I always thought
That those who don't love passionately,
Do not actually love.
In young happy days of life,
I exchanged my heart for a red rose and
A man whose infectious blushing smile
Coerced me to fall for him.
I kept that rose in my diary
And returned home.
I saw a man sitting with his family and mine.
In between laughter and smiles,
I stood with a not at all happy face
For my fate had been sealed
With a man I do not love.
The day came
When my cousins bejeweled me
And my dad said,
"I have seen the two most beautiful brides in the world,
One whose hand was given in my hand and other,
Whose hand I'll be giving in someone's hand."
A night
Where all the desires died
And death itself became a desire.
The wedding fire
Burnt like the fire that'll
Be set on my pyre.
With tears wept for separation from all the loved ones,
I left with strangers
Whom I'll call family.
I was welcomed with open doors,
Not open arms.
I thought,
Is it necessary to marry the man you love
Or love the man you are married to?
Well, I did neither.
I was petrified
When he came closer,
Closer than I wanted him to
And then went back,
" I find consent in your words
But I don't see comfort on your face.
Your consent seems
To be bereft of your comfort..."
His eyes seemed to be filled with
The disappointment he thought I gifted him.
Years passed,
I opened my diary
And found a withered rose.
I decided to give up
On my cantankerous in laws and a man who doesn't even look at me.
The roses were bathing in the rain
And I was about to make one last fall
To become a part of the stars.
From the gloomy grey sky,
I saw hopeful rays of sunshine
When I saw my beloved one
On the balcony
Of the house in front of ours.
My wet eyes asked him
"Where you were for so long?"
And his sighing eyes replied,
"You don't know how much
I've been longing for you..."
After years of separation,
We formed a relationship of secret meetings.
How beautiful those nameless relationships are, whose name one utters quite frequently.
I reopened my diary
Where I kept that withered rose
And his memories.
I could smell a sweet toxic fragrance
From that rose,
The fragrance of love.
Love that bloomed
And dried up.
But who knew
That everything that tastes sweet isn't honey,
It can be poison as well
And with every sip I became addicted
To that sweet poison.
This relationship was platonic
Until one monsoon evening,
When he came drenched in a blue shirt
And left with two buttons missing from his shirt.
One evening,
When our bodies were fuming
In the flames of passion,
Passion which mixed into the air
We inhaled and felt
Like the fragrance of Turkish itar
And lips that tasted
Like Belgian chocolate.
For the first time,
I felt I was making love
To someone I love.
He sent a letter and a rose.
He wrote,
"When I saw you after years,
You looked like the torn pages of my favourite story...
At a distance,
Those eyes spoke in
The language of silence
Like two breathing statues
Expressing love to one another.
How badly I wish
My shoulder and your head could make
An inseparable pair.
That evening was the best
I had ever spent in life.
The naughtiness in your smile said
"If making love is a crime,
Leave some evidence on my body."
And that mole on your face
Is a beautiful blemish on
A white surface.
I've been counting many..."
The letter was for me
But read by someone else,
My husband.
He left me with two choices,
To leave either of them and stay with another.
I thought I found freedom
And a chance to return.
When I went back to my lover's house,
I found he had gone.
He left with hefty bags
And a heavy heart.
I thought it was an unsaid goodbye
But he left a letter,
"Love is not a crime
But loving a married woman is...
I can't bear the guilt
Of the beautiful sin
I have committed..."
After days of heartbreak,
My husband smilingly glanced at me,
Giving our marriage another chance.
I wondered how much courage
He had to forgive me.
He always tried to cajole me
But it was my ignorance
That forced him to stay at a distance.
I wouldn't say I was in love with the wrong person,
But I probably never fell in love with the right person.
One question still crosses my mind,
Who am I-
A passionate lover
Or an unfaithful wife?