Darling,

There isn’t perhaps a single day when I don’t think of you and yet if someday, someone walks up to me and asks me to define “you”, I would completely be at a loss of words, for sure. What exactly would I say? Where, precisely would I begin from? Should I start rambling about those summer days when you are my bright, jolly sunshine? The vibrant air, the radiance all around is so much so that in those days, you are the optimism in me. Those sunlit mornings all my dreams about you are hopeful, positive, full of promises . Those summer days I am so certain about how we would meet, how we would get talking and how at the end of it all, we would walk that lonely road of life, together, holding hands. However, other days, say on those wet, monsoon days of September, when the breeze whispers your name, the air about the late afternoon calls for you and the drizzle resounds the hollow emptiness, those days you aren’t my sunshine. Those days, darling, you are my loneliness, my doubts and tears, those days you are my flights of uncalled fears. Those stormy nights, along with the thunder outside, with every growl and ruthless screech, you somehow haunt me, even in those distant dreams. And then comes the most dreaded of it all – winter. My pretty cardigan, the cold streets, the lonely walks, the melodious winds and the sleepless nights of the winter air – all of them speaks of all of you. And of course my hopeless winter evening, the warmth from the steaming cup of coffee is jist momentary, ain’t it? Winter, dear winter, you have got it all planned of course, well in advance. How to set the pain, go about the pace, bring in a flicker of hope and then darkening it all, walk away quietly such that a numbness is sure, to slowly, follow. Those days, I don’t cry at all. I daresay, I don’t feel a thing. With that emptiness inside, days pass by and with every passing cold evening, I live to die just a little more. how I pray for some desperate tears, some unprecedented laughter and yet, it’s only indifference that I am blessed with. So there’s nothing to live for nor to die? summer smiles at me in a rancid delight. There you are, once again, in that wretched dream, holding out your hand to me. There, see?Without even realizing a whole year went by and this is how everyday, I live just to die. You, yes you, my illusion of every night, so how exactly do I speak of you in reality? A part of me,shall I say, that I nourish so that it lives to kill me a bit more next day? Or perhaps that part which keeps me going everyday? Yes, that’s it. You are that part of me, which even amidst all these darkness, smile, pat my back, hold my hands and remind ” one day I will be there, till then, please do merely survive.” So what if I oblige? what if I smile thinking about that distant life? Once in a lifetime, I am sure, you will definitely be mine.

                           Yours,

                                Whatever.