i miss you a lot. do you miss me. do you remember me at all. do you
think of me sometimes. do you spare me a moment. i have my days
lined up for you. there is this picture of ours right afore my eyes. i
look at it, both of us happy and smiling sweetly. there is this glow in
my eyes, the blush on my cheeks which is otherwise unseen. there is
this innocence on your face which i dare not think to be fake. the
glint in your eyes, your smile, you, hold the strings of my life
days have gone by and we have parted, we haven't heard of each
other ever since. seems we have been living lives of our own. we
have been occupied. really occupied. but after the day got over, i sat
down to take a deep breath, your thoughts crossed my mind. it's like
you are the thing i thought of involuntarily after a real long time. i
had forgotten to feel. i had forgotten to feel what it is like to
feel. but then you reminded me of it all and took me back in time all over
back to times of being together.it's true we didn't have the patience
and the humility to make reality what still continues to live as a
dream in a corner of our hearts. we couldn't say. we couldn't look
into each other. we couldn't look into ourselves. and merciless that
time is, it went by.
our lives brought us to new junctures, left us alone. but then i don't
live with regrets. this moment, thinking of you, i swear i feel
Unhinged. i have accepted you, i have accepted our missed stint, our
bygone moments as a part of me that will live on, passively and will
come back to life on nights as solitary and as cold as tonite.
and i have learnt that some things are not meant to BE...
On that day there was hardly any movement though. It had been
drizzling all through. On the other side of the glass window drops of
water were plopping from the roof above.
There was a lake somewhere. there weren't many people. There was
a resturant like a hexagon nearby. I don't think i would be able to
describe what was it like inside. but, it was a small place. The walls
were made of glass. There was one huge table in the centre where
many people could sit facing each other and chat. and there was this
table that lined the six walls. there were chairs decked up on which
people could sit facing the lake and see.
They chose to sit facing the lake instead of facing each other.
Because this way the eyes seldom lock. That would mean less
questions being asked, less of tides rising within, more of silence.
Through the glass, the smells of the lake couldn't reach us. The
sounds were muted. But they could see those smells and sounds.
And that is what they did for sometime.
She turned behind to see a kid ripping apart a sandwich when she
called the waiter. He did too. The kid looked cute and when he
looked at them, they smiled. That was the first thing they shared
that day,the laugh. Later of course there would be more such things,
she sighed. Memories of moments gone by; stretches of time in the
past that passed between them in the world's oblivion, were sure
to come back.
The passage of time slowed down a little. It became more obvious.
When he lifted the cup to his mouth and the vapours from the coffee
settled on his glasses turning him blind, he looked like a cartoon that
moment, just like the old days. They smiled again. between the
smiles, the times were turbulent. The reason of their coming
together after so long stood between them? After this long a gap, the
void had been so well embedded in her that it felt like an inborn part.
A phoenix isn't for real, is it? Nothing comes back to life.
I won't call this one Men in my Life III because the title sounds totally ridiculous. I was planning to alter the previous posts also but then whatever comes out here is unedited stuff mostly, so we let them be.
Tonite, I will tell you another story.
I met a guy some three years ago at some kind of a gathering back home. And I am going to write a pretty dispassionate account of it. There were a 'couple' of common friends. And there came a moment when all the couples got busy amongst themselves leaving the lesser mortals with nothing much to do. That's when exactly I and the guy got talking. That's when I 'had' to shed that put-on curtain of inaccesibility.
Honestly I found the place quite wild to my standards.. jam packed room, dance floor, rough music. It was pathetic to be sitting and just sitting. So casual hi's got us talking. The discomfort was probably very evident on my face. I couldn't say much to begin with.
And after five minutes I realized that I was purely listening. Yeah, I wasn't being asked anything. The guy went on and on. And somehow I chose that over talking because sometimes, you know I blurt out stuff to strangers or semi-strangers and regret heavily later. Spontaneity is one big devil sitting inside my head.
It felt better that I wasn't sitting totally alone and was being talked to, atleast. The discomfort began to diminish. He then felt like a long lost friend. He started talking about his life. I asked him about girls. Yeah, that I do to spice up conversations. People get very engrossed when you touch those love cords. Later he started talking about one female in particular. The latest one, probably.
Sometimes I had to try hard to pay attention. Sometimes I felt irked. Smoke seriously turns me off. I almost snatched the cigarette butt from his mouth and crushed it in the ash tray. That struck him hard, probably left an impression too.
After a day he called me. Wanting to meet me was an excuse. His story had not been wound up that evening, I remembered. He wanted to be listened to. He wanted the stuff out of his mind. It could be me, it could be the walls, green trees...
In the cafe', I sat still. Smiled at exactly unequal intervals of time, so that he wouldn't know they were totally voluntary. I heard him in and out. Formed the female-in-particular's face in my mind. Really don't know what made her appear slightly chubby with curled locks. But anyway, I also came to know about her ex-boyfriend, present boyfriend, future-boyfriend..! All in details, besides other things.
After it all, I realized I had this flair for listening. Listening to distressed souls. Could be because I am tremendously patient. Could be because I seriously don't give a damn!
Whatever the reasons be...when guys my age have confessed to me that they see the 'understandingmother' in me, hardly anything is left to be said ;) Chapter stands closeD.
All my crushes look the same. Feel the same.
Man, they are all the same.
Brash, overconfident, arrogant blokes.
And I am worried. Ain't I evolving?
I, a while ago, was playing with the light and the dark.
I should have been Narcissus's first daughter..
An evening like today's may never happen again. There are dark lines of black against a sad grey sky. And there are quietened noises. I chose to write today, now.
I am not a social. I can't be one. So sitting in a quiet corner I observe. I have no qualms.
I saw a girl. She looked partly insane. It was in the lounge of the parlour, we were waiting for our turns. At times I was glad I had to wait. She was fair, you know. And plump. Plump must be an euphemism for fat. She was lost inside her violet salwar kameez. Yes, it was too big for her. She had clutched her hair at the back. Anyway, she hardly had any hair. She wore huge earrings. They were made of glass and were purple too. She wore glasses. Not thick, not thin, just glasses. Under those glasses were her eyes, of course. Her eyes had a squint. The parlour people made her wait for a long time. That, my dear, was unfair, because she could have been called in much earlier. But all the time she sat there, the squint made me feel that she had been looking at one point. Far away, may be. This together with a few other things, made her look insane to me. Insane, as in out of the herd. Later when she was called inside and the parlour girl loosened her hair, it finished a lot above her waist. Each strand had a different length. Pathetically uneven, I could make out. The parlour girl asked her if she had tried cutting her hair by herself, you know, going all crazy. For a moment I imagined her doing that. Sitting infront of the mirror, gayly chatting away with herself, her hair on her shoulders, and she cutting it all out with scissors in her hands. Her sciccors moving as fast as the words falling out of her mouth. But now the partly insane girl couldn't hear her, at all. The parlour girl repeated. The insane girl gave her a very puzzled, harmless look, with the squint intact. She looked and half-smiled. The scene froze there.
Then somedays later, I saw a guy. He wasn't tall. Not short either. Thin, yes may be. He had a very deep set voice, you know. When he spoke, I felt like he was speaking out of his stomach. The voice was grave, I wondered what vibrations it caused at his throat when it passed through it, from his stomach, out to us. His hair was nice. It looked like a mushroom. If a mushroom is ugly, okay then, his hair looked like a nice mushroom. He wore glasses too. They were square cut for him. His eyes under his glasses always had a hint of joy. His lips were always moulded into a smile. You know, that was the set expression on his face. He smiled and laughed like those were the only things he knew. When he did so, his mushroom hair shook a little,bounced a little. His happiness made me believe that nothing in the world could make him feel otherwise. And that made him look very powerful.And for that I envied him. Chapter closed. Hahaha.
Ithinkyoushouldforgivemeformycrazywritingbutthenithinktheblogshouldreflecttherealperson I AM.