Sometimes you just dissipate and simply fade away
‘Just thinking something else’ is all you say,
Sometimes you are just increasingly dense,
And when asked, you just call yourself intense.
Around me, yet I can’t touch, you are still but wisps of smoke
Smoldering away inside you and me, the ashes of our love choke.
I missed you.
I miss you too.
You still don’t listen.
You have stopped listening.
Doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t matter?
Didn’t matter!
Does matter.
To you.
To you too.
You wish!
I do.
It doesn’t
It does.
Not anymore.
But not any less.
Always late
I thought you would wait.
I didn’t.
I wish you had
He kept saying he loved her. She never believed him. She was afraid to. She would smile at him and then shyly look away at some strangers face.
‘Perhaps searching for something that I am not’, he thought.
Then one day she wasn’t afraid any more. That was the day he left without a trace.
He wrote through his different Alter Egos.
Quoted Garden State, masqueraded as the smoker boy, proclaimed himself to be a fan of Jack. Daniels of course.
He sang like Rafferty, read Vikram Seth and played with forty four words.
She wrote about him and waited for his clues.
After all he was a man-who-scrypted stories.
She wrote. He commented.
She read and smiled. Visited his page.
She commented.
He read and smiled.
They watched. They smiled too. They read something more than the posts.
An unwritten story.
Unknown to them, she saw their glee and smirked. Weaving stories was never this easy!
After all, he was here in her fingers.
Reading the third page she smiled.
Years back, she remembered writing those lines. For him.
A lazy flick of her hand and the ashes stained the page. Like her memories now staining the dedications in his book.
To his wife. Using her words.
Slowly, she turned to the author’s note. ‘My husband’, she thought happily.
We can’t do this!
Why?
No! She’s my best friend and your fiancé!
Just once please
If she hears, she will kill us both!
She won’t guess
It’s unfair to her!
What about our feelings?
It’s her diet and we aren’t allowed sweets! It’s unfair to us! Let’s go get Pastries. Just this once please.
Our first visit to the Ice cream store.
Your Caramel kiss on my Vanilla lips. Your Butterscotch touch on my coffee-almond waist.
The Strawberry twist of your smile. The Chocolate ripple through my veins. The Blueberry evening melting into a Black Currant night.
The Mint splash of a droopy sky on that rainy Sundae.
Fattening!
“Happy birthday honey!” Eyes open. A dozen red roses.
“Thanks darling.”
“Happy birthday sweety!” Office today is three dozen lilies.
“Thanks guys!”
“Happy birthday darling”. Huge purple Orchids.
“Thanks Mom!”
In the dark, she smiles and delicately fingers the single white rose lying pressed in her favorite book since three years. Stolen from his grave.
Lying besides the water, looking at the sky he asked her, ‘What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?’
She smiled and said ‘Life’.
He didn’t say anything.
She knew he didn’t believe her.
‘And you?’ She asked.
‘You’
He knew she didn’t believe him.
Funny; because they both meant exactly the same thing.
He hears the click-click-click of her key board. Wonders if another story is being typed out. Or is it just mundane work?
He is vaguely aware of the to-do list on his desk. Is dying to escape the monotony.
Everyone’s finding their own gratification outside the rigor of routine.
He finds his on her page.
Printer humming a steady rhythm behind her.
People rushing around. (or pretending to).
Coffee. (tenth coffee break for some).
Convincing clients on the phone. (lying blatantly!)
Sending official looking emails. (surreptiously to friends.)
Staring at the screen. (trying not to sleep.)
Everyone’s finding their own corner outside the drone.
She finds her’s on her page.
She wrote about Jack. He also preferred Jack. Daniels of course!
Went well with the smokes.
He composed like Seth. Quoted her penchant for complications.
Dedicated Baker Street to her.
She wondered Why. Clues?
He blocked her out. Bowed. Exited. Curtains closed.
She still writes. He visits her sometimes. He thinks, she does not know.
In response to Shreyasi’s Once more…
Dont ask how many times did the wheel revolve – many or few
Ask where did those revolutions take you.
Don’t make resolutions you cannot keep,
Don’t make promises that can make you weep.
No more knocks and no more breaks
Don’t mean there will be no more wrecks.
Perhaps its not the last time. Perhaps.
He comes to office early.
Move table to the left. Six inches. Break two straps of the blinds between their cubicles. A night of planning executed.
She walks in and sits in her chair.
‘Perfect’. He can now see her face while she works.
Sauntering over, she says “Good morning! Am moving upstairs from today.”
Its ended.
Enough Blogging. Enough spilling myself onto spheres which are not mine.
Enough of baring bits and pieces of me.
Enough of leaving too much said and too much hidden.
Enough of trying to sound intelligent and sane.
I call it off. I break up with Ginger. The love story ends. Right now.
Bye.
In response to Spazism Chasm’s ‘Water People’
The person you love is 74.8% water
That coolness in which you can dissolve and not feel anything anymore.
That ambrosia without which you cannot survive even for a day.
That which is so integral to us, that we take it for granted.
Now we know, why we love them inspite of them being them.
They wonder about everything she writes. Who is he? Is it for him? Is all of it about him? They think it is.
He reads it everyday. He thinks it is for him. About him. Most of it. Though sometimes he wonders
There’s only one who knows who it is for. And she isn’t saying.
He stumbled onto the page by chance. Read the first paragraph. One by one he devoured them all. Fell in love with the hands who typed them.
Everyday, when he opens his eyes, the first thought that runs through him is “what’s waiting for me there?”
Unknown to him, she lies on her couch. Unloved.
She languishes in her couch. Stares limply at the screen.
The cursor blinks, waiting for ideas. The hands have stopped typing. The eyes stare, searching for thoughts that don’t exist. Everything seems to have come to a standstill.
In another part of the world, someone is reading her page and falling in love with her.
Love-Spazsim Chasm
Anti-love – Spazsim Chasm
Love of another kind – Someonearbit
She tries to breathe through the smoke. Another chicken burnt to the bones.
Damn! But she knows, he wont mind.
She opens the door for him to walk in.
He comes in and lays his head in her lap. Looks at her adoringly as she lays out the chicken.
Sniffing it, he wags his tail
To read the entire series click here
Lies X
“Hello. its me. I wont be able to make it to work today. Feeling a little feverish, and will be sleeping all day. My phone might be switched off.” Click. That was easy.
Then he straightens his tie, picks up the folder, checks his CV for the last time and steps out of his door.
—————————————————————
Lies XII
Just out of a meeting, she rushes back to check the next 55 fun story that must have been posted.
On her desk she stares at the long to-do list in her planner. Thinks of the post-lunch deadline.
Smirking, closes the planner, opens the word document and starts her response to lies XI – non fiction.
—————————————————————
To check out the rest of the series click here
Liberation II – Someonearbit
Walking into his room, the first thing he noticed was the cigarette. Stubbed exactly in the middle of the square ashtray. The familiar smear of maroon lipstick. He could still smell the now dissolved smoke rings.
With a wry smile he thought of the letters now lying under her door.
Exactly eighty nine steps away.
Maybe II - Someonearbit
Everyday I would pretend to be annoyed when she asked me her pet question.
I loved the way she stroked me while asking the question.
Everyday I annoyed her by saying “No”
Then one day I replied “Maybe”
She never asked the question after that. I still wait.
Wonder if I said the wrong thing!
Everyday I – Wiseling
Everyday II – Revealed
Everyday III
They watched him nervously clutching his cup, stealing glances at her. Seemingly oblivious to his attention, she puffed away elegantly. Then as he walked towards her she stiffened but relaxed as he walked past. A look of disappointment flickered on her face for an instance.
“ Damn! The coward!”
They exchanged the dollar. Everyday.
Everyday IV – Confused and Baffled
Everyday V
Faintly amused, she looked at him stride towards her.
She knew the routine.
Last minute loss of confidence, an unnecessary trip to the bar, the dollar being exchanged. Everyday.So she was startled at “You are Jesse’s friend?”
“Yes”.
“Can you help me find her?”
She slumped back..They didn’t exchange the dollar that day.
To read the entire series click here
Wiseling’s Fifty Five Fun fiction appealed to me. A super idea.
This is my first attempt at Fifty Five Fun.
Nomad and Nomad 2 gave rise to Nomads.
NOMADS
We laugh. We talk. We play. We share. But we are afraid to allow ourselves to really care. History taught us lessons we should not have learned. And so we never fight.
Being with each other could have always felt like being on an exciting vacation – but could have never felt like being home.
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| Anirudh Chauhan on I will anyways write |
 | Idetrorce on Meaning of Meaning. |
 | Born a Libran on Dear Struggle, |
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