Smiling at Sunset

Dear You,

Wasn't it the other day we met ?

There was no intention apart from business.

You came, I complied and it all went fine.

Nobody had noticed anything odd.

I still wonder why you came back.

Was it me or something I had told ?

I hadn't revealed any of my secrets.

You had none. We met at sunsets.

You told me something new each day.

I merely listened, thinking that this would end too soon.

You didn't end anything. I was amused.

You started quite a few things. I still thought nothing.

I believed I had it all, learnt it all.

But then you being you, it was all too novel.

You had me.

Yours,

Me.

Comments

Lucifer said…

I like the way stories complete themselves...
and sometimes I am jealous because of the same reasons...

but this is about you...lucky u!!

August 7, 2015 at 11:18 PM

MRS DESPATCHER(PART II)

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST… Eighteen months later…. I was beginning to like my work. It was a challenge sometimes. I had learnt to go beyond boundaries. The dreams which had eluded me once, were dawning as reality now. I had my taste of success and as they say nothing succeeds like success. I had developed a knack for solving my own problems. One day , I chanced by a couple who were seated in a corner of the quaint little coffee shop. I couldn’t believe my eyes…. Divya and Sandip…here of all places. I couldn’t help but confront them. Divya was warmer than ever before and Sandip… I knew he was feeling a bit coy..its so typical of him. But I was more than surprised when he asked me to join them. Though I didn’t refuse, they found me going after five minutes. I invited them for lunch on Sunday. It was a fine Sunday morning and my guests were sharp on time. Divya offered me help in the kitchen and I chose not to refuse. My books kept Sandip busy. She could read my mind and went on with h

ILLUSIONS OF REALITY...

The more you point out my mistakes, The more you are drawn towards me. The more you try to hurt me, The more you bleed in your heart. The more you run away from me, The more my memories haunt you. The more you want to forget me, The more you are reminded of my presence. The more you want to chase me away, The closer I come to you. The more you hate me, The more you end up loving me. The more you call me an “illusion” The more I dawn as the reality of your life….

CONFESSION OF A WOMAN...

When I'm born,I'm jeered at.When I'm a child,I'm made to believe that my reason for existence is somebody else.While I'm growing up,I'm discouraged to question.My brain and heart are numbed.I cannot die too,since it will bring infamity to my family.People would say,"At this age,what could have forced her to terminate herself ? She failed to materialize her fantasy.Such bad morals." I fast for the well-being of my father and brothers.When I outgrow my frocks,I'm let off to another household.There, I work for others, without pay.I have children but they treat me like a door-mat.Here too,I fast for my husband's and childrens' long,peaceful life.When the man of the house,who happens to be my "husband" dies,I shed a part of my soul.I have no right to live then,I just breathe and sit in a corner.Rest of my life is spent in praying-for death.They say, "Woman needs a man.In childhood,its father.In youth,its husband and in old age,i

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