Lady in Bus

Her presence was like a ship that helped me sail the ocean of fog and reach the other end of country. But then she went away and I lost between the paths that I had been travelling for last ten years.
Her lips glowing vividly as traffic passed by, showed me something eternal beautiful, But then she went away leaving me lost in sheer dark.
Her occasional talk was better than thousands of songs that bestowed strange but pleasant fellings all around me, But then she went away, leaving me drenched into silence, ceasing my ability to listen to anything.
Her smile, like a lake of triumph, that would fill my life with felicity, but then she went away, leaving me depressed for the rest of my life.
Her hands filling my glass of water seemed like the sanctuary that would protect me from burning sun in June and the dark cold nights of December, but then she went away, leaving me cold, frozen outside, burning deep inside.
Her eyes, like mirror that was rendering both of us as one entity, but then she went away, turning me hostile towards mirrors, that would just show a part of us, only me. Broken pieces of mirror pierced my heart, digging her love out of me.

One Last Try

He was cying. His tears rolling down his cheecks one after another as if an ocean had a tsunami to get away with it's water or a long line of camels moving in a file in Arabian desert or flock of thousand birds flying back home just before sun sets clouds on fire on a hot summer evening. He was requesting me to be bold, to talk to parents, to let them not decide my future. Little did he know, in the East, a woman has nothig to do but to bow down to will of his parents.
For last three years, I have gone through every possible form of pain all the way from lonliness to divorce. I could have died in peace but there's this little hope that's keeping me alive, may be he'll accept me, may be he still needs me, may be he can take a step for me that I couldn't 3 years ago. No, why would he even consider looking at me, while I have lost everything I had back then: my hear have started turning white, my cheecks  glow no more how they used to be, my eays have ceased to sparkle... I know his answer yet I need to talk. I have to punish myself, disgrace myself, cry before him, fall down to lowest possible rank a woman ever can, because that's all I deserve. I have to see another low of me, and next morning people will find my body half soaked in that pool where I have seen dozens of pigeon dying in winters, calmly.
Hi, how's everything going?
How could it while you're not around.
A deep silence prevailed for a moment.
Now that you're here, everything seems getting on track.
Clasping her hands, he hugged her violently. Tears flushed out of her eyes, tears of apology, tears of greetings, tears of memories, or may be tears of happiness.

Fingerprints

I have been visiting the university for last 2 years to have conversations with you in my mind, that we could never have. To think about the presents and complements that I never got to give you:
A beautiful watch on scoring 3.8 GPA, red flowers on Valentine's day, a coffee on this sunny day in winters, white carnations on your birthday, saying hello after first lecturer and complementing about your dress on random monday mornings. I sit back and think how our relation could have been: listening to each other's stories, dreams, fears and wishes for hour without judging each other, reading you out my favorite passages by Sylvia Day, waking you up in the middle of night and may be driving you into the city on naked roads to ceaselessly stargaze and wander with you, imploring your lips and morning breath and sharing a cup of coffee on breakfast table. I still sit back and think how my life could have been more meaningful (actually meaningful) had you been around.
That noon, when you walked into the cafe holding your final transcript, I knew it was the last time I was seeing you there. Yet, I came to see you, breath you in and absorb you as much as I could. I still remember looking at you with torn up eyes so long that I swear I have your contours memorized to date. I still remember how excited you were to having passed out the university, that still haunts me after years and perhaps this loop will continue beyond my last breath.

That noon when you walked into cafe, I knew it was too late to say my heart out so I left the words dangling between your breathe and mine, vague sentences of hope, vague phrases of emptiness. I foolishly assumed I could walk out of that cafe alive but the truth is, that noon, I experienced eternity. A part of me still lives there.
There was so much of me left to be given to you, but I could never decide where to begin first. Why couldn't you just claim what had already engraved your name on it. Like dirt covers wrecks, let dust not cover your fingerprints over the keyboard of my laptop, for those are the prints that define you among seven billion humans. Those are the prints that make you mine.
I still remember that last day. That evening I smoked first cigarette, and I have been chain smoker ever since. 

I can't write

“Can we talk for a second”, I requested her while she was exiting the university gate..

No. It’s impossible.

I just can’t write this story. It’s been two days, I’ve been trying to write about the day that came a year ago and have been there, effecting my each and every moment till today. I still don’t believe if it happened. There’s still a ray of hope, in spite of knowing, it’s over. I shut the laptop harder than it was expecting and strand into her hair dispersed over her shoulder.

I still remember how her color turned pale encountering me. How I was hesitant saying all that I wanted to say from very first day I saw her. I can still feel her glowing face under sunshine. We had a brief discussion about how I felt about her and how she was bound to follow the norms and restrictions imposed by the society, that weren’t in my favor at all. Sigh.

I open the laptop again to put those moments into black and white. No, I can’t. May be I should stop writing, stop thinking and destroy my fantasy world that I have been weaving carefully, placing you beside me at each and every knot.

My thoughts are scattered. I should stop typing. (closes the laptop)

Like a smoke

Looking you smiling from my seat through the glass blinds, my mind hurtles back in time when same smile meant something completely different to me. Merely a month ago, you were the most irreproachable lady on earth, further to a pearl inside an oyster or a diamond deep inside the earth somewhere – somewhere where no one had access to. I used to fanaticize you all the time. At least 18 hours a day for straight 6 months and we could never dare to touch even the smallest finger of each other. I was in love with the screen of your phone that you used to touch, to type a message on WhatsApp for me. I had internet package on two SIMs in spite of having Wi-Fi at office and home to make sure not a single reply to your message is loitered.

Since the day you were hired by this company, my perception has changed drastically. I see you getting help from that guy in the office who appears to be into you clearly. I see you sitting by him all the time. I see you sharing smiles with him. I see your smiles converting into laughter. I see you downstairs sharing moments with him. And I see you changing your seat to get closer to him now and then.

No.

I’m not jealous of your happiness. You got best smile in the world that have been enlightening my lonely nights for months. They have special effect on my, every time I see you smiling, it takes me back to my fantasy world – a world that was perfect, where nobody existed but you and me. Where, every moment meant happiness, love, peace and shelter – from outer world, from people who could snatch you from me, or who could interfere in our lives, the way they are doing now, seamless for you, an ocean of complications for me, that I have to swim every day from morning to evening.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid of being subject of any of those hundreds of laughter you share with him daily, that you don’t remember, or don’t care to remember. I’m afraid, I’ll no more be there even as a story that you could share with him but once.

-Hey!, this is forth cigarette you are smoking in a row, stop it.

I can’t stop, I like smoke of the cigarette, since it resembles me. It dissipates slowly but forever, the way, I’m dissipating from her memory slowly – slowly – slowly, in the form of laughter...

Had to happen!!!

‘How amazing that sculpture of Taj Mahal is, the original Taj Mahal must be breath taking', she said amazingly while tossing herself in the grassy plot in front of small museum inside Shahi fort. 'Do you know it was built by Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan for his love Mumtaz Mahal and if it was to be built now, it would have cost around $827 million USD'. 'I'm wondering how did he cling to life without his true love', she said astonishingly. 'It is said that Shah Jahan’s hair turned black to white overnight due to the anguish he went through on the death of Mumtaz Mahal and interestingly, she was his fourth wife out of 7. She died delivering her 14th child'. 'was it love or .....', she stopped intentionally. 'basically, there are two types of love. First type of love is more about sacrifice. Being happy in the happiness of your love, never touching her, and letting her go where she wants instead of questioning anything. The other type is more about lust. Its about being together, sharing the bed and having kids'. A period of silence on both sides prevailed for long.

 'Do you love someone', he asked her. 'Yes', she said. 'I am not a king who can win any lady', he thought. Something broke deep inside him, a hope, a wish or may be formula of his life. 'let us move forward, I am running out of time', he said in hopeless voice.

 They entered a new range of buildings. 'What is this portion for', she asked. 'Here on left side is the bed room, and there in that corner is the area where queens used to take bath. I can still see queens laying themselves out in a hope to be picked to get into the bed room of the king. I can see them staggering anxiously in this small garden glutted with optimism. I can see the king sending for one of them and can see the gloomy faces of all the other queens', he said in deep voice. She could feel the sudden sadness in his voice. 'This is the underground tunnel that leads to Dehli', a voice came across the wall. 'I want to go see that tunnel', she requested him. 'we can't go any further now, let us go back', he stepped towards exit door. 'I want to visit Badshahi Mosque again', she requested. 'Ok'. 'It will be our last meeting, why not to spend 5 more minutes with her', he thought. They were sitting on right platform of mosque. 'I love someone and I believe in 2nd type of love', she placed her fingers over his hand. He could hear the sound of music playing ‘Ek din aap yun hum ko mil jaingy main ny socha na tha’ emerging from heera mandi.