Dear Diary, Letters to the Lover

Grow old with me. The best is yet to be.

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The soldier obliged with a photograph of the letters. He keeps them neatly stacked in a file called “Rendezvous”

 

Dear Soldier,

 

It is a quiet June night , way past midnight.It is all darkness under a thin glowing veil cast by twinkling stars in a clear, dense sky. I am sitting near a window overlooking the park. The curtain can barely cover the yellow light straining through the huge sodium light on the road, shedding a pale luminous dust on the things in the room.It feels as if its neither day nor night, just the intermingling .  And here I am , smiling while writing this curious anecdote to you. Is this what we will become years later- your ending and my beginning  fused into one another.  As if there is no I or you.So intimate that my hand on your chest is your hand. So intimate that when I fall asleep , it is your eyes that close. Continue reading

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Dear Diary, Letters to the Lover, Stories

At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet

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Source: Internet

 

Dear Soldier,

                           

                               “Kiss me with rain on your eyelashes,

                                    come on, let us sway together,

                             under the trees, and to hell with thunder.” 

 

 

At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.

 

Its time for my evening walk but turns out it has started to rain heavily . Monsoon has finally arrived in Delhi with all  its pomp and show( read lightning and thunder  ). I wish it stays for some time because maybe it reminds me of you. Continue reading

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Featured Posts, Stories

The End of the Beginning

 

spicysaturday

 

The blog post was selected by BlogAdda as one of the best for Spicy Saturday Picks edition dated February 13 2016. You can have a look at:

http://blog.blogadda.com/2016/02/13/spicy-saturday-picks-february-13-2016-indian-boggers-blogadda

 

He was mysteriously warm. Everything that was his, radiated warmth. His fingers on my bare skin felt like sunrays. My sun had arrived out of the clouds.

“How can anyone be so warm even in this chilly weather?”

“It is easy. I am hot, you see.” Even his smile hugged me.

My heart felt tingly and high in my chest. For a second I felt like a baby in a womb. Nothing mattered. I held him close to me with my eyes closed, my hand in his hair, wondering if anything in my life had ever been this perfect and knowing at the same time that it hadn’t. I was in love, and the feeling was even more wonderful than I ever imagined it could be.

“I love you.” I took a deep breath.“ I am astonished at this intimacy. Who would have imagined, we of all people, to fall in love.”

“I always knew this would happen. This is the place I have dreamt with you. This is where we belong.”  He looped his arm around me and kissed me, his mouth lingering on mine, teeth grazing my lower lip, making me shiver. He tasted of honey. I couldn’t remember how long it lasted but when I let go off him, I missed it already. Continue reading

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Dear Diary

Romance as I do It

 

 

Friends and Me

Friend no 1: “Really! Romantic? Twenty days ago you were writing suicidal posts.”

Me: “Such a buzz kill you are man. I am fine. Not Bipolar…Okay…yeah…..maybe. What the hell!!”

Friend no 2: “So, why this sudden overflow of romance inside you?”

Me: “What do you mean, sudden? I had my first crush in Class 1, mind you!”

Friend no 1 :“Even with his overflowing nose which he kept picking and pasting the treasures on his  desk, mind you.”

Me: “Touche. You proved me right.”

Friend no 3: “Chal issi baat pe Lays khila de green vale.”
Continue reading

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Dear Diary, Featured Posts

How do I describe this?

Everything is moving around me. People are talking. The fan above me is revolving. The birds have flown home. The sun has risen and set again. The earth is rotating. But the clocks. Damn it, the clocks.

I am staring at your letter. Your handwriting. Yours. I guess that is enough for me to love it, no matter how many words you chew in between. I hold the letter close to my face and breathe it in. Maybe it has some faint scent of yours remaining. I bring it close to my lips because the pen which wrote it was touched by you. I lie on the bed keeping the letter on my chest. Maybe that way the hands which folded it might save my drowning heart.

This is all I have of you. A letter. The only belonging. 

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