Words, words, words…

What did you feel for me? I try to find out. Remember. Think.

Was it a need that brought us close? A loneliness. Or was it simply that we realized we were indispensable to each other only months after we had been into it?

What was it?

Sometimes a simple straightforward solitary reaper song Sometimes flamboyant like the inside architecture of an ancient temple
Sometimes tempestuous violins at the sea shore from a mad composer
Sometimes a forgotten white cotton frock in childhood’s closet Sometimes muted secrets behind liquid eyes
Sometimes warm water and cold coffee
Sometimes an inconsequential memory in time
Another time a heaving grand piano immovably in the heart Sometimes an abandoned swing.. and the glimpse of a tree.. Another time a night full of agony and desperate tears..
A word some times and an epic another time..

Remember the one hundred things we said to each other? Good and bad. Which Neptune’s oceans shall wash them away from our hearts?

In the inevitable loneliness, I am able to objectively think about us, without tears, without melodrama, without  a sense of purpose.  I just think and think.  Then I  take out all the  words one by one from our conversations and put them in bottles. They gleam like fireflies  into the silent night.  I sit down to indulge in their glorious  imprisonment.

Then I want to speak to you. Like a friend said, “Words, words, words!” to me this morning. Now language is more meaningless and purposeless than ever. All that language and voices gave to me in the past, it takes back from me in the silences.  I forgetfully cry at times. Die hard tears.

What can I claim? That I have seen your eyes in the sunlight? I have not.
Do I say I held you close when you cried? I did not.
Have I traveled the world with you and always reminding you to pack the toothbrush and the socks? I have not.
Have we made a hot cup of lemon tea in the afternoons? No.
Have we sat down at the park with the wafting fragrance of jasmines  comforting each other in our loneliness? No.
Have I made your bed when you had a fever? No.

I don’t want to befuddle myself with more and more of these “No”s!

But I have watched the sunset with you on that lonely hill and I have lain by your side on the grass when you cried your heart out. I have read several thousand books with you in a hundred languages. I have stood at the sea shore with you watching the sand wash away from our feet.  I have marveled with you at bird flight and wing span. Tasted your dinner and eaten from your plate. I have reclined on the beds of yellow flowers with your camera. We have breathed conversations all night long in moans and trebles. I have shuddered in cold inside your warm blue jacket. In the old ruins and the cast-iron lion hovering in mist, I followed you like a shadow. I have slept in your sunlight-streaming room with the pigeons for company. I have written many long letters in green ink to our parents, speaking of us. I have written on your diary in a thin cursive writing. I have walked many a mile with you.. alone to the cinemas, alone to the dances, alone to the restaurants, alone to the airports, alone to all the shops that sell dreams. I have not loved you as much as I have lived you.
Now is a moment that again strangles me with a distinct tangible distance. We are not away are we? Tell me we are not.

It will never pass into nothingness.. what a lie.

8 thoughts on “Words, words, words…

  1. This is one of the few posts of your blog which i got to understand somehow. One of the best blogs i have seen ever. Probably will relate the things, some 6-7 months down the lines, provided i will be a regular visitor of your blog. Gr8 writing !!

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