Month: July 2015

He loves me, he loves me not?

He loves me, he loves me not?

You meet, you fall, you love, and then you go back to square one, only as someone a teeny weeny bit different than you were before. You spend weeks trying to figure out what went wrong only to arrive at the conclusion that you were not meant for each other. But had it not been only a week before you were uploading PDA photos on Instagram and writing “Saat janmo tak hum saath rahenge” (We’ll stay together for all seven lives.) Then there were your conversations about ‘naming your kids’. Yep. Don’t say you didn’t do that. We all know you did. And weren’t you going around calling yourselves ‘soulmates‘? What about that? Eventually you will, no doubt, find yourself another soulmate.

Personally, I feel that there is not a ‘one true love’. There is always someone we hold onto, as for the time period. We find someone else, and we leave that one person we had to sail off with the new one. Then the new cat is ‘the one’.

I have seen people drift in and out of love, watched them saying ‘I love you’ to three people at once, thinking they are meant for them, hooking up with people thinking that sometime in the future they have a future.

But then, I also see people waiting for a person, and then growing old all alone. And lonely. So if they say that there is one person for everyone in this world, why is it that some people are butterflies, flying around from one flower to another, and some dear little caterpillars, sticking to one tree and getting thrown stones at?

The Winter Romance

The Winter Romance

“You are like the winter wind. I don’t like you very much, you arrive in November, I celebrate my birthday in your presence. You wish me by hugging me, sending chills through my entire being. Then we celebrate Christmas, running around covered from head to toe, in mufflers and socks and gloves.

And just when I start getting used to you being around, you turn your back onto me and whisk away, bringing flowers and greenery back that you had scared away.

I miss you a lot, I miss the hot chocolate that we used to have when we got too clingy, and the sweaters tucked away deep into the closet, taken out, remind me of you.

You still don’t come back, and the only things I have, are our memories shared in the driveway, and coldness erupts through me, making me forget you.

And then you come back again, after eight long months, introducing yourself again.”
                     -Vaishnavi Sanap