Letters from my Love (II)

In continuation from Letters from my Love (I)
I know I might have hurt her sometimes, being human and having some sort of empty spaces somewhere, we are all prone to miscommunications. Yet I feel sorry for the days and those milliseconds when her smile vanished only to be substituted by something disturbing. Her smile was and still is way too precious for me. Seeing that melts me. It has that magnetic power to attract me and I alone know how I hold myself in those moments as much as I'm drawn to her. By the way, I found another letter by her, this time in the pages of my book by Wilde.

I was looking for this particular chapter of his when I found it. Beautifully decorated in her handwriting was written #2. I wondered what she had to say in this one.

"Hey Sunshine. Good morning. Hey moonlight, a blissful night to you. Well, I just thought not knowing what time you would open this I would simply gift you my wishes to whatever part of the day you end up opening it.

There is no purpose or motive behind these letters dear, for all that I have been told is that true love happens sans any purpose, all you gotta do is love and love more.

Expression may come easy to me; believe me words play their own games. I can write but speak I cannot. In many meetings that followed after our first few ones, these lips of mine wished they could utter what the heart had been carrying for long. That love showed but the words lingered lazily. In silence I loved you, still do and will.

I have often thought how it would be for you to read these letters from me. In fact after re- reading I doubted if they were indeed written by me?! And I got my answer love, I got it when my heart whispered to me:

When in love, you end up surprising yourself more often than not!:)

I know not how you feel about us, I know not.....

I only feel the breeze that flows from your heart to mine.... I feel. Yet, do let me know in ways you shall please; shall wait to hear from you.....

And worry not if it is otherwise, my heart shall not stop loving you.

Have a wonderful day!

Ishqaa

Your voice sounds low

Even trial and error method after a time leads to some certainty in understanding that this is good and this is not good for me. And what happens when you step you foot into a different world altogether? A world where you become a part, but inside alone you know trivial things begin to bother you; a place which feeds everyone’s narcissicism to the extent that lost in the need for ‘social validation’ a person forgets that his/ her own opinion is something that matters the most. Well, this was a small note on the world’s most famous social networking website. 

You know something is certainly wrong with you when your normal voice starts sounding low. And what happens when the stars speak to you as well? When the weekly horoscope is written ‘just’ for you even as there are many in the city who have the same horoscope? Such co- incidences happen, why you don’t know. But the just happen.

People say it’s a phase of life and shall pass. I also wonder if they know what being in living each moment in that ‘phase’ means. You hate yourself for not putting yourself to use. It’s like with every second gone your value is depreciating and all you are becoming is rotten like a vegetable that hates itself more than anyone else will.

Surely being rotten is not a good state. You die every moment. And as this happens even the most optimistic of the quotes are seen as if you cannot read them. Or if the Wernicke’s area in the brain does help you to comprehend the glimmer of hope dies even before it rises..

Someone once said to me that she baked cakes only when she was happy. This was not to say that she wasn’t happy at other times, this just meant that happiness in that moment of baking was a ‘recognisable happiness’, perhaps one which came from her heart. 

Also as I remember that happiness can be lived, I also recognise that at times you just want to collapse as much as you hate seeing your self in that position. And then my stars say all I need is patience. An ideal mind is a crappy place to be. totally crappy!

Letters from My Love (I)

I loved her from the bottom  of my heart but I wondered why did I never said  that to her. Even as she surreptitiously left notes hidden in my many cargo boxes which had stories of us, moments spent together smiling, laughing and in love together, I wondered why couldn't this heart of mine gather the courage to simply let her know what she was to me.

Weeks before I was to leave the country she would come by at my place to help me with the shopping and packing. Even as I told her that I could do it on my own, she caressing my cheek told me " Sweetheart, this is one thing I would like to do together" and as always it was hard for me to say her a no.

Today when I read this letter #4 ( which I found in my box of jackets) I was simply amazed to find that the depth of her love for me was infinite. If there could ever be a space, a space so huge which was vast yet full, this was the one. Her love for writing went beyond words. She was a creative writer par excellence. Her forte was expressing the deepest of the emotions in the simplest of the words. She knew what weight words had in them. Here, she tells me that she remembers the walk we had in that national park the other day. It was raining and we had no umbrella.  


                         
As I ran along with her, holding her fragile hands in mine, the wetness kissed our bodies bringing the two together. Like a kid she left my hand and ran for the clouds which blessed her with a million drops of love. I stood there under the shelter marvelling at the way she played, a peacock dancing with glee, was she. And just as I was losing myself in her, she ran to me, took me by my hand and swung me around in that rain that was now ours to be called.

" You may  think I don't remember the way you looked at me dear, for I saw your love in your eyes, in your hands and that brief touch of yours on my waist which felt like a moment lived in eternity in your presence. That day and many more just whispered into my heart that expression of love which you always, maybe, ran away from.

Today as you unpack the boxes of luggage and love, of clothes folded and books read, I gift you my heart which I long back lost....

To you.

And on days you wished me your sweet good night, I wrapped that message around me, feeling you.

Love

Ishqaa"

Sigh.... Never did I ever imagine that a girl would fall for me to such great heights and depths. If words were bridges between two countries separated by miles of oceans, then she sure was a great builder of them.

Letters are not easy to write for you got to think what to write. She just sang her heart out so effortlessly. That ease of being what she was, that extra- ordinary her, was a part of her.

Hey Ishqaa, it may take me a while to fathom the fact that two people can indeed live for no one but each other. At moments I don't feel I'm alive because the happiness of yours when merged with mine is all so ecstatic and divine. As I open my eyes and close them again to test this reality I'm surprised when it says yes.

A while is all I ask for. A while....

P.S. Would love to hear what you have to say on this. A series I'm writing for the first time. It's been a while....

This journey is FUN!!

Haloo Vanilla people!!! Which flavour of icecream do you like it best this summer season?;)

I realised a few moments back the path I have already travelled and the one which awaits me. I also realised that ‘it’s all in the mind’ as always. I have the power to make even my happy moments turn sad as much as I have the power to turn the ‘apparently seemingly disappointing’ moments into happy ones!

So well, I have settled for the latter part.

These are true Summer flip flops! 8)

Who wouldn't like to be here?;)

           Life…………………………..This JOURNEY IS FUN!!
Accompanying Song: Summer Paradise by Simple Plan:

You know something grave is up when you are at loss of words on the second blogoversary……

It’s been some 3 months now and I do not know where my vigour for writing has gone. Earlier I thought it was my dissertation that took away all the space , the way my thoughts were channelized in that direction, but now everything has been completed. May be not, that empty spaces loom in thin air where they are full in their own ways. Full to the extent that if you would prick one of the bubbles that floats in the air, then instead of vanishing it would burst like a cloud of tears. It is funny how rain can take a metaphor for both joy and tears.

A few days back I saw my blog and a fellow blogger’s blog. Yarn of words was never meant to die, never ever (Yet somehow it felt as if it had died a silent death) Also, I’m not one of those bloggers who can easily put a façade and show to the whole world “hey, I can make people laugh no matter how deeply saddened I’m”.  This is not to say I’m gravely saddened but at times you just feel like listening to the soft melancholic songs in your play list coz you are out of words to write or to speak. You are done talking and explaining to others and to yourself. You just want the silence do all its work. But silence is a dangerous arena. As much as it offers beautitude in some moments; at others it is at a big risk of being taken for granted.

I believe whatever happens happens for the best….past experiences have made me have belief in this belief. Yet at times the earth beneath the ground shatters for you end up getting hurt either for some things you took seriously even though they were not meant to reach that stage or others take something to be in a way which is beyond your scope of acceptance. And yes, this is the definition of life. Perhaps it has always been this way.

 HOPE is on my end….Hope!

P.S: To all my bloggyfriends who have been coming by ‘hoping’ for something exciting to come by, my apologies. ( I actually wonder if people have been coming by, for there is nothing to read…..write…may be, but I end up keeping that in another shelf)

P.P.S: The second year got completed yesterday on 2^nd July