The Moment.

After 2 years of being together and a lot of pestering, she convinced him to cook for her. He planned the event a few days in advance, going over the recipes a few times and ensuring all the ingredients were available. She was, in fact surprised, that he didn’t make an excel sheet out of the whole thing.

He was fussy about how he wanted things to be in the kitchen, so she steered clear of the area when he initiated the process. After a few hours, he prepared the table for the feast and asked her to join him. There was rice, his mother’s recipe for a traditional curry, poppadum, fish-fry (for himself) & raw mango chutney. She quickly sat down, eager to fill her tummy.

After he served her, as she was taking the first morsel, he looked at her with a childlike curiosity, and posed his question – “So?”

“It’s very nice!”. He grinned widely and heaved a sigh of relief. She didn’t tell him that there could have been more salt in the curry or that the coconut needed to be more finely ground. Knowing the efforts he had put in, to prepare this for her, made it all the more tasty. They ate sumptuously, mostly in silence, because they were both so hungry that their mouths would open only to allow more food in.

Later in the evening, while both of them were still recovering from the food coma, and she was reading a book and he was watching Netflix, he tapped on her shoulder and said “Red chilly powder is almost over…we’ll need to replenish the bottle”, in a very matter of fact tone. She smiled at him and chuckled a little. He looked confused at the reaction. “What happened?”…she ruffled his hair and said “nothing”.

He went back to watching Netflix, still confused. She went back to reading her book, thinking, this was one of the first, cute domestic life moments they had shared, and this was just the beginning 🙂

 

 

 

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Song For You

Someone very close to my heart played this song for me on one of our drives together….said this song personifies me 🙂 I’ve loved this song very much since that day onwards…

So today I wrote a song for you
Cause a day can get so long
And I know it’s hard to make it through
When you say there’s something wrong

So I’m trying to put it right
Cause I want to love you with my heart
All this trying has made me tired
And I don’t know even where to start

Maybe that’s a start

For you know it’s a simple game
That you play filling up your head with rain
And you know you’ve been hiding from your pain
In the way, in the way you say your name

And I see you
Hiding your face in your hands
Flying so you won’t land
You think no one understands
No one understands

So you hunch your shoulders and you shake your head
And your throat is aching but you swear
No one hurts you, nothing could be sad
Anyway you’re not here enough to care

And you’re so tired you don’t sleep at night
As your heart is trying to mend
You keep it quiet but you think you might
Disappear before the end

And it’s strange how you cannot find
Any strength to even try
To find a voice to speak your mind
When you do, all you wanna do is cry

Well maybe you should cry

And I see you hiding your face in your hands
Talking ’bout far-away lands
You think no one understands
Listen to my hands

And all of this life
Moves around you
For all that you claim
You’re standing still
You are moving too
You are moving too
You are moving too
I will move with you

The waft

“Tell me more about you” he said.

“Like what?” she asked, adjusting the sheet around her body.

“Like…are you the kind of woman who….” his voice trails off as he sees her reaching for a cigarette, kept on the night stand next to her bed.

“The kind of woman who…what?”

“The kind who smokes after sex?” he finishes.

“I’m the kind who smokes whenever. And the kind who’ll be whatever you want me to be, as long as you’re not a nutcase!” she smiles while taking a drag.

His eyes rest on her face for a minute, taking into account every little detail of that irresistible face and deadly smile.

“In that case how about you give me half of that death wish you’re puffing away?” he asks.

She never touched a cigarette after that day.

Vestigial Love

love_prison-wide

I sit stirring, my fingers

over the rim of the coffee cup.

Lost in thought, wondering

how to separate the two emotions

of love and fear.

How is it,

that both co-exist?

Where there is love,

should there be fear?

Loving deeply, sometimes

brings unknown scars.

Now, muddled emotions lie

in front of me,

in the form of a crusted slice.

I take a bite,

and invite the dusk and dust.

The past is the bygone

yet, it lugs along jubiliantly

in the form of baggage.

I try to move on, but

find it difficult to know

that someone else owned your being.

It was once,

then why does it bother me now?

I see that you’ve immortalised,

the ‘many’ from history

in your work of art.

What then, my heart wonders,

is the difference in them and me?

While you paint us all on the same canvas,

I suffer with indignity.

Is this why, I waited

with bated breath?

I haven’t the courage,

to tap-dance around

the thin veil of inhibitions.

My soul lusts for more,

my heart beats for fidelity.

In thoughts, reasons,

actions and memories.

My silence will speak

more than often,

if you have the will to hear.

My eyes will be the mirror

to my soul,

if you would so want to love it.

Brevity awakens me,

to count on my fingers,

the few good years I wish for.

Be part of it, if you must

but I request you,

murder not, my notion of love.

My head spins,

with the chaos that “we” bring.

Release my burning clone,

right this moment, from the clutches

of the ghosts of the past.

For, my sacred thought of us,

will otherwise turn into ashes –

never to be gathered.