He

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Let’s talk about the ‘he’ today.
‘Who is he?’ many shall wonder.
Let’s just call him the muse.
Muse. Yes, my muse. But a different kind he is.

I knew he would  be one even before we had met. You would wonder just how was it is so.
Well, some muses are such that their tales transverse lands and reach you and all you have to do is lay your eyes on them and they be yours.

I had heard about him many a times. Even crossed paths with him. Maybe, inhaled the same air with him for decades. But still somehow, never noticed him. Maybe, because his time wasn’t right then. We were just two strangers lost in our worlds, living in the illusion that it is the end. We didn’t know we would meet someday. However, we did. For it was destined.

Then, with a sleight of the hand, something unusual happened and I heard about him. I wanted to know more so I decided let me find more and I did. And he just seemed fine. I thought I might strike some conversations with the stranger atleast.

And boy we met. No, the skies didn’t roar nor did the clouds burst open. The sun was shining very bright and I looked liked the usual mess. Then what was different ? Well, two strangers meeting and trying to find if they can tolerate each other is quite a task. Thankfully for the stars, we weren’t alone. Cupid was trying its best to sow the idea of ‘us’ in our minds. Somehow it was sowed in mine, if not him. And unintentionally he became the muse.

The muse, who sat across me beneath the stars and made me laugh. The one who woes me with his creations rather than his flirtations. He was someone I could stare all night and then shout at the sun for rising too early. Chivalry was in his blood, and the feminist in me somehow didn’t objected.

He sat there talking about all things dear. We created magic in the words and the sounds. It was like the stars wanted it no other way. And he never said no. To keep me going, he went his way after giving me the best embrace of a lifetime. With a sullen face and a sad heart I came back and I wrote. Of the muse and his devotee and I am still writing.

Today, he might be sitting in some corner, with a charcoal soiled hands and making another portrait. His fingers might be bleeding some other day composing music with his guitar. He might capture the world in his eyes one day, and in his words another. And I will stand still in another corner of the world, imagining him doing all that and wonder maybe someday, I explore it all with him.

Till then, let him touch the cervices of his lips with his cup of jasmine tea. And I wonder if I get to share it with him some day, lying on the roof, counting the stars and just feeling the silence.

That reminds, even my tea got cold. I sip it in one go and smile, for all the missed drinks. I at times think what if he wonders the same about me. What if, this is indeed destiny, which we are slowing down, by taking only baby steps towards each other. But then best stories get written slowly only.

Someday, this story will have an end. Happy I am sure. For if he becomes mine, then I will be his muse. And if not, he will still be the best muse.

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