Thursday, February 25, 2010

It was a Friday Afternoon…

It was a Friday Afternoon…

I was restless through the day today. I got a message from you this morning that you want to meet and are coming over. It was on a Friday afternoon about a month or so ago when we had last met.

The door bell rang at the precise time you had indicated. You came in and sat on the blue velvet couch lying in the corner near the window. You switched on the Television set and surfed the channels mindlessly barely stopping for 10 seconds on each channel. I got you water and went back to make some coffee. The air in the room was heavy. It was difficult to stand there near you. Keeping down the coffee beside you, I softly asked what it was that had brought you here. You fiddled with your coffee mug, brushed your hand through your hair, rubbed your nose and then looked at me uncomfortably.

Bolo, What do you want to say?” I said shaking inside.

Rock hard exterior but my insides were churning. I had no idea what you would say, but I knew you were about to alter my world.

“I am getting married”.

“What”?

“Yes”!

“To whom? I mean who is the girl”?

“I had met her 4 months back”.

“Last 4 years you have not been able to decide whether you can marry me or not and in 4 months, you know you have to marry her”. I said my face flushing with anger.

You had no answers.

“Tell me is she better than me? How is she better, in brains, in beauty, in bed? Tell me?

You had no answers.

I was shaking with anger and you got up and held me tight. I wanted to rip apart but couldn’t free myself from your grip. My world was crashing down like the twin towers and here I was in the arms of my bomber. You freed me, picked up your keys and quietly left the house.

Minutes later, the door bell rang and I pulled myself to open the door. It was the courier guy. There was an envelop for me. I looked at the address and tried to open it in haste as if I knew what would be inside. As I read the contents printed on the crisp white sheet of paper I sank into the couch.

The ways of the world are strange...you had just left, walked out on me; and now u seemed to be walking in again through another door.

© Shubhra

27/10/09

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Perfect Morning

The cool breeze from the window made me curl up. I was aware that it was about time when the alarm would go off. I was already ready to put it on the snooze for just 5 more minutes. Today I didn’t want to get up. I wanted those 5 minutes of extra sleep. The faint breeze, the morning fragrance and 5 minutes of extra sleep; I didn’t want anything more. Lying there I knew that you would open the door for the maids, switch on the water pump and get the tea ready.

I felt you near the bed. You ruffled my hair and sneaked your hand inside the quilt to stroke my back. Your cold hands touched my neck and made me shiver and I turned the other way taking your hand along with me. I felt your hand slipping inside my shirt and stroking my bare back and moving to wherever the fingers guided it. Occasionally touching my breasts and moving away after teasing them. I felt your warm breath on my ear. I could hear the pattern of your breathing too. Your smell filled my space and I found you so very close to me. I moved to make way for you to snuggle beside me. Instead you tickled me and when I kicked, jumped aside. I opened my eyes to find you there, smiling. The tea and paper was on the side table. It was a perfect morning. I wanted to sleep again. I knew you would take care of everything. I smiled and stretched and hugged you. Were you for real…?

The alarm rang. I opened my eyes- 6’ O’Clock. I turned and looked the other side- a plain bed and an unruffled side. The pillow was neatly in its place. The quilt still folded. It was a perfect un-slept bed. I reach out and found no one. I recalled, last year- oh yes last year same day, you had walked out of the home, to be on your own, or so you said.

I know you are not alone and I know where you are. As I lay in the bed, the visuals of the year gone by roll in front of my eyes. Feelings like a carnivorous creeper, threaten to grip me. Tell me, while I dream with my open eyes, are you making tea for her at this moment.

© shubhra 27/10/09