savior since the world can overwhelm, destroy and kill your good intentions.., but Christ can help you with His strength and power and lead you to work for the Kingdom of God.., and believe me the benefits are out of this world.

Surges of Brilliance – Poem

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Surges of brilliance,
unpredictable gushes of torrential clarity,
a deep thrust into the depths of whatever it is that runs within me,
crashing like splintering, waves,
sending shivers of intense emotions ,
what reality covers with mediocrity and oppressive sincerity,
The Moonbeams bring forth from the concealed
depths,leading inwardly into doors hidden beneath,
Spaces of time, what candle so brief should shudder like hips swaying to a mystic tantalizing beat..?
Stepping past the passage of self pathos, running headlong with pants of eager longing
into the meadows of art’s maddening glucose,
My heart is haunted by ghouls and rushes of psychic emotion,
Senseless Panic pulls away the soul from the abstract pathway into oblivious richness,
Invisible hands drag me down whenever I climb art’s ladder,
Fear’s demons dance around drawing me into manias of doubt,
I pay more attention to my fears than my goods,
I am a man divided and blown apart.
Too intense and too hard,
Too cold and too warm..,
I contain worlds and paradoxes within.