I thought I was sleepy until my bed told me that the crescent moon has been looking for me by the window. I stole a glance. These days I am facing problems in seeing projected images once again. I have been facing it since std. IXth. I see double moon and double stars. I don’t know whether it’s a defect of my vision or a blessing in disguise.
Anyway, the crescent moon. The moon has been growing old with me or say, I have been watching it since the day I opened my eyes to the sky. And I have been one ardent lover of the moon without expecting any love back. My love increases every passing day. The reasons, however, change with time. It lies smiling far in the sky. I assume it smiles only for me. I am not possessive though. I know it’s been created for me.
I admit that I am an insane admirer of the moon. Sanity just can’t get me closer to it. The moon brings me closer to the sun. It is the projection of the hard sunlight into a softer prettier radiance. And I am blessed to see the double of it. The thought that I can’t have it makes me grow fonder. I everyday fight with the universe to make my presence felt. The moon does see me and appreciates my love. I don’t expect it though.
I have shared a dream with it. I will kiss it once it comes down to me. The big beautiful moon. I will accept it with the ugly craters and grey lines of wisdom. But the moon needs to come down to be kissed. Only then I’d be able to see a single moon. I have a defect in my vision, I told you.
पुरानी बात है
और दूरी है,
और शून्य है
और समय है
और अनकही है
और आस है
और महि है
इक बात है
एक ही तो हैं.
My Facebook is too love struck! Every other status update is about ‘Love’. Someone is too much into love while others are too much out of love. There is a population which is still not in love but is too opinionated about it. ‘Love’ is all over my Facebook. Duh! And, the ‘Love’ here being talked about is specifically about relationships of humans aged between 14-30 years.
Reminds me of a stupid article on love and relationships that I wrote over a random website when I had just finished my std. 11th and of the only love story that I wrote over this blog. I thought I know everything about ‘Love’. Funny!
Years have passed since I last wrote/talked about love singularly. I listen to people. I read their Facebook status updates about relationships and sometimes my own updates but I prefer not to comment/explain online or offline. I giggle while I write this! There was a time when I used to consider myself a pro in ‘handling’ ‘Love’. Prior to it, I did not give a shit to it. And before that, I loved physics.
So, what do I think about ‘Love’ at this stage of my life? Is the Charmcaester spellbound of this phenomenon they call ‘Love’?
I giggle again as my brain thinks of this question! It is a very weird question. I find it very difficult to answer every time somebody asks me this. I refrain to have an opinion about ‘Love’ forget being judgmental about it! I fail to define it. I become speechless. I become silent and try to think about what I think of it. And, it becomes very hard to think because my brain does not allow me to think over it at all. My thoughts are held by some unknown forces and one face appears as I close my eyes in fear. The face of the soul I love. I love eternally without having an opinion and without judging it. And forget definitions, I like the chaos involved in this random order of feelings.
Wait, did I just try to define it? That… was… a conFYUsed approach? Nevermind.
I ‘Breathe’. I ‘Love’. To ‘Live’.
Isn’t that very simple? Silly me!
Da Ri Ra,,, Ra Ra Ri Ra… Pa Pa Ra Ri… Daaa Ri Raa…
She sips coffee from her new mug as this nostalgic music melts into her earphones. Whiteness of chill has covered the atmosphere in its blanket. The coy green leaves of trees around are afraid to flutter. Fog has fallen whitely, beautifully and piously. as it appears from her balcony on the second floor. The cold air of emptiness is churning her feelings down to a frozen impending desire. Pearls of separation slowly descend down her lower eyelashes, drop after drop.
A drop of nostalgia fell to take her to an hour ahead. In this hour of her own, she is the queen of her desire. She walks on the marble floored shipping yard to search him. He, who is headed to manage a whirlwind of Kingdoms. He, who is the king of kingdoms. She looks for him everywhere. She runs to counters, to gigantic ships, to yachts less visible in the fog above the frozen sea. He is nowhere. She is tired, she is lonely but a spark of hope, the unsaid presence of him keeps her going.
She stands near the sea against the winds to emptiness.
Tearing apart the white blanket of fog, a small boat appears cruising towards her. On the boat is, him, in his kingly attire, in her kingship of their kingdom. She smiles in delight. He comes towards her smiling. She could not wait and runs into him. She hugs him. Stealthily she looks into his twinkling eyes, his reddish white face and into a small cut of his upper lip towards the right end. Her king looked handsome as ever! He snugs her face within his warm hands and falls into a warm kiss. A warm kiss on her lips. She feels the warmth right there. She feels the sweetness right there. Only after tasting the sweetness of his lips, she realizes that she is still sipping coffee in her balcony of the second floor. Cold nostalgia chills her spine and the rosy winters appear empty once again.
Still, she smiles. Of the days that passed. Of the hour ahead. Of the time yet to come.
Seasons might arrive,
of white and of black.
Rivers might glide,
from sunrise to sunset.
Sands might shine,
through gold and blue.
Rain might pour less,
the passion and the pain.
But, a promise, I’d make, dear love;
My heart, an ocean of solicitude,
will eternally beat for you.