More than just another day

You kiss me goodbye before leaving my side. I am only half awake as I turn over and kiss you back sleepily. I hear you sigh one last time with my eyes closed. I turn over and crush my face into your pillow, on your side of our bed. It still smells of you and I snuggle underneath the duvet and it's almost like you never left. 

I can even feel the dent you left behind in the pillow along with a few stray hairs. After what seems like a long time, I finally feel content. I know you will be back. Just like how I know it in my heart that when we had said forever two years back, we had meant it. 

On days like these that you leave early, I miss our breakfasts together. How you would make me scrambled eggs, a bit on the runny side just as I liked while I buttered our toasts. Sometimes even burning them. I am a bad cook, unlike you. You can whip up dishes in a jiffy. And that's what had drawn me into you in the first place. How you paid no heed to the jokes and continued to do what you love. 

We had been reckless, eloping and getting married in secret. The photograph we had taken stands on our bedside table reminds of that night. Me laughing at something you told and you with your hands around me looking at me with an amused expression on your face. Of all the pictures that we have taken, this one remains by so far my favorite. 

A cold wind breaks through the window as I open my eyes. The bedroom curtains fluttering gently. That's strange. I remember locking the windows last night before going to bed. I climb out of bed and stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Blood shot eyes staring back at me, disheveled hair. Another night spending tossing and turning. It has been this way since you left. 

There is still a faint whiff of aftershave above the bathroom sink. I refuse to believe what they tell me. How can you be gone when I can still feel your presence? Like today morning. There are days when I don't feel you for days on end. But you come back, you always do. Forever was what we promised. And promises are what you have always kept. I splash cold water on my water and for an instant, I think I see a shadow in the mirror behind me. It's gone before I wipe my face. 

You and me. Smoke and mirrors. Scrambled eggs and badly burnt toasts. Late night rides and long walks home. Messy hair and butterfly kisses. Forever and beyond. 

Frozen

Image Source: Ed Ross

Frozen in time she stays 

Pain in her eyes unmasked 

Roses tumbling out of her hair 

She was called the queen of love

Many couples matched by this cupid 

But none saw the agony behind her smile

Nobody asked her for her story 

If they had, they would have known 

Nothing hurts more than unrequited love

Her heart belonged only to him 

But his heart was always another's 

At night she would howl out his name 

He never came, she stood waiting 

Many days and many nights 

To catch a glimpse of him 

Yet he remained hidden in the shadows 

Now they see her as endless beauty 

Melancholy in her eyes 

Waiting to be thawed 

To come back to life 

To breathe once again 

To love just once more

How do I know this? 

In her I see me..,  

Linking this post to Magpie Tales - Mag 301. 

Stay for Me

Charing Cross Road, 1937 by Wolfgang Suschitzky

Time's running out 

My feel fly over the ground

In the rain, over muddy puddles

My skirt stained with dirt 

Yet I'm hasty 

I can't afford to lose you

I need to tell you 

Before you go 

Just how much you mean to me 

Oh, why did I wait so long

Is it because the thought 

Of losing you was suddenly unbearable?

Or was it because you were never mine 

To begin with?

Don't leave me all alone here

With just your memories for company

Bridge this distance between us

Take me away to another world

I'm almost there

Stay, stay for me...

Linking this post to Magpie Tales - Mag 300. 

One Kiss

Image Source: Magpie Tales

In one kiss you'll know all I haven't said 

When Neruda wrote those words

He must have been where we are now

With that one kiss you sealed my destiny 

In that one kiss, all the unspoken words 

Were heard, crystal clear as the skies above

You fill my head, my lungs, under my skin

In the hollow of my throat, under my fingernails

In this one kiss you drown me in passion

I don't want to let go of you 

Who can say when the next time would be?

Every cell of my being is etched with your name

It maybe time for goodbye, yet in this kiss 

All that I hold dear is mine to cherish 

Until next time, my dearest, my love, my life

Let me carry the imprint of your lips on mine...

Linking this post to Magpie Tales - Mag 299. 

The Memory Box

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Outside, it is raining. The dense fog mists the locked windows. Like from a faraway world, the rumble of a thunder is heard. The house is covered in pitch black darkness as the electricity goes off. She makes her way to the kitchen and finds a candle by the window sill. Power cuts during the monsoon was common, yet she hovers around the kitchen shelves uncertainly searching for a box of matches. Finding it finally, she lights the candle. In the lick of the golden flame, an unknown feeling grips her heart. A feeling that's as new as the flame she lit and that's as old as the rain pouring outside. She wishes to turn back time and go back to where things were not so complicated; days that would merge into beautiful nights with ease. Nights that were free of guilt and filled with longing. 

With the candle in hand, she makes her way to the attic, climbing the stairs carefully, not losing her grip. The attic lies bathed in a thin film of dust, years of disuse lying around unmasked. There are a child's toys, once loved and now discarded like many other things here. The rocking horse grins maniacally in a corner, the wooden cradle next to it. But her eyes goes to the small cardboard carton that has been sealed and left there for some years now. She had made up her mind long back not to open it, but neither did she have the heart to throw it away. 

Placing the candle on the dusty floor, she sits down next to the box, the memory box, as she likes to call it and unseals the tape after a moment's hesitation. She takes a deep breath as the memories tumble out, one by one, and then flooding her all at once. Smothering, threatening to drown her in its depths. It rises, holding her in its clutches. 

The letters, tied together with a piece of string, the few books that had grown yellow with age. She picks one up. The Mill on the Floss. A book that was a part of her syllabus then. All these years and one would have thought that the memories would have faded with age. Certain memories have a strange quality to them, the harder you try to forget, the sharper it gets, like the pixels of a picture coming together to form a clear focus.

The details of the day comes rushing back to her, pricking her like icy needles. The bright red rose that she had laid down to press in between the pages. 

Would it still be there? Or would it have crumpled to dust like many feelings? The incessant thoughts continue to linger. Well, only one way to find out. 

She opens the book, holding it tenderly, like a new born child. And there it is, the red rose, but no longer red. In muted shades of yellow and a color that was almost black. The petals delicate like a fluttering moth's wings. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth seeing the rose still there. How often we wish to hold on to those things that we know we should let go. Yet, like a stubborn stain that refuses to leave, it stays, lingering in the deep most caverns of your memory. Guarded like a fierce secret. 

Bottles of dried up ink, old notebooks covered in her handwriting, secret messages scribbled hastily on the back, random notes that she had penned whenever something got her fancy, greeting cards... 

Her hand trembles before picking up the tied bunch of letters. Somethings are better left where it is, in the past. No harm in looking, a stubborn voice inside her head nudges her. She unties the string before having second thoughts. Her eyes blur as it roams hungrily on the pages, taking in the beautiful curved writing in ink that has filled it. She takes it along with the candle and sits near the window, holding it close to her so that the occasional raindrops that breezed in through the open window would not smudge those precious words of long ago and begins to read...

... To be continued.   

A Midnight Affair

Midnight lost its charm

Stars went into hiding 

Moon wept behind the clouds
Lost wishes and shooting stars..

The wind, the night mist 

All seems to be missing you 

But none as much as me..

Blinded by Love

Image Source: Magpie Tales

You were not the first to climb in bed with me

But I want you to be the last 

The men who came before you 

All they wanted was my body

None wanted my darkness apart from you

Smoke and mirrors all around us 

I can't see, I can only feel 

Yes, what I feel for you is true 

Is this what love feels like?

A mirage that I have only seen from afar

Yet you are as real as can be 

As real as the scars on my body 

As the smoke drifts away

I half expect you to disappear

But you are always here, my Love

Your fingertips ablaze on my skin

Now that I know what love finally feels like

I can open my eyes and take in its beauty

Without fear or contempt 

Without fear of being judged

Your eyes may not see me

They call you blind

But your heart sees right into my soul

And for me, that's all that matters

Linking this post to Magpie Tales - Mag 282. 

The Last Time

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Last time I saw your face 

Seems like a lifetime away

Those memories made 

Tossed and discarded in a dusty corner

Though my heart pines for you

I decide to let you go 

Flowers you gave 

Preserved between pages

The pain in my soul 

Makes it hard to see 

The beauty of the world around

It all seems so bleak; pointless even

The night no longer holds any promise

Of late night coffees and bike rides

This is a chapter that we must close

Yet why does it feel incomplete even now...

U - Umbrella

Image courtesy: Google

I watch her walk in the rain, the blue umbrella in her hand threatening to fold backward any moment in the wind. She is dressed in an emerald green dress, but it's wet, clinging to her curvaceous body, the shade in the dark looks almost black. 

She waits at the bus stop. Whom is she waiting for? A flash of lightening illuminates her face. I'm not sure if it was the rain, but her face is dripping wet. Is she crying? Or is it my mind playing tricks on me like always?

I don't go and talk to her, though that is what I'm dying to do. She is my addiction, an elixir in my otherwise dry life. The fragrance of wet earth and rain surrounds us. The bus stop is deserted. There is no one but me and her. I want to push the wet hair from her face, I want to know what her skin would feel like beneath my fingers. Will her hands be rough from conducting daily chores? Or will they be soft and supple like the jasmine flowers that she sometimes used to adorn her hair?

I watch a car stop not far away and couple of men getting out and approaching her. I'm angry, yet I do nothing but watch them. There seems to be some sort of argument. After a few minutes, she gets into the car with them. She catches my eye before closing the car's door, a wistful look on her face. 

What does she see when she looks at me? My torn clothes, the broken umbrella that has failed to keep even a strand of hair on my head dry or my begging bowl? I bid her goodbye silently; I know she will be back tomorrow. Just like yesterday or the day before. Just like how I know she is going to be cursed for the rest of her life. Like me. We would make a great pair. Me and her. Only if she would realize that. 

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

Q - Quintessential

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He was the quintessential guy of my dreams. Sexy with chiseled jaws, wealthy enough to own a chain of companies all over the world, masculine in a way that I found rare in the guys who had wooed me till now. In short, I had lost my heart to him. Yeah, the kind of love that makes your insides quiver and makes you go weak in the knees.

It was love at first sight for me. I was however, a nobody in his perfect, sparkling life. A struggling model trying to find her way to the top. All I had were good looks and a dwindling bank balance that would hardly get me through a couple months unless I landed a contract with one of the top modelling agencies.  

"You are blessed with good looks, but do you know how to use them?" my agent had asked me. I knew that the subtle tone he had used was far from innocent. In life, you have to lose some to win some. I had learnt it the hard way. 

I knew that it wasn't easy to get noticed in a crowd of pretty faces. With the right amount of contact and pressure, I cracked my way into his life. Though I felt guilty in taking advantage of him, I had no other choice. If only he would recommend me. I needed a much needed break; my tension had begun bordering on desperation. 

He had taken me in his arms and made me his with an ease that I failed to comprehend initially. I was the convenient arm candy. Love had never entered the equation, for him anyway. The arrangement was convenient. For both of us. 

That night, I wrapped my body seductively around his for the crowd all throughout dinner. I knew that we made a handsome couple. The classic couple, one that was the darling of the paparazzi. 

As he dropped me off at my apartment, he leaned in close and kissed my cheek. One so light that it was barely noticeable. Despite knowing everything, I felt my heart give a tiny flutter in my rib cage. Affection, and nothing more, I reminded myself. 

I held him in a tight embrace before stepping out of the chauffeur driven car. He had given me so much in the past few months, the priceless of all being hope. This would be the last night that he would need me. Tomorrow, he's flying away to Paris, a city where a man loving another man is not condemned. Tomorrow, he would start a new life. As for me, tomorrow was going to be a new beginning. 

Thanks to him, I had finally found a footing in the modelling world. More importantly, he had shown me that it was okay to have your heart broken, but not your dreams. That with the right person, love can be magical. As I turned I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I realized with a smile on my face that he was anything but quintessential. 

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

N - Never

Image courtesy: Google

Read the previous part here.

Natasha 

I watch the bride enter the hall. She looks resplendent in the purple bridal saree. Eyes downcast, the bangles on her hand tinkling against each other as she walked. The big bindi  on her forehead, brings out her eyes. One that was filled with hope. 

I see Hari look at her. As their eyes lock, there seems to be a fleeting look on his face. But it vanishes in an instant. Or had I imagined it? It didn't matter. The wedding took place as scheduled. It felt strange seeing him next to her; as bride and groom, two sides of the same coin. With the weight of the garland weighing his neck, I can see him wipe the sweat off his face. 

Hari, Hari.. What have you gotten yourself into? Wasn't this what you wanted? A lifelong commitment? Were you so obsessed on securing your future that you failed to evaluate if you could actually be compatible with the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?

I don't go up on stage to congratulate the couple, nor do I intend to. I don't know if he's seen me, but strangely, I'm not bothered even if he has. I came here for one thing; closure. And I think have got it. I get up and head outside; my hand cupping my belly. I'm not far along, just a couple of months and the bump is barely noticeable. Like a secret, I hold it close to me. 

Hari

It is just after the wedding that I spot her. Natasha. The girl who was once mine. Walking away, a smile on her face. Do I regret losing her? I don't know. The last time we had met, we had parted ways bitter. I had said a lot of things that I didn't mean to. I had wanted to hurt her. And I did. In the most painful way. Through my words. 

She bit back whatever she had meant to say to me. I was impatient and angry. I knew I had hurt her badly. I wish I could go back in time and wipe away her tears and hold her hands. Like we used to. 

Why she refused to commit to anyone was beyond me. That's just the way she is, I guess. I had wanted to make her mine and that was my big mistake. Deep in my heart I knew that she shall always be one of the best things that had happened to me. 

I sigh and turn to look at my bride. Her cheeks seems to be frozen in a permanent smile as she poses for the camera. She is shy, demure and everything Natasha is not. I stand close to her, our shoulders brushing against each other. And for her sake and mine, I can only hope for it to work out. Hope against hope. Just like how some things are never meant to be. 

The End. 

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

You

Image courtesy: Google

I wear your old T-shirt as I sit here by the window. Watching, gazing as the world passes by; people wrapped up in their lives, going home to their loved ones. Your T-shirt is too big on me. It falls over my shoulders yet strangely, it gives me the warmth that my clothes don't. Maybe it's because it still smells of you. A bit of your sweat and love. 

But today it no longer offers me the solace that it did some time back. Is it because I can feel your smell fading from this piece of garment that I guard fiercely? With each passing day, it diminishes. Much like your memories. I want to tear my hair apart, scream out in agony. But still, the pain exists. A dull ache, ripping into my soul. 

I want to cry out loud, stop time, do something that would make me cling on those last shards of you that I carry around. I remember you wearing this T-shirt when you went out with your friends. It smelled of stale smoke and beer when you came back. I remember peeling it off your body as we made love that night. It lay discarded in a corner of our bed. 

This T-shirt reminds me of the good times and the bad. But above all, it reminds me of love. Why did you have to go and leave me in the dark? Maybe time heals all wounds. But right now I can't think past this pain. My apartment, no, our apartment is still a mess. It feels like too much of a bother to get up clean it. 

All I want to do is sit around and think of you. It's been few months, but I like to think that you are watching over me. Holding me close and wrapping me in your warmth. Outside, it's started to rain. I can see people scurrying about, anxious to get back home and make a cup of hot chocolate that they will get to share with their loved ones. I realize with a pang that I actually feel jealous of those people that I once despised. They have what I don't. All I ever wanted was you...

Linking this post to Write Tribe Pro Blogger Challenge. 

The Ideal Man

Image courtesy: Tumblr

The sound of the leaking faucet drifted in from the bathroom. Remind the watchman to get it fixed, I made a mental note for the umpteenth time. Yet I always forgot only to be reminded of it just before I went to bed. The sound of the dripping water, tonight was however, strangely comforting. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

On other nights it would have annoyed the hell out of me. Yet tonight, as I wallowed in self-pity over the state of my life that seemed to be spiraling out of control, the sound reminded me that some things never change. That it would never take you by surprise. And it would continue to be just that - a strangely monotonous routine that was here to stay. 

Such things grow on you, slowly creeping over you before you realize that you have actually started enjoying its company. Like a bad habit. Much like how you light that first cigarette, justifying yourself as you feel the smoke absorb in your lungs saying that it was just the one. A phase. But before you know it, the pack of cigarettes quickly turn out to be the high-point of your day. You look forward to those precious few minutes when you feel in control.

He was like that too, a habit that was difficult to break. What was it about him that I noticed first? Was it his warm smile that somehow reminded me of a bright yellow sun? The kind that my five year old niece drew with a smiley face and sunshine radiating from its face. Or was it the way his hands grew animated when he spoke about something he loved? Or maybe it was none of it. Maybe I took interest when he decided to shower his warmth on me. 

But this was not how things were supposed to end between us. We were supposed to get married, visit Maldives for honeymoon, have two kids- one boy and one girl. Things were supposed to be perfect. He was supposed to be the ideal man. One who would have my back at all times. But then, he had gone and screwed it up. 

It was supposed to be just another day at work; but my world fell apart on that wretched day. Working together in the same office meant that we got to spend a lot of time with each other. After all, that was really how I came to know more about him and then fell for him. 

It was in the pantry that I saw him laughing with her. Sonia. The bitch. Did he really expect me to believe that they were 'just friends'? Of course, I couldn't let my feelings betray me. So I smiled and brushed it aside. All the while seething inside. When he said that he wanted a break, to think things through before we took them any further, I did everything I could. I begged, pleaded and cajoled. I even threatened him. But nothing seemed to work.

Later that night, I saw them leaving the office together. His hands on her waist. I had seen that look on his face before. When he was with me. This was not how it was supposed to be. They thought they were so cute with their stupid fake smiles and behavior. He even held hands with her. He had never done that when he was with me. Of course, when he said that he was not into public displays of affection, I had believed him. How could I not when I was head over heels in love with him. 

But when he took her home that night, that did it. That was the last straw. I had had enough. I was hardly thinking straight as I broke into the apartment past midnight. There they were, lying so peacefully sleeping. Without a care in the world, not realizing that mine was falling apart. 

The blade of the knife that I kept in my purse glinted in the moonlight that was seeping in through the lace curtains. A gentle breeze drifted in. A quick slice and it was done. A muffled scream and she lay bleeding and writhing before coming to a complete stand still. Not so pretty now, are we? I smiled.

There he sat with a terrified look on his face. Oh. That sure got his attention now. I see a brief look of confusion on his face as I pulled open the syringe and pushed it up his hand. Maybe I caught him by surprise or he was in too much of a shock to retaliate. Either ways, he now lay heavily drugged. At my mercy.

Dragging him into my car and driving home didn't take much time. I was surprised at my strength. I was not as weak as everyone had thought, after all. Locking him in the bathroom and keeping him there seemed like the only solution at the time. And when he gained consciousness and tried to fight me, I had run the knife along his hand, a small gash but deep enough to draw a lot of blood. That sure shut him. 

It's been over a week and I enjoy the power that I yield over him. Of course, it's only a matter of time for him to realize that we are meant to be. He was my soul mate, the one person in my life who was supposed to stay forever. From the bathroom, there came a whimper. I smile.

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

The bathroom must be colder than before. It must be freezing. I turn off the light and go to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

Linking this post to Write Tribe Pro Blogger Challenge. 

Something about her

(Image courtesy: Google)

I still remember the day, the sun was ablaze tanning my skin a deep brown. The air was crisp and I hoped the saline breeze would not cause much damage to my camera lens. Being the amateur photographer, I was experimenting with my new SLR on the beach. I captured a lot of beautiful images that day. At least, I like to think so. But what captivated me the most was a picture that I shot at random. A pair of legs, the left one adorning an anklet. The sound that it made when she moved her feet were music to my ears. The owner was lost deep in thought. It appears that she has not noticed me clicking pictures of her dainty feet. The water lapped around her ankles. She seemed distant, far away. 

The wind blew her auburn tresses over her shoulder. There were deep red highlights in them that shone through when the sun kissed it. She wore a light blue dress that stopped short at her knees. She must have felt my eyes boring into her back for she turned her eyes and looked at me. I saw a look of surprise on her face, which soon turned into indignation when she noticed my camera. Perhaps she knew that her memories are already mine.

She took a couple of steps away from me. But I was not ready to leave her. At least, not yet. 

"Do you mind if I click some of your pictures?", I asked.

"And what if I do?", she answers my question back with another one. This one was going to be tough, I realized.

"Well, I won't click any more of your pictures then." , I replied.

"So, that means you have already clicked me without asking." There was no mistaking the mild annoyance in her tone.

"I'm sorry. If you want I shall delete them right now. But the snaps are beautiful. You can have a look if you like." A look of uncertainty crossed her face before she agreed.

I could see the delight that she was trying hard to mask on seeing the pictures. Like me, the shot of her legs in the blue water, with her anklet peeping, held her attention. 

"I can mail it to you if you like." I offered.

Surprisingly, she passed me her email ID. Tanya, that was her name. 

And that was how she came into my life.

I transferred the files onto my laptop the first thing I did when I reached home and mailed it to her. I waited the entire night, but there was no reply. She seemed to be taking her time, though I was sure that she had seen it. Sometime after midnight, I slept off. The next morning, I woke up to her Thank you mail on my screen. Somehow, that made my day. I couldn't wipe off the goofy grin on my face all day. 

That evening, I caught her online and started chatting. It was mostly monotonous replies from her side and you could say it was more of me doing the talking. But the more she resisted, the more I felt drawn to her. She was reluctant to tell me anything about her. But somewhere along the way, the ice melted. 

Maybe it was my reluctance in giving up. Or maybe she simply took pity upon my desperation. But whatever the reason, I was happy. Not talking to her, made my day incomplete. Like a love lorn puppy, I lapped up all the attention she threw my way. In spite of talking to her for over six months, I could still not figure her out completely. She was aloof, immune to my charms. And maybe that is what fascinated me. She could not be termed my girlfriend, she was certainly not that. Maybe the word that I'm looking for is obsessed. Yes, she was more of an obsession for me, that had me hooked. There was something about her, something for which I always went back for. 

The very rare occasion, she decided to come out for a coffee or a movie, after a lot of cajoling, my heart sang with joy. She would sometimes hold my hand, stroking it softly, as she spoke to me. A whiff of fragrance when she tossed her hair or leaned across me would waft into my nostrils. Vanilla blended with honey. That is the smell that would always remind me of the time I spent with her. 

The truth is, I have never been able to figure her out even today. There are days when she would ask me to click her pictures, posing for me without inhibitions. With a careless abandon. Other days, she would snap at me if I did as much as click her picture on my mobile. 

And so, when she told me out of the blue, that she was moving away from the City, I was not taken aback by her decision. But that didn't leave me any less heart broken. She appeared not to be bothered about my sensitivity. But deep down, I knew that she was deeply affected as well. Had I played a role in driving her away, even unconsciously? I will never know. Some people come into our lives and leaves an impact. A long lasting one. For me, it shall always be hers. The stay, however short it maybe, gifts you memories to cherish for a lifetime. They shall remain locked up, fiercely guarded like an intimate secret, that you dust and look at when you are alone.   

And today, three years later, when I hold my first photography exhibition, my showstopper is still a peeping anklet. 

A birthday wish

(Image Courtesy: Google)

It was Stacy's fifteenth birthday. Her favorite chocolate cake was here, so were her friends and gifts. When it was time to blow out the candles, she closed her eyes and wished fervently for the one thing she wanted the most in the world- her parents by her side. As she  blew out the candles and opened her eyes, her wish came true. In the form of two glittery wrapped parcels sent by her parents from two corners of the world. 

This post is written for Five sentence fiction for Wishes at Lillie McFerrin Writes.