Windows became shutters; curtains they were not no longer; blinded by blinds I was. I can no longer see floors, well carpeted they all are. There isn’t even no such thing as concrete walls, changing with the changing seasons. All wood, hopefully no termites. Little changes enveloping my life, I was taking it one at a time, making a face in the beginning, getting used to it in due course, even secretly enjoying some of these things. There was no sound of milkman stashing the milk and newspaper in the mornings at the door step. Who cares! Refrigerated milk and online newspapers were as good. Only I had to plan in advance and make sure there was always some supply of milk in the fridge and newspaper never felt like it when u did not hold it and feel that papyrus. But as long as I never reminded myself of these things, it did not matter. Till… Till one fine day, when you are locked in with no milk do u actually feel the pinch. Not one to wake with the sun, it never mattered. Not until the night I never slept, cuddled in bed with a book, just staying up for the heck of it. The fact that it was a bad old Monday morning soon enough did not matter. I just did it for the heck of it. At five, the signs of insomnia began taking shape and I decided tea it was for me. Holy cow! I had wiped the milk carton clean the previous night! And then I missed the milkman and noisy mornings and even the pressure cooker whistle so much. I was even getting close to the point of hollering loud and clear into the phone to that faraway land. Click, click, type numbers, Trinng. On second thoughts, quite an expensive affair! Shut the phone tight. Tea, without milk it shall be. Five minutes and lot of boiling later, a dark brown liquid emerged. It was so transparent, I could apparently see the bottom of the Ikea cup. It did not look like tea, how would it taste like one? A sip. Yuck! And this was after 2 packets of sugar free. I missed the milk and the milkman and the familiar noise once again. Two things I learnt after this a) Tea without milk (the creamer hardly a substitute) is not quite IT and so always have milk stored in the refrigerator. This is an absolute must, just as removing shoes in the airport and sniffing around to make sure the stench is not emanating from your own feet, is. b) Some things never change!
Dark cloudy night, A small lamp throwing light, Crouched by the fire place, A little mermaid, in a daze!
A book, half read by her side, Thoughts far away, too obvious to hide, Thinking of him ensconced in his bed, Sleep deluding her, his voice playing in her head.
Seattle, a charming city, Far from polluted and dirty, This was her home, And yet not her own.
She craved for the big one, Full of hope and all fun, That hardly the reason for her want, Prince Charming her sole rant.
Musing about her knight in shining armour, Till daybreak and the clock struck four, A little mermaid sat tight, Sleepless in Seattle tonight.
What was happening to me today? I could not hold back pen from paper. My fingers were typing furiously at the laptop and I was on a rampage. C’mmon this is the third post of the day and I have not yet told all that I wanted to. I have not even begun. There is so much ground to be covered between here and there. So much to be explored between now and then! I hear jubilation all around. It is a Friday evening after all and I am not even trying to pretend to be working. I am waiting to free myself from this space they provide me. I want to flee out of here and wish I could be there. I hear his voice, in my head and on the phone like I do every single day and night. I am not tired of hearing it, never will be. There is so much that was talked and yet so much more to talk. We are so familiar with each other now, so at times we get repetitive but it becomes reiteration. A window pops up and we go about writing myriad characters, characters we understand only too well. The games we play, coding and decoding messages when there are too many other elements around. At this moment when I am talking and chatting with him I miss him the most. At this moment, as the typing pace quickens, nothing else seems to matter. I can see my eyes becoming misty and want to tell you so much, how much you mean and all that I want to say, Mettalica has already stated. So here they are for you!
So close no matter how far, Couldn’t be much more from the heart, Forever trusting who we are, And nothing else matters.
Never opened myself this way, Life is ours, we live it our way, All these words I don’t just say, And nothing else matters.
Trust I seek and I find in you, Everyday for us something new, Open mind for a different view, And nothing else matters.
Never cared for what they do, Never cared for what they know, But I know
So close no matter how far, Couldn’t be much more from the heart, Forever trusting who we are, And nothing else matters.
Never cared for what they do, Never cared for what they know, But I know, Never opened myself this way, Life is ours, we live it our way, All these words I don’t just say
Trust I seek and I find in you, Everyday for us, something new, Open mind for a different view, And nothing else matters.
Never cared for what they say, Never cared for the games they play, Never cared for what they do, Never cared for what they know And I know.
So close, no matter how far, Couldn’t be much more from the heart Forever trusting who we are No, nothing else matters.
I was reading Gif today and what Tan was going through. For some reason I decided that the other involved person was Amy. So Amy and Tan are no longer together. Hey, chill I am not suggesting that the world breaks apart just because there are sundered hearts all around us. No, time does not do a freeze on act too. Well nothing much happens and yet everything seems to have changed.
Broken patterns of life, Changed styles of living, Like a heart pierced by the knife, Not Living, just gliding.
Along came the mighty wave, A surge of happiness anticipated, All the jungle out of caves, Thinking souls would be sated.
Nothing really changed, Not him, neither her, The seasons just passed, He grew thinner, she fatter.
Along came a day, All bright and sunny, Just right for making hay, Everyone cheerful and funny.
Their old thoughts took a dive, So did their core, Broken patterns of life, Remerged once more!
“Tring Tring”, the ring was far too distinct to miss out. The time was not the most appropriate though. She tried in her sleep to play the guessing game yet again. She loved doing that and even her sleepy state did not dissuade her from doing so. The ringing stopped, a little too soon. She grabbed the phone and wondered who the mysterious caller was. A weird number, not one in her ever growing address book. She wondered why she took down numbers when she did not even care about them. It was like a game they played, one pretended to be interested in giving the number and other fumbling with the keys to enter it, both actors in their own accord. The world is of course a stage, they all say all the time. “Tring, Tring”, the distinct cry from the electronic device shook her awake, away from those faraway thoughts. It was the same number. What else could she expect? She could not have too many mysterious callers on the same night, could she? It was not like she was Cleopatra. Why was her mind dwelling so much on Shakespeare and all his characters today? “Hello”, she bellowed trying to keep the anticipation off her tone. A long pause and the caller mustered the courage to say what came so easily, “Princess”. Princess, after all these years! Was she supposed to jump with joy or just feel the deep sense of melancholy rising? Was her heart supposed to feel light with the joy or a great heaviness? Why was it always associated with mixed feelings? “I just called to say hi”, he muttered not convincing her and not even feeling convinced. “She is dead”, he managed to say, not able to keep the trembling in his tone. That came as a jolt. How could she? She was all of 25 or maybe even lesser. What had happened? “I mean her soul is dead”, he said after what had seemed like an eternity. Where is this heading, she was wondering? Why was he telling her all of this in parts? Can he not stop being mysterious and just get on with it? “She has lost her sense of humour and you do know that a person without a sense of humour is like a dead soul. She has changed so much. I can’t even recognize her any more. Oh, by the way she is married.” Married, but that can’t happen. This is not the way it should be. How could he sound cheerful when he said all of this? The deep sense of melancholy was surging again within her. This time for him and the other her!
Two lives torn apart, so afar Not by blasts, not even war. They could have been so jolly, And now they were sundered by their own folly. A deep sense of melancholy was surging within her, For him and the other her!
The hands itched to hold a pen, The pen swayed gracefully, As the little writer emerged from her den, To re-create long forgotten verses joyfully. She felt the magic around, Even as thoughts became words, Even as the rains hit the ground, Evoking the smell of earth and mud. She was a mere weary lumberer, Resting at the sight of shade, escaping the sun, And before long she had fallen into deep slumber, And now she must really go on, The show must really go on.
Strong hands tap the keypad, Tun tunnunu tun heard, Slender hands put an end to tune. There just are no words spoken, While a famished listener hears, Speech is so redundant they echo. The sound of silence, Melifluous lullaby it is.
