THE ABOMINABLE TUNNEL

My mum, my daughter and I at his graduation.We shall meet again.

Have you ever thought about death?

Not just the passing thought of “it is the path for us all”, but the depth and intensity of the moment. Have you ever imagined how scary the moment you realize your soul is slipping away from your body is?

More often than not, I toy with the thought. Turning around a hundred possibilities in my head. The most dominant imagination is that you try to lift you leg and it doesn’t move, then you try your hands and they resist then next is your speech to probably tell anyone who might be listening that you think you are dying. Obviously, your speech fails you, too. So you start having a monologue on whether or not you are dying. That’s the moment you realize you literally ran out of time.

Memories come rushing back, of the happy times you had, the people you loved and the aspects of the future you envisioned that will never come to pass. At that same supersonic speed your regrets flood your memory. The things you felt you should have done differently and the sins you committed knowingly come running to you.

You feel grief, regret, denial and gratitude concurrently. Those are four extreme emotions at one go within a fraction of a minute, or however long it lasts. And I think deep down, we all realize the intensity of emotions and the helplessness at the moment of death, it is no wonder we fear dying.

I , for one, am terrified of death, so I spend every day as if it were my last. I like to keep my conscious clear to abait the magnitude of regret and remourse at the end of the tunnel.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can almost feel what my childhood friend felt right at the moment he hit the sharp corner of a container with his forehead while on his motorbike at full speed. I envision the agony of dying in the middle of nowhere alone, at night, in an isolated road. Sometimes, a part of me fells he lay there, bleeding for almost two hours or more; unable to reach for his phone or call for help. So he lay there and experienced the torment of death in the darkest of night.

When we think or hear of that abrupt end, automatically, our attention, thoughts, and compassion go to the people left behind. This could be because we can actually see them express their emotions. We rarely stop to think about the torment and argony the diseased underwent. Or maybe, the very close relatives think about it – no wonder they grieve the longest.

I still stand mesmerised by the intensity of it all. Of course it will happen to me someday, but sadly I can’t come back and write about it. It will forever remain a mystery, a strange and new experience for everyone. Yet it is the most ancient occurrence that has never been explored to a conclusion. But until then, I truly love, forgive easily, and act genuinely, knowing there is no telling what tomorrow holds or when the tunnel ends and empties me into a supposed endless pit!

In memory of my childhood best friend. Rest Easy Champ. You are greatly missed

TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS

The sales manager and I at a branch launch

Loss, and moreso heartbreak, has always been our basis of the saying time heals all wounds. It has been basically my slogan in everything, “Give it time.” I tell all my girlfriends whose relationships are not working, and I say it to myself always whenever we fight with my hubby. But does it work

Well, at my workplace (that I have grown quite fond of), the first two months were hell on earth. Everybody seemed to bully me, from the cleaner to the CEO, whom I reported to. On several occasions, the operations manager embarrassed me in front of chefs, and I wanted to cry and fuss and, worse, still resign. But I always came home, late and tired, to find my kids happy and excited to have me back home, in addition to warm hugs and kisses from my hubby who never tired from listening to my endless grunting about the toxicity of my workplace. He made it his personal goal to work as hard as possible so that I wouldn’t feel like I needed that job desperately. At that moment he was unemployed but waiting to go abroad .

I remember how exhausting the 5-minute walk from the bus stop to my workplace was. Not because it was a long distance, but because I realized how terrible my day would be even before it actually began. On most occasions, it turned out as terrible as I had envisioned. That’s the point I would say to myself- Give it time, and they will all come around. And come around, they did!

KILL THEM WITH KINDNESS! Is another phrase that worked quite well in turning things around. I have been taught to always be kind and polite to everyone despite their rank or financial status. That policy is much easier to implement than being bossy and bitchy. It works better in building up respect more than commanding does. Back to my workplace; since my fellow managers ( except the sales manager) and immediate boss had resolved to being bossy, I concentrated on creating a rapport with my juniors. It made them demean me at the beginning, but with time, we became acquaintances, and they agreed to do my bidding as a “favour to a friend.”

Well, as a content creator and a marketing manager, all I needed to succeed and be productive was cooperation from the Chefs – to make videos for social media, cleaners- to clean up the location for content creation and Sales team – to help me implement my marketing plan. I carefully observed the personnel I needed to keep close to help my assigned duties run smoothly. Well, with the top management , we only interacted minimally since my major assignment was content creation and social media management.

With time, as I grew fonder and fonder of my job – filming the cake decorating process, taking photos of the impressive cake design among other duties – respect from the senior management also started growing. Apparently, the top managers can only respect and relate well with you if and when you are good at your job. Well, for the operations manager, our disagreement once escalated to levels of having to involve the HR, but it still worked to my advantage. The CEO, whom I report to, slowly but gradually, grew out of the habit of shouting at people and scolding employees for small mistakes. I realized he is quite a good man when he is happier and less stressed.

In a more recent development, the Managing director of the groupof companies ( I work for only one of the companiesin that group) , whom I have met only once, used my social media content as a bench mark for that of other companies in that group. That was a great winning point for me in regards to gaining respect from my fellow managers. The finance manager, to be precise, has been overly supportive since the compliment.

Now, I guess it is safe to say that TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS! I am not out of the rocks yet, I know, but at least it is not exhausting anymore, just thinking of reporting to work. It is a place I will miss dearly on the day I leave for greener pastures.

Some chefs & Part of the sales team

AWAKENING BANISHED GODDESSES

It was terrifying, embracing the demon inside.
It was an insatiable desire, a void that opened into an endless pit.
A hollowness beyond human understanding, even the host often lost track.

It was an unending thirst, that even a river flowing into its bossom quenched not.
A hunger no feast could satisfy, the sophisticated shameless yet self-satisfying kind that no mortal mind could fathom.

It remained a catastrophic metaphor, unclear yet plain to see
Teasing the mind with the unthinkable, yet the heart throbbed with desire.
Soon bowing to the longing of the flesh, but exposed to the vulnerability of regret.

The heart bled with desire, but the mind flirted dangerously with caution.
Guts prevailed over reason, eyes locked with passion as the blood charged with rejuvenated motivation.

The mind locked out till the light of day.
When the voice of reason appealed to the great council of desire and immeasurable passion. A moment of great reckoning, an opportunity to embrace a new dawn.

It is morning, a new day has come. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is not promised! So we live today, as if it was the last. Because, what if it was? Would it gladden your heart, how it was lived?

DANCING WITH THE INEVITABLE

Change hurts, atleast before we grow into it and get assimilated to its deepest desires. Sometimes, change feels good, mostly at the beginning just before the consequences and aftermaths start setting in. More often than not we wish to fall back to our previous behaviour or habitat, more or less a niche. It begins to feel like we are foreigners in a strange land. We begin to get homesick, except it is nostalgia for a cocoon we had long outgrown. We miss the falsehood of the camouflaged warmth that had been suffocating and limiting.

It is only when we embrace the realities of our new life, the change we chose , that we begin to see things differently and experience a newness that drinks us in and fills us with fulfilment. Until the next urge and drive to change again sets in and the cycle continues. It is no wonder they say change is inevitable. One way or the other one must outgrow an adaptation and conform to a new one. It is a cycle that is linier.

I, for one, have undergone this inevitable process and i can attest without fear of contradiction, that it hasn’t been easy. I must say I have been lucky and entirely fortunate ever since I graduated from college. I was already a mother by then and that is another change story we might encounter in this manuscript. After doing various odd jobs, that most graduate wouldn’t even consider, And unpaid internships that greatly shaped my career, I finally landed a nice job. It is a fun job since I am still in it currently. I have persued a bachelors degree in Journalism and Mass Communication and getting a job in an actual media house was scary at first then it became more fun as I got assimilated. So much change was happening and it almost drowned me. I had a consistent salary, a respectable job and my baby girl was now in the official education system, not to mention my love life!

Since I am quite inconsistent in my resolve to write, I am experiencing a great surge of words and things I want to write. I will therefore focus on the change I am anticipating at the moment. After acquiring a nice job that brought with it a new environment, new friends, freedom and a regular flow if income, I started living the kind of life that I had always envisioned should I get to such a point in my life. Having ousted myself from the teenage life and the excitement of young campus babes, I felt like I had really missed out on the partying and carefree living. That was number one in my bucket list for when I finally got a chance.
At 25, finally that “opportunity” presented itself. My daughter was already a big girl now and I could leave her at my parents’ when schools closed. It was partying and numerous road trips for me. That was yet another element of change. I had no idea what that kind of life really entailed. I only had Instagram images in my head. It was a great shock when I got to know the immorality behind the lens of the cameras that took those Instagram images. I really wasn’t ready for it, although it took me various road trips and drinking sprees to realise that life wasn’t for me.
In less than a year, I was back to the drawing board. Trying to figure out who I was, what my hobbies were and exactly what I stood for. Usually, we fail to realize just how much influence in structuring our thoughts and behaviour, the people we hang out with have. During that short-lived period of throwing myself out there, various unseen changes had been happening to me unconsciously. I unlearned and learned things simultaneously. The challenge is I had absolutely no control over whether or not these changes would affect me positively or negatively. For one, they made me have a little less respect for marriage. I also developed a critical mindset on the aspect of the existence of true love.
Those experiences also, made me like the noise and hullabaloo that came with having drinking buddies. And that ushered in the cocoon that I am currently struggling to get out of. After securing a job and acquiring new friends who have absolutely no idea about your past not to mention your personality, you get a brand new chance of restructuring yourself. We got to know each other over time and established whose vibe sits well with your company. And finally the lines were drawn with almost everyone falling in line as though the sorting of personality traits was physical. I also fell in line with the circle I felt I belonged to.
At the beginning, we were just having fun and keeping busy. Then we started calling it drinking away the stress on weekends and within no time we were regulars at a joint at any random day of the week. We moved swiftly, almost unnoticeably, from friends to drinking buddies. We took turns to buy the drinks. By then I had a baby because I had a small baby and also because I could afford it. (Previously, when in college, I used to take my firstborn baby to a daycare. So that meant I had to be home early and on weekends for the household chores). Having a househelp on the other hand meant i could stay out late and also that I could go out on weekends.
This new change caused a major earthquake in my bank account and a chronic absenteeism as a parent. My spouse (we are not officially married yet and I usually have a problem with finding the right word to refer to him) was barely there and I was functioning as a single mum who had a husband abroad. He was still in the country just that logistics didn’t allow him to be there. That meant the kids were mostly under the care of the nanny since whenever I wasn’t at work, I was out with the boys. I like hanging out eith men because somehow I end up falling out with my girlfriends, I must be the problem.
It became a norm to come home drunk. We used to look for reasons to go drinking. Sometimes we used to go get the boys a shave then end up drinking just because we have set eyes on our joint and there was absolutely no way we could ignore that. It was awesome at the beginning, but with time it started taking a toll on me. I had no time for prayer and that meant I had no time for self reflection. My soul was slipping away and leaving a void full of echoes, uncertainty and self loath. I was missing out on my daughters growth and I was most definitely overstretching the duties of the nanny. It got worse when I even went out till late while my Man stayed in to look after the babies. He was pissed about it of course especially having to watch me staggering while holding our 8-month-old baby during the wee hours of the night.
His speech the following morning was like my wakening call. He had called me out definitely and it made me realize just how much my choices would affect us as a family. As I said, change is uncomfortable and it hurts. My decision to conform wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. Because at this moment I am still battling to stay the course. I will get jeered at by my drinking buddies because they will not believe I am serious and those three men can tease you to tears. I will also miss their company because the bonding happens over the round of whisky shots or over the discussions of joints that are selling it cheaper and are best to chill. To me it is as painful as a break up because grieving the loss of friends is so much more like having a piece of your heart torn apart voluntarily.
Change is making a choice and standing by it no matter what. This one will not be easy of course and I am not an inch prepared for it, but I feel like it is time. It is about time I put a stop to meaningless financial strain and parental negligence. I will be home early every day and I will stay home unless it is very very necessary.so help me God.
I am currently seriously working on rekindling the prayerful woman that I watched burn out. I have been critical of religion yes, and maybe to the extremes. But now it is time to turn around or rather turn over a new leaf!
†*

NASTY PINEAPPLES

NOT ALL THAT GLITTERS IS GOLD

A common saying, you might think. But when you actually apply it in your life it makes a whole lotta sense. My boss is Indian and he is literally the first I have interracted with so he is the one I will be formulating my prejudice from. He is loud especially when he is angry and I feel like he makes rushed, not well thought out decisions. I will be talking about today specifically because I am hurting as hell.

It is exactly 7.34PM and I am on a crowded bus headed home. I left the office at 7.00PM, walked for around 10mins to the bus stop and waited for 20 mins for all seats to be filled. I was only lucky I found it almost full. I am headed home a distance of almost 1 hr even with the drive accelerating.

At home I left my hubby with the kids because my stay-in nunny travelled home to see her sick mother. My hubby is very unwell so he expected me to get home earlier than normal so that I can help out with the kids. But I couldn’t because I had to be at the office till that late.

Despite the sacrifices one makes just to give the best, my Indian boss will never appreciate. Today particularly is not a good day for me. I got in normal time and did my morning routine: check and reply to mails, make a Social Media post then go up to the Bakery to gather content after writing a to do list. This particular day, I had been instructed to put Christmas decor in all 8 branches. However, the procurement department had not done the purchase so I had to follow up myself.

Having verified I had done everything, I accompanied my colleague to a meeting with clients to enhance my product knowledge. But it turned out to be a wrong decision which had my boss screaming at me to write a resignation letter, a statement that came after a long phonecall of heartbreaking utterances. Honestly, I was demoralised and demotivated. It made me realize how desperate I really am.

Besides that, I also realised how much it hurts to be at the mercy of someone. It took me back to the times I have shouted at my daughter when what I thought was wrong seemed right by her. At that moment I realised I didn’t even stop to think what I was doing, how much i was hurting her and how helpless she felt.

Not the turn you were expecting, but working for this guy has really taught me the power of the tone we speak with to a person not to mention the impact our words have in influencing motivation and self esteem. I vow to correct politely, not only my kids but also my employees and my juniors at work. Another day to keep grinding and learning.

This Day, the smile that doesn’t reach the eyes

INTO THE LUCKLANDS

LOOK-WARM RECEPTION

I believe I am a wild, little girl seeking adventure in a very fast and seemingly hostile world. In so many occasions the world has been cruel and my eyes have wet over issues I felt were beyond my control. In all honesty they were out of my control but their effect wasnt to the magnitudes I anticipated. This caused emotional imbalance and the only way I know how to let out steam is crying.

So I started a new job in a new city, both literally and figuratively. In a world where people claim to “mind their own business” and to “care less” itnis not easy to survive when you are as soft hearted as I am. I must admit that it was pretty tough and more often than not I contemplated resigning. But what would become of my two babies who depended on me? Going home every day feeling demotivated and demoralised, the love and warmth those two provided was a great wake up call. My husband, the love of my life, was also a very strong pillar. I was on edge most of the time, too tired to even make our bed, too busy to be the helpless romantic he married; but he still understood what was at stake and that was of so much help.

Things were beginning to take shape at my workplace. I had come to an understanding (because you can’t call it friendship) with most people at the Cake House which was my office. My boss was very understanding and ready to help out. I had started to process and internalize the system.

Attending a cocktail event for the company

COOKED GOOSE

Grotesque Workplace

He looked at me coldly, like the nuisance I had become. I knew my facial expression was all expressive but I wished it to remain emotionless and cold too. My heart was throbbing strongly I thought he could hear it beat against my ribcage. He was literally the only gap between me and happiness. These recent developments had really left a bad taste in my mouth. My spirit was crushed by the one man I had to face every day of my life at that workplace, My Boss.

Before you start getting ideas, nothing sinister had happened. However, my payslip looked like nothing i had expected. I had just quite a job where I had grown and learned in search for greener pastures and “exposure “. And here I was starved and thirsty right in the middle of the greener pastures. Apparently, my salary was based on the days I had actually reported to work. This meant I would face a slash of over ksh15,000, something that was omitted in the contract.

It was majorly the reason I had visited his office in the first place. I had been deducted more than 50% of my salary! The only thing that was playing in my mind was how difficult it would be to keep my two daughters fed and happy. That recent month had been such a hustle. Having spent all my salary plus credit from friends to relocate, use as bus fare ( which was a new venture) in addition to feeding my family healthily.

I might have forgotten to mention that I had been compelled by the company to purchase a very expensive phone to help me carry out my designated duties. It was to be deducted a huge chank from my salary for 4 month. I wasn’t in a position to say No, as much as I wished the company would just buy it and give me for safekeeping just like they did laptops and sales people cellphones. I had obliged, ignorant of a week’s wage deductions.

And as I sat there, directly facing the never-smiling CEO, I could barely control my tears. So many things had worked against me in that company, as everyone struggled to use me as a scapegoat for their shortcomings. Having to deal with a paycut was almost my breaking point. After dismissing me with “Nobody will pay you for the days you spent at home”, it slapped me really hard on my face. I got to my desk not just broken but shattered to small scattered pieces.

I tried collecting myself together to no avail. I ended up mourning my ksh.15000 on the noisy bus home. I was cursing in my heart, wishing him things that I really hope never happen now that I am calm.

I will try and keep up my journals as consistent as possible. But you have to promise to read.

One happy pic I took while working

THE UNLEASH OF A SLAVE-MASTER

It was terrifying, embracing the demon inside.a

anincredibly insatiable desire, a void that opened into an endless pit.

A hollowness beyond human understanding, even the host often lost track.

It was an unending thirst, that even a river flowing into its bossom quenched not.
A hunger no feast could satisfy, the sophisticated shameless yet self-satisfying kind that no mortal mind could fathom.

It remained a catastrophic metaphor, unclear yet plain to see
Teasing the mind with the unthinkable, yet the heart throbbed with desire.
Soon bowing to the longing of the flesh, but exposed to the vulnerability of regret.

The heart bled with desire, but the mind flirted dangerously with caution.
Guts prevailed over reason, eyes locked with passion as the blood charged with rejuvenated motivation.

The mind locked out till the light of day.
When the voice of reason appealed to the great council of desire and immeasurable passion

COME CLOSER AND I WILL LET YOU IN ON A SECRET

This another futile effort to get over myself. My heart is racing and my eyes are misty. I am still not sure I am ready to tell you about this but its the best shot I got. I am grasping straws for support once more, it seems like the only thing I know how to do since my psychological seizure. I am scared and feverish. I am confused and frightened. Like a little girl afraid of the dark.

I stood under the shower and let it wash away my transmitted sins. Tears followed the direction of the water and mixed up on my cheeks. I wanted to cry out the anger, frustration and the regrets. I had gotten myself into it and now I was at a loss. I needed a gun. Not the big ones. A pistol that I could always carry around in my purse. But what if I got suicidal and blew my brains out? That was an idea worth thinking about. Not the suicide part, the part where I owned a gun. In the meanwhile I focused on the shower. The water didn’t seem hot enough but I needed the longest shower in my lifetime. I scrabbed my face as if glue was stuck on it. The sweat that had been dripping there still smelt filthy, so I scrubbed harder. It had been smeared with saliva too, that also smelt horrible. The skin was getting sore but the smell and the memory still lingered.

My ears still remembered the apparently”passionate” saliva-smearing experience. My entire face was saliva-stricken. It felt like plague. I still felt hot from the thunderous slaps that had landed on my face. I gasped for air as I recalled the chocking on my throat. At that point, i forgot the shower and the soap in my had. All I could see was possible death.

At 18 I had so much to look forward to, so I couldn’t afford to die. I was too young to die. I tried saying a last prayer but all that came out of my mouth was pleas and more pleas. I still remember the look in his face. His eyes had turned a wild grey, like that of a valpire. His mouth was curled into a nasty smile that made him look inhuman. I looked for the friend I had known for two years but he wasn’t anywhere in the facial features I was seeing at that moment. He was a stranger. A senseless zombie whose only goal was the honeypot that I had always protected with my life.

I opened my mouth to scream. It was shut as quickly as it opened by a slap that landed with a thud on my tiny face. I could swear the shape of his hand was plastered on my face. I could feel the tender inside of my mouth bleeding. With his enomous built pinning me to the bed, kneeling over me, with one hand chocking me and the other slapping me harder than I had ever imagined possible, it started dawning on me.

My mind was in a turmoil. His was too because the slaps became torrential and loaded. I tried to remember everything i had read or heard about how to react to a situation like that. I tried begging him to let me go to pee but he refused. I tried talking to him about how this would ruin our friendship but he didn’t want to hear of it. Urgent situations called for urgent measures. So I started thinking of how to make him losen his grip a little then I would rush and go for a knife. But what if I was digging my own grave. What if I failed to stab him and he stabbed me instead? What use was I lifeless?

My face was still pink from the slaps and my eyes were swollen from crying. It was getting late and my parents would be home any time. He seemed to think so too because he tore away my clothes. I tried begging again but my words were met with another resounding slap that sent the tear at the corner of my eyes flying, as if scampering to safety. There was no other way.

This was one of the things I thought could only happen to other people, not me or anyone I knew. It only happened in movies and novels, or atleast in the western cultures. Not in Africa, Kenya, Meru where everybody loved everybody. But it was happening to me right this moment. I have no idea how long he lasted in his filth but to me it felt something like two hours at least. He was all sweaty and it was all landing on my already naked body. It was disghusting. I felt dumpness everywhere. The saliva on my face and neck, the sweat on my body and his unfathomable unmentionables. I had cried through the entire ordeal. I could barely speak when he said I should take a shower with him! The nerve! He made it sound like we had had the best time of our loves.

I had hiccups from crying and I felt my face was swollen. I managed a, “you are the filthiest animal and you have hurt me more than anyone ever did. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!” I had meant to say it in the scariest way possible but the hiccups and tears falling in my mouth made it sound like the whimpering of a sickly cat.

 

 

 

My story, true to the letter…

To be continued… 

FORBIDDEN PURITY

Adhan was being sounded by the Muezzin at the Mosque. It was the first call to worship that evening. Iqama,the second call to line up for prayer, would soon burst out of the huge loudspeakers at the peak of the mosque. The children and adults at Mohammed’s house always looked forward to Adhan, especially this holy month of Ramadhan. Mohammed was a stounch Muslim who saw to it that his family observed a strict fasting.

Everybody in Mohammed’s house looked forward to Ramadhan. Not because of the spiritual naurishment it brought along, but for different reasons. The children loved it because of the feast it promised every night. But Gaucho loved it for a different reason. It gave assurance of more visits to the mosque, which meant he could see Liz more often.

Liz was mildly Catholic. Adhan always meant something for her. It meant it was time for her love to blossom. That first call always found her feet scampering towards their private spot. It was a dark corridor hidden behind tall buildings, close enough to her house and the Mosque, but far enough from the curious eyes of neighbours. She knew Gaucho would soon arrive and her heart was threatening to pop out of her chest. It was their second year now. The beginning of Ramadhan marked their anniversary.

She saw a shadowy figure approach. Her heart was at it again. She could hear her heartbeat now, loud, fast but with rhthmic beats. That was how it had been during the past year. Always waiting for Adhan to be sounded then awaiting in the dark corridor, excited but scared. What if someone followed her and raped her? What if Mohammed, Gaucho’s dad, found out about their little arrangements and followed Mohammed there? Those thoughts always scared Liz. Thats why she had to be sure the shadowy figure approaching was Gaucho, to determine her next action.

It was Gaucho alright, but he was walking funny. He seemed uncertain, as though he wished he would never get to her. She could feel the distance between them increasing as he drew closer. Her heart rate felt it too. Her breathing was faster and her eyes misty. There was something about Gaucho today, she just couldn’t place a finger on it. She tried smiling but it soon melted into a frown. The love of her life was infront of her but her legs refused to go to him for an embrace. It was as though they had grown roots.

Gaucho felt weak at the knees. He could tell she knew something was wrong. They had always feared something would form stumbling blocks in their love path, but never had Gaucho imagined it would be this big. He held on to the rails beside him for support. His head felt heavy and he felt something that was as warm as a tear fall. It had to be that he was crying. His knees gave in and he fell with a thud on the hard gravel. He supported his head with his hands. The thoughts were making it too heavy for his kneck.

Liz watched as the nightmare unfolded. She was now sure she didn’t want to hear what Gaucho had to say. This was bad enough. Her heart went out to him. She went over to where he sat miserably and held his free hand. He couldn’t bear looking at her. they both broke down and wept. At the breast pocket of his Kanzu, a piece of paper was popping out. Had Liz seen something like Fly Emirates? She reached out and removed it from his pocket. It was a plane ticket alright. But why would Gaucho have a ticket.

“Dad found out!” Gaucho managed amid sobs. That explained so many things. No Muslim was allowed to associate with Christians, atleast not the was Gaucho and Liz did. It was Haram. It was a sin.

Liz nodded as if she understood any of it. It pained her that love so pure was forbidden by religion. She questioned the legitimacy of Islam and the doctrines of Christianity. Both of them had been willing to conform to whatever religion just to be together, but that meant being branded outcasts. It meant losing family and all the people they cared about.

Gaucho’s dad was determined to save himself from “humiliation”, even if it meant ripping Liz’s heart apart. She felt it breaking into tiny pieces that scattered allover, it would take an eternity to collect them back together. Their fate was sealed. Their destiny was decided. Accepting it was the difficult part. They sat there, locked in a tight embrace and feeling like they would conquer the world. But deep down they knew they were two helpless children at the mercy of religious fanatics. Soon adhan would be over and Gaucho would be back in their enormous bungalow behind huge iron gates. But till then they had to make the best of this moment. They had to feed each other’s eyes with enough of each other to last them a lifetime.

It goes without saying that nothing would be enough for these love birds. United by love separated by religion.

It got me thinking just how many love impossibles are there just to please other people. How many people break up because other people felt they were not meant to be. Society, religion, circumstances and distance among other things drowning pure love. Then two soul that were soulmates are left wandering looking for suitable replacement.

I dedicate this to all the lovers that fought or are still fighting against all odds to be together.

Based on a true story.