Skip to main content

Twisted

Every time I am with her, I am reminded of a Neruda: "I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me too."

Every now and then, from the random chaos of everyday living rises a warped relationship that is funny and entropic. I love her, and sometimes, she loves me too. Every time I hold her close to me, she melts into herself, rarely have I felt her melt into me. Those proud threaded brows, with their perfumed winged lashes flutter in random anticipation of a kiss, but those eyes don't talk to my eyes, they seem to be in deep conversation, with themselves. I know her favorite dress, I know her special days, I know her fears, her dreams, most of her desires. She knows where I live, she knows what I do, not sure if she knows my middle name. She knows I have a niece, not sure if she knows about the nephew.

Many years ago when I was frantically searching for a copy of Dr. Zhivago, I remember what our librarian Thomas sir told me, R, where these books go and hide, is a mystery. When it is time for you to make friends with a Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago will come in search of you. Until then, there are so many other yarns to weave.

I loved her. Sometime she loved me too.

Labels:

Comments

  1. WritingsForLifeApril 20, 2015 at 7:48 AM

    This reminds me of all the dysfunctional relations I have witnessed. This makes me shudder.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. RajeshApril 20, 2015 at 9:50 AM

      Summarized brilliantly in two simple sentences. Thank you R.

      Delete
    2. WomanInLoveMay 16, 2015 at 11:28 PM

      This is so beautifully written.

      Delete
  2. Puja UpadhyayAugust 20, 2015 at 7:36 PM

    Books have a karma of their own. It's strange how books find their way to me...or how a particular passage can be so comforting right when I need it...like a blog can resonate with so much that's going inside my head.
    It's twisted, no doubt...but then normal life would be so boring...isn't it?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spiral

Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears  Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me  My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.
2 comments
Read more

Our Kind of Music

Together We might never dissolve fully Into each other But we will flow my love Like rivulets through paths untrodden And we shall make music Like pebbles rolling And water flowing And birds calling There are all kinds of music And such shall be ours.
2 comments
Read more

Clowns in a Circus

The circus came to town I could see the posters of acrobats and hippos and giant wheels On shaky ancient auto- rikshaws Driven by incorrigibly happy Poor people. For some years now, I have felt like the joker  Looking at a gallery full of fools Wanting to believe That what they see And live Is not sheer drudgery  But liquid entertainment.  I think Joaquin Phoenix fucked my world view Forever.  And before that, there was the Matrix Or even, Joseph Heller Or maybe it was Gabriel Garcia Marquez  Or even The Bhagwan who declared In his infinite wisdom That the infinity of our souls  And the divinity of our beings Are sullen By the circus  Of life.
2 comments
Read more