Hitesha Deshpande's Blog, page 3
January 11, 2011
Strangers
She woke up to the sound of early morning birds. Her thick dark lashes, sticky from the mascara she had used last night, seemed reluctant to go off each other. Her cheeks lifted in a slight smile. Her smile said she was happy. For the moment at least. She stretched her small body to work off the last vestiges sleep. Her hand touched smooth skin. Still smiling she sat up in bed, dragging the sheet along with her. It crumpled at her waist and exposed his delicious back to her.
In the soft glow of the golden dust, his back looked a rich bronze. Muscles rippled beneath his leathery skin as he tucked his hands under his head and settled into a deeper sleep. She could not stop herself from touching that tempting back just once more. His skin was warm. Inviting.
Like him.
"You look lonely tonight," he had said. And she had been. It had been a big mistake to come to party. It still hurt to see her ex with another woman. Any other woman. She had thought she was over him. But the loud night with its even louder music was teaching her otherwise. He on the other hand had no issues grinding his hips with the other girls at the club. It sickened her. She sought refuge at the bar. She had never been a heavy drinker and she was not about to start now. But she was definitely tempted to test the theory of alcohol being able to drown all else.
And that's where he had found her. She watched as he leaned an elbow on the bar table and settled his glass more firmly between his long fingers. He had a gorgeous smile. A perfect line of lips encircling perfect white teeth. His right cheek caved into a dimple making him look innocent and sensuous at the same time. Was he really talking to her? Her ex had made it clear that no man with all his parts intact was likely to find her attractive at first sight. And given the way this man looked, he would have better luck than her ex in finding hot women to take home.
"I think you could use some company," he said when she hadn't spoken. She frowned at him. "What are you drinking?" He pointed with his eyes to her now empty glass.
"Martini," she replied automatically. He raised his eyebrows in either wonder or appreciation, she would never know. He signaled the bartender to refill her glass and settled himself on the bar stool next to her.
She had no idea why she was letting this absolutely handsome stranger buy her a drink. Some tiny part of her wished her ex was watching every bit of this. She wanted him to feel like he was missing out on something big by leaving her behind. She felt like she had lost something big when he had walked out on her without a second glance. She shook her head to clear her thoughts of him.
"Want to talk about what's bothering you?" he asked helpfully. He had a voice like rich dark chocolate. It warmed you from the inside.
"Spare me the psychobabble," she replied rudely, annoyed at herself for being lustily attracted to this complete stranger.
"Sorry?"
"All that bull crap about how talking to a stranger is easier because he is a stranger kind of crap," she explained lamely. He laughed. A rich sound which left a tingling sensation right down to her toes.
"I have a better theory," he said looking straight into her eyes.
"Really?" She challenged.
"Sex with a stranger!"
It was her turn to laugh. He shrugged his shoulder and took a sip of whatever he was drinking. "Think about it." He was not looking at her but looking somewhere straight ahead. "There are so many times when words are not enough to express exactly what you feel. Love. Hate. Anger. Frustration. Sorrow. Whatever. There is no exact way in which to say it. So many times when you find the right stranger to shoulder you feelings, but you don't know how or what to say." He looked at her, "I say you don't need words. You don't need any superficially clamor of meaningless alphabets when you can show what you feel. When in the silence of words, heartbeats talk and breaths mingle to understand, to comfort. It's magical!"
She stared at him. Entranced. Enchanted. He was insane. Every word of what he had said was sheer insanity. Yet it made sense to her. She could not take her eyes off him and he never looked away from her.
That was last night. This was now. It was morning. The spell was broken. It was time to move on. Reluctantly she pulled her hand away from his back. She stepped noiselessly off the bed and gathered her clothes. He had not promised her anything more than one night. One night of passion. One night of confession. One night where she had bared her soul to him. All the hurt, all the agony, all the anger there for him to see, to soothe as she submitted her nakedness to him. He had been tender. He had cared. He had heard her silence and he had kissed every last bit of sadness out of her.
One night which was everything she had ever dreamed a night could be.
She pulled her dress over head and slipped into her heels. A tiny tear slipped down the same cheek which had minutes ago been smiling. After baring herself to him how could she ever treat him like a stranger?
In the soft glow of the golden dust, his back looked a rich bronze. Muscles rippled beneath his leathery skin as he tucked his hands under his head and settled into a deeper sleep. She could not stop herself from touching that tempting back just once more. His skin was warm. Inviting.
Like him.
"You look lonely tonight," he had said. And she had been. It had been a big mistake to come to party. It still hurt to see her ex with another woman. Any other woman. She had thought she was over him. But the loud night with its even louder music was teaching her otherwise. He on the other hand had no issues grinding his hips with the other girls at the club. It sickened her. She sought refuge at the bar. She had never been a heavy drinker and she was not about to start now. But she was definitely tempted to test the theory of alcohol being able to drown all else.
And that's where he had found her. She watched as he leaned an elbow on the bar table and settled his glass more firmly between his long fingers. He had a gorgeous smile. A perfect line of lips encircling perfect white teeth. His right cheek caved into a dimple making him look innocent and sensuous at the same time. Was he really talking to her? Her ex had made it clear that no man with all his parts intact was likely to find her attractive at first sight. And given the way this man looked, he would have better luck than her ex in finding hot women to take home.
"I think you could use some company," he said when she hadn't spoken. She frowned at him. "What are you drinking?" He pointed with his eyes to her now empty glass.
"Martini," she replied automatically. He raised his eyebrows in either wonder or appreciation, she would never know. He signaled the bartender to refill her glass and settled himself on the bar stool next to her.
She had no idea why she was letting this absolutely handsome stranger buy her a drink. Some tiny part of her wished her ex was watching every bit of this. She wanted him to feel like he was missing out on something big by leaving her behind. She felt like she had lost something big when he had walked out on her without a second glance. She shook her head to clear her thoughts of him.
"Want to talk about what's bothering you?" he asked helpfully. He had a voice like rich dark chocolate. It warmed you from the inside.
"Spare me the psychobabble," she replied rudely, annoyed at herself for being lustily attracted to this complete stranger.
"Sorry?"
"All that bull crap about how talking to a stranger is easier because he is a stranger kind of crap," she explained lamely. He laughed. A rich sound which left a tingling sensation right down to her toes.
"I have a better theory," he said looking straight into her eyes.
"Really?" She challenged.
"Sex with a stranger!"
It was her turn to laugh. He shrugged his shoulder and took a sip of whatever he was drinking. "Think about it." He was not looking at her but looking somewhere straight ahead. "There are so many times when words are not enough to express exactly what you feel. Love. Hate. Anger. Frustration. Sorrow. Whatever. There is no exact way in which to say it. So many times when you find the right stranger to shoulder you feelings, but you don't know how or what to say." He looked at her, "I say you don't need words. You don't need any superficially clamor of meaningless alphabets when you can show what you feel. When in the silence of words, heartbeats talk and breaths mingle to understand, to comfort. It's magical!"
She stared at him. Entranced. Enchanted. He was insane. Every word of what he had said was sheer insanity. Yet it made sense to her. She could not take her eyes off him and he never looked away from her.
That was last night. This was now. It was morning. The spell was broken. It was time to move on. Reluctantly she pulled her hand away from his back. She stepped noiselessly off the bed and gathered her clothes. He had not promised her anything more than one night. One night of passion. One night of confession. One night where she had bared her soul to him. All the hurt, all the agony, all the anger there for him to see, to soothe as she submitted her nakedness to him. He had been tender. He had cared. He had heard her silence and he had kissed every last bit of sadness out of her.
One night which was everything she had ever dreamed a night could be.
She pulled her dress over head and slipped into her heels. A tiny tear slipped down the same cheek which had minutes ago been smiling. After baring herself to him how could she ever treat him like a stranger?
January 3, 2011
Winter memories
It was the perfect winter morning.
Silver mists flirted with a crimson sun. A purple tinge searing the white skies was a testimony to the fun they were having. Orange leaves rustled their goodbyes. Lifelessly they flitted to the foot of the tree. They crunched, and the tree winced invisibly. Silently watching as the leaf, which was once the reason for his very existence was ground into dust under the unknowing heel.
She could hear the crunch, and she could feel the pain. Yet, she could not stop herself from putting one foot before the other. Crunching, crushing, realizing. If only she could do that with memories too. Memories, which were faded and worn. If only she could grind them to dust as easily as the autumn leaves.
Memories which shackled her happiness. Like the green heavy moss on the barks of ancient oaks, they refused to let go. And she stood there, just as mute and just as heavy, letting the past creep on her. She was addicted to her past. A past which had almost killed her.
Crunch!
Another leaf ground to the dust.
Another moment gone. Another past created. Another memory born.
Are memories immortal?
Do they ever die?
Crunch!
More dust.
Her breath danced on clouds of vapor, as she continued walking. The warmth of life mixing with the cold of death creating a new moment… which vanished. She had to stop killing the future before it s time. She had to let hope reside. To live in the past, would mean to die. For one cannot survive in the cycle of that which has already happened.
So why did she keep returning to that moment of decision? To that fork where you could choose to live or choose to exist?
Her heel clicked against the cobblestone. She breathed a sigh of relief. The crunching leaves were beginning to torment her. This was a new path. Shining, gleaming, black. The winds warned her before they blew the mists away. Naked sunlight streaked through the clear skies and sizzled on her scars.
Another reminder that this was her second chance.
She ran a finger along her cheek, tracing the scar that ran along it. Twenty years had done naught to erase it. Nor had they managed to ease the pain of the memory of its birth. The scar had taken her parents away. The scar had left her alive.
Was the scar good or bad?
On the horizon she could see the fog kicking up again. A hazy line which blurred the golden edge of earth's stolen kiss. An intruder. Unwelcome.
Her head dropped and she sighed. The swirls of her breath danced around her pink, glistening lips. An image flashed through her mind. Blood, hair, rugs and piece of glass sticking out of her cheek. The sun glinted off the glass and scattered a million colors on her bleeding cheek.
She shook her head to clear the memory.
Crunch!
She was back under the tree again.
December 14, 2010
Whispers of the shadows
He was a thief. He stole magic from the night. He wrapped himself in the invisible velvet so tight, that every touch of his mesmerized, tantalized, caressed... He tempted life to surrender every sense to his bidding. He was addiction- of the worst kind.
She never wanted to let him go.
She had let him paint imaginary stars on the dark canvas of her wounded dreams. She had known, even then, that when she would wake up, the stars would disappear taking him with them. But she had indulged him nevertheless. How could she not? She was spellbound, wasn't she? Captivated by his presence, enamored by his existence.
She had known it was too good to be true.
He had led her and she had blindly followed. Their dance a final performance on the stage of life. She wanted the dance to last forever. She could not miss a step, for a missed step would ruin the perfection of their moment. Yet with every step, she was closer to the moment the curtain would fall.
To dance or not to dance?
His smile made his lies so believable, for some moments she pretended with him that they were true. With his smile he created a new world for her. A world he would soon leave. But he never told her that. His smile just asked her to believe in that which could not be.
And she did.
Without a noise, the magic ended. All it took was the meeting of his lids. He closed his eyes on his world and hers, leaving her all alone.
Like she had known all along he would.
She never wanted to let him go.
She had let him paint imaginary stars on the dark canvas of her wounded dreams. She had known, even then, that when she would wake up, the stars would disappear taking him with them. But she had indulged him nevertheless. How could she not? She was spellbound, wasn't she? Captivated by his presence, enamored by his existence.
She had known it was too good to be true.
He had led her and she had blindly followed. Their dance a final performance on the stage of life. She wanted the dance to last forever. She could not miss a step, for a missed step would ruin the perfection of their moment. Yet with every step, she was closer to the moment the curtain would fall.
To dance or not to dance?
His smile made his lies so believable, for some moments she pretended with him that they were true. With his smile he created a new world for her. A world he would soon leave. But he never told her that. His smile just asked her to believe in that which could not be.
And she did.
Without a noise, the magic ended. All it took was the meeting of his lids. He closed his eyes on his world and hers, leaving her all alone.
Like she had known all along he would.
November 6, 2010
La Belle et la Bête
A Halloween night was not the best of times to give up the familiar confines of Hard Rock Cafe and end up venturing to some upstart lounge bar called Enter The Dragon in Koregaon Park, he decided over a sip of Jack Daniels. Of course, the fact that Celine Deon was trying to be haunting while singing 'Beauty and the Beast' might have had something to do with it. But in his heart he knew he would have enjoyed it, had he been with Pragya.
He kept thinking of their times together. Those knotted fingers, not ready to leave each others' comfort even when an upright septuagenarian of the society would clear his throat loudly every time he passed by on his evening walk. Those stolen kisses, that seemed to start for a moment and lingered on forever.. It was kind of funny thinking of those times in this environment- the romantic images providing a stark contrast in his mind to the visual inputs he was receiving at the moment, surrounded by devils, vampires, death eaters and what not!!
"Pragya!" He called out as a silken touch on the back of his neck brought him out of his trance like state.
"Oops! I am so sorry" This was a woman in a black, off shoulder gown who was dressed up as a vampire.
"It's ok" He muttered as she floated away towards the bar.
This girl was interesting, he thought. She was not really a mirror cracking beauty, though she had an exquisiteness in features few others could have hoped to match. Her cheekbones were the defining feature of her face, or were they? The blue of her eyes stood out in contrast to her fair to a fault complexion. But there was something that struck a jarring note. Her face seemed pale, almost chalk white. But what was the point thinking about her, and he returned to his drink.
"Would you mind terribly if I shared the table with you?" Again the same girl. "There is no table which is vacant, and since you seem to be alone....." She trailed off.
"It would be a pleasure" He somehow stammered.
Now that he had an opportunity to study her, he tried to take her details in without ending up ogling at her. His attention was drawn to the ring on the middle finger of her left hand. The ring was made of silver, perhaps. But it was not the material which fascinated him. He was hooked up by the design on the ring. It was small, yet intricately carved. It could not have been a demonic beast, could it??
"Umm... I am Bella" She was saying.
"Oh! Hi, I am Rehan."
"So you are not really deaf. I have told you my name four times in the last ten minutes..."
How did I end up in this place, he was thinking. As he lay between the sheets after a night of passion, their bodies pressing together, he could really not recollect what led to what and they ended up at her place. What he did recollect, though, was an array of figurines of beasts of all kinds of ferocity in the hall, in the living room and here in the bedroom too..
Now, she was asleep, and he could study her at length. But still, he was fascinated by the beauty of the ring... He took her palm in his hands. It seemed so delicate, so... fragile. He looked at the ring, and the beast in the ring seemed to be looking back at him... It gave him an awkward feeling. Pragya's face flashed in his mind. But he willed those thoughts away.
The ring seemed to glide down her finger as he tried to take it off. She seemed to be waking up. On an impulse, he decided to put it on, knowing it would never fit him. Why, his little finger would be larger than Bella's thumb! But the ring fit, snug!
Bella turned towards him, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Strangely, the kiss seemed to leave a cold sensation. He tried to speak, but could not.
"Rehan. That is your name, right? I think you would fit well on my R shelf. As such, there are only three of them there."
He could not move, he could not say anything. He seemed to be losing all his senses.
"Thanks a lot for one more year of youth, sweetheart. And you were not too bad in the bed, either!"
He kept thinking of their times together. Those knotted fingers, not ready to leave each others' comfort even when an upright septuagenarian of the society would clear his throat loudly every time he passed by on his evening walk. Those stolen kisses, that seemed to start for a moment and lingered on forever.. It was kind of funny thinking of those times in this environment- the romantic images providing a stark contrast in his mind to the visual inputs he was receiving at the moment, surrounded by devils, vampires, death eaters and what not!!
"Pragya!" He called out as a silken touch on the back of his neck brought him out of his trance like state.
"Oops! I am so sorry" This was a woman in a black, off shoulder gown who was dressed up as a vampire.
"It's ok" He muttered as she floated away towards the bar.
This girl was interesting, he thought. She was not really a mirror cracking beauty, though she had an exquisiteness in features few others could have hoped to match. Her cheekbones were the defining feature of her face, or were they? The blue of her eyes stood out in contrast to her fair to a fault complexion. But there was something that struck a jarring note. Her face seemed pale, almost chalk white. But what was the point thinking about her, and he returned to his drink.
"Would you mind terribly if I shared the table with you?" Again the same girl. "There is no table which is vacant, and since you seem to be alone....." She trailed off.
"It would be a pleasure" He somehow stammered.
Now that he had an opportunity to study her, he tried to take her details in without ending up ogling at her. His attention was drawn to the ring on the middle finger of her left hand. The ring was made of silver, perhaps. But it was not the material which fascinated him. He was hooked up by the design on the ring. It was small, yet intricately carved. It could not have been a demonic beast, could it??
"Umm... I am Bella" She was saying.
"Oh! Hi, I am Rehan."
"So you are not really deaf. I have told you my name four times in the last ten minutes..."
How did I end up in this place, he was thinking. As he lay between the sheets after a night of passion, their bodies pressing together, he could really not recollect what led to what and they ended up at her place. What he did recollect, though, was an array of figurines of beasts of all kinds of ferocity in the hall, in the living room and here in the bedroom too..
Now, she was asleep, and he could study her at length. But still, he was fascinated by the beauty of the ring... He took her palm in his hands. It seemed so delicate, so... fragile. He looked at the ring, and the beast in the ring seemed to be looking back at him... It gave him an awkward feeling. Pragya's face flashed in his mind. But he willed those thoughts away.
The ring seemed to glide down her finger as he tried to take it off. She seemed to be waking up. On an impulse, he decided to put it on, knowing it would never fit him. Why, his little finger would be larger than Bella's thumb! But the ring fit, snug!
Bella turned towards him, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Strangely, the kiss seemed to leave a cold sensation. He tried to speak, but could not.
"Rehan. That is your name, right? I think you would fit well on my R shelf. As such, there are only three of them there."
He could not move, he could not say anything. He seemed to be losing all his senses.
"Thanks a lot for one more year of youth, sweetheart. And you were not too bad in the bed, either!"
October 29, 2010
Drunken Experiment
Its not like me to get personal on this space. Normally it is my imagination which springs wings and takes flights of fantasy into the unexplored world of human emotions. Words just splash themselves on an invisible canvas and a new love story begins with the tender laces of black and white.
But that's what usually happens here.
Usually, when I am not tempted by goofy possibilities. When my natural instinct to write overrides my basic instinct to be me. And today is definitely unusual!
For the very first time, I have turned to the keyboard in a sense of blissful stupor. Some might call it being drunk, I think of it as being alive. All my sensed working beyond their optimum capacity. Its a little after midnight. I can hear the clock eerily ticking above the annoying clacking of my keyboard. Like the mighty hands are ticked off at being subdued by the incessant click of the puny keys. I, though, am silently pleased. I dont even want to count the number of times that horrid ticking has kept me awake at night, fueling my imagination with nightmarish thoughts!! Serves them right! Go tick away!
There is a slight wind blowing right outside my closed window. And I swear I can actually see it move. Its like angels have dressed in black and crept out of the high heavens for a midnight fiesta outside my window. Their noiseless feet move gracefully across my rusting balustrade and every now and then I can hear a giggle or two.
I am not imagining it!
The winds ought to be cold at this time of the year. There is a definite drop in temperatures. A cold chill runs down my spine as I summon this thought. Goosebumps taint my dry skin. But I swear that guy in the red T-shirt standing next to his black CRV has sweaty palms as he helps his drunken date into the apartment. I can almost smell his thoughts.
And gag on them.
Yuck!
I can hear him too. Waiting for me to join him as we close our eyes on another day together. I can hear him getting impatient to fold me in his arms and let me loose only when a new day has dawned upon us. I can hear him waiting to tell me, that tomorrow is another chance to create a lifetime together, so lets hurry up and seal today!
I love listening to things he never says!
Unfortunately I hear them best only when I am drunk!
But that's what usually happens here.
Usually, when I am not tempted by goofy possibilities. When my natural instinct to write overrides my basic instinct to be me. And today is definitely unusual!
For the very first time, I have turned to the keyboard in a sense of blissful stupor. Some might call it being drunk, I think of it as being alive. All my sensed working beyond their optimum capacity. Its a little after midnight. I can hear the clock eerily ticking above the annoying clacking of my keyboard. Like the mighty hands are ticked off at being subdued by the incessant click of the puny keys. I, though, am silently pleased. I dont even want to count the number of times that horrid ticking has kept me awake at night, fueling my imagination with nightmarish thoughts!! Serves them right! Go tick away!
There is a slight wind blowing right outside my closed window. And I swear I can actually see it move. Its like angels have dressed in black and crept out of the high heavens for a midnight fiesta outside my window. Their noiseless feet move gracefully across my rusting balustrade and every now and then I can hear a giggle or two.
I am not imagining it!
The winds ought to be cold at this time of the year. There is a definite drop in temperatures. A cold chill runs down my spine as I summon this thought. Goosebumps taint my dry skin. But I swear that guy in the red T-shirt standing next to his black CRV has sweaty palms as he helps his drunken date into the apartment. I can almost smell his thoughts.
And gag on them.
Yuck!
I can hear him too. Waiting for me to join him as we close our eyes on another day together. I can hear him getting impatient to fold me in his arms and let me loose only when a new day has dawned upon us. I can hear him waiting to tell me, that tomorrow is another chance to create a lifetime together, so lets hurry up and seal today!
I love listening to things he never says!
Unfortunately I hear them best only when I am drunk!
September 28, 2010
Dancing in Dreams
Thick eyelashes rested gently upon the silken smoothness of her creamy cheeks. The night winds stilled to coordinate their dance to the rhythmic rise and fall of her slumbering chest. Invisible angels guarded the doors to her dreams, lest some unwanted warrior thoughts break the spell of this dream.
This dream which repeated itself every month on the same night. For on this night, twenty four months ago, she had turned her back on the one she loved, without realizing that she had indeed loved him. And every day since, with the streak of veal announcing the departure of a cumbersome night, she had woken up knowing that she had lost on love. The agony of life was painted with invisible ink in the form of scars on her memory. Moments which refused to be erased with the advent of newer ones. Incidents which embedded themselves with startling clarity in the soft creases of her shaken mind, and which sprang forth unannounced, taking her by surprise. Pain laced with knowledge reminded her she could still feel.
This dream was a respite. When unwittingly she slipped from reality into the arms of love. His arms. She knew exactly how she would feel once in his embrace. Like a million butterflies had carried the golden dust of an autumn sun on their velvet wings. And he would hold her like that for as long as she wanted him to. She wanted to be held forever.
Yet even in her dream, she knew that this dream was bound to end. Clutching desperately at his shoulder she would lift her eyes to his face, daring all the love she held for him to shine through her eyes. She never spoke in her dreams. Words could shatter a spell. She willed him to understand her love. She willed him to forgive. She willed him to realize that she would never love again.
"Wrong again, my love," he whispered. She fluttered her eyes in confusion. Why did he sound so different? And wasn't this supposed to be a silent dream? Why did he talk then?
Before she could part her lips to speak, he rested a feathered finger on her lips. Through the blinding halo which surrounded his angelic face, she sought his eyes. The strength of his halo blinded her. She blinked. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. The butterflies were flapping their wings in such agony that their flapping sounded like the thunder ready to split the sky.
"Once again you make the mistake of loving but not knowing that you do," he whispered as he lowered his cold lips to hers.
And then he was gone. So were the butterflies. But the sun-kissed warmth lingered behind. She searched her dream high and low, she even called his name. But this time she found herself all alone.
Maybe not.
If she stretched her dream little more, she could envelope the hazy silhouette dancing on the fringes. The silhouette was dancing hypnotically. Like it had a song of its own which the world wouldn't know. She moved towards it. It was a man. Dancing alone to the songs of broken love and a heart forlorn. Yet he was happy. Happy to be dancing to a tune of his own.
She walked towards him, her own feet as light as air. Her left foot already tapping a rhythm in sync with his. He did not stop, but he took her hand in his and together they danced under strawberry skies and honeyed winds. They danced for love. Lost and won. They danced for life. The one gone by and the one just begun.
Two strangers, not so strange anymore, dancing in dreams, dancing to dance some more.
The angels left them to their dance. The skies were changing color, the night was taking leave to go. They hesitated for a moment and then kissed her sleeping form. They had a feeling they might need to guard her dreams no more.
He followed their kiss, with one of his own .
She fluttered sleepy eyes to his loving face as he whispered, "Good Morning, love."
This dream which repeated itself every month on the same night. For on this night, twenty four months ago, she had turned her back on the one she loved, without realizing that she had indeed loved him. And every day since, with the streak of veal announcing the departure of a cumbersome night, she had woken up knowing that she had lost on love. The agony of life was painted with invisible ink in the form of scars on her memory. Moments which refused to be erased with the advent of newer ones. Incidents which embedded themselves with startling clarity in the soft creases of her shaken mind, and which sprang forth unannounced, taking her by surprise. Pain laced with knowledge reminded her she could still feel.
This dream was a respite. When unwittingly she slipped from reality into the arms of love. His arms. She knew exactly how she would feel once in his embrace. Like a million butterflies had carried the golden dust of an autumn sun on their velvet wings. And he would hold her like that for as long as she wanted him to. She wanted to be held forever.
Yet even in her dream, she knew that this dream was bound to end. Clutching desperately at his shoulder she would lift her eyes to his face, daring all the love she held for him to shine through her eyes. She never spoke in her dreams. Words could shatter a spell. She willed him to understand her love. She willed him to forgive. She willed him to realize that she would never love again.
"Wrong again, my love," he whispered. She fluttered her eyes in confusion. Why did he sound so different? And wasn't this supposed to be a silent dream? Why did he talk then?
Before she could part her lips to speak, he rested a feathered finger on her lips. Through the blinding halo which surrounded his angelic face, she sought his eyes. The strength of his halo blinded her. She blinked. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. The butterflies were flapping their wings in such agony that their flapping sounded like the thunder ready to split the sky.
"Once again you make the mistake of loving but not knowing that you do," he whispered as he lowered his cold lips to hers.
And then he was gone. So were the butterflies. But the sun-kissed warmth lingered behind. She searched her dream high and low, she even called his name. But this time she found herself all alone.
Maybe not.
If she stretched her dream little more, she could envelope the hazy silhouette dancing on the fringes. The silhouette was dancing hypnotically. Like it had a song of its own which the world wouldn't know. She moved towards it. It was a man. Dancing alone to the songs of broken love and a heart forlorn. Yet he was happy. Happy to be dancing to a tune of his own.
She walked towards him, her own feet as light as air. Her left foot already tapping a rhythm in sync with his. He did not stop, but he took her hand in his and together they danced under strawberry skies and honeyed winds. They danced for love. Lost and won. They danced for life. The one gone by and the one just begun.
Two strangers, not so strange anymore, dancing in dreams, dancing to dance some more.
The angels left them to their dance. The skies were changing color, the night was taking leave to go. They hesitated for a moment and then kissed her sleeping form. They had a feeling they might need to guard her dreams no more.
He followed their kiss, with one of his own .
She fluttered sleepy eyes to his loving face as he whispered, "Good Morning, love."
September 7, 2010
Wood Logged
"I have to be totally insane to be doing this!" she giggled as she pulled the sheet over her breasts. He leaned over and nibbled at her soft earlobe. She giggled again.
"Either that," he said as he trailed kisses down her slender neck, "or insanely in love!"
"That too," she purred as she let go off the sheet and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
"I don't believe you haven't told anybody about this!" he said as he traced her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. She arched...
"Either that," he said as he trailed kisses down her slender neck, "or insanely in love!"
"That too," she purred as she let go off the sheet and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
"I don't believe you haven't told anybody about this!" he said as he traced her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. She arched...
September 1, 2010
All Is Well That Ends Well..
The chill in the air was freezing... Reaching his bones and icing his marrow.. And after a long day's work in which his only respite was a cup of rancid coffee..
The day had started off bad.. Missed breakfast as there was no way he could have made it to the office in time after getting up so late... Got stuck in a traffic jam due to the fog.. Reached an hour late for a presentation to the client.. An hour late!!! He knew the loss of the client will be squarely blamed on him, when the...
The day had started off bad.. Missed breakfast as there was no way he could have made it to the office in time after getting up so late... Got stuck in a traffic jam due to the fog.. Reached an hour late for a presentation to the client.. An hour late!!! He knew the loss of the client will be squarely blamed on him, when the...
August 27, 2010
Trapped
He was the first one to wake up as usual. He rubbed the sleep off his eyes and padded into the kitchen. Sherman, the calico cat they had picked off the street, dutifully rubbed herself along his pajama clad leg. Smiling he bent down to stroke her soft fur. No matter what time he woke up, she was always pleased to see him. He opened the fridge to fetch the carton of milk. She clung on to his pajama and climbed up to his shoulder. She stay poised there as he fetched her old orange bowl and...
August 19, 2010
Understanding Love
"Was it worth it?" she asked as she tucked her feet beneath herself and settled more comfortably on the rocking chair. Everything around her was a complete contrast to her deceptively serene stance. Angry raindrops slapped against the window panes, threatening to crack their fragile existence. Lightening slashed he already bruised skies like a murderer's blade. Winds howled and waged a war against the sheets of water. Any attempt to blow them away was met with a brutal resistance. The...
