You’re always left wanting for more

There you were, thousands of miles away from me. Here you are, some good kilometres away from me. There, I wanted to have you near, here I want to have you near-er!

Does it ever end? Our need? Our greed? What if our need is an intense need, but becomes greed when put in a different cloak?

On second thoughts, Greed takes in a negative connotation. And then, all of a sudden Need jumps up asking “What makes you think I can’t turn evil?”. After a long pause, Love clears its throat, hearing all this while, and says “What if it’s neither need nor greed, but simple and pure love?”

Need and Greed give evil looks to Love, for questioning their identity. However, love being calm and composed offers them a smile, only to extinguish the fear of this darling beloved that her need and dependence may be turning into greed.

A year back she had asked him “What is the difference between dependence and love?” He said that he was as much dependent on her as she was and as went for the love, no words were offered for an explanation.

The green ginger tea lies there, offering much needed warmth, that which she yearned from his hug. “Isn’t it better to create metaphors and poetry around, when the literal isn't available?” she asks. Just then the cold breeze blows by, leading to her to imagine his soft kisses on her face. Nature has a way of moulding itself into love, to make up for the distance.

That’s what she did then, and that’s what she does now.

This space of imagination offers that which shall turn into reality soon. When it does, she wonders what shall encapsulate the space of imagination. That’s a mystery. May be certain things are better in an uncertain place!

And Letters has it always been..not the one's from A-Z

Dear Love,

How time flies, right? It’s funny how some people view the intensity of a relationship with the number of years you have spent with your beloved. I ask, what has number of days or months to do with it? Perhaps, they don’t know, and rightly so, of every single hour we would take out from our schedules to simply see each other, talk or share that happiness that enwrapped us when we were together; of the longing of meeting after one month or two weeks even as we stayed in the same city; of the despair that left the heart morose for it could not reach out to the other, when they  needed us the most; of the drive that smothered us alive and burnt us into ashes, even as we breathed our empty breaths, to meet, not to talk, but simply be, in space, in love and in that moment. Perhaps, they also don’t know of the weight of the wait, a phrase which became a usual rhyme, only to fill the heart till the brim, till it rained at the other shore. And what of the words that were exchanged and the letters that were written, they know not how preciously we have edged them like jewels found in this lifetime, till death do us apart. And they know not that no matter how many times the same words are spoken and said to the beloved, every single time, they bring a smile, and soothe this heart, which yearns for more and more and more……….

Words, at times, forget how precious they can be, how truly greatful can someone be as s/he reads them at the other end. I still find myself wondering upon the definition of love or the fact if it’s an emotion at all for it is felt like lungs breathing air, it’s just there!

Today, as this another wonderful year comes to a close, I shall not thank you, knowing that you don’t particularly like it, yet I shall repeat myself, for I know how blessed am I to have befriended you, known you every single day and fallen more in love with, even as we had our share of disagreements. Isn’t it enchanting, how love can teach us to continue to love each other even as the other acts in ways which we would completely detest? Most importantly, I’m blessed to have you for all the optimism you have always showered at this shore, on days, when arid winter winds would break the bones; for being a believer of discussions and talks, and for you simply being that super awesome ‘you’….

For all that and more

Yours Forever

Distance hurts but we got to do what we like best with that distance

Considering its an all new chapter of my life I have started here the count of lessons too shall begin from that very first number we were taught to write as ‘one standing line’.

#1. Distance hurts but we got to do what we like best with that distance

As you grow into a mature butterfly with every single day that passes by, you also realise that even as you try to keep that pain and tears away from your dear ones, wanting not to see them dissolve in that pain, they are doing the same at the other end, protecting you as always. Pro- tec-tion. Se-cure. Its fab-u-lous how words form a melody and a meaning in themselves. How se-cure makes us cure and how pro life is pro-tec-tion? Did you ever share this with these words, for they know not the meaning they hold?

Yes, they’ve been loved ever since their re-cog-ni-tion and val-ue added some more val-ue to the already eventful life. There is this sol-ace ( sole-ace) that they give, perhaps darling as you find a fondness in that reading, I find mine in writing. The words bind us the way they always have.

If extroverts had an option to find solace then maybe they would want to have one special gift from their loved introverts. It would be being at peace with that fabulous book and a comfy corner. To think of, it’s not hard, right? In fact nothing is hard until it is tried and tested. As a writer writes, a comfort and that special solace comes by, not coz words have always been loved but because words as they come by, they leave soft kisses on a heart that longs for love every single day, on a heart that has been full of life every single day.

Once a teacher told her student, who was annoyed by the fact that she was not a good reader. He said “Just that there is a need for readers there is also a need for writers, for if there are no writers whom shall one read?” These words brought a smile to her face, for she was a writer and still continues to be. There may not be many people who read what she writes, there may not be that appreciation for her words, at a large scale, but knowing that she always writes because it pleases her is a beauty in itself. Why, you ask? The pleasure that small things give is at times magnified by the big things, to the extent that one forgets the sole of happiness in big events. She writes coz she loves. She also writes because some day she would like to gift these words, little bundle of joys to her children when they grow up, hoping that they would nurture these little curly letters in their own ways.

THIS TIME...

This time don’t stop me from going,

‘Coz I really do need a break.

This time don’t say nice words,

‘Coz you’ll melt my heart again.

This time let love beckon you,

As your heart wishes to follow.

This time I’ll take some steps back,

Though my heart does feel hollow.

This time I’ll find myself,

My friends, whom I forgot.

This time don’t ask any questions,

Why we cared and why we fought?

This time I’ll smile as I cry,

For I forgot the distance as we met.

This time I’ll be “me” again,

Like on seashore the grains were left!!