Sunday, 15 April 2018

Before I fall out of love

That one night I lay awake wondering why I loved you. It was 5:20 in the morning and you were asleep. I couldn’t think of any reason strong enough to possess my mind and heart in such a manner that the mere thought of separation sent a chill down my spine. 

I couldn’t remember the day when we met, or the day when I fell for you. But I do remember the night when you possessed my soul, trapped it in your charm, and locked it within the fragile walls of your enigma.

Sad truth is, I know you don’t feel the same for me, and I’ve realised you never will. 

A distant and composed melody echoes in my mind, and tells me that one day you will feel for me. It is hope. Against all odds. 

A deafening whistle tries to suppress it, and tells me that one day it will wear away. It is reason. 

It tells me that my hope will stay alive only for so long, until it vanishes as a result of your apathy towards my love. Apathy is a strong word to describe your feelings towards me, but it’s what my heart says tonight. 

Before that happens, before I fall out of love, I wanted to pen down what I feel. Months from now, I might read this, to realise how I’d walked through a sandstorm once, and survived. I wanted to make a note of my feelings before I stop feeling anymore. 

There was a time, when I’d built an iron wall around me before you found your way through it. You’ve sneaked your way inside, not to tear me down to ashes, I suspect, but to give me memories I might cherish?

But memories are not always pleasant. Sometimes it is just the opposite. It is a reflection of all the things that meant a lot to me but not to you. A reflection of all the things we could have accomplished, but we’re afraid to. A reflection of the words unsaid, actions untaken, and feelings not shared. 

Imagine going into a room full of fond memories shared by the two of you. It soothes you, carves a pleasant smile, eases your mind, until you realise that you’re the only one who visits. 

I’ve not fallen in love with your beauty. I’ve not fallen in love with your jovial nature. Neither with your enchanting smile, nor with your shining eyes. I’ve fallen in love with your presence, and your perfect imperfections. Everything else is secondary.

Your presence around me makes me light as bird, floating above, oblivious of any stress or sadness. And it shatters my heart to realise that it’s just temporary. 

Before I fall out of love, I needed to confess how I loved tucking your hair behind your ears which kept falling in front of your face. How I drown in immense pleasure when you rested your head on my shoulder. How I felt like walking in paradise when you walk beside me holding your hand in mine. 

The way you tilt your head and speak in hush tone at 3 in the morning sitting beside me under a tree, I can keep looking at you until eternity. 

It is in your sweet smile that I have found solace. It warms my heart, and sends an impulse in my veins. 

Looking at you, I feel as if I am looking at the sunset towards the horizon, when a mesmerizing breeze caress my body. Though it feels soulful and looks beautiful, I couldn’t endure the distance that separates us, and when the sun finally sets, I am left alone in the darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

You, my dear, have made me break every protocol, every promise I have ever made to myself. You came into my life like a hurricane and demolished my rules like a house of cards. 

All I was left with, were ashes which once were feelings disguised in the form of the smiling mask I wore everyday. 

Before I fall out of love, I'd to tell you that I’d imagined my life with you, living under the shadow of your radiance. I’d imagined myself talking about my scars and finding warmth in your consolation. 

There are no two ways of saying this, but, before I fall out of love, I’d like you to know that you’ve consumed my heart and one day I would like it back. 

I would lock it within an impregnable fortress never to be let out. Chain it with memories, and shut it behind the doors of my outright disgust.




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Tuesday, 10 April 2018

I’ve missed you too!

“Stop missing me and call me already!!! These hiccups are killing me!” I updated on Facebook.

“ How many calls did you get?” a friend pinged me.

“None”, I said, “ I wondered if that person was too shy to confess, until I realized my mom was not on Facebook. I called her, and the moment she heard my voice, the hiccups stopped.”


Picture Courtesy: Anke Photography


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Friday, 23 February 2018

Sunday, 18 February 2018

Someone

Buried beneath my melancholy reflections, I was sitting at the last row of the last bench when she caught my eyes, walked to me, and sat beside me. Looking at my face, she sensed the turmoil in my head. Surpassing the insurmountable odds, I expressed my feelings from the deepest pit in my heart instead of pretending that "I am fine. Just a bit tired".

She listened to me patiently, rested her hand on mine, and assured me that she was by my side, without a futile attempt at "Don't worry. You'll be alright."

Light as a bird, contended as a monk, I woke up to the estranged reality when the morning clock blared. In my dream, I realised that happiness is a return gift bestowed upon you when you open up to someone. All you have to do is to find a 'Someone'.



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Wednesday, 7 February 2018

The Dance of Happiness

My heart sent my mind aloof, crashing into the distant stars, when I caught her hopping on her feet, in profound joy. Her eyes sparkled an enigmatic shade of sapphire and her lips carved a heavenly smile. Her short hair glued meticulously on her sharp round face, and her hands clapped against each other.

The happiness that erupted from my two year old niece holding a new shell of kinder-joy, dancing like fine wine in a golden chalice, surpassed the happiness of an adult who had the entire world delivered to their feet, by a mountain.


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Friday, 2 February 2018

Friday, 26 January 2018

Becoming a Man

Child you're young. And pure, and absolute. Your bruised knees, and your heart breaks would heal, sooner or later, with time.  But time, Kid, is a wicked mistress. It gives, and it takes. It heals, and it steals. As you walk the path of life, you'll keep losing yourself. Bit by Bit. Each step will steal a part of you and give you something new.

If only you had a mirror of reflection to your past you would realise - Everyone is a stranger to themselves, to what they once were. And when your path ends, whatever remains is what you've always destined to be.

All your life you'll be merely an instrument of creation of your own self. 



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