Works of RK

Every once in a long while, I fall silent in midst of a roaring relationship. I wait for the clutter of last night chatter to subside and the noise from everyday thoughts to settle down, and then I watch how my withdrawing affects the relationship. Most times, the silence stretches uneasily. It is as if somebody has paused a Schwarzenegger movie. It is as if an icicle forgot to drip, a snowflake landed on another and I were in a dream where the bogey man scared me to silence.

I have never seen an ocean. I don't know anyone who has seen one. Growing up by the Ganges, I was in awe with the angry river that overflowed every year. I looked at Baccha uncle's marooned steamer and imagined the ghosts that lived within its iron soul. When I first saw the sea, I also sensed the roundness of the horizon, the fullness of its brims and the infiniteness of the waves. If I were to sing on a dark silent night, l knew that my song would not reach the other shore. The sea dwarfed me into nothingness. It made me feel like a handful of water held up to the sun as an offering and then running down the fingers, back into the sea. Like an errant stream, I run a crazy winding course downhill. But my dear, I know that when I am done, I will meander my way back to you. I can feel my rush as I fall into you. I know what awaits me, as I dive deep into you. I too, fill you. I loose myself so that there can be you.