Of dark nights and the things you stumble on,
Of long walks and silence that envelops you,
Of days that push you to the edge of your soul,
Of words that stay stuck in the pen,
Of many that are said but don’t mean a thing,
Of those that need to be said yet don’t have a voice,
Of clenched jaws, blinding anger, punctured armor, tattered soles,
A pinch of salt, a squeeze of lime, a bar of chocolate, a cube of ice.
Someday, lets sit and chat,
Over a glass of chai maybe?
On all the trivial and non trivial things,
The happiness, fun and love,
And the pain, sorrow and sadness of life,
While watching the hands of the clock melt away.
Of how we don’t need picturesque locations,
Or a vacation to enjoy the sunrise.
To share a few stories of our lives,
Under the cool shade of the trees.
Or to sit in silence for a while,
And listen to the distant laughter of the children playing,
Of the sound of water hitting against the rocky shore,
And the innumerable birds and crickets.
Last sunday I spent a few hours with myself, walking at my own pace and watching the world rush by.
Here is where I sat for a while and let the noise in my head just be, not to sort things out, but to accept the madness the way it is! 🙂
There are days when you want time to stop, to pause in that moment, till eternity. Precisely the reason why I don’t wear a watch, it hurries you, reminding you of all the things left to do, pulling you away from living each moment to the fullest.
I was having one of those days when all I wanted to do was to feel calm, to peacefully notice the world go by, slowly and observe the minute things, like the hawker’s cry for attention or an old man’s wrinkled forehead as he looks at the crowded bus or how the girl’s eyes searched the crowded bus stop for her beloved.
I took a share auto to the nearby bus stand which is also one of the bus depots. There are always a lot of buses in waiting and you never know which one would leave first. I chose a bus out of the many and sat by the window seat. The bus had hardly anyone in it. As I sat with my head resting on the window I saw that diagonally opposite to where I was sitting, there was a couple.
It’s not unusual to find a couple in the bus, but what caught my eye was that they were communicating in sign language with their hands. The girl kept smiling and laughing at what the guy was excitedly gesturing. Slowly the bus started getting crowded, but that didn’t deter nor interrupt their conversation.
They had a little world of their own, a bubble where neither the conductor’s irritation on the lack of loose coins or the other passenger’s conversations posed any hindrance. After a while they stopped gesturing and merely stared into each other’s eyes. Just like that, nothing else mattered to them, not the crowd in the bus or the loud honking of the vehicles stuck in the traffic jam.
I stared at them for a while and felt a tug in my heart; I was a witness to a moment which was private and one of love between two people. I turned my face towards the window, watching the endless concrete jungle pass by and there came teardrops. The ones mourning the end of a phase of love, they hung themselves on my eyelashes and flew with the wind.
Love needs no words, no explanations and no reasons. It just needs feelings and to be felt.
I was talking to a friend of mine today evening, she knew about the break up and since then has been endlessly telling me to date other guys, but I just don’t feel like it.
Its that I may be able to get rid of his things and delete the mails, messages and his numbers but the memories and feelings never go. There are times that I just look at things and unknowingly start missing him.
Just today in the morning post class I went to have tea and suddenly thought of him, I could listen to the squeals of laughter, of how specific he was about his ginger-pepper-tulsi tea, of how he made the world’s best coffee, of how I would sit on his lap and we would have chai together, of how he would make fun of my intense fondness for strong tea, of the amount of sugar that I need in my tea often teasing me that it was more in the nature of sugar water than tea, of how we would discuss our day over a cup of chai, of how we would pull the chairs out in the balcony and sip tea in silence, of how I couldn’t drink hot tea and how I would curl on his lap burying my nose in the nape of neck as he put his free arm around me and held me tight, I can still feel his skin, its smell and the warmth of his palms…