Tell-a-Tale.....

...She never enjoyed bike rides. No matter how much he tried to convince her that it's fun when you let go off your fears. He almost fought with her when she preferred moving in cabs over sitting behind him. Sara knew that Jatin loved his bike. And she had agreed to sit as his pillion only because she loved him. She really disliked the air hitting her face and messing up her hair, or the uncomfortable seat, or the fact that it was so open that it scared her wits out when he used to increase the speed even a bit. The only reason she sat behind him was because it was Jatin, the man she loved. Bike rides were never fun, it was holding him, putting her forehead on the back of his shoulder or even hearing him talk loud battling the winds. When he told her the main purpose of buying a bike was that it would make Jatin meeting her easier; she didn't believe him even one percent. Actually, she didn't want to. She was scared of the closeness. She was phobic of this love that was c...

“Don’t be too late”, his texting app pinged again. “I know babe, I know you hate people being late.. I won't be”, he replied back and locked his phone. Kicking his bike’s ignition, the engine revved up to life. Driving towards that cafe wasn’t making him happy today. He wished the road never ended towards that 10 minutes bike ride. Driving in just 40km/hr felt like going in about a 100 today. He hoped for a heavy traffic even though he didn’t want her to keep waiting. His heart was overpowering his mind today. Parking his bike on the side of the road he walked inside with a heavy heart and even heavier footsteps. There she was; sitting on that chair besides the tinted glass. The evening hue falling on her face had lit up her dark brown eyes. He wished he carried his camera, so that he could frame the warm light falling on her face forever. He looked for her glasses; the ones she always wore. Broad, brown frames that nearly covered her whole face. They were kept neatly asid...

As she struggled with her heavy cabin luggage, a chirpy attendant came forward for her help and together they tried to push it into the drawer above their heads. Thanking the attendant for her assistance she sat down on her window seat with the phone in her hand, headphones dangling from it. As she pushed her handbag under her chair, she stuffed the earplugs which were already playing some song. Since she had already gotten comfortable, she unlocked her phone with a simple pattern and opened the gallery. Her screen filled up with photos; photos with happy faces of her friends, cousins and a person; her person. She zoomed to the last few photos, selfies to be precise, taken some twenty-twenty five minutes ago. Two faces, smiling at the camera but a peculiar sadness in their eyes. Her fingers swiped to a particular one, where she looked pretty surprised because the person in the photo seemed to have stolen a kiss in between the shot. A smile along with a tear escaped from her lips and ey...

So many books lying unread.. so many pages left unturned.. her bookshelf had a visible layer of dust.. she didn't feel like walking to the corner of her room and swipe away that laziness.. her heart was aching and crying to read those books but her mind told her other things.. she again got busy attending to her ever so loud brain.. she got tired.. she got irritated.. but she still couldn't pick up that half read Murakami or that interesting new best seller, of which she read a few lines and quite liked it.. Feeling miserable about her paperbacks and hardbacks and admiring them from afar still.. she promised them that she's reaching for them soon.. and to herself she promised, that not so far away from today.. that bookshelf must have a manuscript that she at last could change into a book.. Till then, a little more patience.. a little more idyllic tranquility to the books.. to her..

The fact that I am sitting upright on my bed with the laptop and writing this at 2.58 a.m kinda proves the whole point of this write-up. I can’t come to terms with sleep. I love sleeping though. I can fall asleep for 2 days straight with occasional trips to bathroom and kitchen to pee and chomp respectively. But I can’t seem to come to that point where the eyelashes at both the ends of my eyes meet and I can finally doze off. Thus, comes writings like these to the rescue. I am tired, my body is sending me pain signals down my spinal cord that I should now lie down on my ever cosy bed and fall into the sweet lap of slumber but just that very moment my brain decides to go Sparta on my body and together we start to knit a complicated web of things that I should have done today; things I could have done today but chose not to; things that I probably didn’t do 3 years ago; why is Russia attacking Syria?; are my arms too skinny?; my hair too rough?; melody itni chocolaty ky...

Hey Ma,  I make even better tea now. The subtle lingering flavour of Adrak in it; just the way you liked. Though you liked me to put lots and lots of sugar, I add just a spoonful for myself. You see I have learned quite a few things now and also got better at things that I already knew. But you know, I wish you were here to witness that. You would have still cringed and chided me for all that I learnt; but I would have still appreciated it.       I have learnt to be independent just as I witnessed you while growing up. I try to grant no favour from others at all. You would have liked to see that. I have calmed down unlike before too. Remember how much we fought and screamed at each other every couple of days leading to not talking to each other. Just not talking, we did everything else as usual. But now I barely fight with anyone. Besides, whom will i fight with? I’m growing up.        I go to the hairdresser to style my hair now. Ho...

I don’t want chivalry . I don’t want him to open and hold the taxi door for me. I like gestures . I like when after getting on the cab he pulls up my side of the window a bit so that I don’t mess up my already messed up hair. I don’t want him to take the umbrella from my hand and hold it for me while we are walking in the rain; I would rather enjoy the rain a bit more if he holds it with my hands already on it while we try to battle the drops together. I won’t like it if he pays for my coffee or my food; I would be happier if we decided to go dutch on it or if he would let me get the check sometimes. Or better still if he treats me with a surprise ice-cream sundae afterwards. Gestures are important for me. Little things that he would notice. He won’t tell me, but it will show in his actions that he observed me. Maybe when he will offer me a handkerchief because he knows that I never ever carry one myself. Or voluntarily buys me that tub of mixed flavours of popcorn before the movi...