A Stranger in You

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We met as strangers; a heady combination of my lavender against your woody aftershave. A secret glance, when you thought I was not looking. An amused smile. We were opposites, poles apart from each other. And maybe, that was what drew us together. 

I was a writer, books were my entire life. But you, on the other hand, didn't even glance at a book unless it included Sports Illustrated. 

Never had I dreamt in a million years that I would find myself besotted with someone like you. Six months was all that we got to know about each other. Yet, it felt like six years, the end of which I knew right away that you were the One. 

Years have passed, at times I've felt that I know you like the back of my hand. But there are days when you remain a mystery, eluding me like a stranger. There had been a lot who had thought that it would never work out between the both of us. That there was no way on earth that we could exist together. 

But with each passing day, we proved them wrong. Sure, there are days when I feel like I've totally lost it. Yet, you hang in there with me, patiently. 

And here we are today. As strangers we met, but now the very idea of life seems bleak without you in it. 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

The train that never came

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I ran to the station; clothes in disarray, my hair all tangled by the wind, my back pack hitting many a passenger who kept throwing me nasty glances. But there was no time to be polite now. What with the rains and the heavy traffic, I was already one hour late. I could only pray that the Indian railways, would be prompt to be late, as always. 

But Lady luck seemed to be smirking at me from behind the clouds. I arrived at the platform only to find out that I was ten minutes late and I missed my train. If only I had ran a bit more quickly. If only. 

The next train would not be another three more hours. Here I was, lugging a heavy backpack with nothing to do but wait for the damn train. I went to the tea stall and brought a steaming cup of tea. The tea seemed to clear my head. I was not alone. I had my book to keep me company. I took out the latest by Jeffrey Archer and started reading. This thriller was bound to keep me occupied for the good three hours. 

A couple of minutes later I found a pair of eyes boring into me. I looked up and saw a guy, around my age, staring at me. He must have felt awkward, because he looked away sheepishly. I went back to my book. But there it was again. He was clearing his throat! Oh God, I don't want the night to turn any worse than it already was. Chatting up a stranger was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted was some time to myself and finish my book in peace. 

'If you don't mind me asking, which book by Jeffrey Archer are you reading?' he asked.

I was taken aback. This one didn't seem to be dull. By some weird pact in my head I had made ages ago all book lovers unite, I found myself smiling back and talking about the book. This is the thing with me. I find people boring, their lives uninteresting unless they have anything to do with books. It's such a waste that very few people seemed to appreciate the joys of reading a book. Soon we were chatting nineteen to the dozen and I was surprised to learn that we shared a lot of common authors and favorite books. 

Without realizing, the whole of three hours disappeared. He had brought me hot chilly bhajis which we shared over conversation. The sound of the train in the distance brought us back to reality. It was time to part ways. He was travelling to Bangalore and I was going to Chennai. We would never have met each other had it not been for the traffic, rains or the missed train. We exchanged phone numbers, promising each other to keep in touch. 

Maybe we would never meet again. The phone calls and messages would soon be forgotten once we were back to the hectic lives that awaited us. Or maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be the beginning of a great friendship. Deep in my heart, I knew it would the latter as I bid him goodbye. 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Of City lights and Rains

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I forced myself not to think about the text message that I had sent few minutes back. It took all of my self restraint and control to not grab my phone and check for a reply from her. It had hurt so badly. So much that I had put off sending the dreaded message for days now. A part of me was selfish, I wanted her all for myself. Without the blemish of her knowing what had been going on in my mind all along. While the other part wanted her happiness.

Our relationship was doomed from the beginning. There was no way my family would accept her into their conservative lives. Not that I cared. But it was her who was concerned about the role of fitting in, no matter where she lived. But she held on to it like a ray of hope. A sliver of faith that our story would have a happy ending. 

She didn't want to hurt anyone, especially not both our parents. Even if that meant sacrificing our happiness. I knew she would be heart broken if she came to know the truth. That her brother had called me and said that she she would be disowned if I ever made the mistake of taking our relationship any further. I couldn't bear to live with the guilt. Or her unhappiness, which would be inevitable, later on in life. 

But life had left me no choice. I had to break it off with her. I couldn't turn her against her own blood. I messaged her saying that it was over. That what we had while it lasted had been good. But we had no future. That she shouldn't try to call or try to meet me again. 

As I twirled around the empty ice cubes in my glass, I was woken out of my reverie by the calling bell. There she stood, drenched in the rain. It was past evening. She was panting, the raindrops clung to her face and eyelashes like morning dew. She still looked the same as I had first seen her in the bus stand. The same secrecy in her eyes. Behind her, the city lights twinkled. 

As she stepped inside my door, leaving a small pool of water at my doorstop, I knew there was no going back. We made love with an urgency, she clung on to me like she would never let go, as we barely made it to the bedroom. I knew, right then, that we had made a decision. There was no going back now. This was the girl that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And it rained that night, the entire time, the sole witness to our love.

The next day, she became my wife.  

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Between you and me

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All these years, without any form of communication from her and yet, here it was. Her book, in my hands. I fingered the spine lovingly, caressing it as I used to caress her cheek. Between you and me by Aanya, the cover proclaimed proudly. I smiled. 

I knew that the book was a secret dream which she cherished in her heart even then. One that scared and fascinated her at the same time. Something that she revealed to me and only me, when her confidence went for a toss.

Aanya, a whiff of love, a lot of confusions, plenty of things still left unsaid. Will her book hold any answers for me? Was it her way of letting me know, what she couldn't tell me those years ago? It all seemed ages back, a different lifetime when love was all that we needed. Love, the only thing that diffused my life into hers. Like spilled paints of yellow and red which formed orange, it was difficult to distinguish where one ended and the other began.

The author photograph showed a confident young woman smiling back at me. She looked different, a layer of sophistication now shrouded her, but the look in her eyes was the same. The same sparkle that I fell for. An innocent twinkle. Yet, holding a lot of secrets in its depths. Not daring to reveal the woman beneath.

Did she think of me? Did she ever miss me? A lot of questions raised through my tumultuous mind. But the most scariest one of all was what I had been avoiding all these years, did she ever love me?

I grabbed a cup of hot coffee and a freshly baked cream roll and sat back in my bed with her book. Would I ever find my answers in here? I lay back on my bed which was still warm and began to read the first page.

Love comes to us when we least expect it. It takes us in a sweep, holding us in its clutches and refusing to let go. Love is like a hurricane, it destructs. It is also like a rainbow, towards the end of a heavy downpour. For me, love is the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread. Love is the scent of his woody aftershave that I inhale when he holds me close. Love is his gentle caress and the crazy things he did for me. It gave me a new world and left a seamless void when it was snatched away too soon. Love is him. And only him - Aanya. 

I wiped away a tear which had begun to form at the corner of my eye and lay back to read the rest of what she had to say. It was going to be a long morning.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Also, linking it to Day 6 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge for July 2014 and NaBloPoMo. 

Before I leave

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It is 6 in the morning when I wake up drenched in sweat. The nightmare I had is still clear and etched before my eyes. I lie dying, living a life of regrets. As life oozed away from my body along with my blood, the only thought that I had was I am not ready. Not yet. 

I still had a lot of dreams, I was not ready to give it all up. The thought stuck me out of the blue, what if today was actually my last day. That I if I were to die tonight, would I go in peace? Or would I kick up a mess, like I always did when I was alive?

Today is a Monday. I have to report to work and be at my desk at Nine O'Clock. Even employees reporting half an hour late would be marked off as a loss of pay, such were my strict office rules. Do I really want to spend the last day of my life slogging away at a job that I didn't even like in the first place? I got up, took a shower, wore my favorite yellow sundress and had my breakfast. Donuts and coffee. The donuts were definitely not good for my already expanding waist line, but it's my last day and rules don't apply. Not anymore.

I happily ignored the calls that were coming in from my office. I panicked all of a sudden when I thought about the work that was long overdue. Today was the deadline for submitting the presentation that I had worked hard and sacrificed my weekend for. I switched off my mobile as an afterthought. I don't need this.

I have a whole day ahead of me. What do I do first?

Then I remembered. I took my old bike that now lay dusty in the corner of my car shed. The second hand Audi that I had bought using my last year's bonus overshadowed the rusty bike. But nothing a good cleaning up can't fix. The bike had gifted me so many fond memories. Skinned knees while I was learning it, the dent that it still bore as a reminder of a crazy drunken stupor. 

I rode it home, to my parents'. The wind played with my hair, the ride gave me an adrenaline rush that I was yet to experience while driving a car. The memories came rushing back and brought a smile to me face. That felt weird, so caught up was I my hectic life, that I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so carefree and happy.

My mother seems surprised to see me when I reached home. Whether she was surprised to see me on the bike, or whether she was simply taken back at seeing me, I was not sure. She hugged me close and the smell of her cooking on her and the warmth of her skin made feel that it was not a mistake in coming home today. Dad seemed happy to see me as well, and it was felt like I had traveled back in time. Helping Mom with the cooking and watching the football commentary with Dad.

It was past late afternoon after having the delicious lunch when I left. They both seemed surprised when I hugged them tightly before waving goodbye. I was never good at displaying my emotions. And maybe that is why I had to visit one more person before I go.

I drove to his home, which was hardly twenty minutes away from mine. I had not expected him to be there, honestly. The last time I heard, he was preparing to leave the country and pursue his career elsewhere. But I didn't want to die without having to know. I didn't want any what ifs. Not any more. 

We both looked at each other dazed. It had been so many years back. We had grown apart, in so many ways. He looked so different. Gone was the boyish arrogance that he wore in his teens, instead it was replaced with a ripening maturity. He had a scar on his left eyebrow as a reminder of the by gone days with me. We stood and stared at each other before he managed to muster me in. His voice had changed too, somehow it felt like being wrapped up in the softest of velvet. 

We didn't speak much; but his eyes said it all as did the raised eyebrows. Another habit which refused to die. 

"Look, I know this weird. Finding me springing from your past must come as a shock to you. But I had this huge crush on you back in college and I know that you considered me as a good friend. I could never gather the courage to tell it to you on your face. But today is special for me and I could never forgive myself if I didn't tell you this...", my voice trailed off. I hope he didn't notice the quiver in it. I would never have uttered these words had it not been for the dream. And for that, I'm thankful. Another thing off my chest. 

He stood looking at me in surprise with his mouth wide open. What he must have expected could certainly have not been a confession of love, which obviously, looked like it came a tad too late. I got up to leave, it was mortifying to sit in uncomfortable silence as he continued to look at me skeptically. 

"Well, you must probably be busy. I better be going now. I was in the neighborhood and thought...," he didn't let me finish the sentence before he got hold of my hand.

"Wait, I wanted to tell this to you on our last day together, at the farewell party. But somehow, my gut ditched me the last moment. I never kept in touch because I knew you were enjoying your new life and job...", he said so looking into my eyes.

And trust me when I say this, but if I were to die that very moment, I would have done so happily in his arms. That evening I mailed in my resignation to my office before we went out for a stroll in the moonlight, after all, we had a lifetime to catch up on. And the voice inside my head said that it was only the beginning of a new life. I was reborn.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Off to save the world

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We have all craved for some sort of super power at least at some point of time in our lives. Could have been when you were a kid and was smitten with Batman/ Superman/ Spider-Man if you are a boy or Power-puff girls/ the princesses' of fairy tales if you are a girl. Chances are we have all dreamt of it.

But then, as you grow older, so do your dreams. How I wish I could read his mind or how I wish I could just time travel back and correct my mistakes. I want to fly! Or even how I wish I could have just turned invisible right now! 

But for instance, if I could select just one among any of the superpowers, I guess I would simply go for turning invisible! What fun one can have. Imagine being able to go for all those movies without having to buy tickets! Sneaky, I know. But, still! We should be allowed to break the rules once in a while, right?

And think of all the fun you can have spying on those people whom you hate? Not just the people you hate, you can even turn it around for the welfare of the nation as a whole. Just like how our favorite super heroes saved our planet from aliens and mutants, you could be the next big thing! People would worship you, kids would adore you. And you, can relive your secret wish! Now, where's my cape?

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

A dash of magic

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Magic had always been there since the time I could remember. I found it in between the pages of books that I began to read. Unicorns, dragons, fairies, pixies, enchanted woods, goblins, evil queens had always fascinated me. I could spend hours and hours reading and lose count of time. Such was the joy that I found in them.

I can still read fairy tales and not get bored. Cinderella, Sleeping beauty, Snow white and the seven dwarfs, Beauty and the beast, The little mermaid. How can one ever forget those priceless classics? 

Enid Blyton opened doors to magic, which I had not known that existed till then. Flying chairs, secret meeting places, solving mysteries Ah, the fond memories! Childhood would definitely be incomplete if one hasn't visited a few of her books at least. 

And when I grew up from my tweens and into my teens, my all time favorite was Harry Potter. Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Quidditch, Marauder's map are terms that would be familiar with any of the Potter fans. 

Do we really grow up and stop believing in magic altogether? Or are we all so busy pretending that such things do not exist and do not see it even if its right under our noses? Sometimes, to escape the bleak future and drab realities, maybe what we need is to go back. Go back to the time when we believed in Santa Claus and Tooth fairies and a world of magic. Who knows what you might discover! As they say, for magic to come true, you simply need to believe it first.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.