I was well acquainted with the fact that we were going to end someday; it would just evaporate like the dew gets absorbed by the heat of the sun.
The first time we talked, it was 9th of March. On Facebook we added each other. Then I was just 18, and you needed not tell me yours. Though, I knew you were senior to me by years, but who cared I just needed a part time job, and you could employ me as a writer in your production firm. It was Sunday and we talked the whole day long, of friends and family and aims and goals. Your dreams and my aspirations coagulated us in a matrix. “Did you write?” you would always ask the question. And as an answer, I always had an incomplete task.
I used to write and you took time out to read and review my works, always praising you pushed me up, towards the heights I wanted to reach. At times your were stairs and at some your acted like the whip but never for once you left my hand because you knew how it feels to have a dream. When I had no faith in me, it is you who believed in the worth of mine. It was through you that I did shine.
Do you remember the teacher’s day? I wrote a piece to thank your grace? You said it turned your eyes wet and that you will keep that for life with you? That very day, something of a wall fell down between us. We were no more strangers or acquaintances any more. Over the years, we did turn friends. I told you about my life and pains, about my silly loss and gains. Teenaged love, my first crush, and you had gone through a many breakups. Time and again you would stoop down to my years, and I would rise up to reach yours age.
Love isn’t something you find. Love is something that finds you.
Monsoons you loved and I liked winters. That was not the only difference. Food you could cook and I loved to eat. Chicken I admired and you were a pure vegetarian. I was an imperfect little beast and you were the perfection freak. Unlike poles attract, I had only heard, but now did I see.
Remember, that night? You told me that you love me and I didn’t know what my heart wished to do. It jumped through my mouth and skipped at you. That ugly smile refused to leave my face. I still wasn’t sure of the love I possessed.
I thought a day and two before, at two in the morning I confessed my love. And surely enough it changed my world. The magic rushed in my veins; all I needed was to be with thee. I was the brook and you were the sea, where could I go if not end in thee? Could I say a “NO” to you?
I would send you pictures and you would sing me to sleep. I would kiss you in your sleep, and read my poems in the voice notes; I never did note that miles ran between us. Could a better bliss happen on earth?
Then one fine day we had a fight, you yelled at me for the first time. I apologized and I cried. I couldn’t watch you go. I had nothing to do, though. I held onto you like handful of sand. The more I tried the more you slipped past my hand. You were too reluctant to see me off. Every time I groped, I found another you. The ones I had not seen ever for true. And the love of my life had lost its hue.
Your messages ceased to come and the hours of phone conversations had ended short. “I am busy!” you always said. I waited long upon you to get free and the time when work would fade. When you will miss me like the way I do. But it would not happen; instead I would text you soon. I would see you come and go. Nor once did you try to come in my inbox to show. I would wait and wait and again text you then. But you did not seem to respect.
I would ask and yell and plead you to talk, you did never give me a reason. Affections had ended within you, all. I was no longer the one for your own. I decide to leave for your pleasures to stay, for they chose to come when I was not there to lay. Like the summers I watched you go. Slowly dying I learnt to let go.
What I had never imagined was that all would end in this way, and that you wouldn’t want to hear me say. It would exist like the way it never existed and we would again turn into me and you. And it wouldn’t even matter to you; that my presence or absence would hardly mean a thing. There would remain nothing for me to cling. Your forever died in a year, and mine had to live till the death nears.
You dwell in the warmth of my tears, like the love in my heart, with the memories of late night conversations, we used to steal. You stay in the sketch I made for you; and in the countless recordings, you remain unchanged. I fall in love every now and then; with you and your numerous follies, with your keeping yourself away from me. With Your blue ticks, which my long messages did receive. Your numerous “I love you”. And even your inability to love me the way I loved you.