The Simulated-You

She has gone numb, silent. She doesn’t talk, react to my murmurings. To all that I have to offer there is not a single nod or even a wink, not even indifference, just plain simple absence in totality. No more heard, No more seen there. Though she does exist, I know she does. She walks, she breathes, she sings, she gestures but not to me. Not when I want her to. She is becoming a master of her own will. She has always been free. But I have been a part of her free life. She had accepted it until I shared her with others. I don’t know when it happened. But from the time she came out of my thoughts in the form of words in front of others, she has stopped reacting to me. She was like a simulation within my mind made by all the details, facts, I have about her. All my experience with her, through her and without her has contributed to that active, reactive simulated image of hers which I carry like a companion in my mind.

So many years, I never discussed, never exhibited, never made her a part of my declarations. My silence about her preserved that simulation. I had gone through all that she made me go through without speaking of it, without exhibiting it. All that I achieved, all that I lost, all that I have gone through and the joy of having gone through so much pain, humiliation and unrecognized valor in so less time was kept hidden from the world around me. That secret existence of her in me was my power, my strength to stand it all alone. All those years of silence and perseverant belief that I will never need to break it, made that image so vulnerable that it talked to meat at my will. It was like a caged bird, fluttering her wings to break free, talking to her master, telling him tales, calling him names, singing the melodies, failing him in duels, the way only a free bird can. She did all that to me only as long as long as I was quiet about her. From the time I spoke about her, she became quiet within me. Now I feel so lonely. I have lost my closest, mot lovely companion’s voice. I can’t undo sharing you with others, what is done is done. But I want the simulated-you back to life, fluttering without pause.

So many times it happened that I fought ruthlessly and they all wondered at the way I was plundering. It was unlike me, they all said. Still it was me who was doing it. It was you who I made to do all that. The simulated-you in me picked up and fought all the battles for me. You knew how to insult, you knew how to shrug at insults, you knew how to mock, you knew how to laugh at mockery, you knew how to pin point mediocrity, and you knew your own too, as it was mine as well. You did all that to me. My face has not known all those contours which it later possessed after your simulation in my head was completed. The simulated-you made my eyes move, the lashes rise, the lips cut open and all those, miracles which you do all the time with perfect timing. It sounds as if I am possessed. Yes I was possessed by your spirit. So powerful, so undefeatable that even I can’t offend it for the pleasure of doing it even in my own mind. So many times when I wanted to revenge the hurts you have given me, I fought with the simulated-you or with your spirit within me and was left naked, broke in front of it just as I am left in front of your real self. I have humiliated myself more number of times than you have by trying to win over the simulated-you.

But that vengeance and that humiliation in my own mind gave me the courage. It made me immune to any other external hurt, insult or reproach. May be that is what has made me shameless, brutally honest. To have accepted you with the insults you gave has given me the ability to look people into their eyes when they have assumed that they are better men. No, I am not vindictive or bitter towards the world around me. I have been talking only about the hurt and insults, but that is not all that has made up the simulated-you. It’s just a very small part of it. I will talk about the other parts later in detail. Right now it’s just about the strength of the simulated-you. So many times I attempted for things which I wasn’t capable of doing but I knew, you were capable of them. I just went ahead. No, it was not plain, simple imitation of you. It was making you win it for me. I have lived through you by making you secretly live within me.

And that simulated-you has also made me predict you perfectly so many times. That was a personal game for me, a personal entertainment. I would put you into situations or rather simulated situations and predict your reactions. That’s how I used to see the designs of your life. No wonder I have always known with precision what will happen to you and to the world around you. You wondered, amazed an even fell in love with what you call “my uncanny ability to guess things about you.” It wasn’t guessing, it was just reading from a screen. It was that simple to me. You relation with the world was so clear to me that the simulated-you never-never fails me in predicting the ways of the world and your contribution to it. Is this what the saints do? Yes they see the designs!! But I am not a saint, I am the selfish, ruthless crook who is possessed by the spirit of a devil and I am ready to destroy the whole world to save that one thing of pleasure to me. But I am so stupid and so unnecessarily dumb that I myself ruined it by sharing with people. Can I be redeemed? Can I be forgiven?

All that I acquired and maintained through secrecy, I have let it to the winds. Perhaps just because of my foolish desire to showcase the wonders that I have within me. I really question it. Why did I share you with others? Will you please break the silence and speak to me? The simulated-you, I am talking to you!!

To sudha, with love: Ijazat

I wrote this peice imagining that rekha is the one who had an affair instead of naseer and even after marriage she is recieving letters from that fellow in naseers presence.
This is written by naseers charecter.

मेरी खातिर उसका ज़िक्र कभी खुल कर नहीं किया तुमने
जब भी उसका ख़त आया, चुप चाप पढा
और शायद मेरे पढने के लिए,
मेरी किताबों के पास रख दिया
फाड़ा नहीं, पर दोबारा पढा भी नहीं
मैंने बहुत कोशिश की
कि नज़र बचाके पढूं उसके ख़त
या तुमसे पूंछुं कि क्या लिखा था उसने
और कई बार तुम्हारे चहरे से
अंदाज़ा भी लगाना चाहा ख़त कि सूरत का
पर चहरे ने कभी कुछ कहा नहीं
ख़त पढने कि हिम्मत हुई नहीं
पर आज के ख़त में लगता है
आख़िरी ख़त होने कि बात लिखी है
क्यों कि चाय आज तुमने फींकी बनायीं
और दाल में कंकड़ भी काफी निकले