Words

We write, we forget

Words -

Buried under layers of dust

Years go by

Memories breeze through

The dust rises -

Nostalgia fills the room.

Words, they bounce and dance

Happy to be free.

We read, we remember

People -

Long forgotten.

I Let Them Go...

I let them go ... long ago,

Yet they hold onto me.

I pushed them out, they struggled

I threw them out of my life

They crawled back in-

Right into the place they belonged

Place I hated to keep them, My heart -

So full of your memories

The ones I let go ... long ago.

Tea for two tuesday by Preeti Shenoy

This post has been written for Preeti Shenoy's Tea for two Tuesday - Number 2

You can read the first part here.

First part was non-fiction, this one is fiction for a change :)

" The table is set perfectly, for 'tea for two'. (and the piece of cake is ready too). I am really looking forward to this. There is still a good half an hour left for my guest to arrive as per the text I just got. Suddenly the door bell rings.............. "

...

Giving a final look to the table setting I walk towards the door to open it. I am really looking forward to meeting Preeti as per what we had discussed last tuesday. I look through the peep-hole, half expecting Preeti to be on time and not half an hour late as per her text. However, I am surprised to find a stranger standing at the door, his face half covered by the English Hat. As if reading my mind through the door, he removes his hat and holds it in his hands. He looks straight at the peep-hole and a shiver runs down my spine. Why? I wonder. I look closer now, he seems to be an ordinary guy. What interests me are his eyes. Beautiful light brown eyes seemingly staring right through mine. I am tempted to open the door and welcome him inside but I put on the door safety chain and half-open the door.

"Yes" I ask.

"Excuse me, can you please help me with this address?" he asks showing me a piece of paper through the door.

My instinct tells me he is meant to be here and when I take the paper in my hand to look at the address, my instinct is proved right. The address is mine.

"You are at the right address. Do I know you?" I ask.

"No" he answers and smiles.

I almost die on the spot. Figuratively speaking, obviously.

"I brought you something" he says, extending his hand through the half open door. He is holding a bouquet of red roses.

"Sorry. What is this about?" I ask hoping to get a clear reply this time.

He looks at the safety chain and back at me. Perhaps he had expected much better welcome than the one he is getting. 

I move unconsciously to remove the chain but my practical self shouts "No way"

I decide to go against my practical self and open the door for him. I have already read his eyes. I know I can trust him. Also, he seems to be vaguely familiar!

I am about to ask his name when my mobile phone beeps.

It is a text from Preeti. It reads -

"Just the perfect kind of date for you!"

I smile. I look at him. He smiles.

"My name is ..."

The doorbell rings several times and I wake up. I look at my wrist watch and I realize I have slept for half an hour. I look through the peep-hole to find Preeti standing at the door, straightening her hair. I smile and open the door.

Penning Down Thoughts - III

We all like to share our thoughts with someone. Sometimes we are more comfortable sharing them with people we do not know. In the hope that we would get unbiased opinion.

We all want to be heard. We all talk, whenever we get the chance. Try our best to put forth our view point. Even if not asked for because we believe that what we are saying is right.

Apart from sharing and being heard, we secretly hope to be understood. When we are understood, it is a bonus. 

But -

We fail to understand that to every set of hearing ears, there are lips that want to speak.

Her Memories - V (Last Part)

Her Memories - I | Her Memories - II | Her Memories - III | Her Memories - IV

The memories invaded his dreams, just like he had expected. He woke up with a headache. He stepped out of bed and started his day. As usual, the first thing he did was check his mobile for Samruddhi’s message. None. Bad beginning, he thought to himself. He followed through the rest of the procedure like a machine. He made their breakfast. Showered and got ready for office.

He knew it was going to be a long day at work. He missed his bus, was almost ran over by a speeding car. He took a cab to office, was shouted at for being late. Got a heap of work to take care of! And, the headache … it made everything seem twice worse than it was. He shook his head and lifted the first file of the day. He was not sure how he was going to handle with calculations with severe headache. He wanted to go home. He wanted Samruddhi to be home. He wanted to rest his head in her lap and enjoy the head massage she gave him whenever he had headaches. She did not want him to think of her, but that was just not possible. He had tried convincing her. She was very firm about her decision.

Her Memories - IV

Her Memories - I  |  Her Memories - II | Her Memories - III

That letter still had the same effect on him as it did when he had read it first. His eyes filled with tears. He knew that Samruddhi loved him but he was pleasantly surprised to know that she loved him so much. She perhaps loved him more than he loved her. May be it was because of the thoughts of his mother, as he boarded the train to Cochin but the truth was that he did not miss Samruddhi so much and he never even realized that she would.

He was not the kind of person to make comparisons ever, but then he started comparing. He compared his love for her and her love for his. He even mentioned once to her that he felt she loved him more than he loved her and to that she had one answer. “Look from where I am standing”

Her Memories - III

Her Memories - I  |  Her Memories - II

He moved his fingers over the carving, remembering their anniversary. Only then, that day, he had completely forgotten it.

“Who forgets their first wedding anniversary?” she asked angrily.

He had no answer. She was right. Who, other than him, would forget their first wedding anniversary? She loved him despite all his flaws, so it had not taken much time for her to forgive him. He was lucky to have her in his life. Someone who completely understood him! A woman, who even after becoming his wife, continued being the friend she once used to be!

He sat on the chair and closed his eyes. The movement of the chair was comforting to his disturbed mind. He wanted to call her, hear her voice, talk to her and tell her how much he missed her. He even took out his mobile phone from his jeans pocket and was about to press the speed-dial for her number, but he changed his mind.