Diary of a Lost Wanderer: He, She & Us

By


Rains and romance have a magical connection. Add to it the charisma of coffee and you have something that will leave you smiling for a long time. Few weeks ago one such lazy afternoon I headed for a nearby coffee shop for some inspiration. It was raining madly since last couple of days and all it made me feel was lazier with every passing moment. Coffee shops are the ultimate inspirations for a writer, what better than that place – strong smell of coffee twirling in the air all around, some music playing the background, loads of voices mixing giving you a heady feeling and tons of stories floating around waiting to be grabbed and captured in words forever. 

That day I grabbed a corner table nearby the glass partition which ensured I had ample view of the scenic beauty outside and also a comfortable picture of the happenings inside, to indulge the writer and poet in me completely. The rains had begun to slow down resulting into a steady stream of people beginning to come to the otherwise empty coffee house that afternoon. 

Some corporate people seemed to have come straight from meetings, wanting to grab a peaceful moment with themselves before they begin the wild chase all over again. On the other corner there were some teenaged kids out to have fun with friends. Suddenly a couple sitting diagonally opposite to my table caught my attention. 

Difficult to say their age group but they seemed to be somewhere in late twenties or early thirties. Both of them settled in with an air of comfort that hung around them loosely. Average in their looks they didn’t have anything eye catching, but the warmth they eluded spoke a lot about them. The most amazing thing was they had eyes only for each other. The man, like a thorough gentleman had ordered coffee for both and they were busy talking to each other all the time between sips of their coffee. The smiles on their faces pretty evident of the fact that they were thoroughly enjoying whatever conversation they were having. Neither of them seemed to be the more dominant one. One spoke and the other listened, then the other spoke while that one heard. It looked like a perfect blend of equals where differences were celebrated and similarities enjoyed. Cup after cup they kept on having coffee with endless conversations and giggles which seemed to be like the aroma around, infectious and tempting. I was almost tempted to eavesdrop when another couple entered and I decided to leave them in peace. 


This new couple was young, early twenties or perhaps just out of their teens. A very good looking couple, I noticed as I saw them closely; pretty girl, demure and petite with a smart boy handsome in every manner. They settled down and for a long time each one of them was checking their respective mobile phones. After a long time they ordered cold coffees almost reluctantly. All this while their conversation was still limited to minimal with their eyes darting all around the coffee shop, when suddenly that boy’s mobile beeped. As he checked it his expressions changed completely and he turned angrily towards her. Though I couldn’t hear what happened between them but I could see tears falling out of those beautiful brown eyes. It didn’t take me long to realize they were fighting. The boy snatched her cell-phone and began checking something as the girl kept clarifying something. Please was the only word I could catch through her lip movements throughout. 

My mind wandered off from there. How easily each of them defined what love is to most of us in those age groups! When we are teenagers we have a fairy tale image of love where looks precede almost every other requirement.Possessiveness looks cute as it means you are wanted. Painting the town red hand in hand, declaring our love to the world it all seems so beautiful. We are willing to change completely for love and willing to go to any extent. What we don’t realize is that none of these is permanent. As we grow older we begin to understand that love is not skin deep, it is much deeper. It has got more to do with the person as when you grow old these qualities are what will remain with you. Looks fade, good hearts don’t. We want to be accepted as we are, respected and cared for. The world ceases to matter and so does what will others think. It is because we finally learn that in every love story there is a he, a she and then an us!

Popular posts from this blog

Diary of a Lost Wanderer - Lost & Found

By
Image
Dear Diary, I fell in love with Mumbai when I first visited it in 1995. Bombay, as it was then known, fascinated me since then.  If you ask me what made me fall in love with this city, I perhaps cannot explain. It wasn't that I was seeing the sea for the first time. It wasn't even the biggest city I had been to till then. Still, there was something so magical about this place. The trip was a short one lasting less than a week but this city now had my heart. Years later, I arrived here all alone on my first solo trip in 2005 and fell in love all over again. I got my first job and was required to come to Mumbai frequently. The local trains, the chaos on the roads, the crowds, the humdrum, the salty smell in the air, the stale air- everything about this city was intoxicating for me. 
Keep reading »

Essay: How to mourn the loss of love?

By
Image
Image Source: Unsplash.com I remember the first time I mourned the loss of love was when I was eleven.  For me, dance was love at that time. I had discovered a strange joy as I glided in and out of those movements. Every time I swirled; I could feel my heart soar. Any beat that strained to reach my ears, tempted me to move my body to its tune. I just knew I was born to dance and that is the only thing I wanted to do, all my life.  I had my reasons to believe so and a very simple one at that. It made me happy. That was a reason enough. However, my father thought otherwise. Girls from good families, do not dance. That line was enough to break all those rosy dreams of dancing on a stage. The day my brother was sent to the same dance class which was not good for me, was the day I experienced heartbreak for the first time.  That is the day I mourned the loss of my first love- Dance. 
Keep reading »

Metro Diaries: The Art of Making Love

By
Image
Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro) “Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer.  I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity.   “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.”   “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” 
Keep reading »