it sneaked in through a friend’s comment. the friend he was supposed to meet the next day. and it appeared in the form of a question. “do i love her?” as if someone else within was intent on dismantling the dreams he had built in the preceding months. it creeped in, and took over his mind. “do i really love her? is this love for real or just companionship? a phase that’ll soon wither away?” and he got scared. of all those questions screaming in his mind.
he asked her. pleaded her for help. “please answer me. please help me answer these questions.” she tried. she calmed him. as she always does. but she also reminded him that the answer was within him. and whatever the answer was, she’ll wait for it.
the answer came, agonisingly late in the night. he messaged her. they talk a lot through sms’ these days. but the answer howsoever clear, was still clouded in sleep. waking up in the morning, she was to receive more messages from him. and smile at them. smile at him.
by the time he slept; took part in the engagement ceremony of his landlord’s son the next noon, waited for the programme to end quickly; and then in a hurry to meet her, left it midway… by the time he boarded the bus that took him to the friend’s place where she was also to come, changed the bus at a red light as it was going too slowly for his eagerness, ran for another one, got down at the NOIDA crossing, and in a hurry to cross the road, nearly got run over… by the time he had walked, walked fast and then nearly sprinted all the way and up the stairs to the house no. 118, in mayur vihar phase 1, all those doubts of the previous night had vanished long ago and all he wanted was to see her once again.
lifting his right-hand to knock the door, he stopped. a laughter had ringed in the air. escaped through the closed door and filled up his whole being. through his fingers formed in a half-knock, through the wrist, the arm, the shoulder, the body, the mind, seeping to the ground, and in to his heart. it was her voice.
the world around laughed with her.
like a holy basil plant
laughing in the golden sunshine
like a floating diya
on the ghats of banaras
like a child’s heart
singing with joy.
with a smile within
sprinkled with a silliness
which warms his heart.
she laughs
in a million words
he won’t be able to use
describing how…
but, when finally she came and sat beside him, asking, “what is it, adi”, he broke down and cried.
this was how he met her this sunday.
And on went the moments flying by,
Moments they wanted to freeze,
Moments where it did not really matter,
That they were annoying others,
Where they both knew that for another week they wont meet…
And will wait for the next sunday,
In his arms she felt like a Godess being worshipped,
Sipping the ginger tea n teasing each other,
It was time for her to leave,
He pleaded to her to stay a little more,
She left those imploring eyes coz it was getting late,
And she went away like she always does…
Wishing she could have spent a little more time,
A few more moments of living and loving him…
A silence descended when he left,
It was cold all around,
Wrapping herself again in those memories,
And breathing his fragrance all around,
She smiled coz some distance away he was there, loving her…
Born in New Delhi, India in 1980 and is a retired pessimist (still) living in New Delhi. He has Haryanvi ancestors, a Punjabi girlfriend, friends all over the world, two (or more) yet to be born children, (many) memories of (many) pet dogs and no cats ever. He holds an honours degree in English Literature from the University of Delhi and creates advertisements for paying the bills. His interests are universal, and include: living, eating, sleeping and when not sleeping, daydreaming. Other abiding interests include reading, writing, street photography, newspaper editorials, watching the moon and planning trekking trips that never materialize.
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