Dear Future Wife

Dear Future Wife,
I don’t know where you’re or even what you are up to but I hope you’re happy and reading maybe from Dickens to Darwin maybe works of Aristotle or Dante’s divine comedy, could be a love story if you wish or maybe exploring the depths of Wordsworth as I’ll always wish to be accompanied by you on the journey of complexities faced by Oliver to the lessons of pride and prejudice we can travel being the merchant of Venice surfacing Othello to Macbeth as you would never fail in teaching me the meaning of love while flickering the pages of Romeo and Juliet whatever you wish I’ll always be there with you as I hope yes you’ll be reading and you read a lot keeping yourself always surrounded by books evil and good thoughts in your lovely sanctum of peaceful sanctuary like a mesmerizing anywhere door from the captivating tales of two cities maybe the Victorian era if you prefer but at-least the picture of Dorian Grey and 1984 are my personal recommendations. As I’m eagerly waiting for our trips of the century long gone and the one always willing to come. Being mesmerized by the words of sabotage in solitude and sedation hoping that the words of this letter finds you in great spirit full of joy vigor and laughter the desert I always wish to share together and the gift you have kept spreading wherever you go.
No matter I’ll always say “I’m fine” whenever you ask, not just once but for the infinite times knowing and acknowledging to finally find the greatest decipherer and the decoder one as you’re always endeavouring in breaking the enigma of my raging thoughts always bringing the wild wandering senses to the abode they persuade.
Yes, it’s true that I pretend to be happy, I can have fake grins, smiles but I can’t cry weather it’s reel or real life although I wish I could but failed in the saturated wounds of pain yet the feeling of remorse and sadness does randomly keeps passing by.  Things happen and it’s true that bygones remain bygones although I perished in hiding the consequences they create, never complaining or blaming the situation not even just falling in the guilt of blind acceptance. I does keep myself a little detached from everything except the squirell whose gazing by , the sound of metal as it openly represents the sonorous property being captivated, from the hardly seeing trees the seldom flowing winds from audacity to acumen a relief to my craving lung whose always echoing to runaway all these years without you wondering for a cheerful hug one I wish you should blindly persuade. Although I keep trying to meet new people as there’s so much to learn from being hungry and foolish though some repeal me in there politiest of ways, I doubt several things in the dilemma of easy and coarse paths as you know talking and sharing
Obviously it won’t take you long to find out that maybe in this voyage of faking till you convert it into an accord of mutual rebellion as I’ll keep myself buesy always hiding back my reflection so that no one has to face what I face in the devoid of emptiness. Dear that can be an over exaggerated silly fervor statement but there’s an unsetteling voice that keeps roaring every second hard to be silent and ectremely lound and harsh to keep up with and no matter what but it needs you the most at utmost.
Apart from all this I want you to be weak as pretending strong I have realized it’s only the weak who knows how to express it’s only weak who really knows how it is to love and the importance of being loved by someone else, as weakness is not an illness or something to be shy off as it’s just a beautiful kiss by the sweetness of submission, an iilumination in the darkness driven by the unheard and untouched feelings.  Hence I would like you to be weak so that you can hold my hand whenever you desire, so that you can grab me in those scary nights and trust me I’ll really be elated to become a part of you all my life and to be accompanied by you will be an extreme privellage and honour . To be there when you closes your eyes and the be there when a new world is there to thrive always there to hear, as you know how much I admire your voice.
You’re great dear and together we’ll learn how really to be altruistically strong or stay weak whatever you like.
I really don’t care about the complexion you have, I don’t care if you have long or short hairs, I don’t care if you sing, write or paint still if you can cook that would be great, and even if you can’t I know you’ll change the meaning of delicousness by the spices of naiveness you contain. Imagination is great dear. Undoubtedly as I can imagine now you’ll be young and beautiful as always.
I don’t care if you wants to give birth to the symbol of our love as this world is not prepared for such endearment, but if you do we can teach a life that even in the darkest of time kindness always finds itself a way. A source an inspiration is all that’s required and what can be a beeter figure than a part of you in itself, surrounded by the ambiance of music distinctions of flora and fauna shaped by this mystic world that keeps us imbibed in it. I can’t tell about mine but anything having your essence will shine unprecedented, just exactly like a spectrum dispersed in the millenum sky. As no matter what I’ll always be standing next to you, always resting on your lap flickering your lovely hairs. Cherishing the wrinkles a gift of time we shared. Silence and silence completely overtaking our conversations sometime penetrating the layers of upbringing sabotages, like a poetry disclosing the depths abbondant from meadows to a path leading homeland.
You’re great dear, you’re great.
Just like the maple tree where I’ll finally lay.
Your’s lovingly
(An admirer in the end)

By- Kshitij Siha

3/12/2016

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Once you tell me something

Once you tell me something it can't be retracted It's like flickering light in northern twinkling stars...A domino of separation of anguish and anger  Blizzards On the sea far from all but coastal Remember in the tiny cafe you sat facing this summer, A book of introspection as you flipped the pages Pages of the chapter titled " Once you tell me something it can’t be retracted" Your whole body changes... The way you smell, Your reflection How it feels when you avoid my touch Like a distant moon, you shower your lights in the despair of meadows and in the blink of midnight The us will be no more than a victim you and a distant I Killing me in the leaching presence Leaving me at the mercy of mine a parasite of my own demise I’ll see it as an ephemeral moment of evaporating droplets, It’s a struggle to hold or to let you go now Yet all I could ever do is to observe and comprehend in hindsight "You’ll say my detachment has grown stronger and I no longer feel...
Read more

Non Zero Sum Game

Conversation between them She: Sometimes he sits on the terrace stargazing, Deeply fallen for I do not know t whom: like he makes me fall for all his art. I stare at him. Like he is staring at that empty sky. I grab his hand, point it towards the darkness and then towards me, telling him I am his star. He: Who is that he.. Is he or is he you Is he everyone around.. One trying to weave his dreams on the rotten grounds Does speaks or does he hears.. Is he even alive or he does stares... Staring at hollow nights Where I'm not just a person I'm a myth.. A star of skipped sleep She: You say I am a myth, And you my love, are a star of skipped sleep. You slip into the mornings;  And I slip into some more darkness. They say stars are the past we see, May be that is why, we shall meet at the distant horizon, where the sky touches the sea. He: A montage of crimson yet pale sky Aren't we all ill.. fallen over what he have and what we'll never possess What is an horizon.. Except a ...
Read more

Cafe with the red door

 My words they don’t speak to me anymore…They have gone silent. I tried to write a monologue ended up with a paraphrased well-rehearsed dialogue where it was me my pen a barren thoughtless ambitionless dire dread sunken low endless void sheet of paper a truce I was determined to extract a reunion of me and the words a paraphrased well-rehearsed melody. I’ll call my new testament a revelation yet again the door was shut a creek on the bolts and a sudden jolt as all that was left was a seer clear serene vaccume devoid of light sound hope dreams and the desire to get up…I was paralyzed my hands were trembling my pen aching to move an inch, to explore the great run of meadows some description of waves mountains the wind playing with your hairs a cuddle under moonlight cigarette’s after ages few stanza about the windows the first ray of sun and all the words that rhyme, my pen aching to move an inch succumbed to the wounds of fantasy a café with red door and a table peering all that y...
Read more