Why does the heart love what is not good for it. Why do the eyes long for that glimpse which is merely an illusion, why do the ears wait for those words which hold no meaning and are not true. Why do these arms crave for the warmth of those that will not comfort them for too long? Why is the there always that one person who will always have your heart. The pain of love is that sweet poison that will last forever. Love is the hardest to let go off be it first or the last, love lasts forever…..
The comfort of being lonely is like the comfort of the pain of that dagger that has been in your back for so long now that the pain has become a part of your existence.
The desire to trust has been lost in the attempts of trying not to.
Running has become a part of the routine, what we run from we don’t know. One day we look back and see that we have run so far that we don’t know where we belong and who we truly were. We long for that child within us to smile and laugh in a world that has no sorrows. To walk light and proud like the shoulders have no weight, to walk in the sand of life freely without worrying about dirty feet. To soak in the sun fearless of getting burnt, to jump into the ocean of love without any inhibitions.
It is so easy to mend a broken toy, how does one mend a broken heart.
Time they say heals all wounds but who will take away the scars.
The deeper you dig the more dirt you find, this is a superficial world a life based and judged on what lies above , commodity is the magic word. Riches, sex and love have become commodities to fulfill desires and wants, we have forgotten about needs and requirements. The world has become a selfish and ruthless body and I’m struggling to cope with it. This is not a world I dreamed of it is not a life I wanted, however who we to decide are. The path is chosen we are puppets attached to invisible strings. We think we are free and powerful. We are so wrong and so far from the light.
Ask the tree under which Buddha became The Enlightened One what knowledge is, ask the swan what beauty is ask the owl what wisdom is. Ask the turtle what pace is. Stand in front of the ocean and you will know what great is. Stop gloating in the warmth of your own existence look at the horizon and you will know how insignificant your being is.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
THREE BLACK BAGS
Broken bangles, scattered hair,
Smudged colors all over her face,
Tears left their mark ages ago,
SHE thought SHE was loved,
SHE thought SHE was brave,
Now she leads her life like a used rug
That just lies in a corner
What did SHE do to deserve this
Cant SHE run, can SHE never save herself……………………………………….
“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage, excuse me miss, are you alright?” The Customs Officers’ voice echoed in her ears as she shook herself back to reality. The airport looked like a happy place. She was happy, unlike the last time she was there. Once again she was leaving the country, her mother, her home, her family. This time it seemed different, she felt free yet at the same time she felt numb. Life was full of beginnings and endings, however, the two go hand in hand and are always linked by that thin chord called hurt, pain, desire, wounds and scars left behind by the latter. Who would have known this better than her, at twenty two life had taught her to think like a middle aged person, life had made her learn and react. It was playing games with her, it had taught her the art of being comfortably numb, so numb that it almost confused her to the point of being dazed.
Exactly a year ago she had packed her whole existence of twenty one years into three black bags. Her parents had chosen a suitable match for her and she, like a good daughter, had agreed with their choice. She was excited, like any bride to be. She was a little worried. She had wanted a career, a different life than what she was going to be living from now on, but she was happy, that’s the way life was meant to be from what she had seen.
Her mother had brought her up single handedly, with an alcoholic father being of no help. She had been taught to be fiercely independent and had been made to work towards a career. Suddenly none of this seemed to matter anymore, she was now to be a good daughter and then after a good wife.
Her only fear, her only worry was, “what if he is like my father? What if he doesn’t love me? What if he mistreats me?”, all this she made her self believe could not happen to her as well. God would surely not be that mean again. Her mother had suffered enough, maybe this marriage would help sort out her troubles as well. Money was never a problem in her life, it was the lack of love and she hoped and wished that her husband to be would fulfill this need, the comfort factor, the feeling of being looked after, the feeling of being respected and above all, wanted.
It was a grand wedding, everyone was drinking, dancing and making merry, everyone was happy. However, something was missing, something just did not feel right. It was time to leave, time to say her goodbyes, most newly wed brides cry before leaving their parents home, but her eyes were dry, she was numb, uncomfortably numb.
They had now been married for a week, she was yet to see him smile at her, she was waiting to be hugged with love, she was waiting to be touched with affection and caressed with passion. She had always imagined her first time to be magical and full of passion and love, maybe she had read too many love stories, and maybe she was a dreamer. Maybe all this was just a paragraph that was put in stories to make them sound good. This surely wasn’t what reality had in store for her. Sex was a task, she was made to feel like an object, one not of affection, her body was admired in a fashion that made her feel sick. Every touch made her soul want to cry out for help. She had lost the most preserved bit of herself to an animal, love was a myth and life was now a burden.
“Leave, get out now, leave my house now”, this all that she got to hear from him. Just because she was not ready to share him she had to suffer his abuse, his torture. There was no one to help, nobody to confide in. Each smile was a façade, each giggle was put on. Her eyes reflected the sadness in her soul, the pain in her heart.
The move took courage; she packed her bags with the bare minimum and left. Was it all over or was it yet to start? “This too shall pass”, said her mother, whose comforting embrace pulled her back to life. Insanity was knocking on her door only she knew how she was avoiding it. Death was welcoming her with arms wide open, only she knew how she was ignoring it. One slight cut and it would flow out of her in a stream of deep red, this torturous life. Something kept holding her back, she didn’t know what.
Blames, names, mean and horrible games, it took all that she had to end it all. It was finally over. She was free, free from the binding chains of a torturous marriage, free to live again.
She packed her life to start over again, in her Three Black Bags. Life was beginning again. SHE had saved herself.
“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage”.
“Oh! I am sorry, these are mine.” “Yes these THREE BLACK BAGS are mine”.
Smudged colors all over her face,
Tears left their mark ages ago,
SHE thought SHE was loved,
SHE thought SHE was brave,
Now she leads her life like a used rug
That just lies in a corner
What did SHE do to deserve this
Cant SHE run, can SHE never save herself……………………………………….
“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage, excuse me miss, are you alright?” The Customs Officers’ voice echoed in her ears as she shook herself back to reality. The airport looked like a happy place. She was happy, unlike the last time she was there. Once again she was leaving the country, her mother, her home, her family. This time it seemed different, she felt free yet at the same time she felt numb. Life was full of beginnings and endings, however, the two go hand in hand and are always linked by that thin chord called hurt, pain, desire, wounds and scars left behind by the latter. Who would have known this better than her, at twenty two life had taught her to think like a middle aged person, life had made her learn and react. It was playing games with her, it had taught her the art of being comfortably numb, so numb that it almost confused her to the point of being dazed.
Exactly a year ago she had packed her whole existence of twenty one years into three black bags. Her parents had chosen a suitable match for her and she, like a good daughter, had agreed with their choice. She was excited, like any bride to be. She was a little worried. She had wanted a career, a different life than what she was going to be living from now on, but she was happy, that’s the way life was meant to be from what she had seen.
Her mother had brought her up single handedly, with an alcoholic father being of no help. She had been taught to be fiercely independent and had been made to work towards a career. Suddenly none of this seemed to matter anymore, she was now to be a good daughter and then after a good wife.
Her only fear, her only worry was, “what if he is like my father? What if he doesn’t love me? What if he mistreats me?”, all this she made her self believe could not happen to her as well. God would surely not be that mean again. Her mother had suffered enough, maybe this marriage would help sort out her troubles as well. Money was never a problem in her life, it was the lack of love and she hoped and wished that her husband to be would fulfill this need, the comfort factor, the feeling of being looked after, the feeling of being respected and above all, wanted.
It was a grand wedding, everyone was drinking, dancing and making merry, everyone was happy. However, something was missing, something just did not feel right. It was time to leave, time to say her goodbyes, most newly wed brides cry before leaving their parents home, but her eyes were dry, she was numb, uncomfortably numb.
They had now been married for a week, she was yet to see him smile at her, she was waiting to be hugged with love, she was waiting to be touched with affection and caressed with passion. She had always imagined her first time to be magical and full of passion and love, maybe she had read too many love stories, and maybe she was a dreamer. Maybe all this was just a paragraph that was put in stories to make them sound good. This surely wasn’t what reality had in store for her. Sex was a task, she was made to feel like an object, one not of affection, her body was admired in a fashion that made her feel sick. Every touch made her soul want to cry out for help. She had lost the most preserved bit of herself to an animal, love was a myth and life was now a burden.
“Leave, get out now, leave my house now”, this all that she got to hear from him. Just because she was not ready to share him she had to suffer his abuse, his torture. There was no one to help, nobody to confide in. Each smile was a façade, each giggle was put on. Her eyes reflected the sadness in her soul, the pain in her heart.
The move took courage; she packed her bags with the bare minimum and left. Was it all over or was it yet to start? “This too shall pass”, said her mother, whose comforting embrace pulled her back to life. Insanity was knocking on her door only she knew how she was avoiding it. Death was welcoming her with arms wide open, only she knew how she was ignoring it. One slight cut and it would flow out of her in a stream of deep red, this torturous life. Something kept holding her back, she didn’t know what.
Blames, names, mean and horrible games, it took all that she had to end it all. It was finally over. She was free, free from the binding chains of a torturous marriage, free to live again.
She packed her life to start over again, in her Three Black Bags. Life was beginning again. SHE had saved herself.
“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage”.
“Oh! I am sorry, these are mine.” “Yes these THREE BLACK BAGS are mine”.
SHE
Broken bangles,scattered hair,smudged colours all over her facetears left their mark ages agoSHE thought SHE was lovedSHE thought she was bravenow SHE leads her life like a used rugthat just lies in cornerwhat did She do to deserve thiscant She run,can She never save herself
Mira and I
These beckoning mountains, these swirling roads, guarded by the huge pines always take me back in time. The smell of the pine, the chill in the air fills up my soul makes my head breathe. Each exhale destresses me, each inhale rejuvenates me. The mountains seem to welcome me with arms wide open. Since childhood I have been frequenting these mountains however, this time like all times seems different. I swerve my jeep to the left and I cross that familiar little shack, it still looks the same, the broken board still adorns the door. It reads “Hot Chai”, painted with black paint. Next to the shack is a little hut with mud walls, the small henna hand prints still decorates the wall. I park my jeep and light a cigarette, and order a hot tea, the breeze is soft and chilly. The old man brings me my tea and greets me the same way he has been greeting me ever since I have known him and these mountains. He hands me the tea and a small plate with a chunky sweet cake on it and smiles as he says, “Mira is expecting”, and stands there beaming with joy. I’m shocked and my cigarette shakes between my trembling fingers. I somehow manage to smile and congratulate him. As I sit on the bonnet of my jeep and sip my tea I glance at the small henna hand prints on the walls. That day is as clear as a fresh mountain morning in my memory, it was Mira’s wedding and as per tradition she had a beautiful henna design on her palms and like all other young brides of the village she too left her hand prints on her parents house walls.
Mira the thirteen year old angel who had helped me realize how precious each moment in life is and how easy it was to smile. Last year I had given up on happiness and had made pain and loneliness my best friends. Like each summer I had driven to my cottage in the mountains but that summer was different I had come with an intention to give up on life but a lot changed. I still remember I had stopped for tea here like I always do and I saw this little girl playing with her doll. She was dressing it up in red bridal attire. She was a happy little girl and I envied the stress free smile on that child’s face and missed the good old days when I was a teenager. She paid no attention to me staring at her and suddenly when she saw my camera she came running and smiled as if posing and waiting to be clicked.
The next few days Mira visited my cottage every morning as she brought down the milk and other supplies from her uncle’s shop. We became good friends, in fact that summer she was my only friend. I had lost all faith in God and in life. However, when I saw Mira visit the temple everyday and kneel down and pray I secretly asked God not to let her down as he had let me. Mira was full of life we would talk about her friends back home and how she would help her mother knit and how they would sing when it would rain. She told me how she loved going to school but had to discontinue because she was a girl.
It was her birthday so we went to the local sweet shop and got fresh hot sweets and her favorite mango candy, she was so happy that she started to cry, and that is when she told me about her parents, they had sent her to her uncle as they were very poor and could no longer feed another stomach. Her tears pierced my soul, they shook me up and made me realize that my anger towards my own parents were uncalled for and my anger was meaningless there were people much younger than me with worse situations and they still smiled.
I rang my parents that night, after six months and told them I missed them and that I was coming home soon. I started teaching Mira at home, she was a part of my daily routine and while clicked pictures on our daily walks she chased butterflies and collected flowers.
Mira had taught me how to live again, she was my little angel.
Three days had passed and there was no sign of Mira, I got a little worried and went down to the tea shop to check. Her uncle informed me that she had gone to meet her parents and say goodbye to them. What he told me next shook the ground beneath my feet. He told me that Mira was getting married to a rich landlord’s son. I was shocked and angry, how could they do this she was just a child, why did they do this?
Once again the familiar feeling of hatred towards this unjust world crept into my heart. I must have smoked the entire night trying to fight the anger and the tears.
However, the next day after meeting Mira I felt lighter and much better. She was glowing with joy and was very happy, she was talking to me about the color of her bridal dress, the sweets that would be there at the wedding and how she would have her own house and food every night. She was happy and seeing her happy I smiled. I had tried very hard, argued with her uncle and the village folk, telling them that this was unfair and was a crime, nobody seemed to care they thought I had lost my marbles and told me that this was the way of life in these mountains.
I thought I had seen everything in life until that day. After seeing Mira happy I did not push the issue further. She made the most beautiful bride and her smile was more magical than ever, tiny henna filled hands and feet made her look so grown up so suddenly.
I stood there throughout the ceremony still awestruck and amazed and suddenly I felt a cold little had touch mine. Mira had come to say bye.
One year has passed and it seems like yesterday, I finish my tea and drive on to the next village to visit my old friend Mira, now a mum to be.
Mira the thirteen year old angel who had helped me realize how precious each moment in life is and how easy it was to smile. Last year I had given up on happiness and had made pain and loneliness my best friends. Like each summer I had driven to my cottage in the mountains but that summer was different I had come with an intention to give up on life but a lot changed. I still remember I had stopped for tea here like I always do and I saw this little girl playing with her doll. She was dressing it up in red bridal attire. She was a happy little girl and I envied the stress free smile on that child’s face and missed the good old days when I was a teenager. She paid no attention to me staring at her and suddenly when she saw my camera she came running and smiled as if posing and waiting to be clicked.
The next few days Mira visited my cottage every morning as she brought down the milk and other supplies from her uncle’s shop. We became good friends, in fact that summer she was my only friend. I had lost all faith in God and in life. However, when I saw Mira visit the temple everyday and kneel down and pray I secretly asked God not to let her down as he had let me. Mira was full of life we would talk about her friends back home and how she would help her mother knit and how they would sing when it would rain. She told me how she loved going to school but had to discontinue because she was a girl.
It was her birthday so we went to the local sweet shop and got fresh hot sweets and her favorite mango candy, she was so happy that she started to cry, and that is when she told me about her parents, they had sent her to her uncle as they were very poor and could no longer feed another stomach. Her tears pierced my soul, they shook me up and made me realize that my anger towards my own parents were uncalled for and my anger was meaningless there were people much younger than me with worse situations and they still smiled.
I rang my parents that night, after six months and told them I missed them and that I was coming home soon. I started teaching Mira at home, she was a part of my daily routine and while clicked pictures on our daily walks she chased butterflies and collected flowers.
Mira had taught me how to live again, she was my little angel.
Three days had passed and there was no sign of Mira, I got a little worried and went down to the tea shop to check. Her uncle informed me that she had gone to meet her parents and say goodbye to them. What he told me next shook the ground beneath my feet. He told me that Mira was getting married to a rich landlord’s son. I was shocked and angry, how could they do this she was just a child, why did they do this?
Once again the familiar feeling of hatred towards this unjust world crept into my heart. I must have smoked the entire night trying to fight the anger and the tears.
However, the next day after meeting Mira I felt lighter and much better. She was glowing with joy and was very happy, she was talking to me about the color of her bridal dress, the sweets that would be there at the wedding and how she would have her own house and food every night. She was happy and seeing her happy I smiled. I had tried very hard, argued with her uncle and the village folk, telling them that this was unfair and was a crime, nobody seemed to care they thought I had lost my marbles and told me that this was the way of life in these mountains.
I thought I had seen everything in life until that day. After seeing Mira happy I did not push the issue further. She made the most beautiful bride and her smile was more magical than ever, tiny henna filled hands and feet made her look so grown up so suddenly.
I stood there throughout the ceremony still awestruck and amazed and suddenly I felt a cold little had touch mine. Mira had come to say bye.
One year has passed and it seems like yesterday, I finish my tea and drive on to the next village to visit my old friend Mira, now a mum to be.
GOLD RIMMED SPECTACLES AND RED SHOES
The past five years seemed nothing in comparison to these last five minutes . I had waited patiently all these years but somehow these last few minutes seemed to be taking forever . I was anxious , nervous , very excited and like most mothers highly emotional and very worried . The minute I heard the announcement that flight had landed I felt this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach , my heart was ready to burst with joy . I remember feeling the same way 22 years ago when the doctor had told me that I was expecting . Today , I was going to see my little baby after five long years , she was now a grown up young lady and from what I have been seeing in the pictures she sends me , she is as pretty as pretty can be .
I must have stared at that little screen for ages trying to get a glimpse of her coming down the escalator , suddenly I saw a pair of bright red sneakers , that had to be her if I knew my daughter well , she had to be the one with the red sneakers . I took off my new gold rimmed glasses and cleaned the glass , I wanted this moment to be perfect , crystal clear for me to cherish forever .
Here she was now finally in my arms my little angel , she was much taller than before and had lost a lot of weight . I looked down and smiled when I saw her red shoes .
She hugged me all the way home from the airport . She was like a little parrot , talking non – stop , excited , overwhelmed , she had so much to say . I sat silently admiring her , listening to her voice , holding her close to me . It was like looking at myself in the mirror ages ago only now it was a far more pretty version of me , my daughter , she was finally home . Tears of joy trickled down my cheeks , she looked at me and said , “Aw ma don’t cry , hey I love your new spectacles here let me clean the glass for you”, she gave me a tight hug and I felt the same warmth I had felt when I held her in my arms the day she was born , nothing had changed and nothing will change , she will always be my little angel. Now I was not going to let her go any where , there was so much to catch up on , so much to hear , so much to say .
Sitting in the my seat putting on my red sneakers I smiled I could visualize the look on my mothers face , I knew exactly what she would say , “You and your fetish for red sneakers , some things never change”. Five years ago I was sitting on a flight leaving my mother not knowing when we would be seeing each other next , it made me extremely sad and tearful . Today as I excitedly wait for this flight to land on my home grounds I am tearful again . The tears roll down , the tears of joy , finally the time had come I was getting home , home to my mother. These last five years had been very busy and passed away very fast , ironically these last five minutes seemed like ages . The flight landed but the butterflies in my stomach were still very active and in motion . Meeting mum after five long years , it was making me a little nervous and couldn’t wait to hug her. Running towards this lady wearing gold rimmed spectacles I felt like a five year old who is lost in a crowd and suddenly spots her mother . My mother had aged a little , grey hair , spectacles and a touch of wrinkles . Looking at her made me realize how long five years were .
I felt comfort and security in her arms . The journey back home from the airport was full of stories and questions all obviously by me . However , one thing kept bothering , it was like a spot on the windshield which keeps bugging the driver till he hasn’t wiped it off . How was I going to tell mum about him , how would I tell her that I was in love , would she understand or would she over react ? I just hugged her and we both wept silently , I was home and with her and I knew all would work out fine , she always understood after all and I know she will be very happy for me when I tell her about my new job . She will be proud of her little girl who has finally grown up .
Three months at home should be enough time for me to tell her about him and my plans to move back and pick up the new job . Wondering how she would react to my suggestion of her moving overseas worried me . There was enough time to deal with all that right now being next to her , finally coming home was comforting and very exciting.
I must have stared at that little screen for ages trying to get a glimpse of her coming down the escalator , suddenly I saw a pair of bright red sneakers , that had to be her if I knew my daughter well , she had to be the one with the red sneakers . I took off my new gold rimmed glasses and cleaned the glass , I wanted this moment to be perfect , crystal clear for me to cherish forever .
Here she was now finally in my arms my little angel , she was much taller than before and had lost a lot of weight . I looked down and smiled when I saw her red shoes .
She hugged me all the way home from the airport . She was like a little parrot , talking non – stop , excited , overwhelmed , she had so much to say . I sat silently admiring her , listening to her voice , holding her close to me . It was like looking at myself in the mirror ages ago only now it was a far more pretty version of me , my daughter , she was finally home . Tears of joy trickled down my cheeks , she looked at me and said , “Aw ma don’t cry , hey I love your new spectacles here let me clean the glass for you”, she gave me a tight hug and I felt the same warmth I had felt when I held her in my arms the day she was born , nothing had changed and nothing will change , she will always be my little angel. Now I was not going to let her go any where , there was so much to catch up on , so much to hear , so much to say .
Sitting in the my seat putting on my red sneakers I smiled I could visualize the look on my mothers face , I knew exactly what she would say , “You and your fetish for red sneakers , some things never change”. Five years ago I was sitting on a flight leaving my mother not knowing when we would be seeing each other next , it made me extremely sad and tearful . Today as I excitedly wait for this flight to land on my home grounds I am tearful again . The tears roll down , the tears of joy , finally the time had come I was getting home , home to my mother. These last five years had been very busy and passed away very fast , ironically these last five minutes seemed like ages . The flight landed but the butterflies in my stomach were still very active and in motion . Meeting mum after five long years , it was making me a little nervous and couldn’t wait to hug her. Running towards this lady wearing gold rimmed spectacles I felt like a five year old who is lost in a crowd and suddenly spots her mother . My mother had aged a little , grey hair , spectacles and a touch of wrinkles . Looking at her made me realize how long five years were .
I felt comfort and security in her arms . The journey back home from the airport was full of stories and questions all obviously by me . However , one thing kept bothering , it was like a spot on the windshield which keeps bugging the driver till he hasn’t wiped it off . How was I going to tell mum about him , how would I tell her that I was in love , would she understand or would she over react ? I just hugged her and we both wept silently , I was home and with her and I knew all would work out fine , she always understood after all and I know she will be very happy for me when I tell her about my new job . She will be proud of her little girl who has finally grown up .
Three months at home should be enough time for me to tell her about him and my plans to move back and pick up the new job . Wondering how she would react to my suggestion of her moving overseas worried me . There was enough time to deal with all that right now being next to her , finally coming home was comforting and very exciting.
FOREVER AND A LIFETIME
She stood there with the crowd as still as water in a lake. Shocked and in disbelief. She had never imagined that she would be seeing him after all these years. Although, she had secretly hoped that they would meet again someday. Many years had passed , life had become a vicious circle. Both of them had been entrapped in the complexities of their respective lives. She had never married. Even though she had been with other men after him, it all seemed mechanical. Unlike the enigmatic times she experienced with him. She found it very strange to be seeing him again at the same place where they had kissed for the first time. She could still feel the warmth of his lips on hers, the sweetness of his breath and the tenderness in his touch.
She stood now next to the same tree, the huge oak.She couldn’t help but smile when she recalled how he had once climbed up the tree to carve their initials on it. She looked up at the branch, it was old and bare but not dead.Just like her love for him.
There was a slight and sudden movement in the crowd.The crowd now had their umbrellas open. She stood there feeling the slight drizzle moisten her face.The smell of the roses filled the air. He always got her red roses.He used to say they went well with the color of her cheeks. She felt her cheek with the back of her hand , just like he used to.
Today she wore her favourite black dress which was now drenched and clung to her body like a body suit. She was reminded of her prom night when she wore a beautiful dress that he had picked for her. It had rained that night too. It was the most mesmerizing rain of her life. She stood there, a shy young girl, beautiful and very elegant.Her short black hair made her face look even more graceful.He walked across the room towards her like a guided missile. They had danced all night long. He was the captain of the athletics teams they had honored him that night just like they were doing today.
She gathers all her courage and walks up to take one last look at him. His face still had that charm on it , he had grayed a bit but looked handsome. He wore a black suit , with a red rose , his favorite. He was perfect.
She wanted to run and hold him in her arms, she wanted to feel his warmth , his touch for one last time.She needed to hear his voice his , she loved the way her name sounded when he said it. It hurt her to so see him so still, so silent , so distant.
Speeches were said , praises and tears followed.She felt nobody understood her pain,her loss , her lonliness.She turned her face to the right, wiping her tears she saw his wife in wheel chair,his two children besides her.Two pretty young girls, they had their father’s elegance and their mother’s beauty. Suddenly it hit her, her loss, her pain was nothing compared to theirs .It was all over, all over forever or maybe not.Was he hers to mourn over ? maybe not?
She stood their till everyone left. Then she sat besides his grave and cried till the moon light lit the whole place. She was soaked to her soul. Before leaving she picked up a red rose from the grave. It was a deep red , with the most intense fragrance. She walked away in the moonlight just like she had ages ago, but this time without him.
She was his for forever and a lifetime.
She stood now next to the same tree, the huge oak.She couldn’t help but smile when she recalled how he had once climbed up the tree to carve their initials on it. She looked up at the branch, it was old and bare but not dead.Just like her love for him.
There was a slight and sudden movement in the crowd.The crowd now had their umbrellas open. She stood there feeling the slight drizzle moisten her face.The smell of the roses filled the air. He always got her red roses.He used to say they went well with the color of her cheeks. She felt her cheek with the back of her hand , just like he used to.
Today she wore her favourite black dress which was now drenched and clung to her body like a body suit. She was reminded of her prom night when she wore a beautiful dress that he had picked for her. It had rained that night too. It was the most mesmerizing rain of her life. She stood there, a shy young girl, beautiful and very elegant.Her short black hair made her face look even more graceful.He walked across the room towards her like a guided missile. They had danced all night long. He was the captain of the athletics teams they had honored him that night just like they were doing today.
She gathers all her courage and walks up to take one last look at him. His face still had that charm on it , he had grayed a bit but looked handsome. He wore a black suit , with a red rose , his favorite. He was perfect.
She wanted to run and hold him in her arms, she wanted to feel his warmth , his touch for one last time.She needed to hear his voice his , she loved the way her name sounded when he said it. It hurt her to so see him so still, so silent , so distant.
Speeches were said , praises and tears followed.She felt nobody understood her pain,her loss , her lonliness.She turned her face to the right, wiping her tears she saw his wife in wheel chair,his two children besides her.Two pretty young girls, they had their father’s elegance and their mother’s beauty. Suddenly it hit her, her loss, her pain was nothing compared to theirs .It was all over, all over forever or maybe not.Was he hers to mourn over ? maybe not?
She stood their till everyone left. Then she sat besides his grave and cried till the moon light lit the whole place. She was soaked to her soul. Before leaving she picked up a red rose from the grave. It was a deep red , with the most intense fragrance. She walked away in the moonlight just like she had ages ago, but this time without him.
She was his for forever and a lifetime.
What’s Love Got to do With “IT” ?
“Goodnight honey, honey I said goodnight… fine be your stubborn self, be like this. You know what I really don’t care.” Ten years of being married this is what they say to one another before retiring for the night. Well this is not a one house phenomenon. I use the word ‘House’ because with two huge egos like these no ‘House’ can ever be a ‘Home’. It’s so easy to play the blame game or what I call , Passing the Puzzle. This self created Puzzle that we term as Marriage. Each partner is actually passing the pieces of the puzzle to the other hoping that maybe the other one can work it out. The perfect picture is in their minds but have either one of them ever imagined what the picture looks like in their partners mind. If they had the whole issue would not have existed in the first place.
Who says couples need counselling or guidance. Who says every relationship is different. They are all the same. The confusion arises when we start taking our partners for granted. You fall in love, you are head over heels and will do anything to impress your loved one. So where is that desire to impress today? Where is that excitement to meet? Where is that passion to love? Where is that need to just hug, to hold, to feel and to accept?
We get so involved with the norms of the world and how things should be and they should not that we forget what we are and what we were and what we had thought we would be. You promised her a life full of smiles and love so why shadow it with tears and fears? You promised him care and love so why pretend now ?
The answer to all these why’s is deep within us. It is so deep that we too cant reach it till we scratch off the surface of ego and self pity.
The physicality in a relationship is like a sculpture that gets moulded and takes the shape of love, trust, faith and companionship through the years. What dies first love, sex or us. The bottom line is we die our feelings die. They actually don’t die we kill them . We murder our relationships, we strangle them with our own hands.
Have we ever stopped to think that we should stretch out arm, put forward our hand, to make our loved one feel loved and special. Nonsexual touch and other signs of affection strengthens your marriage relationship, creates a comforting and calming atmosphere in your home, builds trust between the two of you, and deepens your intimacy with one another.
Most of the time we don’t realise that in order to please our partner in bed we forget to think of them , their pleasure needs and levels could vary ours and we need to work on that. We need to realise that sex is not a task thus is referred to as ‘Making Love’, totally contrary to the phrase “Wham, Bam, Thank you Ma’am”.
The core of most fights, most problems is this major issue: Sex. It actually is not a major issue, we have made it a major issue.
Do you think Adam fought with Eve when she ate the apple? Well if he was a smart man he would have enjoyed the apple with her because sharing your partners interests, likes and dislikes directly turns on or turns off this switch of realisation for them . They feel you care they know you are interested. Foreplay is the most important. What exactly is foreplay. There could be two ways of looking into it. For most of us foreplay is just before we spring into action, however, the art is to make foreplay a 24 hour routine. Talk to you partner, go out, smile together laugh together above all cry together. This is the psychological foreplay we use to make sure that this love lasts forever.
One of the aspects that can make sex especially marital sex amazing is communication. Communicate with your husband or wife. Tell them how your day was, ask them how theirs was. Talk about the weather, who said there’s nothing to talk about. You could spend hours over the phone, have tons of coffees and now just because you are a couple doesn’t mean there is nothing to talk about. Fight and fight like you’ve never fought before because the end result is the making up between the sheets like you’ve never tossed them before.
Every aspect has its two sides. No coin is worth it if it has two heads or two tails. However without either or every coin is incomplete. Your silence compliments his/ her talkative nature but make an effort so he/ she is not the only one talking in the crowd. You are an extrovert but don’t forget the introvert wouldn’t mind stepping into your shoes you just have to offer. Its all about taking an initiative , stretching out that hand.
Don’t argue about your sexual problem or differences in opinions in the bedroom or at bed time, set a time talk and find a solution. The blame game never pays. Try talking to each other and not at each other. The wives need to control the rolling eyes and well the men need to definitely stop sulking, remember you are a big boy now. Well the pretty women have got to stop sobbing at the drop of a pin, you outgrew your bloomers way back.
So well come on people, old couples, new couples, young couples and well to be couples, think about the ‘Us’ and focus on the ‘ You and Me’ and throw the ‘I’ and ‘Me” out of the window.
The next time someone asks you , “What’s Love Got to do with IT?”, you BOTH turn and say EVERYTHING.
Who says couples need counselling or guidance. Who says every relationship is different. They are all the same. The confusion arises when we start taking our partners for granted. You fall in love, you are head over heels and will do anything to impress your loved one. So where is that desire to impress today? Where is that excitement to meet? Where is that passion to love? Where is that need to just hug, to hold, to feel and to accept?
We get so involved with the norms of the world and how things should be and they should not that we forget what we are and what we were and what we had thought we would be. You promised her a life full of smiles and love so why shadow it with tears and fears? You promised him care and love so why pretend now ?
The answer to all these why’s is deep within us. It is so deep that we too cant reach it till we scratch off the surface of ego and self pity.
The physicality in a relationship is like a sculpture that gets moulded and takes the shape of love, trust, faith and companionship through the years. What dies first love, sex or us. The bottom line is we die our feelings die. They actually don’t die we kill them . We murder our relationships, we strangle them with our own hands.
Have we ever stopped to think that we should stretch out arm, put forward our hand, to make our loved one feel loved and special. Nonsexual touch and other signs of affection strengthens your marriage relationship, creates a comforting and calming atmosphere in your home, builds trust between the two of you, and deepens your intimacy with one another.
Most of the time we don’t realise that in order to please our partner in bed we forget to think of them , their pleasure needs and levels could vary ours and we need to work on that. We need to realise that sex is not a task thus is referred to as ‘Making Love’, totally contrary to the phrase “Wham, Bam, Thank you Ma’am”.
The core of most fights, most problems is this major issue: Sex. It actually is not a major issue, we have made it a major issue.
Do you think Adam fought with Eve when she ate the apple? Well if he was a smart man he would have enjoyed the apple with her because sharing your partners interests, likes and dislikes directly turns on or turns off this switch of realisation for them . They feel you care they know you are interested. Foreplay is the most important. What exactly is foreplay. There could be two ways of looking into it. For most of us foreplay is just before we spring into action, however, the art is to make foreplay a 24 hour routine. Talk to you partner, go out, smile together laugh together above all cry together. This is the psychological foreplay we use to make sure that this love lasts forever.
One of the aspects that can make sex especially marital sex amazing is communication. Communicate with your husband or wife. Tell them how your day was, ask them how theirs was. Talk about the weather, who said there’s nothing to talk about. You could spend hours over the phone, have tons of coffees and now just because you are a couple doesn’t mean there is nothing to talk about. Fight and fight like you’ve never fought before because the end result is the making up between the sheets like you’ve never tossed them before.
Every aspect has its two sides. No coin is worth it if it has two heads or two tails. However without either or every coin is incomplete. Your silence compliments his/ her talkative nature but make an effort so he/ she is not the only one talking in the crowd. You are an extrovert but don’t forget the introvert wouldn’t mind stepping into your shoes you just have to offer. Its all about taking an initiative , stretching out that hand.
Don’t argue about your sexual problem or differences in opinions in the bedroom or at bed time, set a time talk and find a solution. The blame game never pays. Try talking to each other and not at each other. The wives need to control the rolling eyes and well the men need to definitely stop sulking, remember you are a big boy now. Well the pretty women have got to stop sobbing at the drop of a pin, you outgrew your bloomers way back.
So well come on people, old couples, new couples, young couples and well to be couples, think about the ‘Us’ and focus on the ‘ You and Me’ and throw the ‘I’ and ‘Me” out of the window.
The next time someone asks you , “What’s Love Got to do with IT?”, you BOTH turn and say EVERYTHING.
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