Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

It hasn’t been the best of months for either of us. However, as ironical as it may sound, we were both looking forward to this day as much as we were dreading it – the day we would disclose our relationship to our parents. It started on the 11^th of May, went on and on, finally deciding to conclude on the 5^th of July.

The motive is selfish, said everyone, blinding themselves to the light that glowed at the end of the tunnel and deafening themselves to the melodies that would soon mesmerize them. It makes you wonder if these were the same people whose company you once craved for. It’s amazing how one piece of information can radically change the way people look at you, their opinion and their outlook towards you and every action of yours.

There were a few laughs, a lot more tears than normal to neutralize those laughs you had a few minutes before. Lots of arguments and long periods of silence, giving one another the time to take in the essence of the quarrels. Blame games, as usual, being the highlight.

Simply put – it was like a roller coaster ride, just that you are subjected to one every day. After a few rounds, it no longer remains an excitement. On the other hand, turns into a frustration. At the end of it all, it drives you so crazy that you come to think of it as a way of your life and succumb to accepting it.

The only good thing that everyone managed to do was to make us feel so far away from each other and as a result, drawing us closer in love, bond and commitment.

~

One of those days, when I was rolled into my bed, not letting an inch of my body to be exposed outside the blanket, thinking of random things and weeping over the pillow, making it warm with my tears so that they would feel like his chest, my mobile buzzed and the sms from him read – “Take care of yourself. You are my world.”

I knew then that nothing was going to take me away from him. Nothing. No one.

~

-Ms. Iyer in love

P.S.: Mr. Iyer is too busy trying to balance his work and me. :P

He stood far away from just a whisper. He was frantically searching through the neatly arranged shelves of shirts and that meant he would probably not notice if I gestured to him, even if I waved out high. I could have walked up a few steps, caught him by the arm and walked him down to what I had just discovered. But if I did, I would lose what I wanted to show him, ‘coz the place was packed with arrays of shirts that were hardly different from one another. I didn’t know how I could solely catch his attention without catching others’.

Ok. Now the root cause of this problem is that I don’t call him by his name. Firstly, to make it simple and straight, I feel too shy to call him by his name. Don’t ask me why. I can’t explain. But that’s how it is. Some things are beyond what words can say. Secondly, I have always wanted to intrinsically express respect in words whenever I talk to my ‘special someone’. In that sense, am happy the Indian language has an inherent way of giving respect to the listener, without having to modify your tone or use special ‘respectful’ words. I guess it’s a mannerism that I secretly admired in my mother and wanted to strictly follow. Though he says he would like it either way, am sure he feels special when I talk to him with that innate respect in my words. Of course, that doesn’t mean that you disrespect someone by calling them by their name. But it’s a very traditional and orthodox Indian concept. Am not delving into that. It’s like my tiny dream and I am happy he gives me the liberty to exploit it with him.

So, what’s the alternative? Simple. I always call him by his nickname or some random cheesy-mushy name that looks like it’s just out of fairy tale books. Only people in love can relate and relish those things. For others, it’s too gay to be true. Calling him such chirpy-chocolate-coated names makes me feel close to him and I very well know it makes him feel like a kid in front of me. He loves it. I love it. We love it. End of story.

Hence ultimately (and fortunately), in the past 11 months, I have never encountered a really serious situation which ‘demanded’ me to call him by his name except when I have to refer to him while talking to others. Of course there is one occasion when I do refer to ‘him’ by his name and that is a secret we wish to keep to ourselves. So otherwise, everything is just fine.

Now back to the problem. Well, it might not seem like one in the first place, but it’s too hard for me to come to terms with.

I was standing in the middle of the stack of shirts and he was at one end. I had to reach out to him, without calling his name. I didn’t want to embarrass either of us by calling him any of those cheesy names that flash our love-struck brain. It’s too insane to pick up the mobile, speed dial his number when he is just a name’s call away. What now? No choice. I had to call him by his name or I would have to wait until he turns to me and we were already running out of time.

Finally, even before my heart could accept stepping beyond its own principles in love, my hopelessly-practical brain and ever-sincere mouth reacted and I called out to him by his name. He turned and we looked into each other’s eyes with that tickling sensation spreading like wild-fire within us. With a was-it-really-you kind of smile slowly spreading across his lips, he walked up to me while I held a purple striped shirt in my hand, too shocked by my own unplanned surprise. He was looking straight into my eyes and I held out the shirt and asked him if he likes it. It was clear that we were both struggling to get ourselves out this earth-shattering moment of our life without letting a single soul notice. The shop wasn’t the best of places for even the hard-core romantics to exchange a few moments of intimate glance at one another. We pretended to quickly recover ourselves. However, both of us didn’t.

Neither of us attempted to talk about it ‘coz we didn’t want to. Talking about it would ruin its charm. We wanted to feel that heart-in-the-throat thing and the goose pimples rise on our skin. Neither of us expressed what we felt and yet, we exactly knew what the other was feeling.

Its amazing how sometimes, something as common or insignificant as your own name, causes excitement and makes you feel unique when it preciously drops out of the lips of the person you love more than yourself.

Our eyes met, after 3 whole months – 91 days to be more precise. Each minute of the past few days had been spent in the memory of one another, feeling happier with every passing day, for, it brought us a day closer to looking into each other’s longing eyes. It was like a mother waiting to see her son in the ocean of faces waiting outside the airport. Impatient. Desperate.

At last, there he was, standing tall amidst the commotion that raged in the surrounding. The whole world that existed around us seemed to blur as we looked into each other’s eyes. I didn’t notice the colour of his dress or the few pounds he had put in. My eyes were drawn by the unstoppable wave of love that emerged from his. His eyes quivered at the sight of mine.

Without hesitation, he grabbed my hand and locked his fingers into mine. Blood gushed into every part of my body and I felt a warmth envelope me like blanket upon a cold kitten. My heart seemed to drop into an endless tunnel with a force that only my heart could withstand. I knew he felt the same, for I could feel his hands shiver as they held me tight.

We made space for ourselves on a comfortable couch that was laid on one corner of the room. The café bloomed with privacy for a place well within the urban city limits. I rested my head on his shoulder as he began to pat and stroke my hair. A sparkling pearl of tear travelled down my lower eyelids and dropped straight on his t-shirt, slowly blotting its destination. He felt the wet warmness of my tears and kissed my forehead.

We didn’t let go of each other’s hand. Like a baby nested on the bosom of its mother, I breathed in the warm air that he breathed out and I felt his heart beat against mine. As he tightened his hold upon my hand, I felt the silent ticking of his wrist watch. I desperately hoped I could have the power to freeze this moment forever. Tears rolled out again, marking a trail of my black kaajal along my pink cheeks.

- Ms. Iyer in love

Is this fate that pulled me to you or is it you who cast the spell?

Is this the blossomed morning rose or your shining eyes that I see?

Is this the song of the breeze or your husky voice?

Is this the sound of twittering birds or your breath?

Is this the whispering of waves or the touch of your silky hair upon my ears?

Is this dew on the grass or droplets of water on your half-shaven beard?

Is this you tickling my hip or just the giggles of your heart?

Is this the heaviness of butterflies on flowers or the touch of your fingertips?

Is this the sweet flavour of air or your flying kiss that landed on my lips?

Is it your heart that you speak or merely stealing words from mine?

Is this the numbness of my heart or the pain of distance?

Is this a test of patience or a mere test of my true love for you?

Is this you that I see in my eyes or a mere reflection of myself?

Is this your love that I feel or the experience of being reborn?

Where have you been all these days?

- Ms Iyer in love.

I was not a born atheist. But the literature I read and the media I got exposed to, made me shun my belief in God and celestial objects. All day I believed that god was just a carved piece of stone used by politicians to garner votes and angels were poets’ creations to embellish their loved ones and seduce them.

It all got lost into thin puff of air... the moment my eyes fancied your beauty in saree.

That was the day when I realized that angels were not mere ladies of mythology but indeed real divine creations that were seldom sent by god to walk on the earth. It was in that very instant that a new sense of inevitable truth dawned upon me - that apart from my mother, there could be this one woman who could indeed be beautiful and graceful at the same time. From then on, no other woman could have me as passionately intrigued as you. That was the moment when I realized... that I loved you so much... truly... deeply... and madly.

The little senses that you henceforth left me with, cajole me to accept that love is more of an emotional bonding spiced up with intermittent dosages of physical attraction. But the instant I saw you draped in the saree, the only thought that loomed my mind was to hug you tight, without even a tiny speck of space between us and kiss you gently, closing my eyes. The very thought of your lips pressed against mine sent a warm current of love - the passion generated in my heart, traversing through my body into yours and finding solace in your honey dipped lips.

But for now...the sight of you adorned in a saree... is like manna from heaven.

I don’t know if angels wear saree... but mine certainly does.