Now, I want to go back in time. To become those eyes dripping with hope, seen from a car whizzing past  one sultry afternoon some four years ago. No I wasn't crying, but I had never felt that alive ever in my entire life. My senses hadn't sensed exaltation of that degree, they were unused to it, couldn't gather themselves and at least fake a reaction. So I stood there, looking at him leave, with the most heartened smile stuck on my face, waving bye-byes. Impatiently wondering when would I get his next call, in the evening, or later at night. In my mind, I was writing already, every word that we had said, every pause that had made it slightly awkward, every gesture, every joke, everything. Excitement of that kind must be typical of that age, I must now say.

Those few hours were so hellishly jammed with memorable events, it was difficult to write about them all. That night I wrote them all down, like I would read them out aloud to my children one day. But that piece was a travesty of all literary prowess. My words were out of my hands, they were moving about on the sheet of paper, settling wherever they liked, not heeding to a word of what I said. I was breathless, panting to remember and write, remember and write. And in between lapsing into lulls of wishful thinking, a state that felt like a cross between reality and a dream. Many times I shut the diary, capped the pen, went off to close my eyes for a while. After turning sides a few times, I would shamelessly return to writing. Too much adrenaline.

There were these little things I couldn't encapsulate. Like I was a bunch of mixed emotions when he threw a pack of chocolates at me in the car. Without saying a word, with classic masculine nonchalance. I don't remember now if I thanked him then, but considering that I haven't been gifted chocolates in the last four years, I should have. But I was floating in the clouds, all etiquette and pleasantries were a waste of time. And as I scribbled in my diary that night I couldn't make a list of all the adjectives that could describe that chocolate flinging incident. Also there was his car. Rickety would be a severe understatement for its plight. It was almost falling off. I thanked God there was a windshield. Every time I would begin describing the car, I would fall off the bed laughing, and gave up in the end. Also, there was this moment, when he was pouring ketchup over my pizza in all possible design, looking at his piece of work, content, innocent, giving me the liberty to stare at him with all the freedom I had. I couldn't describe his face, it was a picture in my head and I couldn't translate it into words. So I let it be.

I wonder what would it be like to have moments in my life that my writing would fail to describe. I haven't had any such in as long as an era. The balanced adult, withheld woman that I am trying to become, I have disheartened those eyes dripping with hope, who waited there, four years ago one sultry afternoon. May be that is why, now I want to go back in time, feel something that can just be felt and not written about.

And if you still have such somethings in your life, then consider yourself very lucky. Happy Valentine's Day!


hopelessly flawed said...

i haven't been able to write for a while...and i have been a little worried..
but this has made me realize how lucky i am.
this has also made me very afraid...what if one day all i am left with are unwritten words.

Your post does its job well :)

$uch! said...

finally Bravo :)
happy v'day to you too...
love u

Surya Prakash V said...

Words seem to have a way of vanishing when you need them the most. So many times I struggled to express the raw simmering inside with something atleast poignant but failed. The failing of the words further leads to collapse. If only we could there was a way to transmit the inners to the other.

Then again they come back, when you couldn't care less, torment, erupt, and release. Things you grow heavier because they cannot be shared - because the book that matters is now burnt.

Happy valentines day. Love.

Anonymous said...

The Moments,may be they can be written abt but wat is unwritten is the way it felt, rite abt those moments, when ther was still hope drippin in those eyes. Words fail to describe coz we fail to relive those moments evr again.I stil cudn figure dis out :) jus luv the way u write! Happy Valentines :)

Enchanta said...


Insane happiness can hardly make us write.
Its the adulterating chemicals that do the honours instead.

But chemicals are necessary for a wondrous broth.

Who knows, after the cooking/potion-making, it might just turn out way too good, that you might want to leave it unwritten.... again.

Lehari. said...

Shameless return to reading what your writing are all about...

Rajita said...

Beautiful..and I could feel every bit of emotion which could have crossed you

Dizzying happiness..a few moments of those we need to last a life time

D2 said...

Unwritten thoughts, though possibly burgeoning, can also be some of the most precious thoughts preserved inside us yet.
Beautiful. And hope you begin another such era soon. Happy Valentine's Day. :)

wildflower said...

hopelessly flawed
Don't be afraid, you're lucky to live a life above words :)

Long time though, let's hope we're finally moving on..

U write some excellent comments, thanks!

Even I couldn't figure this out, but writing this made me feel more alive..

wildflower said...

The spell of those chemicals! :) The best is left unwritten

!! :)

They are like fuel to keep us going. You lessen the burden on my heart by saying that you could feel those emotions..

Thanks :) To you too!

Chic in 20's said...

Have to say, loved the template before I can even start reading the blog :)

................your's entirely said...

Valentine's day has never ever been happy for me...No exceptions this time too...