Fiction – Letter to Love


Dear Love,  

It seems strange to me to be writing to you when we talk almost everyday. There is something about writing which ensures permanence. I don’t trust my person to forever remember all these feelings I have now but I trust the written word to remind me when I may have forgotten what I feel today. I want to make sure that I never miss these moments even if my biology can’t keep up. 

We have been together for nearly 6 months now, slightly lesser. I have known you for about 2 years roughly. I love you. I do. You are the first person I have given my heart to. You are the first person I have shared my thoughts with. You are the first love of mine! And I am glad. I am so glad that you are the first because you are so considerate and kind and gentle. You attend to my peculiarities and hesitations with such gentleness that it makes my heart melt. I feel understood by you. I feel valued.

Sometimes, however, it all feels very unreal. I miss your physical presence. I tried to hold it hard in my head for a long time but the time is taking its toll now. I am beginning to forget what it felt like when you touched me, when you kissed me and when you hugged me. I am forgetting the protectiveness of leaning against your chest, the comfort of resting on your shoulders and the happiness of you walking besides me. It almost feels that the real you and the one I went out with are separating now. It’s been 5 months since you have been away and while my love grows deeper, the actual you is starting to fade and I am scared about it. I am scared of losing that image. I don’t want to. I want to be with you. I don’t want to miss you anymore. 

It is strange that I have this fear because honestly, I am equally afraid of being with you. I fear that it may just be a heavenly dream which might get shattered. I fear imagining the pleasure of the days when we will be together so that I may take the disappointment a bit easily if it does not happen. I fear the end of it all. I am scared of the depths I am going into. I fear becoming emotionless to protect my core in case I don’t end up with you. 

The uncertainty in this period is unnerving. I avoid thinking about it but it will only go for so long. There will come a time when a decision will have to be made. That time promises to come sooner than later. When it does, I can only hope that we both remain strong and deal wisely with whatever hand would be dealt. I hope that in the event of shattered hopes, our spirits remain unbroken. I also hope that we have enough courage and conviction to avoid the unwanted event in the first place. 

Be as it may, I am writing to you today to just let you know that you will be in my thoughts forever – loved, respected and cared about. I always will wish the best of everything for you and pray that you get whatever you wish for in life. I will always love you. I will always feel good about the fact that we met and shared so many exquisite moments. It was the time with you which made me aware of a part of my soul I never knew existed. It made me realize that how uplifting a union of souls can be and for that, I will be always grateful. 

With Best Regards,

Your Love 

 

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The Yellow Door!


She had come again to the yellow door. It was final. It was meant to be. It was her destiny and she accepted the destiny. Yellow door had beckoned her again and she presented herself. If you saw her from afar, standing there in front of the door in a red dress with small white floral patterns on it, she looked like a decoration.

It was 8 in the morning. The grass was still wet with dew, birds were still chirping, sun was coming out lazily and the trees were being gently swayed by the wind. It was a lovely morning. One of the loveliest morning she had seen lately. She could feel it within her. Her heart and mind were as fresh as the dew and with each breath she took in copious amounts of the air , its aroma filling her lungs completely. She had not worn her watch today. “Not today”, she had decided while leaving home. Her hair kept falling on her face and she let it be. She let the wind play with it. She did not clip them tightly like other days today. “Not today”, she had decided. Her feet were naked. She had thrown her shoes away when she got down from the bus. “Not today”, she had decided. Her eyes had no kohl, her lips no lipstick. There were no earrings in her ears and no rings on her fingers. There was just one adornment which she could not have parted with even if she wanted to. And this she was wearing. It was a locket in a silver chain, shaped like a rose bud, carved in silver and gold. It shone whenever sun’s rays fell on it and she could see the reflection on the wall in the front. It pleased her to see different patterns. It pleased her greatly to just see the world around her and take it in as much as she could.

She had been standing in front of the yellow door for a full hour now taking in the simple but very real beauty all around her. But now, it was 9 and it was time. The sun was staring a bit harshly now. The birds had flown away. The dew had evaporated. The wind was becoming warmer and angrier and her feet were hurting. Her hair was tangled and rough. It was 9 and it was time. The yellow door stood there and she stood in front of it. It was time to go in. It creaked a bit and slowly started to part from the middle opening towards outside. For a moment, she panicked. Just for a moment but then something called to her from the inside and she started smiling. First, she moved her right foot forward, then left, and then right again and then left and then right and then left and then, she was inside the door. It closed. It closed just as slowly as it had opened. It was 9 and it was time. Sun beamed mightily and the trees continued to dance.

However, there were just a few raindrops here and there falling from the sky. Soon, there would be rain,a  thunderous downpour and the rosebud locket would come floating out from inside. It would flow with the water. It would flow all the way to the next town where a small girl would find it and take it to her mommy. They would admire the beautiful locket and mom would make her daughter wear it. Their lives will go on as perfectly as possible for the next 20 years and then it would be time again.

The door would call for it never forgets those who wear the bud. It cannot leave the bud. It would want it once again like every other time. 20 years from now, again it would be 9 and it would be time. The yellow door will call!

The three mistakes of my life – Chetan Bhagat


Three mistakes of my life by Chetan Bhagat is the third book by him after the much hyped Five Point Someone and One Night at Call Centre. Now I read and liked five point someone quite a lot because it had a flow, and moreover because I was in the first year at IITK and the life in the book was quite recognizable to me. On hearing such disparaging reviews about his second book I decided to avoid it but this time before embarking on a train journey I had a choice between reading his third book (other than that my pocket could afford no other book) or going on without any book. Well, I gave in to the temptation of possessing another book and bought it. And guess what? I read it too.

So how is the book? It is okay!! Seriously! Nothing great nothing so bad either. It has story which mixes everything that is happening in India: Cricket, business, love affair and politics. The narrative is simple. There is a falsity which is blantatly visible in the prologue but after that the story takes over and things become interesting. Young guys running a cricket shop when they find a cricketing prodigy and finally some herogiri. Good mix!
I would commend the originality at least and the unpretensious language. Sometimes, Indian authors are bent on showing their wealth of knowledge about the English vocabulary and leave the reader with unnecessary trappins of the language. But Bhagat is careful not to fall in this trap. Reasons could range from limited vocab to the awareness of the aim that the book has. Also, I appreciate the fact that the he has defined for himself the realm he is going to work in which is that of popular, Indianized, readable fiction and he is astoundingly successful in catering to that.

All I would like to say is that I am not regretting the loss of 95/- in buying this book and consider my choice of train time pass as a wise decision. A fully timepass read. Try if you want to.

A room of one’s own – Virginia Woolf


I read this another novel by Woolf and it was lovely yet again. This is about “Women and Fiction” and what exactly, well, you will find out. What has been done, why it has been done, how it should be done ….it is all there about the women, fiction and women in fiction. She describes and establishes the need for sound income and creative independence of women if she was to write fiction. She argues that how women tend to be influenced by men (since always and domination being the kind of influence) and try to write like a man. She says that women should write like a woman. She also says that every human being has both the male and female parts. In a man, the male part dominates and in a woman, the female part dominates. According to the Woolf, the best writers are those who are able to make these forces exist in harmony and write a man-womanly piece/woman-manly piece.

Off course, some people would view it as a feminist writing. But what I see it as is a writing  from female writer about female writers and an excellent one at that.  There are nuggets of wisdom and intelligent statements flowing all the way. I could not help but appreciate Woolf’s way of thinking and writing style. It’s smooth and complex at the same time. No doubt she is one of the best writers of all time.

I am growing to like her works very much.

What if I were a doormat?


What if I were a doormat ?

People would come at a door and see me first thing. If I am cute, they will smile in their heads and say “cute mat!. I wonder if the girl is cute too.”. If I am rugged and bad they would be a little off and say in their heads again “hmm! I hope the bitch is not that bad”. If I am nice and cozy they would think of a happy family and lots of kids and pray that the kids be behaved enough. If I am thick and normal and undifferentiated and not noticeable..well…they would not notice me and step on me right away. Well, everyone would do that eventually anyhow. They will see me, step on me, rub off the dust of their shoes, their bothers, their sad faces and put on a smile. I will serve them as a friend, philosopher and guide. I will give them a chance and hints of the insiders by being in the shape and size and color and texture that I am in. Sometimes, they will stare hard at me and think of things to say. I help them there too. To say things to others. To go and meet others. To polish themselves before presenting.  As a step to the other side. They’ll stomp on me. Sometimes lightly, sometimes hard, sometimes they’ll just walk. They will cleanse their soles ( souls) on me, make me dirty and walk away. Not once looking at me when their jobs are done. Not once thanking. Not once valuing what I do for them. Not once giving me importance. But there I would stay! To welcome them again and again. To get booted yet again. Sometimes with messages printed on my forehead. I would stay. Even if I wished it or not I would be there! Unappreciated, undervalued, overused, neglected and to absorb dirt. I would take on different shapes and sizes and colors but all I’ll ever get is the dirt and the boot. I will take it all. I will live it all from the moment my life begins as a doormat to the moment it ends as one.

You ask me what if I were to be a doormat? Am I not one already? Yes, I am a doormat right now.

Dracula – Bram Stoker


My reading spree continues but this time only due to an assignment and not so much because of will. Dracula was a long book and it certainly took much effort and time to read.

Dracula is a pure Gothic horror story based in 18th century England and has all elements of it. It is very nicely written and one can imagine the horror and chill. Also, the book is completely in the form of journal entries and letters and telegrams and newspaper clippings. This gives us a very personalized view of the situations. Plus, it reinforces the sense of horror through many first person narratives. He has used different accents for people of different places and Van Helsing himself has been given a rather poor command on English language as he belongs to Germany. This sets the mood right and audience is able to believe in the tale, it enhances the believability. Although it is a work of fantasy fiction, it is mainly based in the realm of realism and I say this because everything takes place in the real world however there are some unworldly characters.

It sure is an interesting read where you get to see all the English customs and courtesies and grandeur with horror. I am sure that if I had it read it while holidaying I would have enjoyed it much more since my fantasies would have been allowed much space to run then. Took me around 13 hours to read. It was 684 pages long and the biggest trouble was that I had to read it as an e-book. Today is a day of much writing as after finishing these two rather longish posts, I have to write an analysis of the Dracula Story. This is going to be a long day!! hmphhh Monday blues already there.