Magic Moments

"Every Moment Was You" (Letters in not so chronological order. Ramblings mostly.) There will be a time when I am gone, when I have moved away and moved on. May be you will miss me. May be you will remember the days we spent together- the fun and frolic. But even then, you will gossip about me, the same way as you do now. You will gossip behind my back as if I am some mundane commodity, a purpose of your laughters and entertainment. You will speak about me, my life- the tit-bits and tattle-tales, with the purpose of entertaining others and yourself. For having some more laughs in a day- Laughter is the best vacation after all. You don’t care it now, and you won’t care it then if I told you the umpteenth time that I don’t enjoy being talked about behind my back. My life stories are not yours to tell. You know my vulnerabilities and you take advantage of it without hesitation. May be I am just that to you- an entertaining story. You didn’t think of protecting my wea...

Horse riding was no cake walk for me. I feigned ignorance for months about the rule for Princesses to learn to tackle a beast like that. For weeks I would hide somewhere innocently when it was time for the lessons. The experts appointed for this task left their posts within weeks. Hah! I would make each one leave. It’s a war now, between my father - The King and me. One morning I spotted a rather young man near the stables. The maids were gossiping how handsome he was. Some whispered he was a year or two senior to me. Huh! He must have just graduated then. Father is appointing amateurs now, I see. Had I not been home-schooled, I would have known school life for myself. I chose the haystacks in the courtyard of the servants’ quarters to hide that day, much pleased with my choice. The sky was beautiful and so were the house-sparrows. Just as I admired my surroundings, a head popped in front of me from nowhere. “So here you are. You’re late for your classes. Let’s go...

..... Years of separation weighed down upon me. I had missed him, so much, and had almost convinced myself that I had forgotten him. I could only stare, teary-eyed. Seeing him in front of me within a tangible distance felt surreal. He had grown, and so had I. We had transformed to mature adults from carefree teenagers. Time had passed unhindered, and providence finally had us meet. But we had no words to speak. He was as surprised and emotionally moved as I was. ‘How have you been?’ Adiel asked breaking the loaded silence. That did it. All the welled up tears found their way down my cheeks. I couldn’t contain them, even though afraid to create a scene at the party. His face construed with concern and pain. He put his glass of wine on the nearby table and moved closed. I was too overwhelmed to start the long overdue conversation. ‘Silah...,’ he brought his hand near my face. I turned and ran towards the door, into the darkness, away from the intimidating lights. ‘Silah, wait, ...

“What was it like to lose him?" Asked Sorrow.  There was a long pause before I responded: It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me—said all at once.”  ―  Lang Leav ,  Love & Misadventure When the intense curiosity to know you and your thoughts subsided, a strange calm descended upon me. You stare at the whiteboard long after you are done with noting down the lectures and derivations. And I do the same, very much aware of your presence just two hands away from me. I feel my breath, taking a rhythm of its own as if it were trying to synchronize with yours. I don’t bother the awry puzzle that my heartbeat has become. Maybe this is when things fall into place. How is it that we come across a person, knowing nothing about their story, but end up feeling so close that separation seems cruel, in just a matter of few days of shared space, and nothing else. How is it that we just know whom we can never forget how much ever we try, just through s...

My sister had penned this, and I loved it! Read on.. ‘Ringa ringa roses..,’ the little girl sang fiddling with the rings, not bothered by the two men standing a little away. One of them threw the white flower that he was holding at the older man. ‘Pocket full of poses…,’ the girl continued the rhyme playing with the rings. The younger man took out a gun and pointed it at the old man’s forehead. ‘Haisha .. Huisha..’ His eyes looked merciless and firm while he got ready to shoot. ‘All fall..’ A gunshot. She let all the rings fall as the old man fell. ‘Down,’she finished. P.S:  This short story has its origin from the creative juices of my dear sister,  Samikshya Mishra . You can read more of her  stories  and beautiful  imaginations   here .

Dear You, It has been several weeks since I last wrote to you.  I didn’t know what to write about. About your songs that I keep listening to, day in and day out, in a loop; about the forums that I regularly visit and write in anonymously; about the fan fictions that I read about you; or about the doodles that I make of your name in the corners of notebooks while making futile attempts at studying, or about the multiple times I gather courage to call you, but cut the call just before it connects. I don’t know what stops me. Perhaps I fear you have forgotten me in these three long years. I don’t want to know it for real. I want to hear your voice, but I can’t bear it if you don’t recognize mine. People here adore you, as they do in the rest of the country. Every café, every shopping mall makes it a point to include your song in their daily playlist. Every cab tunes in to listen to your interview. And the neighbors include the latest updates about you in ever...