The room of lost love.

The balcony door still doesn’t close. When the evening breeze slips through it, the curtains acknowledge it with a flutter. They create a tide of sorts, imitating the sea. As dawn creeps in, everything becomes still- except the dust specks seen in the sunlight coming through the door.

The sound of the sea. the sound of birds flying near the beach. The sound of the tides hitting the shore. The sound that once reverberated in the house. Today, the closed windows separate the sound from the silence in the room.

The candle on the corner the house- witness to smiles, tears, laughter, passion, jealousy, abuses and wounds. Once the lights would deliberately be switched off to make way for the candle light to mellow the air. Trying to figure out the words each other’s eyes spoke when they could hardly see each other is what filled the air with love.

The uncorked bottle of wine on the table, and the two glasses. The glasses were used for sure. Haven’t been washed, maybe. There is still some wine left in one of them. Maybe he hasn’t noticed it yet. Or, maybe, he has just deliberately left it untouched.

Sometime back love bloomed here, everyday. But then, hearts broke. And, like a souvenir, the broken glass on the window pane still stands there. Broken pieces still not picked up from the floor.

It's time to pack up, again.

I tried my best, but, evidently, it was not meant to happen. I could have asked for her love promising the best of the world’s comfort but then I knew I would be fooling myself if I did so. She, from what I know, is not the kinds who would look for comforts at the price of a compromise. I, on the other hand, have nothing more to offer other than my best efforts to keep her happy. And I know, my best may not be good enough.

We have spent considerable amount of time together-at least enough to judge whether we can trust each other or not. I thought I was trusted. But the other day when she was listing down the people she trusted, I did not figure in the list. Not that it didn’t pinch me. It did. But it also made it clear that I probably can never be the one. An SMS few moments later confirmed it. It wouldn’t make any difference if I was in her life or not. I spent the next week drinking. I thought when I would get out of the fuddle, I would be out of her. I drank, puked, drank, puked again- countless number of times. End of it, I was still in love with her.

Ever since, I have been trying to let her know what I feel about her. I can’t ask her that one question because I know the answer. A proposition now would also put all the time we spent together, under scrutiny. My intentions might be questioned. I don’t want to complicate things for us. Even if she doesn’t love me, I am still happy that she is in my life in some way or the other. I don’t want to take an “all or nothing” chance.

I don’t blame her either. If I were in her shoes, I would probably have done the same. Past cycles of events have projected a different picture of mine to the world and I know it wouldn’t be easy for her to convince herself about me going by what has run by her eyes and ears. Anyone in her senses would not accept me as I am. On the contrary, she always extended her hands when I needed support-despite her reservations about me, maybe. She, in her own small ways, always tried to cheer me up whenever I was upset and has given me a million moments to smile.

But then, everyday looking at someone I love so badly, knowing very well that she cannot be mine, is not easy. Since nothing else worked, I have decided to move out of the city. Sometimes you need to leave the hand to touch the heart, you need to move away only to get closer, you need to stop speaking and let silnce take over. I hope it works. Life would be meaningless otherwise. Two more weeks here and then I will be out of the city. I hope a miracle happens and I come back for her, or come back to take her with me. Till then, I will wait.

Running to nowhere

And there I was-running. Sometimes running away from you, sometimes towards you, but most of the times running with you. Like pairs of railway tracks who run next to each other but never meet. Meaningless spells of running.

I knew the odds were against me. I knew I would get exhausted on the way. I knew I would never be able to reach you. But, I had to take my chances. This was one thing I could not convince myself to let go of. And see where I am today- the same place where I had started from. Either I never moved or things just took a full circle. So will I stop? Not that I don't want to, but I cannot. I will keep running. That's all that I can do now.

Rubbles of love

The book I closed months back. I had folded a page to start from there the next time. Never opened it again. Don’t know why. Don’t even feel like dusting it off.

The ash fallen on the floor. The smell of it suffocates me. Trying to get used to it, though. Can’t ask others to quit as I used to smoke sometime.

The sketch on the wall. A certain name was peeled off. Don’t know what good it did. “In dreams begins the reality” it reads. The reality is I don’t dream anymore.

The toothbrush on the shelf. It will never be used again but I still have it. Only to remind me every morning what not to do during the day.

And finally, the mirror on the wall where I see myself everyday. Generally, the worst moment of the day. This is the time I feel all the plans I am making for future are unjust. I have lost the moral ground to fall in love again.

I will never be happy, maybe. Maybe my room will always remain empty and my past will continue to haunt me forever. Rubbles of my own love, fallen all over me.

Their first kiss

She wasn’t beautiful, only presentable- as she proclaimed, a claim he never bothered to contest. Cunning, opportunistic, habitual liar and arrogant- other qualities of hers that he took some time to discover.

They met at work. He was new to the city and quite frustrated with his work. The job that he had taken up with dreamy eyes did not turn out to be what he thought. She approached as a friend in the new workplace and he thought she could be trusted. He told her a lot of things about himself and how he landed up there- only to realize later that everything that he told her as a friend would be used against him.

She wasn’t really single. She was in a relationship that she chose to accept and deny at her own will depending on situations. Despite what she claimed, he never was nursing a break up. It was a break up he engineered and he was feeling guilty about it. He told his story to her only to offload emotional burden. Little did he realize that he would be pointed fingers at for the same at a later stage. He opening his past to her made her feel that he is interested in her. At least, that is what she claimed. Since he was in his own world, he never bothered to check what she was thinking. On the other hand, she thought “there was something happening”. “Let’s go for a drink” she proposed one day. “Sure”, he replied.

It wasn’t really a date for him. He didn’t choose to wear the best clothes he had or pretend to be a party animal that he never was. A dinner with somebody he felt at ease with, that’s all he thought the deal was. She chose the place.

“Would you like a drink?”, he asked. If he knew that this question will make her think that he was trying get into her pants by offering her drinks, he sure would never have offered. Despite this, “Sure, a martini for me” -she responded.

More drinks and a little food. A whole lot of conversation. Dinner and drinks check. They decide to move out.

“There is a place close by where you get amazing coffee” she said. It was already pretty late but she insisted. They went to a restaurant that remained open throughout the night. He ordered coffee, she ordered something else. As he was having his coffee, she put her head on his shoulder. He didn’t know how to react to it. He wasn’t sure about her till then but this gesture made him believe she could be trusted-as a friend, companion. She might also be that person he would want to be with, forever, he thought. “ I wish the night never got over” he said. However, it was getting late. They called a cab and he dropped her home.

After few days and a million moments of being together, they decided to go out again. “Same place”- she said. He agreed.

They ordered drinks and food. She wanted to smoke and they went out. She told him how good she felt with him and how glittering their life would be if they were always together. She hugged him. He looked at her face and saw a certain comfort in her eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. “Yes you may” she replied. They kissed each other and that’s when he made the biggest mistake of his life. He just kissed suffering that he had to go through for a long time later on.
 

Excerpt from a girl's diary-2

Thursday 10/02/2011

"See see see, my boyfriend has sent me this card. He loves me so much"- she said. "Oh my God, chooo chweet"- I had to jump off my seat and scream. But then I thought- what the f**k, just a card? So lame. Come on, Valentine's Day comes just once a year. Or maybe he has bought a better gift for somebody else ;-) Ha ha. That bi**h deserves it.

I wish somebody sent me an empty envelop, at least. Alas!

Excerpt from a girl's diary-1

Saturday. 05/02/2011

I mean...what's wrong with these guys? Very cheap. They pass comments on every girl who passes by them. "Hey beauty"- sounds so cheap. Yuck. This is not the nineties, dude. And then when I looked back, guy says "Not to you, baby. To your friend, in red". Oh thank God. Good for me, I thought.

(Afterthought- Somehow that that bi**h always looks better than me in red. Damn it. And these Levi's bas**rds never put anything my size on discount sale. This is a bloody conspiracy. I hate them. And I hate that guy too. Was he blind? Damn!!)