When I think of you, I do not think of them funny jokes that always end in wanton kisses or the accidental touch that run down a current through my spine. Nor do I think of that lazy afternoon in the back seat of a theatre spent mostly in not watching the movie.
I do not think of the unused tickets or the lush green evening spent in circles or the starry strawberry nights in front of the golden campfire.
When I think of you, I think of the searing heat curling up my toes and enveloping me in its warmth.
Warmth trickling down like chocolate and melting memories into a luminescent glow.
– I am terribly romantic. Romantic not because I am waiting to find that proverbial bad man ( or a prince if you will) who will change ( bring the whole world in his hands and gift me!) but because I find adventure where people find hardship. I want to live in a war worn country, experience terrible hardships and find my limits. Some days I want to experience truely devastating storm wherein the very roof above my home would fly and find how I can live through it and smile. For that would be truly living by the moment wouldnt it ? I know these wishes are terrible in a way..hence the statement. I am ‘terribly’ romantic
– What is with kids that they are so so cute ? Such huge buttony eyes that looks at world with such wonder, such mischief ? Every time I look at them, I feel a pinch in my stomach that I do my best to ignore. This must be the nesting instinct that most women talk about. I have thought about it at length and have come to a conclusion that it is not for me. And yet, sometimes I wonder if I am wrong and if I would regret in future. But the thought of subjecting my kid to the world as is, and the ache and worries attached with being a parent and of failing at being responsible of another life. Of failing at being a parent as one should be.. puts me right. It doesnt help that all my friends are ‘settling down’ left right and center and that I have not yet even figured out the kind of life I want. One thing I am sure of. I do not want ‘me’ as a mother.
– Poetry might finally be trickling in. I was walking back to the train station from a really tiring office day when I saw this dry leaf ( Autumn is amazingly opulent in its colors. Truly vivid!) drenched in rain, and I thought.. This leaf is me. So drenched, so dry…. and I wrote a few lines about it.
– You know how they say a fool is easily parted with his money… ? Well that fool is me, when it comes to books. I just spent a weeks worth of money buying books. I know I should feel guilty but I dont. All I could think of is cuddling inside my blanket ( this cold evening), smoking a cigarette, plugging my headphones on , and get lost in this delightful gang of characters who beckon me with lovely snippets of their life.
– I also visited a mall this weekend and I had a ruminating conversation with myself. Why is it that I detest shopping ? What is so wrong with wanting to look good and investing some time in actually achieving that ? Am I the only thirty something woman ( I have to try hard to not write ‘girl’ here and why is it so hard for me to accept that am a woman and not a girl? Aging is so terrible when you are a bumbling girl at heart! ) who does not know how it is to put on a decent make up ? I also have started feeling keenly that I am terribly dressed( a good thing or bad? )
– Loneliness ( or solitude if you will ) is a good thing. It really is. The things you learn about yourself is a journey everyone should experience at least once.
– I have been reading a book where the story is told in series of letters and I miss the feel of it. I think technology has spoiled us. The information about every one is so readily available — a phone call, an email, a chat ; that we have forgotten how to communicate ( to ruminate), measure our words. I feel this more keenly now that I am so far away from all my friends. I miss letter writing. I have started this thing with a friend of mine wherein we only communicate on email. No phone calls no quit chats. And I realize how bad I am at writing letters. I want to write witty letters with interesting characters but I realize more and more daily how unobservant I am. Every day I meet so many new people and interact with them but if you ask me how they look or what they said… i would be in a bind to recollect. A new resolution if you will… write about one character I meet.. everyday.. lets see how successful I am with it. At the very least, I have something to write about and cannot complain about how I have nothing to write about. May be then I could finally be a writer I hope to be… Someday!
Every conversation with you is like a drop in the ocean. There is so much that we have shared and yet there is so much to say. I know you wait for my call with as much urgency as I wait to call you! Every interruption an obstacle, an irritation to overcome, a brief respite from madness that is us.
Every day is a step towards abyss and yet no day is complete without you in it…
Change is delightful. Change is scary. When change happens you can’t help being excited and anxious. Change makes you hopeful and yet when change happens there is nothing you can do but go along the tide and hope to find a shore. Change is very fickle that way… but there is nothing more certain than change!
Dear you ,
Sometimes I feel like a child and that you are my toy, nay, I am a scared dog and your are my unexpected juiciest chew. I poke at you, I run away… then slowly creep near and take a long lick. I cannot believe that you are still here after all this while. I am afraid to move my eyes away from you, lest someone steal you away.
Sometimes, it lingers at the edge of your consciousness. Before you can acknowledge its presence and react to it, it flits away. Like that gentle breeze on a sunny afternoon. A tiny relief and then intense heat that force you into inertia.
This curiosity is a curious thing. Sometimes you just cant help wondering about it.
Am in a mood for binge reading. I shall be updating the list of books that I read from now on.
1. The non existent knight by Italo Calvino: This is a book of absurdities. It talks about a non existent knight ( a ghost in armour) in a french army fighting against the Moslems and his squire , one who thinks he is everything and every one. There is also a love story between a-wet-behind-your-ears knight and an amazonian woman who was initially in love with the non existent knight.
As you can see from my description, its quite nonsensical and I dont know what to think of it. Would I suggest people to read it ? Probably as a curiosity. It is not long , so could be read in an hour or two.
2. Sleepwalkers guide to dancing by Mira Jacob: A delightful tale. I love the way it enfolds. It starts with a phone call between a mother and daughter. I’m sure most of us can relate to this. Past interspersed with present, refreshingly south indian and yet, quite integrated in American life style. I love the matter of fact way tragedy has been dealt with ( without romanticizing it in any way). A dash of humor, I guess after the main character , my favorite character would be the protagonist’s mom. Shes abrasive, blunt, practical, forceful and yet so sensitive. I have seen mothers’ like that. I myself can identify with it. Contradictorily, the mom also lives in denial. This dissonance makes her my favorite character. All in all, a must read if you love Indian dysfunctional families with poignant story and quite a few of nosy friends who make better friends than your family
Its been a long time since I wrote a “dear you” letter but then I hoped desperately that you’d never feature as “you” in dear you. Ironically, this is also my first letter to you. Today is very special for you. It is also the day when I am painfully aware that even in my imagination, there could no longer be “us” . Its been quite sometime since there has been no “us”. If I’m being honest, there was never “us” not really in your mind anyways.
I’ve spent months trying to understand what was on your mind.. or what wasnt. I have also accepted that its absurd to actually try to understand, coz hind sight rationalization is just that. It cannot really explain the inexplicable impulses that influence our actions. It took me a long time and I have finally understood the lesson that your presence and then your absence taught me. Thank you for that.
Thank you for coming into my life like you did. You changed the contours of my dream, you made them real. You blazed through my defenses and left me undone. It made me realize that some of the walls were unnecessary. It is not always easy to let people in and then let them stay. You were the only one I asked to stay. It really was heart wrenching to see you go but I have finally let you go.
So no hard feelings :)
I should probably send you this letter but I won’t. This was also part of the lesson that I learnt.
Not so much yours anymore,
I have a question to ask and I dont know whom to ask of it. Who is to blame in a relationship.. ( if you could call it one) if one of them don’t feel the magic. Is it the fault of the one who doesnt feel,… for not feeling it.. or the one who does feel it ? If it is magic.. how can the other one not feel it… and if it isnt, how pathetic is that the other one feels it ?
I have always known that I am in love with love itself more than the people I have been in love with. And that I paint the world larger than life when it happens to me. I also know that , given this trait, love doesnt always survive. It is too larger than life to be real. May be I prefer it that way coz.. to believe in love that can exist would mean.. I have to look for it and work on it and see it fade into something gray and I am a person of blacks and whites and the colors I use.. only in imagination.
So in the end.. did I ever feel the magic.. or did I just imagine it up ? And not knowing this answer scares me.