One missed call
Tuesday, August 12, 2008 by Mr and Ms Iyer
It wasn't a normal day. We both were smiling and laughing, pulling each others leg, but inside our little hearts (mine in hers and hers in mine), we knew that the clock was ticking. As the time drew nearer, we both turned mum.
It was a Saturday. We shifted all her stuff from one place to another and ate lunch which was filled more with our silence than the random banter associated with it.
Well...needless to say that our stomach was half filled with food and rest with the fear of separation.
Fear.
We all know how much communication is important for love. Our worse fears came true as she could neither message nor talk unless she sneaks out of house under some pretext. And I could not message her randomly, as I would never know with whom her phone would be at that destined moment. So....it was a wait and watch game.
All through those turbulent days, I kept staring at my mobile phone just for one SMS or one missed call from her...which I did not want to miss. Every time my mobile rung, my heart would skip a beat and I would pick it from my pocket anticipating that the display should show her sweet name (for which I also prayed in those few seconds).
At odd moments, when I felt very very lonely in the office, I used to listen to the song she sung and recorded for me. My theory was that listening to her mellifluous voice would lessen the pain and would make me feel her next to me. On the contrary, it grew worse and I yearned for her one "I love U".
After spending a useless weekend anticipating her call or mail, one day, I was travelling to my office listening to the radio. Donno how DJ's choose songs, but this time, he played a song without me requesting for it. He was playing "New York Nagaram" and I was dumbstruck. I had never listened to that song so closely and I never knew it was so meaningful. I wanted to hug Rahman and tell him what a bloody genius he was.
Its amazing how a simple thing which has been just in front of our eyes for the whole time, gives a whole new different perspective under a different scenario and circumstance.
I fought hard to control my tears. Although my eyes were far from being moist, I could feel my heart bleed and blood trickle down.
Whoever decided that Boys should not cry, may rot in hell.
-Mr. Iyer in love
It was a Saturday. We shifted all her stuff from one place to another and ate lunch which was filled more with our silence than the random banter associated with it.
Well...needless to say that our stomach was half filled with food and rest with the fear of separation.
Fear.
We all know how much communication is important for love. Our worse fears came true as she could neither message nor talk unless she sneaks out of house under some pretext. And I could not message her randomly, as I would never know with whom her phone would be at that destined moment. So....it was a wait and watch game.
All through those turbulent days, I kept staring at my mobile phone just for one SMS or one missed call from her...which I did not want to miss. Every time my mobile rung, my heart would skip a beat and I would pick it from my pocket anticipating that the display should show her sweet name (for which I also prayed in those few seconds).
At odd moments, when I felt very very lonely in the office, I used to listen to the song she sung and recorded for me. My theory was that listening to her mellifluous voice would lessen the pain and would make me feel her next to me. On the contrary, it grew worse and I yearned for her one "I love U".
After spending a useless weekend anticipating her call or mail, one day, I was travelling to my office listening to the radio. Donno how DJ's choose songs, but this time, he played a song without me requesting for it. He was playing "New York Nagaram" and I was dumbstruck. I had never listened to that song so closely and I never knew it was so meaningful. I wanted to hug Rahman and tell him what a bloody genius he was.
Its amazing how a simple thing which has been just in front of our eyes for the whole time, gives a whole new different perspective under a different scenario and circumstance.
I fought hard to control my tears. Although my eyes were far from being moist, I could feel my heart bleed and blood trickle down.
Whoever decided that Boys should not cry, may rot in hell.
-Mr. Iyer in love
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Dude... I'm speechless. You both not just churn out your emotions, rather bring the reader's as well.
Whoever decided that Boys should not cry, may rot in hell. - Damn it
Reply to Ms.Iyer for previous post comment:
Yeah its nice to manitain anonymity... But I must agree, typical logical brain in me has already started correlating things :-)
P.S:Nice to see you guys blog regularly
@CM-Chap
Glad you love it dude :-)
We will try our best to post regularly.