Unsent Letter

"You remind me of a paper kite on a power line - you see them all over the place, fluttering in place, some new and shiny and colourful, others tattered and shredded. But then you always said you were like a kite, born to fly high, 'buffeted by the winds, but taking strength from them nonetheless' (I remember your words exactly - as I remember everything else about you, and far too often, unfortunately). Yes, that's what you were like, as I remember you. Those were our better days, when you and could spend time together without getting into an argument, and saying things we would regret later (I don't know if you ever really regretted anything you said, but I did). There was a sort of contentedness then, a sense of being sated. So how did things change? When did I start holding you back? Your space? Was that what I was invading? Why would I hold you back? I didn't have the faintest until you said we were competing too much. So I became the metaphorical string that tied you down, kept you from your freedom, and I remained it. And when you demanded your freedom, I gave it to you, as if it were my treasure to give up. I didn't really weep, you know, because, I couldn't, and even if I could, I wouldn't have. Not for you.

And my friends brought me news of your success, and your failures, and how you were a different person now. But I remained a passive listener, simply because you once were, and you aren't. I knew your new friends, or knew about them, to be exact. Your so-called success was interesting, but only in a very generic curiosity-inducing way.

My friends still tell me about you, but I can't really say I sympathize. I am no longer the string, and you are no longer close to the ground. And yet, while you still are what you were, you are not free yet. For, if you are a kite, there will always be a string. And every time I see the kites fluttering around the power lines, I think of you.”

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V' day

For all those even remotely curious - yes, I'm still single and available.

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Corner seat at the coffee shop

It was a tiring day at work. He missed his friends, and it wasn't easy for him to make new ones. He longed to talk to someone, but there wasn't anyone. So he went to the coffee shop.
It was crowded even though it was quite late. As he was led to a table, he glanced around, hoping to find a familiar face. He knew it was unlikely, he didn't know anybody in the city, and yet, he hoped. His coffee arrived in a while and he found solace and distraction in a book he started reading.

It was a while before he could trace the source of the high-pitched giggle. She was in the corner seat, with a bunch of guys, very visibly basking in the glow of their attentions. They seemed to be working, with their laptop computers out, and graphs and charts on display, but he could see it wasn't really the gadgets that held the attention of the men around her. They were serious for a while and then someone would make a joke, just for her, and she would giggle, and admonish him for getting distracted from his work.

He had been in the shop for more than a couple of hours now. Three coffees, and more brownies later, the book no longer interested him. He peeked at her over the top of the book, and he envied the men around her. He knew enough to believe that love never happened at first sight, or second sight; he had had long arguments with his friends differentiating between love and lust. But now, 'if there is something called love,' he thought, 'this must be it.'

It wasn't long before love turned to frustration, and then to anger. He knew he wasn't handsome; he wasn't very rich. He was just a regular guy with a great sense of humor and good manners. He was quite sure this didn't count for much with a girl. 'And,' he thought, 'she wouldn't notice my virtues if she never talks to me.' He wished he was good-looking, so she would possibly find him attractive enough to find excuses to get to know him.
He felt he had destroyed the purpose of his visit - he wanted to unwind after a long, hard day, and had ended up falling in love with an unknown woman and feeling miserable about not being able to do anything about it. He beckoned for the check, and got up to leave. As he turned around, she ran to him and jumped up to hug him. "Didn't you recognize me? Shameless, forgetful fellow. You really forgot me, didn't you? You never forgot to steal my lunch during lunch break at school, did you? Now I shall have my revenge. You have to take me to dinner tomorrow, and perhaps a movie. But have to say you're sorry first."

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Grass Flower III

Pleasure they say, is but momentary
Why then is pain, forever?
Gnawing away, from the inside
I shrink and I shrink more

Happiness would have been
in remembering the flower
Not as one pretty thing
But as a speck in the meadow

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Grass Flower Part II

I took home roses and orchids and
Even the grass flower made pretty by drops of rain
For I knew that pleasure is ephemeral
Much like the life of the grass flower once pretty in the rain

Should I ponder over her long after she is gone?
Should I grieve over the inevitability of impermanence?
Or should I smile that she filled my life
With happiness and warmth like did the grass flower once?

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Grass Flower

With due credits to vickedvay for the idea-

I saw a flower in the grass; was nothing but a grass flower
Made pretty by the green and the drops of rain
It made me feel a little better
And I wanted to take it home

The flower in the grass; was nothing but a grass flower
Wilted in the sun; and disappeared among the green
Maybe I should have taken it home; for it was pretty then
But would I have wanted a wilted grass flower in my room today?

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The settlement

An old short story...

The Settlement

The settlement proceedings were almost over. He tried to obstruct almost every step of it. His lawyer employed every legal loophole and every delay tactic possible, but she remained patient and determined. She bore each of his antics with calm aloofness. He wanted them to be together; she didn’t. She had other plans; she would get a new job, a new life. She just had to get away from him. But it was this letter from him which puzzled her. He wanted a last meeting before the final hearing. He said he had something important to talk about and asked her to meet him at the corner restaurant.

As soon as she entered, he held her arm and suggested they go for a drive. She was curious and agreed. He drove too fast, much faster than he usually drove. He must be tense, she thought. He said nothing till they reached the hill. “Let’s walk to the top,” he said. She remembered. It was their favorite haunt before marriage. They used to spend happy evenings here, just enjoying each other’s company.

She stood by the cliff. He had tears in his eyes. “Don’t leave me,” he pleaded. “I can’t be with you anymore,” she replied, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. He seemed to be thinking. At last he seemed to have made a decision. She noticed that his tone had changed; even the way he looked at her was different. “If I can’t have you, nobody else will,” he said. She was alarmed – they were all alone. Slowly her alarm turned to fear and soon she was terrified. He had a kitchen knife in his hand and was slowly advancing toward her. “You’re smart enough not to use that, “she stammered, “You’ll be arrested for murder as soon as they find the body.” “You’re right,” he replied, “all I’m going to do is push you off the cliff and the police will think you committed suicide.”

She had just the hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth. “I don’t think so,” she said. ‘I don’t know what made me do this, but I’m glad I did,” she said, taking a small hand gun out of her purse. “You have no chance of killing me now, I’m going to walk away from here and you can do nothing about it. If you take even one step further,” she pointed the gun at him,” I’ll kill you and claim self defense. The police won’t do a thing against me.” He grinned, “My life is already ruined because of you,” he said, moving forward. “I’ve wanted to kill you for a long time’” she said, “and you’ve given me a wonderful opportunity to do it. For what you’ve done to me, done to my life, I’m going to kill you, and you’ve no escape.” She pulled the trigger in the next instant.

“She just went crazy,” he explained to the police, “she shot at me and missed and then lost her footing and fell off the cliff. I didn’t even touch her. She just went nuts.” The police were considerate; the case file was closed after a cursory investigation. Some of the members of the investigation team were able to take their families to popular hill-stations that year.

“Target practice and better understanding of the physics of the recoil,” he thought to himself, “and she would have been here instead of me.”

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