FranKophone

It was planted in the center of the garden. Everything seemed to revolve around it. The flurry of activities in the day and the soothing breezes of the night. It had a knack to being stern yet kind, social yet solitary, cheery yet comforting, pushy yet supportive. Since it was everyone's favorite place to be, a small mud platform was raised around it. It found a place in the family photographs. Kids scribbled their first letter under the mango tree. It witnessed many unions and partings. It bore mangoes every summer. (Of course, it was a mango tree ! )   One not-so-fine day, the garden was reduced to half. No longer was the mango tree at the center of  life. It was spared but looked morose. The mud platform had long been demolished. It was past its prime. No fruits were borne. No one cared to water it. But it refused death. It knew its task was not over yet. It had to provide shade to the gardener who lay underneath it.  Courtesy : Google

Pre-note : I wrote this post under heavy influence of a Bollywood movie called "London-Paris-New York". I am not to be blamed if this post bores/kills/frustrates you. No one reads but I still write. Really? Don’t “really” me. You just won’t understand. What? That even though you try to act smart, you are, basically, a fool. Sorry? You should be!  You just don’t understand?  Why do I have to be so direct to you? Don’t you know how I feel? About? See! You know. But again, you act as if you don’t. I don’t act. I really don’t. I am tired. So am I. How did you know that I was a fool? A fool never misses noticing another one. Stupid! Just like you. As if I have a choice! A still from LPNY (Courtesy : Google)

You used to storm into my mind then. All my efforts to stay calm went in vain. You sent me into some other world. It took a while to regain my demeanor. I was too tongue-tied and you always seemed occupied. Today when you rushed in, I was lost again. In my own thoughts. I thought of what could have happened if I had spoken. Or if you had noticed. You still make my heart flutter. And I behave the same way as I did years ago. It makes me feel young and incredibly foolish again. Silence is still my favorite option. P.S.: I wish this letter reaches you somehow. I want you to know that none of those things have changed over the years. Only I won’t send it to you.

Dear You, It’s been really long since I wrote to you. A long while since I intently noticed you. You still look so perfect. Makes me fall in love with you all over again. It seems you have not changed at all. Except for those random greys and a little wrinkle there. It’s a delight to watch you fall asleep. Calm. Quiet. Sound of your breath. Scent of jasmine floating in the air. The arms that are always open for me. The comfort of being with each other. As for me, I know I am beautiful. Even without eyes. You make me feel beautiful. Yours truly, Me.

On mornings like this, When gentle streaks of light Play hide and seek with darkness, I crave to hold you real tight. And never let you go. In a spur, I abandon my hesitation, Cross the space between us. You often take cue  and recoil, Just like my true lovesick man. Slowly our tale begins and then I hear you whisper a name With passion and trepidation. I pause , I listen. It isn’t mine, someone else’s. Fantasy shatters, heartache entails. On waking up, you forget all. I act like I know nothing at all.  Pic Courtesy : Google

   On the streets of the old bazaar, there sat a man  in rags. Every time I passed by , he smiled and looked away. Neither was he handsome nor was he wealthy. Still I thought about him. Why would anyone wait on streets for years together ?  I  had seen him there since I was a kid. An autumn morning , I heard he passed away. On the street. No one heard his  dying words. No one offered him gangaja l or  tulsi . He died unmourned , un-noticed. The bazaar still smelt of spices and perfume. Years later, I heard his story. From an antique woman. In his prime, the man was a successful merchant. He had a comfortable home and a lovely wife. One  morning, his wife was on her way to the temple on the hillock. A raging earthquake hit the city and razed the hillock to ground. The lovely wife was lost, never to be found. May be she had died , buried under the rubble. The merchant  never lost hope. Gradually he began to live on the street, hoping t...

Read Part 1 here He woke up with a   nightmare. She was fast asleep. He gazed at her – she had a tranquil look in sleep. He moved forward , remembered something and took her palm in his hands. Softly , so as not to awaken her, he traced   his name   on her palm with his fingers. A cherubic smile spread across her face.   That set him thinking. Why hadn’t he known it much before ?   She had to be the one. Nothing   could happen , he believed. He was already engaged. To someone else. She wasn’t the woman who could break a home. Then how on earth   are they together ?   He wondered.   He fell in love with her. Unbelievably. When ? Was it when she stood on the sands and said “ I do not believe in soul mates ”   ? Or was it when   he had spoken his mind   to her ?  Told her that she deserved better people in her life.   Or was it at that precise moment when they discovered that their mothers were best friends ever ? ...

     She  stood in front of him , without uttering a word.  He is here.  Her mind refused to register this simple fact. He cannot be here.  He was supposed to be gone . Forever. To another land. With another woman.  He preferred silence. He could not bring himself to speak. He had dumped his fiancée. Given up his mercenary dreams. He  felt it  was necessary to stay back. With her . For her. Forever.  Neither of them  said anything. They were reading each others’ minds. Trying to decipher silences.  Suddenly  the lights went out. A storm grew out of nowhere. She gave him way to come in. He  rushed in with urgency. She went to fetch a candle. He  hastily shut the windows to prevent the rains from lashing  into the house . After  she came back , he said , " Did you have your dinner yet  ? "  She replied , concealing a smile, " Now that you are here , why don’t you join me in  ?...

Did you say you love me ? I’m glad you did. But …. I always have questions. I have more questions  than love for you. Yes, I am skeptic. Of  love in general. Will you love me if I do not love you back ?  Will you wish me well if I choose to walk out your life ?  Will you love me if I  treat you badly ?  I  have more faults than anyone else you  know. What  made you  “love” me was  the  good  side of me. I  have a bad side too. You might have a glimpse of it. Would you still love me ?  I  am not  some princess or some  fairy. I  am very much ordinary. With my share of vices , faults and mistakes .  If you still  love me, let me know. I would like  to meet you.  At  a time called now.

  We had innumerable chance meetings ever since I was born. And always you made an impression. Of being the best I had ever seen. Some seven years ago, when I first came to live with you, it was quite an incident. Moving ( or even uprooting ) myself from a well-settled hometown life, I wanted to take a chance. With you. I wanted to grow with you. You were older and wiser. I was young, nubile and naïve. Wisdom is certainly not expected of normal teenagers. And me – someone who had dreams, ambitions, expectations, aspirations – a tad bit higher. Our first few days – adjustments, awesomeness and sometimes, utter helplessness – it all sounds so hilarious today. Then we kind of a liked each other. You began to grow on me. I had made tiny impressions on you. I ran alongwith you. I thought I could beat you. You weren’t the ultimate ( you still aren’t the one ) but a de tour , maybe for a couple of years.     You had other plans. Certainly. After the initial euphoria, came the ...

She woke up. He was not in bed.The sheets were crumpled though.She could hear some noise from the kitchen. As she got into her slippers, she remembered the last night.They read the book together and then laughed about it.He was all she thought of since the last three years. He was natural, very unpretentious.The gift of her life. Giving a jolt to the thoughts, he greeted her loudly,  “Good Morning Mumma !”

We met, didn’t we ? So what if it was after ages. You looked almost like a thorough gentleman. That was least expected. Anyways, glad to see that you’ve changed for the good. Glasses look good on you..wait, you look good in glasses. As for me, you know…. I’m the same clumsy little girl…now no more little. Haha. Yeah. I still laugh in between conversations. And I still struggle while beating eggs. But do you realize the time that has flown by ? I freelance these days . Yes, as you often said “the free bird.” Home is pretty okay, same furniture, same furnishing, same books….Our mango tree died. Last winter. I cried a lot. Now I don’t miss it a lot. Got used to. Same way as I …….. Anyways, I can always write reams about my hardships and suffering. They should not make sense to you now. Do they ? I don’t know….. Meanwhile, let me tell you… Emmy is sweet. She resembles her. I wish she were here. With you. She was fun to be with. For the short time she met me, I thought you wer...

I do not remember exactly when I thought I fell for you. Maybe a few summers ago. All in a flash of a second. You seemed so fresh and alluring. I was foolishly young – nubile. Liable to be trapped. And we met for a brief  while. I thought you are the answer to my prayers. My longings were for you. You chose to entice me – I never minded it. It gave me a tingling sensation, a hope that we were meant to be one. Silken dreams. Our encounters teased me. I wanted more of you. You managed to floor me sans any weapon. Gradually I realized I was not alone. Several others vied you, tried to woo you. I burnt with jealousy. You seemed to love everyone alike. You knew no one too closely. But you ignored none. Two summers passed. My tryst with you continued. Everyone around us thought we were together. Only we knew we weren’t. I decided to spend another summer with you. This was unexpected. Most of your admirers had left. They were tired. A new set of people came. The stage was...

Remember our first date ? I walked to you in that lilac dress – with apprehension. You later told me that you fell for me then. I had noticed your jaw almost dropping  but never mentioned it to you. In one of our later dates, I caught you staring at that anorexic female with garish make-up. I was a fool then (Yes, I am a lot wiser now ). I tried to lose weight, use make-up. All proved futile. The next time we met you almost laughed at the sight of me. Visibly thinner, under inches of God-knows-what powdered on cheeks. Creepily lined eyes. After a few seconds, I realized you were laughing at me. I tried going away, crying. You stopped me. By that time, my eyes were streaming with tears. You looked straight into them and said “You do not need a mask . You’re beautiful.” I stopped crying. You hugged me. There were times you needed me. For telling how badly your Dad thinks of you. How you miss your Mom. I just listened. And yet you told me it comforted you. To be with me. And then on...

The bench awaits you. No, I have not seen anyone in your place. I remember our days together. On that bench in the park.On cold mornings, after that walk, I would always throw up my hands in despair and occupy this particular bench. And you would slowly come to me. Sit close. Put your arm around my neck and start explaining. About random things. Coax me. I never relented. You never gave up. Slowly I would rest my head unto your shoulders. Put my hands around your waist as if nothing had happened. And drift into my land of dreams. Some mocking bird’s shrill voice would wake me up. I never knew how long I lived in my Utopia. And you…..would entwine your fingers with mine all the time. It felt perfect. Just perfect. I would smile. And your eyes twinkled. A rainy morning, I sat there crying. My tears mingling with the rain. You spotted them. You were my shade, my armour. Once you wrote me a poem. And I rudely passed it off as a “fling”. I could see you were hurt. Very badly....

It was a crazy moment. I never realized things would get so serious.  The last minute talk did not help.  I did the ‘right’ thing before it was too late. I had learnt to live sans you. Now its you again.  But I can’t do it anymore.  My love is dead - like my unborn baby.