Without Love

Without Love

You think you’re okay
and then, every once in a while,
you stumble upon that beautiful verse,
that disarming canvas of art,
that balmy air up the mountain,
and it just stops your heart.
Because you remember
what it was like to be in love!
To be irrevocably intoxicated,
unabashedly euphoric,
and hopelessly undone.

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Thoughts on a plane

I’m flying to Phoenix this weekend for a quick getaway with my girlfriends. Well, Arizona is not something you plan for summer, but it was the only place that’d work for all of us, so here we are!
My work week has been pretty chill, that is, until today. I was slammed with meetings that continued through my ride to the airport until I boarded my flight. I’m mid-air now, and it’s a long flight from Atlanta. (Well, it’s only 4 hours, but 4 hours without internet isn’t pretty!)


I’m reading both Don Quixote and Songs of Fire and Ice and have been switching between the two books for 2 hours restlessly. Why wouldn’t the plot move along! I tried to get some shut-eye, but repetitive announcements make it quite impossible. So here I’m writing my thoughts down.

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A Ghost Story?

It was a chilly February of 2014. I was in college and had participated in a robotics event at the IIT Kharagpur Tech Fest with my team of four- consisting of my then-on-and-off boyfriend and a ‘new couple’. As awkward as it was, we are not going to talk about any cute love stories or get into the inner workings of our earthquake detector bot. This is about a series of strange events that started during our 2-day stay at Kharagpur.

College fests are a foreign concept to many outside India, so I will tell some more about it. Most reputed Indian colleges conduct fests that are 2–7-day events at the home college open to participants from universities across the country. During my time, fests had two major nomination categories – Cultural/ Arts fests and Tech fests. I was a member of the Robotics Society, and our team often participated in competitions during our engineering days. Our finals were on Day 2, and that’s where our story begins.

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An Open Letter to my Ex

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Dear Ex boyfriend,

I miss you sometimes. You, or the idea of you, I’m not sure. Never mind. Today is one such day.

Let’s try to catch up. I met a lot of people in the short span of the life after you. You will never know about them. I’m sure you have come a long way too and there’s no turning back.

Apparently, I am an amazing kisser. Apparently, I am not as bloated as you made me believe. Apparently, I am a strong woman and it turns out, I have dreams and aspirations too.

“How could he leave you?”

“How can anyone leave you?”

But, then,

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Blur

That is some hideous wall art. Yellow is probably the worst color in the world, or is it brown? I mean, look at it, or you could, had not the sun been staring blatantly at you the whole time. Damn you Ricky! Why wouldn’t you draw the screens for once? What is more repulsive than the constipated February sun? I want to bark at him, but that would invite a conversation, I don’t want that. Where’s the bloody coffee again?

Oh! The stench of Jasmine. Meera is here. I will just stare at my screen now. I had actually cared about her once. Hah! What a douche! That little wench doesn’t know why she’s here, forget the whats and hows. TL my foot! Continue reading “Blur”

The Carnival

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“So, did you ask him? What did he say? What..tell me!” chimed Kiara excitedly.

“Umm..yeah.” replied Diya avoiding Kiara’s piercing gaze.

“So?”

“So…umm…he said he likes you…kind of, I mean.”

“Really? He said that! Did he say he likes me?” Kiara could barely suppress her exhilaration at this point. Her heart was racing like a juggernaut.

“Yes. Now, shush and get back to your seat. Matthew is a sneeze away from thrashing us out of the class.”Diya said that mechanically, trying her best to look anywhere else, but at Kiara.

“Oh come on! Don’t be a chicken. Just tell me everything he said and I’ll be gone. Promise!”

“But, there’s nothing more..”

“You know what Diya, look here…You didn’t talk to him, did you?”

“Well, I…” Continue reading “The Carnival”

The Bucket List

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It was still dawn when I stepped out of the cab and walked towards the entry gate of the Delhi airport. The early morning February air was pleasantly cold.

I was travelling to Bengaluru to attend a college friend’s wedding. It had been four years since we graduated from the same college. This wedding was also going to be a reunion of our batchmates. But what I didn’t know was that the reunion would begin much ahead of time; right in the queue in front of the airline counter.

I was almost sure it was she. Same height! Same long hair! Same complexion! Curiosity had my eyes glued to her. And then about 60-odd seconds later, when she turned, she proved me right. My ex-girlfriend stood two places ahead of me in that queue. We had never met after the college farewell. Continue reading “The Bucket List”

A Requiem for Transcendence

old-couple-holding-handsI often wondered what love was; it took me a lifetime to discover you were in love, when there’s no going back from loving. That minuscule split of the second when it hits you and you start looking at them differently. You just love them even when they become a different person altogether. You might start disliking them, you might even start hating yourself for loving and disliking them at the same time; but when you take their name, even in your mind, you say it softly and you feel warm. You never fall in love for the sparkle of the eyes or the kick of humour; you fall in love with the chemistry you share. You fall in love with that energy, that aura that wraps you and them. There are no proofs for a few things. All you need to have is a little faith. Continue reading “A Requiem for Transcendence”

My Blatant Plea

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It was a wintry December morning of 2012. I lay snug inside my hillock of blankets. I hated winters. I detested the chills, the piercing stroke of the raw freeze. I would give anything to stay there, inside my cozy hillock for the rest of the day.

Not long ago, there used to be a time when I would sleep like a baby. That day, there was a click and a strangled monotonous beep and I thrust my hillock away sprinting for the fax machine, forgetting my slippers, my sweater and the chills. Desperately, I hit the buttons and finally I had the fax in my hand. I ran with it to the balcony of my dingy one-bedroom apartment and began reading. Continue reading “My Blatant Plea”

Femme fatale

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There were holes in heaven and humongous ice towers swelled earthbound. Chic-clad men, women and children lurched out of tight spaces dug in the tower, belching thick tar and it rained in the realm. There was no land anymore, only bogs of currency soused in oil and blood. The marshes sucked everything in, till the quagmire softened into a decisive reality- a perfect corporate ghetto. The Heaven was hell and the Hell was heaven.

“Silent night, holy night…”, she hummed as she scanned the wall with a scalpel in her left hand. It was almost time, she must hurry. But, the perfectionist that she was, she continued the sgraffito and mellow undertones squinted out. The painting was complete.

“All is calm, all is bright….”

The exhilaration in her sprightly gait reiterated through the quiet mansion. A warm shower later, she donned a blush-coloured gown playing off her skin-tone. There was something very calm about her demeanour. It would not scream glamour directly into your eyes, but kick you in the face in your own sweet time and leave you to gasps. T-strap shoes and a turquoise necklace sealed the deal. That deconstructed extravagance and careful insouciance created a definitive idiosyncrasy, just the drama that makes you want to know the woman more.

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The Vitriol

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I held her tightly, her face right next to my heart. I held her strong in a perpetual grip. It was only a ball of my bedspread that I had curled up in a frenzy, but that felt right. That felt like home. That felt like myself again. With the dying flicker of the lamp, I drifted a world apart, in times bygone, another lifetime. Those were wistful times, endearing times.

I found myself in my parents’ house again. Moonlight sieved in on the bed through the window, hugging my skin. The room boomed with the illustrious laughter of my sisters. The littlest one clung on my back and her teddy clung onto her. The five of us began our little tea-party. I just loved adorning them, making dresses for them and styling their hair, just like mother did. I was fourteen again. I might not have been an absolute angel, but I was prim nonetheless. I laughed and laughed and just laughed. In the darkness of that fetid night, I had found my beacon once again. I danced around it like the psychedelic moths. I let that moment own me. She was me. I was her. I felt safe. I had found the place where I belonged.

Desperately,

Continue reading “The Vitriol”