because we are born to die

doesn’t mean we die without living…


That tiny prickle of your love unsettles the roots of my heart.

Because love was and is and will always be as unsettling as seemingly settling it seems to be. It makes you want to do crazy and irrational things for the person you want to be same for. It makes you want to spend the entire with them but not sleep as per norms. It calms the hunger for care and attention in you and still, after the last bite, you are left with wanting more of it.
And finally, especially, at times when you think it’s pushing you away, you let your guard down and sigh in relief thinking it’s over, it pulls you back into itself so deep that everything else above you seems dark and you get blinded by love and love itself.

Two Sides of Love

There are two sides to Love.

Both hurt and entice you equally.You take the hurt for the pleasure. You tell yourself, rather, you make up your mind and push things onto Destiny. You say I know in my heart it’s going to happen one day. And you take all bullshit for that one day.

You take the hurt for the pleasure. You tell yourself, rather, you make up your mind and push things onto Destiny. You say I know in my heart it’s going to happen one day. And you take all bullshit for that one day.
How they treat you differently on different days. How they bother about things that only involve themselves. So that they can sleep in peace in the night. They say thank you when you stay up and calm their worries without asking if you are alright. They sleep on their beds honey while you struggle on the couch near the phone charger. They hold your hand, kiss you in the right places and say the right things only when they are alright.
Someone points it out you. Your friend or family or even an enemy. You cut them short and defend your love. You deny till you start realizing the absurdity. You see through the bullshit you have been taking and make a decision once and for all. You see them in a new light and realize how dark they were.
Dark and selfish and unworthy of your one-sided love.
And then next time you meet them, they put a hand on your slender waist result of all the ice cream you gave up, and ask, “How’s my baby been?”
And you pull yourself out of their grip firmly, look in the eye and say, “And when was I yours to keep?”

Right here…

And today…I will write about you…

Amidst the first showers of the season, I will sit in the verandah, in the way of the winds, teasing my goosebumps, and imagine you… embracing me and whispering a gentle ‘Hello Sweetie’ in my ears. Smiling coyly, I feel your warm breath upon my neck before you gently kiss it. And even if you aren’t actually here, my pen doodles circles on the page, sending my mind into a frenzy.

Out of sight isn’t necessarily out of mind. Ask me! I know… All by myself in a completely different country I am. Living my life with virtual love sent to me by Skype. Friends, family, kith and kin. And you, of course. 

And just like with others, I remember every minute fact and figure about you. The exact amount of milk you require in your coffee, your statically changing schedules, every witty comeback we ever exchanged, a sly romantic line you dropped in here and there, the telepathic connections that astounded us, things that made you cry more than the ones that made you laugh, the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke about everything you loved.

And even though you always said you were an introverted personality, not putting yourself out that easily, I dwell upon each little snippet and bouts of emotion you had. Playing them over and over in my mind…

Why am I writing this? I don’t know if you will ever read this… But I’m still going to pen it down. Because there was a time when I said, ‘I would right here…’ And that was our little hope back then. Back then, when we were two silly people finding our own islands, swimming the same sea. We held hands but tried drifting in different directions.

And today, as it snowed here for the first time in the season, I remember the night it rained, the first of the monsoons, and we spoke about it. I was stupidly romantic back then. I am stupidly romantic today.

I will not drop this in your inbox via a mail or as a text message. It will stay safe within these pages confined by the ink. But still, I know, deep down, that you will know this. That you are being remembered and talked about. Because once upon a time, I said, ‘I would be right here’ and I meant it.