Silent Romance

A Sweet Revenge

It was a siren versus a charm that night. She is a “siren” and he is a “charm”. Stars in the sky and they are blessed being together. Siren sees Charm, with all seduction and the power of surrender. Charm holds her back, across the wall, says, “You are good”, Siren blushes.

Siren holds him close, could feel the rhythm of his tongue in her mouth. They kiss at the largest passion they can show. They are turning mad, as if their tongue is fighting to feel the mixed erotic breath scent.

Siren, as she is, she is a mirage, luring by cultivating a particular appearance. She knows she is different, rare and mythic from others.  She is incredibly suggestive, hints all the pleasure and never uses aggression and high pitch. Calm and unhurried as she is always. She promises you with infinite adventure.

She is a master of seduction, if no resistances faced, she creates them. Their erogenous zones burn with pleasure and lust. She escapes, hides in the beautiful curtains, Charm tries to reach, but she is always quite away. Siren has the Goddess effect; she is fluid, acts incapable of knowing her effect on charm.

Charm, as he is, reflects all the fantasy, he creates all those illusions he needs. He creates a stirring which represses the desires. He is subtle and never tries hard for attention. He likes rarity, novelty and passion. He makes you oscillate between frustration and hopes.

Siren does promise for par excellent long nights, but sometimes doesn’t offer total satisfaction, she withdraws and Charm yearns for the return. Sirens often keep him “off balance”.

Charm, is witty, he wraps Siren into the silk, and nibbles her neck, to give the beautiful love bite on the left side of her neck. He makes virtue out of weakness. Acts like he sees the world with innocent eyes.  And then the fact remains that Charm is all about seduction without sex. He mainly focuses on Siren. He is never a center of attraction; in fact he makes the target as one.  When Charm seduces, his effect never goes out.

Charm: You are not going to look pretty tomorrow morning
Siren: (slowly opens her eyes, wonders)
Charm: Just a little love bite.
Siren: (blushes)
Charm: You seduce me!
Siren: (mystical smile) I didn’t do anything, did I?
Charm: (laughs) probably, you don’t have to do anything!

Siren sees the love bite in the morning, asks Charm to get ready for the revenge, Charm’s smile and dazzling flirts are beyond resistance. Siren smiles and utters “a sweet revenge!”

Charm can always wait for this revenge. Siren will make him wait and Charm says, “Waiting will be worth”

Let the Rain come down

Harshwardhan , a man with splendid eyes, a man who came to my life when I was turning introvert. The phase was extremely abominable. The point I was suffering from thousands of cold eyes, stress and loneliness. He loves his “kind” of music, calls me cute whenever I start yelling at him!

The day I remember after a crazy booze party at a common friend’s home. Love is more like the butterfly effect, the initial chaos causes magnificent one later; we all want to fall in love, I too wanted. Harsh was walking with me to my home, streets were wet. It poured that night. Love is more of creativity than intelligence, he has both. That was the first time when his silence spoke volumes for me. Cold night, with we both dressed in white, empty streets and deem lights. Sooner I realized I was holding his hand. I took couple of breaths and found that I missed one as he slides his hand to my waist. The fire was then no longer a flash burn across my skin, it smoldered away all my awkwardness, my shy uncertainly. He uttered, “Beautiful”, it just made me realize that I exist in this world. It almost started pouring. The gentle drops of rains and romance!

Me: Beautiful? (Collecting my senses)
Harsh: Yeah.
Me: (Blushes) I know patience is not your specialty!
Harsh: (Laughs) Do u know, whenever I come close to you, I feel like I had a sip the most delicious wine.
Me :( Ignoring his flirts) There comes my home, I guess, you should come in; I don’t want you to get ill.

Of course, his white shirt had started becoming translucent. I could see his perfect ribs, it was luring, as if with no actions he can cast a spell on me. Dried and changed, we sat near in veranda with a hot coffee. Even if it is fun for Harshwardhan to see those rains, it was tough for me to concentrate on anything else than him. His scent, his existence, I thought of all those lonely nights to be worth going through, if I could get to see him so near. He saw me and again I lost a breath.
Harsh: You want to know, what was so beautiful that time?
I was still looking into his eyes.
Harsh: You seem more beautiful in my eyes.
I could find no better reaction but to slither and find his lips. The reluctance was all gone when he pulled me tighter to him. I could feel the warmth, the sweetness and the Godly passion. The point I supported his lower lip, his tongue scrolled down to my lips, struggling to feel my tongue, and sometimes hits teeth. I took out my lips, was breathless. He held me close, all his warm breath flashed on my face, hissed, “When you close your eyes, know that I'll be thinking about you”. This definitely set me to take another leap of faith. “Can you feel my love tonight?” I answered,” I cannot help falling in love with you”

I could look with all the seductive power I have, could fix his eyes on me. It was an anticipating tool of persuasion and charm so that he slowly loses the ability to resist without even knowing how and why. Love is not a war, yet it is a game! I was hiding behind the beautiful curtains, as if he didn’t know my next step. He held me, crushed me to the wall, was just feeling the tiny drops rolling down my back from wet hair, I definitely knew I was different, rare and mythic to him, a mirage. The way he ran his fingers down my back, it was incredibly suggestive, he was then calm and unhurried. “I’m totally in you, I love you”

He turned me around, caressed my hair; I wished to put my hands on his chest. He acted as if he was incapable of understanding the effect he had on me. The moment was like liquid, ungraspable but luring to promise the infinite adventure. The way he felt my skin, my body patterns was beyond words; it felt like he was extremely burning in desire and wanted to enflame me. I glided my leg up on his strong legs, rubbing with all the ways I can be alluring and could stir his wild desires. He was subtle and my fragile thoughts were oscillating between making love or to tease! He is mysterious sometimes, creates illusion what he requires. Then he pressed his lips against my neck, shoulders; his withdrawal made me yearn for his return.

Long night with my body left with his essence, I love him for the way he keeps me trapped emotionally, more I see him, understand him, more I find him undiscovered and then more I love him. His strength is to keep me “off balance” with exponential stability later and weakness is a charm; this charm is indeed a seduction without intercourse. And then the fact remains that nothing is more seductive to people than the feeling that they are desired.

They speak before I do....

Me Against Myself

15^th December wasn’t amongst those normal nights in Mumbai. They are not generally so chilled and romantic. A grayish sheen of fog was visible through the window, and aside from the gentle tap of a branch against the glass, all was quiet, other than my heart beats. 3 a.m., it was tough managing a cup of coffee, a kindled cigarette, sitting in the window; those flying curls on my face and my helplessness to bear them.

Knock on my door, “Sorry, I just wanted some ice for my whisky, saw you from balcony!” I still remember his words, a handsome man with a glass. I smiled and that was the day my smile had something of serendipity! Sooner I discovered that he is a journalist and works late night. Loneliness is always not so desired after a threshold. We had numerous conversations through balcony.

And the finest night, again the same knock with a virile voice, “Yajur here!” The day when I invited him in, he was gazing my home, as if he liked it a lot. The noiselessness situation was putting me to death. I put the music system ON with one of my favorite track-

Ranjish hi sahi, dil hi dukhane k liye aa..
aa firse mujhe chodke jaane k liye aa…

The gold in his eyes seemed to harden from liquid to solid. My skin as if burnt with the flames, we sat near the window with mugs of hot coffee. He uttered, “You have the most captivating eyes I have seen so far, believe me you are an addiction.” I blushed and felt breathless for the briefest second. Witty flirts and silence, a long one. I realized, I have moved so close to him, I could feel his sweet breath washed- cold and delicious- over my face, “I already miss you” I was sure it being a long night, the war of Me Against Myself. It was quite a moment, just the thud of my heart hammering, the broken rhythm of our ragged breathing, and the whisper of our lips moving in synchronization.

I indeed was holding someone more angel than man in my arms, but he made it seem like nothing at all to have his lips against my lip, my face, my throat. I could run my hand down his stone chest, tracing across the flat planes of his stomach, just marveling. A light shudder rippled through him, and his mouth found mine. Carefully, I let the tip of my tongue press against his smooth lips, and he sighed.

I pulled myself away, or was that the reflex reaction when I most want to keep going on. He rose, pushed me against the wall, crushed with his body, hissed near my ear, “You cast a spell on me, camouflage with luring eyes, I surrender, you caught me”, I could feel his fastened heart beats and trembling lips, “I love you” We smiled, while he was caressing my hair, I was looking down, searching for the words, I lacked them then, just a hysterical smile burst through my lips again, which in turn sets him in always. Suddenly, his wintery fingers caressed the back of my neck and felt my perspiration. The condition when I was as restless as I was wishing to live all these moments in his hug. A rush of heat flashed across my skin again, little waves rolled away from his movements and broke against my skin.

He raised my free hands across the surface of the wall, they didn’t tremble, and I took one out and put it on his left side of chest, on his heart. He shuddered the tiniest bit at my warm touch. His breath came rougher now; felt like every nerve ending in my body was a live wire. I murmured, “Do we belong together?” He nodded and the smooch was the most passionate deed in the world. I could feel the smooth lines of his back, shoulders, his arms, his neck, his flawless shape. I was too happy to change anything, no matter how small. The only sound I could hear was our breathing, my heartbeats. His fingers softly trailed down the contours of my body, as if he never felt anything so soft like my skin, I kept my eyes shut and tightened my arms around his neck, holding myself very close to him. His hands could feel some patterns on my skin, as he put his hands into my soft pink T-shirt. I could feel his stubble as he kissed my neck, biting my ears and tickling me, felt as if even the fabric may apart us. I could feel him, every part of him, and I guess it is true vice versa.

The night was the most romantic thing I have experienced. Morning, 6 am, I was afraid to open my eyes, I felt as if he was scrubbing back of my hand against my eyes. The senseless tears were disturbing, he laughed once at the logic. It was just a dawn, beautiful one.

Years later, when I look at my husband, I press my hands to his face again and the memory of the first night of my new life, soon when I laugh, he kisses to interrupt my efforts of memorizing them. The night with Yajur, no doubt was unforgettable, but then when I innocently rub my nose against my husband’s nose, he makes me remember the morning, Yajur, on that sweet dawn, asked, “Can I get to keep you forever?” I am married to him now.

Life is far beyond words, I struggled to get some for me, though it was like Me Against Myself.

I feel him sometime....

Tonight, I am not just looking at the stars, but staring into my past as well. Constellations shine with the light that was emitted eons ago, and i wait for something to come to me, words that a poet might use to illuminate life's mysteries. I am at a lose to tell you what is that I feel my life is missing. I was a simple person once but then now I do think "everything is perception". I can sometimes lose track of time when staring at a sky filled with wind whipped clouds, and when I hear thunder rumbling, I always draw near the window to watch for lightening. I feel him sometimes. Having someone in life is blessing because there is an outlet for everyday strains of life; it is a curse too, because the outlet is someone you care deeply about. I feel nostalgic when I cross that bridge where we met for the first time. Life is not suppose to be stagnant, without him I have learned to live but then when in many people, I take deep breathe I feel the ambivalence. My throat chocks. Soon I recollect and cherish those moments for life time. Someday when I close my eyes, I remember some circumstances, some subjects of humorous anecdotes. His charm, laughter, the way he stared at me, his stupidity and his wooing have never ceased to amaze me. Meeting him was certainly a serendipity. I am a classical dancer. I perform Katthak. Love happens and same in our case. But he left me alone, went far... far where I could not find him... I cant even wait for him. I lost him forever. It was a road accident. Love is not mere walking hand in hand and sharing that divine silence, but it is when whole universe conspires that somebody loves you more than anything. The very feeling might be wordless. Now I dance for him, I feel him through colours, aroma and senses. Rightly said by someone, "love is a state of mind when mind is not in state." Long five years have past, I now live sometimes in my world; where he exists; where we are together; where we talk, we walk together. I write romance, and yes I do agree when people say that I live in different world sometime. At nights, in rains, in breeze, traveling in thousands of people, having coffee alone in coffee shop, watching those couples near the shore, he surrounds me. As if life rewinds and I live those moments again. I see my empty hands and I then feel his touch, he holds me to himself, closer to his heart. Whispers, "nothing lasts forever!" My love is in keeping him alive within me, dancing with all passion as if he could see me.And then for the briefest instant, it almost feels like we're together again....

I love him, yes I do, I feel him sometime...

Loving a Chemical Engineer is not easy

“Kahani ki shurwat abhi hone ko hai
Dillagi ki hadein abhi hone ko hai
Mausam bhi be- imaani badhane ko hai
Humare beech ki duriya khatam hone ko hai”

Especially, when you are a romantic writer, you tend to imagine things to formulate them in your writings. May be camouflage works for me, but he was not. Stronger arms, killer smile and witty stuff, what else a lady expects! May be great Casanova, or maybe not. A drama writer and acting as if he defines romance.
Ye aaj kal ka pyaar.. might be strange thing but the basic remains same. Intimacy might be the start but if it ends with respect, it is love. With him it feels like reflux of emotions is everything you need. May be he is all I wanted. Eros turns a man ON, but it is a very fact that other than being little emotional, a man has to be witty to turn a woman ON.
Dedication is dependent on inertia; most of the technical men prove to be passionate lovers. So it does imply to a chemical engineer. A typical guy with a priority of boozing over girls, night outs before exams, not much into reading but still will beat you in every topic, pretending to be not so desperate, “sutta” with friends and movies ( I hope you can imagine their types) for “lukka time”. This was never my choice. But then if things start moving as we wish, they don’t charm. Spontaneous moments define the flow, at least in my life.
Days past, things were moving, realisation of the distilled feelings resulted in saturation of hiding, consequently, into addiction. I do agree, it begun with flirts, or may be in easier “lingo” flirts acted as catalyst. Precisely, like oxidizing all the senses. The warm hug melts me in his arms, the words mere are enough for the surrender. The transition is always fun, the energized state of mind, as if you are purged. I hope for some azeotrope with me. Sorption of happiness and labile sorrows...
He yells and then says sorry, God knows what exactly he thinks or may be my brains are malfunctioning. But whatever happens just pushes the reaction into forward direction, avoiding all the side products with good conversion. Thus the affection in situ is a great feeling. He is selective, yielding better moments with him. He is like a solvent, dissolving all I have in me and evaporating the sorrow after extraction. He is like base, neutralizing all my sorrow. My heart has already diazotised and coupled with him yielding some lovable colours in life.
Life was always unpredictable and it will be, but this man has sketched a hybridised stated, more symmetrical and still ready for covalent bond. Finally this reaction being exothermic, still behaves against Le Chatelier Principle. Thank you for everything you gave me, though you are slightly corrosive, but I will love to handle you with no concerns of your MSDS. Lastly, I can just say many things move like if thermodynamics proposes, kinetics disposes!

Sometimes it takes water to kindle the fire.

Love is not a search, doesn’t contain prognosis. Uncertainty, in fact is the flamboyance of love. Love is when you believe on rewinding the moments; realising that once there was nothing beyond him/her and now you are feeble to articulate the very feelings.
Love can be a time dependent thing, forgetting it isn’t. Nothing actually lasts forever. It was just another wrong number on my landline. The next time he called, he was on the better part of his valour expressing that he has fallen for my euphony. Thus it flourished. I wondered about it being just another leap in dark. But his dazzling flirts nevertheless lured me.
The very next day I was with my friends at college canteen, it was rushed. Girls, as usual were having some soul “girl talk”; I was never into that discussion. Something sparkled at me and I had a gaze of the soccer ground. I saw a hunk running after the ball, his sharp look made me forget that I was giving order to the waiter. I then came at the counter to pay and the same time those guys entered the canteen. I was pushed and consequently pressed against him. The proximity made me evaporate myself as if his perspiration smelled like perfume, as if I recognised something throwing me in different world. I was dumb not to look at him and go away!
Month passed, it was July, it poured that day and I found a tree to cover myself. There was a small abrasion of his strong hand against me. I looked into his serous eyes. He was in azure wet shirt, tall with gravity as if a man with thoughts that glow and words that burn. He stood with a vanity and rubbed his wet hair with heroic instinct. I sublimed and forgot to breathe; I smelled something quite known, it was the same feeling which I experienced in canteen that day.
Days passed.... Things went blurred. I was at cafe with my friends; someone got me a bunch of orchids. I ran and saw a cherubic handsome standing against his car. My blood was getting viscous as if something dragging me against him and my wish, as if someone whispered, “Don’t add extra pains, and get away!” I could see myself convincing my soul, “If it is a pain, let’s have a pain once, I will die if I live without pains, the paralysis will end me!” As soon as I recollected my senses, he spoke. His smile with deep dimples, glittering topaz eyes, marble chest, his dusky skin and black wet hair, sharp features attacking before his words, in fact he was something indeed splendid I saw in my life. He was the same guy; name him anything, my phone man, the soccer player or the Greek God in rains. He uttered, “I know you act crazy when you see me, I just wanted to tell you that am leaving tomorrow, here is something I wish to give you before I go.” Giving some envelope in my hand, he disappeared. This is called “Destiny”.
I opened it that night. Within it, there were my pictures; I have never seen myself so beautiful ever as he made me look into those clicks. He clicked them when I was around, unknown of him being there somewhere. I laughed with moist eyes. The last photography had something written on back side, “If God could give me a chance to cease something, I could have wished to cease these moments, I can’t, and I recovered. These gifted moments are enough to nurture something nameless feeling within us”
I didn’t understand it that time. He was in the ‘Indian Navy’. He went; that monsoon I realised that finer things are never glued, they perfume you, ignite you, burn you, regenerate you. Exists like a breeze, like a rainfall, like a hug in his warm arms against his carved chest, like melting in his moist lips, sweetness of his breathe hitting my face. The most lovable part was the telepathy we shared. As if whatever he does is heroic in some sense, his sophistication, his way of holding my wrest against him, his way of innocently hiding ignited cigarettes before me, the way he played guitar in his balcony, throwing his T away for a goal he made in high spirits. I will never forget those moments of night with a dripping sound of water through wet leaves, moist dawn, Gulmohar shedding down its petals for the aristocrat red carpet and the silent twilight. He was my personal brand of inebriant; I was addicted; though everything was washed away.
Everything pulverises, fades away. The only thing remains is the aroma, sweetest as the musk, of those emotions. Love, I learnt, is like a dewdrop. It condenses at dawn to enhance beauty but vaporises as day proceeds. And then I realised what he meant to say with that note. I found my love in that moment, though less but was liveable.

I Owe Her Everything

I have never tried estimating the very feeling, my mother must be getting during delivering the most beautiful thing she carried for nine months, in fact within her soul. My mother has repetitively telling me about I not being able to understand her feelings of concern and care. Beyond her spontaneous pains and long sleepless nights, her physical wounds are healed, but her emotional wound of being mother is still raw enough and will always be vulnerable.
She is a typical woman loving her husband and children beyond anything else, though she is a primary teacher. She is a modern day woman, but when it comes to her kids, she is more contemporary than anything, she will read newspaper, but cases are rare when she doesn't worry about her children by seeing any accident or fire! She might murmur to herself, "what if that was my child?" and I guess this thought process of typical mothers make them caring for others too. No road accidents, no plane crash, no fire will spare her from haunting, what can be more worse than watching her own child dying in front.
No matter how much my mom has turned sophisticated, she turns to her primitive levels when it comes to me and my brother. I have seen her sacrificing her lovable belongings without any hesitation, the only thing we need is to call her "mom" from any corner of the world. No matter how manyyears she has invested in her career, she derailed professionally for her motherhood. However decisive she is in her school, she constantly second guesses herself as a mother. The cesarean scar was never something ugly for her, in fact the shiny stretch marks were badges of pride.
I would always feel the exhilaration when I ride my bike but at the same point would see my mother's face full of weird thoughts. She must have fallen in love with the changed man, my father, all over again, this time for being unromantic though. She might then be feeling like loving that man more, who carefully powders the baby and never hesitates to play and talk with his child. She gained several pounds and ruined her figure after me, but she is always quite concern about her girl's figure. This might be the smallest version of her care, the one with the larger dimension is that she wishes few more years to Lord, not for her, but to see her child accomplishing their dreams.
Amity in teenage, harshness in childhood and naturing in all ages, I have seen her changing herself for me. Brilliance and grace of her love cannot be estimated. I remember my every cry when she shouted at me; my every meal, she cooked with dedication; my every gift, she bought when I wanted it badly; my cherished memories, where she has a lion share. She has never given me anything which I don't deserve.
I have penned this not for others, but for HER. Mhantat na "Swami tinahi jagacha aai vina bhikaari".

Beauty doesnot comprise Complexion

There are many things to learn, it's just that we refrain from doing them. It took me almost two decades to come out of the complex, I faced for being black. Yes, I am black. Black is suppose to be the colour of "SIN", in fact, black is the colour which have been carrying both sides, good as well as bad. Black may be the colour of evilness, but the blacks are not evils. I do remember every comment on me for me being black. I have lost many finer things in life. It felt like indefatigable thoughts resonating in my mind when I almost decided to suicide. Being black, I have tolerated nonsense comments by guys in my very tender age when every other girl aspires for praises of her beauty. My black complexion became integral part of my persona, it was inseparable then. I was never considered to be beautiful and the reason was always clearly stated, that I am black. It is till now we use various phrases and words like "blacklist, blackmail, black comedy, black mood, black hearted, black magic etc." describing unloving and undesirable things. Is this achromatic, hueless colour so disliked by people?
My parents and friends have been washing my brains over this topic since years, they have often gave me examples like Bipasha Basu, Helle Berry, Will Smith, Obama, Prabhu Deva, Remo, Tyra Banks and many others. But its tough to keep your foot in my shoe. "Colour matters". Many things in life had made me believe this very fact. I was called UGLY; I still control my tears when I listen to the story of "Ugly duckling". I have wasted my nights weeping over it. I have wasted all those sweeter moments I would enjoy rather. I have lost those attentions. People who are fair are given the preference, and no further research on this is needed. I am experiencing it daily. These vociferous thoughts indeed have eaten up my confidence and childhood. Life is quite beautiful and we have really less time to live to its fullest, this might sound a movie dialogue, but its true. These racial difference have thrown me away from the very world in my imagination, I forgot to smile, I forgot the ambrosia, I forgot that tickling , I forgot those melodious cavatina, I forgot those luminaries twinkling in sky, I forgot that chrome variegations, I forgot to love, I forgot to live, as if I was punished for this swarthiness. This imperceptionability of mass threw me in sudden depression for many years. I started hating myself, I never saw myself in mirror for hours, I never came in any photograph.
Beauty lies in the eyes of beholder; it took long time for me to digest this. I get immune then. My wisdom became my beauty, my cogitations gave me strength, and my noetic and rational approach is my pride. The compliments I got never bothered me first, but sooner when I got exposure to this world, I realised fair people cry for them, I was described as "girl with great personality", "girl with appealing voice", "girl with a great charm", "girl with lots of witty stuff", "a great conversationalist", "voluptuous" and many more. I observed the vigour, the utterance of soul, the elegance and lucidity of my thoughts and then I defined my own way.
Soon I realised that no dictionary in this world gives "swarthiness" as a synonym of "ugliness". It's just some contemporary and not justified belief. It's my loquacity and conation which attract people. Then I believed Life is to venerate. Live it. Love it.

Some relations are never defined.

The nights I remember, with hot cup of tea, colder winds, exam fever and this man just luring me with such an ease. Moreover, fighting against all those jealousy of he being liked by thousands of other girls, my unecessary possession. I have never been able to distinguish between “love, I think” and “the actual love, what people think about”. It’s not like I have never been in love, but these days its different, love was complex thing for me. I have never thought of someone abruptly entering my life and making me so addict of himself. Love is bigger word and time dependent (in recent days it is also distance dependent). I don’t know I should feel this about him or not, it’s just my heart wants to pour the emotions!

The state which robbed the mind peace; a want and a desire which matured with time and transformed to a need. I felt the sense of belonging to him wholly; readiness to accept him unconditionally. He is a source of courage to deny traditions, rules and customs. It was indeed the most beautiful state of mind a man can reach.

Love, maturity, matrimony were bigger words, he made them easier. It wasn't as complex as ocular fixation and then transforming into love, but it was just the readiness to spend good time with each other. May be love is defined as courage to spend their rest of the lives with each other (What can be a greater act of bravery?), but some relations do exist where defining them, spoils them. Though its a quite commendable phenomenon, it doesn't lack commitment, I am sure it isn't just a sheer carnal lust.

The sight of appealing satiates the thirsty retinal nerves, when I see him and love results. I know it isn't infatuation this time because my every rational thought sustained, it was never rusted nor even clouds of lust hovered. I am taking pride in relation causing all the differences to prove inconsequential. Roots of true love, after all, lies in understanding and flexibility. Though love is out of the vocabulary for both of us, something magical keeps us bound.

He might be neither expressive nor he thinks love is the thing to be displayed randomly, but I want his silence to speak volumes for me, though he is difficult to read. It is exponential feeling. I discovered that I can love and I can nurture. I was out of my senses when I saw this man, the very word came to my mind was “Casanova”. He has got the perfect lined teeth, beautiful lips, marble chest and incredible smile. Apart of extrinsic physical beauty, this man possessed a good heart and constituent brains to handle my Chaos.

Differences are always ample. It is, this time quite difficult for me to cope up. I can never be at his levels. But great things have sacrifices, the situation will always be wierd, no matter how much time I take. I sometime, laugh on myself, fractionating myself from world, thinking in lonliness, finner things are often momentary, they are lost with breeze of time and washed away with rains of experiences. My wit may lure him, but I am still not for him. Even his unromantic moods are enough for me to just set myself free in air. It is quite difficult for me to store eternal love, so I thought of glueing moments together. May be this is only a phase, may be he is not my cup of tea, whatever it is, lets not waste the feel. It’s very first time that I have enjoyed waiting for somebody, and pain in my eyes will still remain the same. Mhantat na.. “ prem mhanje prem mhanje prem asta..” Ayushyastlya sarvyach goshti kuthe define kele jatat! Infact, the most beauitful things in universe have remained in a tight fist, unexplored and virgin. Kharach halli bhalti "Bhangad"aste, nahi ka?

INDEED CHAOS

Away from all the sick people and frustration, I was in my very world. No cold eyes, no pungent thoughts, no sarcastic comments, no outrageous dreams and no temptation to wounds. I was in my very train of thoughts.. sweeter this time! I do agree, when life becomes stagnant, one really aspires to stir it. Its similar to say "if you don't have problems create them!"

Those were the long chilled nights, when away from my bed and rugs, I have learnt, sensed, tasted, smelt and lived my life. It was an analysis to observe "me" .... I could distillate myself and was not a part of vapors this time! I was the precipitate, here to stay, ever and forever.

This was the time, I was realizing, sukh hai alag aur chain alag hai..par jo ye dekhe wo naina alag hai. I learnt to sit and enlist all bad things and good things when we happen to encounter any incidence. I was stronger then. Like cooling lava, hot but sedimenting.

This was the time when I realized only free space and atoms exist, rest is perception! Happiness is only a better way to express that. I never have been developing the courage of facing so many people at a time. But I did it. These holidays helped me in molding my relations with my mother at heart, better termed as father.

This was the time I could see the clear boundaries between friends and not so friends.

This was the time I asked myself the very question, which I should have asked before entering into my institute. Something inside me answered me, this was first time and I observed how all these factors contributed for my choice of the career. The Chaos helped me in the discovery of me being in existence and satisfaction of fighting against all odds and getting the best out of it. I hope for next couple of years I don't develop some other Chaos in mind, I hope I read newspapers with no random intense thoughts; I concentrate on my work without keeping my other self away from cherished moments. Exhilaration of seeing myself successful, though I know I can turn more unromantic and develop new philosophies! And finally I hope this distance and time parameters never bother me and my friends!