Metro Diaries: Untold and Unknown

By

"Love stories are never created. They always existed around us, waiting to be written, to be heard and to be spoken about."

Many times I am asked how do I find the ideas to write stories. I have always loved stories, from time immemorial. And the writer in me, never fails to catch the whiff of a story bubbling around. Like last night, when I was fiddling with my YouTube playlist.

I share a very strange relationship with music. Since the time I can remember it has been a solace for me. I used to go to sleep at night knowing exactly what song I want to wake up to, making sure my tape recorder is set exactly at that same place. So all I had to do in the morning after waking up was, press play. My mind was able to function only after that. Much to the dismay of my family members, this habit simply refused to die. I used to save every penny from my meagre pocket money to buy a new cassette I had set my heart on. I had boxes and boxes full of them and every night I would run my fingers over them trying to play atleast one song from them in my mind before moving to next. 

Since last few months, I am trying to get back to my old self by following this routine. And tonight, it was a craving for an old song I had fallen in love with because of its poetic lyrics. Loosely translated it meant," You have brought me to a fairyland my love, always keep me close to your heart just like this..." Listening to it, I was lost in its beauty when a random comment caught my attention. Written by an elderly gent it read like this,

"I have no idea where you are today. On our last meeting, you had sung this song for me... and till date that is how I remember you with lot of love in my heart and tears in my eyes. I don't have words to tell you how much I miss you every single day."

Source: unsplash.com

Tears welled up in my eyes, trying to imagine the pain this man must be living with. Mind it, the song am mentioning is from a 1977 movie. Today that man must not be less than atleast sixty years of age and to live with a feeling like this since last forty years was unimaginable. Such deep love and yet they were unable to unite for whatever circumstances they were in. 

Loosing a loved one, is the worst form of pain in this world. And that too losing because of circumstances, not because you were not meant to be. When you part ways because of your differences, you atleast have a reason to hate. But when you are forced to part ways due to family or societal pressure, how do you hate that person who had nothing else but love for you. Living every moment, without that person, knowing that it is not your fault and yet not being able to do something about it, is perhaps the most horrible sentence for any person on this earth. No individual deserves to live like this. Being deprived of love is akin to skinning that person alive and expecting them to survive.   

My mind automatically goes back to their story, trying to imagine the various possibilities. Was it a caste issue? Maybe, he was poor or perhaps, she was from another religion. And the ever hopeful heart of mine quietly asks me, "What if, it was a misunderstanding? He is pining, she is pining there and neither know how to find each other?" I will never know. Someday, I will write their story and this time, it will be a happy ending. So what if it will be only in my imagination. It will be comforting to know, that in some world they met... never to part. 




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 »