Now, more than ever.

I see your face, I drift away

I see a tomorrow

In the sea of thoughts, that’s a way

I see our lives, from the future that I borrow

I tremble when I walk

On me, your eyes stay

I stammer when I talk

To me, the attention that you pay

Into my eyes you gaze

With so much love and hope

And you’re lost in a maze

I feel I’m pulled by a rope

It’s overwhelming,

The level of satisfaction

It’s charming,

The amount of your affection

Strongest bond we redeem,

We are a team,

A distant world it seems,

Like a translucent dream

And I love you more

With every passing day

Than I did before

It’s what I’ll always say

I tried to live without you,

Tears fall from my eyes

For so many years, or so few

I told myself all the lies

It’s a starry night

When mysteries suddenly unravel

Hold on tight

While all of the fears dishevel

We’re gonna get through the storm

Because I cannot live alone forever

I need you in my dorm

Now, more than ever.

"True" love story.

Love Story: It’s definition (I googled) is “a tale of lovers”.

But, that’s not my concern. The idea for this blog randomly struck my mind when I saw the words “true love story” and it got me wondering. True love story, as such, has no definition.

Who decides though? Which love story is true and which is untrue? Romeo & Juliet, Cleopatra & Mark Antony , Laila & Majnu, Salim & Anarkali and some more tragic love stories are few that are considered to be ‘true’.  The stories with sad endings. And then there are movies depicting the unconditional love between a couple where one partner is diagnosed with some terminal disease eventually or the ship they are travelling in hits an ice berg and sinks.

As much as I love sappy sad stories, I hate how our notion of true love stories has now become the very idea of someone sacrificing their life either waiting for ‘the one’ or devoting their life to a dying loved one.

"True love stories never have endings."

And then there are these quotations which frame such very notion of true love in our brains.

Whatever happened to our childhood when true love meant our parents fighting ever second day and then making up to each other the next? The constant nagging and arguments followed by “ladte wo hi hain jo pyaar karte hain”. Rather, our grandparents. The time when the women in the house wore a pallu over their head and had meek expressions with eyes that never met their husband’s (atleast when they were not alone). That was also love, true one for that matter but only in a way now alien to us.

Fortunately, I haven’t seen the tragic ones around me. But when I see an old couple walking together at a market or a mall, I look at them and think that is true love. I see my parents, and there I see true love. I see my friends who sometimes fall out of relationships but I know their love was true, only it just didn’t work out. Because sometimes it’s not meant to work out. And sometimes, true love stories do end.

s.o.u.l.m.a.t.e.

Yes,

I've met my soulmate.

Yes,

I agree we won't ever be together.

Yes,

I accept that HE is the one for me, and there's no one else I can be absolutely compatible with.

But life has its own ways.
We both are happy in our lives. We both moved on, have separate lives.
He has a girlfriend, I don't want a boyfriend. Because after having him, I won't settle for any less and there can never be anyone better than him.And the circumstances I went through, for so many years, I know I won't accept him in my life again.

but Yes,

I very well know the fact that we were meant to be together.

They parted, only, to never meet again.

Her phone rang. “I’ll be there in 10”, said the guy from the other side of the line. She kept the phone down, smiled to herself and started staring at the clock. Every second seemed like an hour for her. She felt like she was gonna meet him for the first time. A new HIM. A new HER. It was over the phone only, a few weeks back, when he said he loved her. It came as a surprise to her because she had never felt for him that way. He was just a friend to her, a good one. But she had taken it well. She had been told by people who knew her well that they were perfect for each other. They were “made for each other” material but she always took it as a joke until ofcourse he confessed. Surprisingly she didn’t think much of it, like how she’ll react, how she’ll behave around him et al. She was simply going with the flow. But she was glad to know that there was someone for her now, someone she knew she could count on whenever needed, someone who’ll not only cry for her but would cry with her. Having the secured feelings, she was on cloud nine. She was meeting him for the first time, after he had confessed.

 She recalled all texts that had been in her inbox, saying crap like ‘yew do this, so yew love him. Yew do that, so he loves yew’ which she had overlooked, now, made her smile. She remembered the times when they laughed together, cried together, fought with each other, tried to make up, times when they were happy. All the moments jogged in her mind, chasing each other playfully. She had lost track of time. And then, the doorbell rang. She ran towards the door and while unlocking it, her nostrils got filled with the cologne he wore. She loved his cologne, she realised. Letting him in, she got a little uncomfortable. Usually when a friend came over to her place, her roommate was around. But today, when she thought having her in the house would have helped, she was there, standing awkwardly in front of him.


After realising that an eerie silence had occupied the room, he started talking. Although she felt he sang to her. The way he spoke had changed, or maybe how she listened had. She was unsure of what was happening but she relished listening to him. They talked for next two hours, about every random thing like they always did. And when it was time for him to leave, she walked him to the door. Before heading out, he did the most unexpected thing. He took her in his arms, closed in on the distance between them and placed his lips gently on hers. Before she could react, he retreated his lips and smiled at her with his hands still around her waist. It was quick, but was gentle. She felt safe in his arms, safe like never before. Without taking another second, she kissed him. And this time, they kissed. A kiss full of love and passion. They stopped and he whispered ‘I love yew’ in her ears. She felt like the world bowed to her. In his words, she found herself. But she couldn’t get herself to say anything. She needed some time to take in whatever had happened. So she simply smiled and then they parted.


Only to never meet again.


At mid-night, she called him. After they had shared a few greetings, she was about to tell him for what she had called, to tell him she loved him too, but before she could say anything, he interrupted her. His tone became serious and she bit her lip realising what was about to come might just not be the best thing for her to listen. And correct she was. The next second, her chest burned, her heart ached, and she was out of breath. She disconnected the line, forcing herself to stay conscious. Tears kept streaming down her face. She couldn’t believe her ears but when she did, she knew he wasn’t lying. She cried all night, thinking about the times - when they were happy. The moments that she thought of a few hours back, which had made her smile, now made her cry her eyes out.

She had stopped talking him or maybe he stopped talking to her, she didn’t know and she was contended. But now, none of that mattered. She refused to believe it, but deep down she knew she had fallen in love with him. She also knew that she would never be able to love again. It’s been 2 years now. The mourning has diminished but there are several days when all she does is to live her life normally only to come home at night, curl up in bed, and let her mind get filled with the echoes of the line he said on the phone and cry herself to sleep.

Only to come home, curl up in bed and cry.

He had said, “I think I have feelings for Ria. The girl I met at the bar last week.”