Hoping Tonight.

Tonight too when she’ll ask me, I will not have an answer.
Tonight too, I’ll walk away, decided I would never return.
Tonight too I’ll realize the impending presence of an invisible thread of hope tethering me to her.
Tonight too when the voice of madness calls,
I’ll respond in action. Or not.
I have always known the choice was ours’. I believed in it so. But something was amiss between us, it was more than I could show. Words or expressions neither had ever failed me, failed us.. so tonight when I was falling short of both. I knew the end was drawing near.

The footprints on the oxide red floor.. the spilled water.. the smell of sunshine mixed with pickle. Is that romance? Romance it is for me. Romance it was.. for us.

There was little I could do and over thinking was never my forte. So, I drew a deep breath and unlocked the door, entered and switched the television on. That background felt re-assuring… Drowning the crazy voice in my head. The bedroom lights were seeping out into the dark hall through the closed doors. I switched the lights on. There came a whistle from the kitchen. I went in, rolled my sleeve up and started peeling the potatoes she’d kept on boil. I wanted to show something.. maybe some amount of connect. I knew we both wanted it. I knew we were both a riot inside, we were both a thunderous uproar of clouds. But we both are also humane. As humane one could get.
She came clad in a sheath white gown of hers. The mark of sadness wrinkled into the corner of her eyes. I still couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Even after the storm, even after the hurricane she could look so serene and collected. We’ve had moments we both could never come back from…..but, here we were. Maybe on a different road, on a different turn. Maybe like each other there was something growing in us too. I didn’t know then whether the swell would drown us or redeem us to another height.  I went back to cooking. I knew, before.. before all of this today, she would love to see me cook. Making mistakes and helping me concoct an edible delight. I remembered, and I hoped for a twinkle as such between us. Hope.. see.. Hope, I told You. It would tether me to her.

By the time I looked up… she had left. Leaving a ghost behind. Because I still had the mirage of her standing there in front of me. Looking at me. Smiling at my goof ups. I felt the anger swell in me again. I knew she had no reason to know that this was an effort from my end. I knew my move could have been mistaken. I knew she could’ve been hurt that I didn’t want her to cook for me. I had sense of all the panicky thoughts boiling inside me and also…the irate madness that only if she could’ve just understood me. Just this one time. My curry was done and I was in no mood for bread. I stepped in to a dimly lit hall..a blanket on the carpet and two glasses of my favorite wine…and her..in that surreal glow of hers. Her back to me and browsing for movies. That night…we didn’t speak. Not a word. That night, we didn’t  touch each other, though we finished an entire bottle of wine. What we did was..watch movies…all of our favorites. One after another, taking silent turns to decide the next. We watched 5 movies between that night and the next. Without stops… changing places…once even on the window-sill looking out into the heavy rain, not getting drenched just breathing into the downpour.
I will list out the movies we watched that night….just as a record to myself.

  • Before sunset
  • The Lake house
  • A walk to remember
  • Nights in Rodanthe
  • Letters to Juliet
  • Midnight in Paris
  • You’ve got mail

We had a reason for each…ofcourse. But each reason is an episode in itself. And maybe someday, when she feels like it, she’ll share them with You. Cause You see, she’s the writer between us both.. I only express or confess. That I am head over heels in love with her. Again.

 

Sunshine sieving through the yards of cloth hanging on the line…..

The first manuscript.

When I first started writing the story of my life the power in my eyes was nil. Today, when the roses strewn are dead and withered, I have a different story to tell. I know its not safe. Safe to take risks. I didn’t for the longest time. Guess what, playing by the rules didn’t get me anywhere either. Instead when rules didn’t justify my one sole thing that made me, me. I gave it up. For good. I thought It didn’t belong to me either. It might not work for You. But make-believe works for me and even if it doesn’t work for others. I’ll make it work for me. And You’ll see that it does. My world works for me. Life gave me peanuts and I took it happy for its face value. And I agreed with that being my worth. Its not.

I am worth more. And more than anyone else, I need to prove it to myself. I might not get back what I’ve lost… I will therefore rebuild. Reconstruct. My fluff that’s lost.

Into the wind

My beacon of feigning hope… Broke.
Reprieved from the SENTENCE Of walking another Morn!
I sleep relieved of hollow worries..
They mean nothing to my soul.
My eye squint ..against the strong wind.
No..no more vacuum around me..
Even the Nothingness lost..!
All those abjured then,
Coming back after the ripes..
After the demand..
After the fall… Grandeur!!!

They come to the crumpled tattered bits-
Bits and pieces of my parched heart..
Crumbles falling and losing in the wind..!
Losing whatever was left of its identity.
It no longer yearns to be recognised.
To be known..touched and talked.
It is happy to be flying.
Brushing against fingers..
Its reach- increasing with every tide!

Pencil-Ink Journals

My beacon of feigning hope… Broke.
Reprieved from the SENTENCE Of walking another Morn!
I sleep relieved of hollow worries..
They mean nothing to my soul.
My eye squint ..against the strong wind.
No..no more vacuum around me..
Even the Nothingness lost..!
All those abjured then,
Coming back after the ripes..
After the demand..
After the fall… Grandeur!!!

They come to the crumpled tattered bits-
Bits and pieces of my parched heart..
Crumbles falling and losing in the wind..!
Losing whatever was left of its identity.
It no longer yearns to be recognised.
To be known..touched and talked.
It is happy to be flying.
Brushing against fingers..
Its reach- increasing with every tide!
image

…pearl…

p.s: I had this undying faith on something…some event… Someone maybe.. Which got stained.
Faith never breaks i know….it gets muddled with events..expressions and our inferences.
However..now that it had.. i was trying to learn to…

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