Some Things Never Were...Some Things Never Are...Some Things Never Will Be...

Whistling Dylan’s evergreen tune – the times, they are a changing – she boots up her newly bought smartphone. Rejoicing like a kid for whom Christmas came early, she dabbles in each and every app until under the cheerful icon of a school she reads ‘yearbook’. And before she knows it, she has signed in and the screen bursts with information of long lost classmates. If only her heart had been the wiser…but then, a wry smile forms on her lips as she thinks aloud “what the hell!” With each swipe, each photograph, each smile in full HD, she reminisces those moments with motley of emotions swirling inside her. Then comes the photograph…the boy. What was a smile now seems a smirk, and a snort escapes her as she realizes, how the pic is displayed in ‘true colour’.

Some things never were…

Theirs was a group of seven. Like the rainbow you would like to think…if only life was celluloid. Nonetheless, it was the next best thing and life with them was fun. But among those six others, there was one…he was the one…who was never just a friend. She was always a little too eager, her smile a little too wide, and her trust a little more in his case. Wasn’t long before their simplex connection became full duplex and love flowed free from both hearts…at least she thought it was love. She never denies that she enjoyed that time of her life the most, but the wound she received after, the scar that still remains, always reminds her that it was all a big mistake. One day, for him, the kisses on his cheek were not enough, holding hands was passé, and his façade of love fell to reveal a perverted lust. Breaking his nose for breaking her heart, she ran off and to her relief, he soon moved out of the city. Watching the countless replays by her mind of the time they spent together, she worked through his layered talks and nursing the scar on her knuckles figured out, it was all a ruse and whom she had loved was but a mirage…some things never were true.

The cold fingers of that troublesome past loosen their grip on her as she navigates out of the app. But no sooner has she put down her cell, it gives a sweet chirpy sound. A new message on the workgroup she had just set up. From the boss, “Good you finally got a good mobile. These things really boost your efficiency. You’ll see.” The jerk.

Some things never are…

She still remembers the first day at the office. The entire staff had taken a shine to her and her boss welcomed her into this new world with kind words, taking her in as his protégé. He looked after her with a father like affection and concern but never patronized her. He even had a good tough talk once with one of the employees who had been making passes at her making her uncomfortable. She couldn’t have wished for a better chief. But soon she had found out that all this was just too good to be true. Everybody lies for their own vested interests. On the day they were to present a project to the company HQ which was her brainchild and for which she had slogged long and hard for months on end, she searched through the final documentation to find her name wasn’t there. Her boss had taken up all the credit and offered her no explanation. Not only did her project get appraise and approval, but her boss also got a huge raise and a big promotion. As a “noble” gesture her “benevolent” boss asked the management to provide her and other team members a “hefty” bonus. Crushed, thinking that all her work was for naught, she smiled ruefully as she remembered Chetan Bhagat’s lines she had read just days ago – a bad boss is a disease of the soul. And she had got cancer, the king of all diseases. Since then, she has maintained an icy cold conduct with her boss, the leach. Every time he smiles at her, she sees the snake and reminds herself that some things never are as they seem.

She wants to say “to hell with you and your efficiency”, but replies with a much toned down and neutral “thank you”. She’s about to finally put the cell away but checks her private mail as an afterthought. There’s a mail from her father asking her to take the weekend off and come home as some families are visiting to…in blunt words…have a look at her…as if she’s an art piece up for grabs. Cursing herself for being born a girl in India, she tearfully remembers a conversation with her closest uncle not long ago.

Some things never will be…

It was just another fine weekend when she had come back home for the first time after getting a job. Gifts bought from her first salary were passed around the house and everybody felt proud that their little princess had grown up and now stood on her own feet. Just then a relative joked about getting her married. She laughed it off, thinking everybody shared her belief that she’s too young. But it came as a shock when later that evening she overheard her elders in a serious conversation on this issue and as she was about to barge in to stop it, her father looked around at her and said that a family is going to visit them tomorrow and she has to be at her docile best. She felt torn and betrayed – how can they give me wings, teach me to fly and then mercilessly clip them and put me in a cage? She took off to her room and cried her eyes out on the pillow. Just then her favourite and closest uncle walked in, sat beside her and stroked her head. Puffy eyed, she choked out three words – how could you? And her uncle, with a crestfallen look whispered – that’s the way it is. She cried on his lap the entire night. Since that Sunday morning, she was paraded in front of numerous families but she desperately clung on to her freedom denying every proposal. Her uncle on a recent phone-call said,” You are lucky that at least your opinion is taken into account”, to which she acidly replied,” Right after showcasing their prized daughter in front of strangers”. Her uncle sighed and said,” What you want bachcha (kid), cannot happen.  These are some things that never will be.”

She replies that she’ll have to get in touch with company management and ask if she could be given any more holidays. Finally putting down her phone, she walks to the window, taking in the breeze which feels cold along two lines on her cheeks and suddenly breaks into a guffaw at how just minutes ago she was whistling ‘the times, they are a changing’. Sure, the world is changing, but some things never were…some things never are…and some things never will be – that is a reality, a truth which will never change.