Cupid never had a chance in their messy, parental-restricted love story
Karishma Jha, a twenty-one-year-old recent graduate with the world at her feet if only she chose to face it. Plagued with the worries of the future and yet healing from the scar...
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With eyes swollen and a red nose, it was assumed that Rishabh would let me go easy, but nope, that did not happen. Before I could slip back in, I was given homework.
Write a list of activities and things that make me happy and send them to him.
I scrunched up my nose as I opened my door and gave him a backward glance. I wanted to wrinkle my nose and say no to that elementary activity, but I did not. The man was wearing my tears and snot, I could hardly deny him.
Karishma's Happy List Books Shopping Chocolates Clear cloudless sky (clouds are okay if they are interesting looking or moving) Swings Spending time with friends Fairy lights Flowers Dresses Massage/spa (never had one but would like to try) Sleeping in Hot chocolate/coffee Write a book Learn to drive Pie (could not decide on a flavor because I have never tried any) Try bruschetta Spending time with Rishabh
I spend a minute on volleying between deleting or not deleting the last item. I had just admitted so to him an hour back but writing it down felt like issuing a challenge to the universe. Hey, I finally have something that makes me happy. See if you can take it away.
In the end, I left it as it was and renamed the list to 'Karishma's Happy List/ Things that Karishma thinks makes her happy.' It started as a happy list and then kind of morphed into a bucket list.
R: That's all?
K: Diamonds are not this girl's best friends.
K: Though I would not say no to some
K: Just kidding.
I knew my list was pathetic. Fresh tears filled my eyes as I was writing my bucket list. Buying clothes that I like, ordering a dish that I have always wanted to try, and everything else was a bare minimum. Despite setting the bar on the ground, being happy was a chore.
In that ten minutes it took me to whip up that list, I realized something else. I never had any hobbies or told my about interests, if asked, as I was too scared to identify them. Listing them would mean that I knew what made me happy but fear, fear always came in the way. Fear of the consequences, fear of the cost, fear that the happiness will be too flitting.
Over the days, months, and years I had snubbed my own fire and shivered in the cold and dark. And then he came like the winter sun. Warm and infinite.
**************
The next morning was difficult, to say the least.
After a night of crying my eyes were swollen and it felt as if I had wool in my head. I would have really done without the hour-long lecture of my mother listing all the ways I had failed as a daughter.
