Love Happens

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It was one of those dull winter afternoons when he first saw her. He saw and just couldn’t help but smile in bits. Maybe, because he wasn’t looking for a story that time. All he was feeling was curiousity. Or maybe he wanted an acquaintance. Everyone needs that when he is thrown into a strange environment where he hardly knew anyone. Well, that had just happened to him.  Forget the metros, he wasn’t even born in this country. But he was the most desi at heart. Been in this country for a few years after he got tired of just running from here and there. And then one fine day his parents decided to take him along to the place they studied. And even fell for each other. You could say that place for their origin. He knew they didn’t really wanted to show him around. He knew they had some plans. He has been here before but this time he didn’t know why he was here. He knew they wanted to hook him up. And this was the best place to find girls from his community. But he wondered, in a small town, how can they even think he can. But nevertheless he was here.

She was here because she needed a break. Break from life. Break from politics. Break from work. Even break from joblessness. She had memories from this place. Of a beautiful childhood. His parents found this place at their home. And his siblings were born here. But she was the city girl. But she loved the peace here. Or maybe she was searching of some hope. Her dad’s meeting coincided with an interview here and she was ready to go. She never wanted to move here but no harms in trying she thought.

There they were. Two families. From the same place. In a common town. Staying in the same resort. With their children. Middle aged proteges. Or rather single offsprings.

Weather was dull but the weather changed and entered her nose. So when she entered the guest house she had an attack of constant sneezes making him notice. The room was booked but some details were to be filled. So, she made her parent go and take rest as she filled the form. He was standing beside, talking to the receptionist but still noticing her uneasiness.

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At Last, he spoke:-

“You need some help”

“Eh…no” and she sneezed again

“I said because I am a doctor….maybe I could prescribe some medicine?”

“O no no….its just the dust that was there outside”

“Maybe an anti allergy….cetirizine?”

“I have some…will take….thank you”

She finally took some notice of him. A tall hunk like guy with green eyes he was. He looked like anything but a doctor. She wondered why she never met such handsome doctors when she was sick.

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” Well I am Dr. Adi” said he giving his hand for a shake” 

She shook hands to say ” Hi I am Nisha…Dr Nisha”

“Medico?”

“No no…I am a mere doctorate “

“Wow…doctorate is never mere…which subject?”

“Social anthropology….I research on  women and children issues”

“Wow…my mom will love to meet you…..she does some work on that”

“Is she a professor or something? “

“No no…she is a gynaecologist…just runs an NGO for empowerment of our community’s  underprivileged”

“Awesome.Would indeed be a pleasure to meet her”

“Nice meeting you”

“Same here”

There ended their first meeting. But more were to follow.

She went to her room just to tell her parents about this meeting and how his mom specialises in her work. She was just too excited. And she didn’t know why.

He on the other hand went to his room just thinking of her. He also told his mom and all she said was, “You like her don’t you?”

“Mom please”

But she was right. Her son hardly talked about girls and here he was just going blah blah…something was definitely wrong.

The families met at the dinner table and got introduced. His mom told her she can get associated with her organisation if she is free. She was grateful but was like she can’t stick for long if she gets work of her liking but his mom had no issues. She knew he was becoming an angel. Families were talking and laughing too. Her mom was here for a conference she would have liked to attend but then she avoided as her mom would have been alone if she went.

Next day happened. Her dad went to the meeting. His parents went off to their works and all that was left was they and her mom. So he asked at the breakfast table if they like taking a stroll. She already had the photography walk in mind and it happened.

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Some beautiful sightings. Some smiles. Some curiosity happened. He even said I should have got my DSLR and she remarked ” A person makes the picture beautiful, good or bad camera never matters” And she clicked him. And he was again bewitched. They were back and the families never saw each other till dinner.

At the dinner, the mothers decided to go shopping together in the morning as the fathers had meetings. She, alas had to stay back to study. And he, well, he choose to stay back.

Post breakfast, they went to their rooms as parents left. Then she came out to just stroll and read and he came there to seize the opportunity to smile with her .

“So working hard to be recruited?”

“Not really. I read most things. Lets see”

“Then want sit and converse and make you de-stressed”

“Sure”

They went to the dining and just sat.

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“So what do you like doing apart from teaching/studying?”

“I really don’t like doing it. It happened. But I found a way and gladly I love my subject”

“Wow. So what you love doing?”

“I love writing. Poetry. Fiction. Short stories. Anything”

“Impressive. I used to write once too but then”

“But then?”

“Words ditched me”

“Words don’t ditch us. People do. And then we just wander”

“Maybe. been long I wrote. I used to write lyrics too. Been a decade”

“Then someone will make you love them again too”

“It isn’t that easy?”

“It is.”

More he heard her. More drawn he was. Maybe writing too was just round the corner for him again.

“So what are your dreams?”

“Too many. I want to write a novel some day. Travel the world. Live beside a beach in europe for few months and bake continental stuff from fresh produce. Do adventure sports. Do underwater stuff…too many like I said”

“Yes. but interesting mix.”

“What about you?”

“Well, lets see. Once I wanted to release a music album and then life happened”

“You should. Someday”

“Maybe. I have travelled a lot. But maybe with someone special some day”

“Ahan. Hopeless romantic?”

“Wasn’t one till few years back. Was badly heart broken. Was cynical and then I came home. Saw my parents. My sister. And I thought maybe I can have some love too.”

“Nice. You will.”

“Are you one? “

“I am”

“Who makes you believe in it? Parents? Sibling?”

“None of them really. Parents are two individuals strung together and they just respect the institution. Maybe bro and sis in law love but they fight way too much so not much people with love around.”

“Still must be someone?”

“Some friends. But they are newly married. Stories of my grandparents make me believe. Even of my aunts. Some loves they shared. I believe for them and believe for their good.”

“Interesting.What kind of partner you want.?Some ideal?”

“Don’t really know what I want. I don’t mind adjusting. Compromising I have issues with. Love is all that makes marriages work I see. I do some, you do some. I am a feminist. But I don’t think females are superior nor are males. I don’t even say they are equals. One is better than other in one thing and rest in other. Like a women is emotionally strong and can handle his mess…job issues….sick children…..deaths…..and he sure can handle her scares…save me from that street villain…or shoo off insects I hate…even that lizard and rat…even snakes….they freak me…I don’t mind the pain that childbirth will give me….for that he can do that no?”

“Definitely”

“Also, I love cooking. But he can make sunday breakfasts sometimes. Cut vegetables as I cook and wash utensils when the dishwasher goes bad….I create mess before I clean…so if he is a  cleanliness freak guy he can manage the room no?….some girls also leave wet towels on the bed …I am one of them…just small adjustments….I left lot for him…but he can do some obviously no?”

“Obviously”

“Oops I spoke too much”

“I love listening”. “Never found such a guy?”

“Alas they don’t make such guys any more”

“haha…maybe”

“What about your ideal girl?”

“Ideal ….hmm..don’t know….but never met a girl who thinks like you”

“Haha…If I didn’t know better…I would have thought you flirting with me”

“O please. I am not…..wanna go out for lunch?”

He didn’t know why he asked her for lunch. But that is all that felt right saying.

“Eh?..Hmmm….I don’t know places here. Also mom might be coming back”

At that exact time, her mom called to tell them both to join them for lunch outside. And just like that a lunch date was happening.

And maybe even love was happening.

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Note: Blue Lines: Guy, Red Lines: Girl.

P.S.: This is the short story I had mentioned in my last post. It is little raw and needs some polishing but my writing muse is on holiday again and its been a while so thought of uploading it. Also, apologies if its rather too long for your liking. Hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Love and Marriage

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She: So, will you marry for love ?
He: Maybe. After having met you, I am thinking so.

She: Haha. So I changed your views I see.
He: I guess. Why will you marry for only love ?

She: Well, no other reason will make two people stick nowadays. You see, financial insecurity kept women respect the institution once. Now that is gone. Divorce is a mess. But they don’t have to think if they can manage it alone. They earn enough. Hell they can even manage to take care of the kids. Earlier, men went and worked. And women had to manage the home. Now, she can do it all. Manage home. Manage businesses. She in a way is self dependent. So why have a partner? If people want one, they can have live ins. Even that is legal. So casually date. Marriage is too big a thing. Earlier, people married for kids. But now, you don’t really marry for that. Single parent adoptions isn’t a disgrace. In vitro implants happen. People and society have issues if a man implanted his sperm by being intimate to you, but if they know a woman is pure , they will accept such single mothers too. So what will keep two people together? Love. The pure, breathtaking love. The can’t live without each other love. The breathing in you love. The soul united love. The love which will keep you together when everything fades.
He: Makes sense. But then what is the guarantee it will stay ?

She: No guarantee. But it can stay. Doesn’t it between parents and children? Then why not between two individuals? If the souls connect at some level. Not the movies kind. But some spiritual kind. If that happen, then even if life breaks them, a string will stay. And that will be the only thing that will make modern marriages work.
He *sighs*: I guess so.

And he once again wished for love. And maybe for that kind of marriage.

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P.S. : Off late been writing a bit of He-She fictions and this was some open ended conversation I wrote. I think I might write this style of stories on and off. I wrote a longer part before this and might update it too if I am satisfied.

Unrequited Love

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I don’t even know if I know what it is properly. Maybe because whenever I have felt something which was not requited I called it infatuation. My first crush lasted I guess five years. It got over when I thought I was in love. But today I think he wasn’t love but was my first muse. Back in those days, I studied literature, and absolutely loathed studying poetry but then this guy walks in with those greek God looks and I started to scribble. I hardly have much memory, but I know, I had lonely nights where I just wrote and in the college I roamed here and there to catch a glimpse of him. I think I even changed chairs in my class once to sit near him. And maybe even smiled when he took my notes or said thanks. Man, those were the days. That was the closest I could get to love then. And I benefitted. Few of my poems were published and I found a talent I never knew existed. Also, I got a taste of love that isn’t mine.

Then, came another one, I crushed on. I think everyone but me knew I was infatuated. And somehow he never liked it. He almost scrapped my heart out. It was terrible. Yearnings I came to know then. But he marked his memory forever. For he was also my first kiss. A very beautiful one. My heart desired more and I messed up the friendship. And we became strangers. But then somehow things happen for the best. For if he had never happened, I would not have met someone who I cannot define.

I called him the friend first. Then a best friend, then my first love and ultimately my soul mate. But I am talking of unrequited love right, so how can we talk of lovers ? Well, sometimes lovers teach a bit too much about it. He taught me love, strength, patience and lot many things. But more than anything he taught me that kind of selfless love where we are fine with them not loving us our way. That is unrequited love too in a way. It took a great deal for my heart to make that person my greatest weakness, and it took a lot of strength to make him accept his love for me. But I won. Love won. Just that destiny failed us. And ever since, he stays as the greatest love story of my life till date. We maintain the fallacy of friendship but still cannot talk about our lovers. My heart skips a beat when I see his picture. I have moved on, maybe. But he is still that piece of my heart that still feels the same. I never could gather the courage to meet him again. For if I did, love might come flooding back and destroy me.

Of late, I relish in the idea of unrequited love more than going and expressing it. Maybe being in love scares me. I infatuate, I cherish people I like. I write about all muses I meet. But I don’t seek a story. I like to yearn, I like to feel it from afar. And then when I take a step, someone just destroys me. Someone just did that. I was on a step to love and they stepped far and cut me off their life. I was hurt. But more than anything I was taken aback at the coldness which humans have now. They express all their love till we are ready. And then. Maybe, that is just me. Maybe, it is the expectations of the heart which want more. But then I love and hence I feel and so I write.

Somehow, life has taken hold of me. I don’t really care or love that hard. Infact, it doesn’t matter. I have a hard time to trust. I somehow wonder if love is even for me. For all my life, I loved more than I got and I just lost the patience. Or maybe because I showered all my love to that one person that now I just cannot give. I can give from far, like unrequited love. But when I receive, I question it.

Maybe that is one reason, my muse is just that for a long time. When I first met him. I knew we could write a tale together. I longed to touch the cervices of his scars and tell him I can heal. Below the moonlight night, when he sang, I wanted to quieten his pain. When we shared coffee, and he talked of his dreams, I wished I could live them with him. And now when he talks of loneliness, I wish to sit aside and listen. But alas, I can’t even embrace him or hold his hand. Kiss would be too much. It is not like I cannot. I fear, I have lost the capability to love, and would loose that feeling if I get the ‘ one’. Maybe, I am just too used to unrequited love to ever be able to relish mutual love.

That is just me.  I loose feeling the love when people show too much of it to me. Maybe I like challenges even in love. But I still believe. Because only love is what can make a happy destiny. I believe someday that shield from my heart will go and I will love with all my vulnerabilities. But what hurts is, till that right one comes along, lot of players might attempt to bruise my tattered heart. I do not really allow it now. But we have our weak moments, where we just want a caring hand. Maybe, age is catching on me. And I detest loneliness. I am vulnerable and yet shielded. And it is scary to think that in that double protection game I will attract only the wrongs and repel the right. For I distrust all humans now. For what some evil ones did.

I am made for loving. Maybe even unrequited. I am made for longing and spilling it out on paper. I am made for lonely poetic nights and cold tears. I am made for lot of things. But I still believe.

I believe there is reality beyond unrequited love for everyone.

P.S. I wrote this as a guest post for Archana’s blog long time back. Long I wrote anything so thought will update my readers with this for it has been a while.

P.S.S. Too much this heart and mind has stuffed inside and somehow I am unable to write it and spill. As a result the person that is me is suffering. I updated my blog in the hope that maybe I get inspired to write. Even if few words. I want to. Someday I will.

 

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The Thing Called Love

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One of those not ‘feeling good’ day I am having and I thought maybe writing will help me little bits. What is bothering me no one knows and maybe even I don’t but whatever it must be I hope it dies soon. Just the kind of day I want to cry or maybe even howl but I cannot. Kind of day where I want to snap out at everyone and without reason.

Somehow since I came back to blogging after a gap I forget all the rules of the game. I am no more particular of what I write. I hardly visit much blogs (of which I am sorry), hardly use my favorite prompt sites, and it doesn’t bother much if I am losing my readership base. Maybe this place has become my personal diary where I just have to take out and things make sense. One of the advantages of being semi anonymous I guess.

Now back to the problem. Life is little bit mess right but I know it will be fine once vacation ends and the same hectic schedule starts. But I become too much of an overthinker till then. And even worse when things go sane. Last month was in many mess, health wise mostly. Also, stopped being the nice one. Yet, I felt sane. And now when life is again better, I feel crap. Mended some old bonds and I am glad. Maybe I should not have. Caring brings the worse in me. But I need it. For my mental peace too. Also, after a brief moment, my muse disappointed me once again. And I let it die a silent death. Doesn’t mean he will never make a comeback. He will be around. Just. Maybe because I dreamed of his coldness last night that I am much more messed.

Someone, once destroyed me for love. And thereafter I only made mistakes. Hurt people, got hurt, became a cold persona. Stopped feeling. Became too selfish for anyone to know. Then muse came and I saw hope. He didn’t do anything new now. But I realised let’s not have a story. For I am poles apart from what I was. I just lost the ability to love and patience for it. I might want a companion, but according to my whims and fancies, and that is not how it works.

This doesn’t mean I stopped having fun. I share a smile, sometimes a coffee. I flirt around. I like being crushed upon. But that is it. Last time I went ahead and formed a relationship, I damaged him and never cared. I became so cold that I had no morose of it ending. This wasn’t me. But alas it is.

You must be thinking a believer like me saying all this. Yes, I believe. The mushy stuff I write makes me hope. Or maybe I love my dreams. It is these imaginations which make me happy after a bad day. Fairytales aren’t for me, but I still delve in them for they are my happy quotient. I still hope I be proved wrong. But life is beyond those words and hopes. Love is much beyond those kisses and embrace. It is also about tears, separations and hurtful words. It has ability to thrash us so hard that we never pick up our pieces. I am still picking mine. I do want a happy ending, but maybe without love. But living loveless is not how God made a person like me. He filled in too much feelings in me. He made for me poetry, to feel it in the misery. He made me to give it all, and yet be happy with it. One part of it died long ago. Then I discovered the other. I relish my tales, my mush, my movie kind of imaginations. But these are things that sell. Not kind that happen to us, writers. We end up alone at times. Dying with a book in one hand and ink spilled pages in another.

Too much pessimism happened right ? What to do. Sometimes smiles refuse to reach my lips. Forget eyes. In attempt to make other laugh, I lost mine maybe. Or maybe I got tired of doing things and giving all what others’ need. Maybe I do need a kind word once a while. Or be pampered with all love they have. Sometimes it is important to express, and sometimes its important to feel what others have for you. Sometimes all we want, is to hold hand with someone and just watch the sky at night. But even that is scary now. For then we expect and then it pains.

Once I never cared if it hurts, I was overflowing with love. Even if he berated me, I found an excuse for that and I was often true. For, he did fell in love. Just never knew how to show and was scared if he did it will hurt more. But he forgot, that is all I had to take away when he left. Maybe he was right, because inspite of showing less, I am a bundle of his memories. For he took my soul away, and one night told me, he felt that his soul left to enter mine. And that is still my most cherish memory. We were two souls, fighting a distance, having a silly lover’s conversation post midnight on the phone and a moment changed it all. I felt a white invisible angelic force embracing me and so he did. And thereafter, I called him the soul mate. But then, it is said, soul mates never meet, for they are not meant for mundane tasks. But I never want to settle for anything less than that. But irony is no two loves are same. I might love again but not similarly. And I still hope, I still search, maybe I do have some ending. Some closure. He does the same. Even now. We still communicate in distress. But know our realities.

Some people say, we can have many soul mates. Some even call them best friends. I still wish I have not exhausted my quota. Maybe I should steal one from the heavens. But all I know is my quota for hurt is way overflowing and if I do feel once again and it goes dramatically wrong, I will be done with even hope. And that is one reason I have stopped feeling too, even if the other showers all the love. For I am wary of humans. I don’t want to be an object to be played upon anymore and I wouldn’t be. It will take too much patience for anyone to make me believe in their feelings. I just don’t hope. But if they can make me believe and crack my shield, I am sure they will be worth it. Only a messiah can heal. Only he can make me believe. And make it known that beautiful love is worth it. I hope he exists. Till then, I console my heart to be thankful that atleast he has known love.

I wish, I believe, I hope……love still exists….for me.

P.S. I have too much building inside and I didn’t even said half of it today. Maybe some other day. So be prepared for more such introspective rants when my mood goes disgruntled.

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Deciphered He

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He was sitting by the window, stirring his ‘Earl grey’ as if lost in deep remembrances. And i was just staring at him standing in one corner as if I wanted time to just freeze there. Did I ever tell how I loved his experimental green tea’s. Yes, experimental, for I still don’t know what all he used to steep in the boiling water while preparing them. It always had some ‘special’ herbs he used to get hold of while on his travelling expeditions. Last one he got was from ‘leh’ and must I tell you the smell of his tea was always aphrodisiac. And boy the house was ethereal with that smell whole day. After all he used to love sprinkling such fragrances whole day to me. I almost got addicted to those herbs, and the tea. And maybe even him.

His friends often called him ‘the saint’ and I could never decipher why. Then one stormy night I heard him practicing music loudly as I was preparing some snacks in the kitchen. He was disturbed that day and his voice said so. He had very trained loud decibels. He used to like being called a composer but never the singer. But the ‘alaap’ he used to take used to put a trance on me. I just loved his voice quality and he used to blush at that fact. That night, I ran towards his room to check on him. His hands were pale blue and yet he was going on and on playing the tabla. I could see him lost in his verses. It was horrific to see him in pain but I could not go and embrace him there. For only taking it out through creations subdued him. I stood still and realized why he was called so. I knew there he was born for tasks beyond the world. And I desired the world with him. I just died a little more then.

Little more of ‘sufism’ and ‘rumi’, I used to find in his abode as I knew more of him. He was a wanderer who broke all rules and yet early morning I used to find him reading something on those ‘religious beads’. I used to ask him ‘was he religious ?’ and he used to say ‘religion is in the mind’ and just go on meditating. At other times, I used to ask him ‘but then this ?’ and he used to give me a silent smirk and look at the portrait on his wall. It was of his grandfather. He had sketched it with his own hands one day from the lone picture he had of him. He called himself his ‘murid’ or devotee. Maybe, mornings and the prayers and the beads were his only way to reach him. His only way to seek advise about things that made no sense. Things that God willed. Like snatching his dear ones permanently. I might never know for sure for he hardly said. But he knew, I knew.

One summer afternoon, I saw his arms uncovered. It always was amusing to me that a man with such a good built always preferred full shirts to any kind of voyeurism as if hiding something. I saw what it was. It was his inked shoulder, a dragon tattoo with some message. I didn’t ask but he understood and just said. ‘Sometimes only pains can kill pains’. And I felt something just piercing me through. I wanted to touch it and with it heal him. But only if it was that easy. It was at such times, it was not even easy to embrace him. I was just a devotee. But I knew he wanted me there.

Then one night, I heard him howl. Like the wolfs’ howl. I went inside and saw him ripping inside. He was in deep pain. His eyes said so. He sitting shirtless and his whole body was wet with sweat. He had tears that said just too much. I wanted to go near and say something but he often read my silences. He just said, ‘don’t destroy yourself’. How wish I could tell him how destroyed I was already. I knew he will leave again. His feet needed to travel to submerge all his pain. His time with me needed a break. I wouldn’t say it was over for it will never be. His eyes told me then, I had a piece in his soul which hurt him more for it forces him to stay. But I could not do this to him. I just could not. I took his backpack, stuffed his clothes and asked him to leave. To go to the mountains or the seas or to the skies, but go. There he understood I knew him more than he could have imagined. I didn’t let him say much and pushed him out of the door. For if he had said more I would have broken down. And I did.

As he left, he just said one thing. ‘ I need to go and I will. But home I will need always. And I only have one. Where you stay’. And tears seeped down our eyes. I choked and so did he. And he left reluctantly.

He might come or might not only time will tell. Till then, I embrace his smell every night as I sleep. He still plays melodies in my dreams and kiss me every morning with the sip of my tea. He said, I might be destroyed and I now think I have never been more awakened, more healed and more alive.

P.S. Something in me want to write more on this series. I might whenever I find more words to it. Or might never. But I will still keep writing about the ‘he’. You can read similar writings in the ‘He Series‘ or ‘Muse Writings‘.

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