Old school love

I find you in between the pages of old handwritten letters. A mild whiff of vanilla that tickles my nose. Inside the reels of tape recorder cassettes. Twisting and turning, a mass of tangled, glossy film.

I find you inside pressed flowers of my overused, over scribbled school notebooks. Peek-a-boo. Inside glittering greeting cards, in the cursive loop of your name underneath all those Merry Christmases and Happy New Years'. 

I find you in the clouds of baby pink candy floss sold by the end of the street each day. Melt-in-my mouth, you always do. A warm sugary sweetness. 

In the touch-me-nots, that withers upon my touch, your presence lingers. A melancholic melody.

Most of all, I find you inside me. A memory that refuses to fade, growing only stronger with age. An old school love. You and me. Me and you. 

When did the love between us die?

Was it when you stopped searching for my hand to hold in the darkened corners of the movie theater? 

Was it when we began to converse in silence? 

Or was it when we both started forgetting the dates that mattered? 

Maybe it was when you started hiding your texts from me or was it when I found a stranger's smile attractive? 

Was it when I stopped dressing up for you? Or was it that time when I did and you didn't notice?

Was it when our smiles were forced and our laughter restrained?

Was it that time when you looked at another and it ceased to bother me?

Or was it when we started living separate lives under the same roof? 

Was that when our love died? Was it really that fragile? Or was it ever love to begin with?

Universe

Image Source

Stars woven in her hair. Black tresses tumbling across her shoulders. An abyss in her eyes. Be careful when you look into them, it's easy to fall down into its bottomless depths. She holds the entire galaxy in her open palms. 

She is mystery and darkness. She is also flashes of pure brilliant light. 

And when she burns, she's pure fury. She will either make you or destroy you completely. With her, there's no turning back. You can only pray that your soul remains intact. 

A month of Harry Potter

So, if you have been following me on Instagram, you would have known from my updates, my obsession with Harry Potter the past one month. Yes, I was on a reading marathon on a staple diet of Harry and friends. Harry has been such an important part of my childhood and it was only recently that I decided I should go back and do a re-read of all the books once again. 

Now, the thing about re-reading this series after so many years is that it almost feels like visiting Hogwarts for the first time. And go ahead, judge me. But I don't think one is ever too old for Harry Potter. JK Rowling literally saved me from a lot of tumultuous teenage years and she did it again for me now. In reading Harry, I found myself healing once again. 

There were two things I hated when I read Harry for the first time. One is that I couldn't read it in the chronological order. I still remember the first book that I got my hands on from my school library was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which is the third part. That was how my love affair started and I went back and forth reading the books that I managed to get. It was quite difficult as there were only few copies in the library and everyone wanted to read it! So if you waited to read it in the order, you might as well have been waiting forever. 

The next thing I hated back then was the long wait before the next book came out. I was so impatient and of course, the stunning cliffhangers Rowling left at the end of each book has left me frustrated many a time. It has been on my mind for some time now that I wanted to do a reading marathon of Harry Potter. Go back and read all the books in the order. But of course, I didn't have all the books and had started off with the Goblet of Fire for this time. Imagine my delight when I was gifted all seven books in this gorgeous edition! I was in seventh heaven. 

I spent many days and nights immersed in these books, leaving me little time to do anything else. Not that I'm complaining. If you are a Potterhead, you know the magic the books will always have over you, no matter how old you get. This time, however, I went one step ahead and downloaded all the movies as well, watching it side by side as I completed each book. Best of both worlds, I tell you. 

Last night, as I turned the last page of Deathly Hallows, I felt something akin to an intense grief, a loss. I cried for Snape, the unsung hero, the half blood prince. And to think I spent so many years hating him. I wish I didn't have to leave Harry, Ron and Hermione there on platform nine and three quarters. I wish I could continue my journey to Hogwarts. But as we all know, all good things must come to an end. I have read somewhere that if you really want something, if you wish for it with all your heart, the universe has a way of bringing it to you. Yes, a new Harry Potter book is coming out on 31st July, on Harry's and Rowling's birthday! I'm so excited and can't wait to read what Harry Potter and the Cursed Child has in store for us. July 31st, come already! 

The Perfect Anniversary

Image Source

She wore her wedding saree, red embellished with intricate golden thread work. Her thick hair was freshly washed and shampooed, she had let it open, the water from them dripping onto her naked shoulders; each drop kissing her flawless skin. The delectable butter chicken, his favorite, simmered on the stove; tonight had to be perfect. She dabbed a few drops of Dior Midnight Poison on her neck, the fragrance enveloping her like a cocoon. 

She toyed with the tube of lipstick before discarding it on her dressing table. No, mustn't go overboard and anyway he had always hated seeing her with makeup on. Downstairs, the bell rang and with a  final sweeping look in the mirror, she hurried to greet the one for whom she had always made the extra effort to please.

"Happy anniversary, Darling," her husband gave her the perfunctory kiss her on her left cheek as she opened the door. 

Making his way to the bathroom to take a shower, he left his work shirt on the floor. How she hated this habit of his, yet she never made a retort. Tonight must be perfect. Their sixth wedding anniversary. 

As she picked up the creased shirt, she pretended not to notice the lipstick stain on the inside of its collar. The shirt, like him smelled of sweat, a sickly perfume and betrayal. In the back drawer of her cupboard, the vial of deadly poison waited. Tasteless and odorless. This was just the missing ingredient she needed. She didn't want a mess on her hands; she liked things clean and neat. 

Tonight, after all, had to be nothing short of perfect. 

Glimpses

There are things that you can't put a name to. They come and go, like fleeting emotions. Labels that have to be chucked out.

Today, when I lie in bed with a sore throat, feeling cold and miserable, you come in uninvited, invading my thoughts. I can't help or control it and I know only too well that it would be stupid of me to even try. You are a torrential rain on days like these, pouring down incessantly. 

I expect foolishly to hear from you. Not that you would. But I hope against hope, against the better judgement of me. Days like these, I wish you were here. Days like these, I look for a silver lining. Days like these, I half expect to see your name flashing on my screen. 

Trouble in Paradise

Image Source: Caroline Knopf

In your indifference, I felt your absence

In your silence, those unspoken words

Heavy with meaning, lingering in the air between us

In your torture, I felt your pleasure 

Neglect was your weapon, tears were mine

Those few memories of us are now scarred 

Not that you cared, it was my burden to carry 

Sins of past, washed by the shore 

Maybe it was doomed right from the start

Hopes of saving resulted only in debris 

But the day you decided to leave

The day I lost you, that was when I found myself too

Linking this post to Magpie Tales - Mag 305. 

Dream or Nightmare

Wanderlust

Image Source

Exploring new places. Trying out different cuisines. Meeting new people. The symptoms are stronger than ever before. You, my dear, have gotten a bad case of wanderlust. 

Pack up your suitcases, take your camera and maybe some of those books that have been gathering dust on your bedside table. The notebooks that you have been meaning to write in; pack them too, you will need it. Leave behind those labels and boxes that are stifling you. 

Excess baggage is certainly not permitted. They are best left back. A solo trip, that's what you crave. 

Those shorts that have been bought and stuffed in the back of your cupboard because you never got around to losing that roll of excess fat, pack that too. Nobody is going to judge and certainly not care, this is your trip. Spread your wings and fly. And who knows, maybe, just maybe you may discover who you are.