RomPhy

Half-of-the-Universe-s-Stars-Are-Vagabonds-Aimlessly-Floating-Between-Galaxies-464399-2

We lie there on the terrace where you romanticize quantum physics high up in the sky. You’re talking, but I don’t care about a word you say. As always, I’m too busy listening to the sound of your voice. You’re excitedly talking about romance amid the stars while all I do is thank mine for bringing me to you.

Soon you digress to talk about time travel and your words have my attention. I’m listening because my heart yearns for the possibility. In twenty minutes, you’ll be gone and there will be nothing more I’ll want to do than to travel back in time to you.

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Thanks for reading!

I haven’t written anything in over a month and I had to will myself to write this because I couldn’t bear to look at my blog. I know it might have been a terrible read (there’s a 90 per cent chance!) or my worst post yet. No apologies however! I’ll just write you a better post the next time. 🙂

Honest Lies

We sit across from each other at the coffee table – two souls who once conjured up a world of their own and now, just aliens from different spheres.

I don’t steal glances at you every now and then. I don’t notice the craters around your eyes or the hollows in your cheeks. The sight of your sleep deprived face does not bother me nor does the cigarette that seems to have found its way back to between your dexterous long fingers. It does not bother me that you have lost weight or that you lose a few curls every time you rake your hand through your hair. I do not heed the modest dimples on your forehead that seem to have left your cheeks to bridge your eyebrows. I do not hear the emptiness in your laugh or catch the sparkles that have gone amiss in your eyes.

I am not upset that we talk so little when there is so much to say. It does not affect me when you tell me how your life has changed. I do not secretly wonder if you have met someone else. And I do not feel relieved when you show me pictures of new friends none of whom are women. When its finally time to bid goodbye, I am not overwhelmed by the warmth in your hugs or hope that has begun to engulf me.

***

Written in response to the The Daily Post’s Prompt.

Inspired by Vidisha who writes at Inked Thoughts and Midnight Monologues.

Some Love

Waking up to your sound,

I lie there next to you.

Your body so fine and

Touch ever so smooth.

It feels like a dream come true

To pick you up,

Hold you close to my chest.

I look at you everyday

Only to smile,

To cherish you as mine.

I am obsessed they say,

Maybe even addicted to you.

“Stop looking at your phone!”,

My friends chide.

I smile at them,

At their ignorance.

My love for you,

they’ll never understand.

Relative-ly Sad

I am crumpling fistfuls of my shawl as I wonder how to avoid falling prey to my parents’ trap. I bang my little toe against the wooden chair for the nth time as I walk around aimlessly in the room wishing I could buy myself some more time.

After a lot of coaxing on their part, I have put on a yellow and white salwar kameez, my hair pulled back in a pony tail and just enough kajal smeared around my eyes to hide the sleep-deprived look on my face. I have been dreading this day for a week, living in denial and now it’s finally here. I look up at the clock to realize that they’ll be home any minute and I still don’t have a plan.

Just as the hand on the clock moves to indicate 11:05 am, I hear the sound of a rickshaw approach our house. I step out to affirm the arrival of the misfortune only to walk right into a blizzard of kisses and hugs from Chachi, not to mention the perfume that made me nauseous and the loud cackle. Meanwhile, I can hear Chachaji dicker in the background with the rickshaw wala for ten rupees like the typical skinflint he is.

Holding me at an arm’s distance, Chachi looks at me from head to toe and clicks her tongue in approval. Then, pushes me aside and I watch as the blizzard enters my home. I hear Chachaji call out to me to help him with the luggage. I sigh. They really are going to be here for a whole month.

DISCLAIMER: This is merely a piece of fiction and I love my relatives (or atleast I like to think so). 😛

Being Special

jane

Little Jane frowned. Something wasn’t right.

She was trying to concentrate on reading her alphabet book. But, somehow she couldn’t. Miss Peckerwood and her parents were seated at a near by table and they were discussing her behavior in class.

For some strange reason, Miss Peckerwood was being awfully kind and telling her parents repeatedly that Jane was a special child. But, her parents just wouldn’t believe it! Her mother wouldn’t hear any of it. In fact, she told Miss Peckerwood that her daughter had never been a special child and was just an ordinary kid like any other.

As she watched from where she sat, Little Jane tried to place what was odd about the conversation.

Out of Breath

breathless

Ayush was pacing up and down the hospital corridor, his hands clasped together in a silent prayer. He would occasionally glance sideways at the entrance to the ICU expecting the doctor or nurse to emerge any minute now.

But he was more worried as to what could be possibly going on in his mother’s mind as she sat there on the chair just outside the entrance to the ICU. Aradhana ji appeared to be lost in a trance of her own. It had all happened so quickly.

Her husband, Keshav Mittal, was a veteran lumberjack who was known and respected by all in their little town. This morning, she had been packing his lunch when he had called out to her from the threshold of their house asking her to hurry. A few minutes later, she had hastened her way to the door from the kitchen only to find him sprawled on his back in the front yard having a seizure. A half lit cigarette lay right beside his hand.

Everything seemed to have happened way too fast after that. The servants had come running, thrust a metal key in his hand and somehow managed to get him into the car while their youngest son, Ayush had made necessary calls to the hospital.

Half an hour later, here they were outside the ICU waiting to hear from Dr Rao, their family doctor.

Ayush rushed to the entrance just as he saw Dr Rao emerge from the ICU.

“How is baba, doctor saab?”

Dr Rao struggled to look Ayush in the eye.

He had been acquainted with their family for over three generations. He knew for a fact that all the men in the Mittal household had been chain smokers and despite the fact that this habit had claimed one too many lives, it seemed to have been passed down from one generation to another. They had refused to stop smoking even after being told their lungs were failing and had smoked all the way to their death bed. This was primarily why he hated being the harbinger of bad news.

“Say something!” Ayush’s voice turned tense even as he guessed the news that Dr Rao was about to share.

“I really wish I did not have to be the one giving you the news, Ayush saab.” Dr Rao started slowly. “But it becomes my responsibility to do so as the doctor in charge. I am sorry to inform you that your father is no more.”

“What happened?” he asked hoarsely though he already knew the answer to his question.

“Respiratory failure.” Dr Rao said quietly.

Ayush nodded in response.

“I think it would be best if you could inform your brother so that we can complete the formalities as soon as possible.” Dr Rao added.

Ayush nodded again.

Seconds later, he smiled sadly as he realized the irony in informing his elder brother, Madhav about their father’s death. Ayush was expected to tell him that lack of oxygen had killed their father, while Madhav was chopping down an entire forest of trees elsewhere oblivious to any of this.