Letters to No One – Part I

Dear              ,b5

I have been thinking of you since yesterday night. If I tell you what triggered the thought, you will laugh, I’m sure. It so happened that I was in the kitchen trying to perfect that soup you once taught me how to prepare. An uncivilised village girl th
at I was, I never really liked the taste of it. But the cold somehow made me crave a hot bowl. Suddenly I saw little white cotton ball like things settling on the window sill. You know, they looked exactly like the ones in those stories that “Mastermoshai” would read out to us, about some country across the seven seas. The softness of the snow, quite inexplicably brought about some warmth amidst the chill, just like on those days when we would curl up in bed, our bodies warming up to each other, when I could feel your heart beat against my chest, your breath mingling with mine. I remember how I would strain my ears to hear the soft drizzle outside or catch a whiff of the balmy night air, in my attempts to try and believe the moment that seized me.

Isn’t it strange, how a pinch of red is capable of dramatically changing lives? The day when vermillion first made its presence felt in my life, I was worried about carrying with me, the expectation of your love and the hope of whole hearted acceptance. The first time I saw you, my eyes couldn’t help but look for myself in yours even though I feared that my attempts might end in futility. I can still feel that tinge of excitement when memories of that night return to me, when your lips were sealed against mine. The moment arrived so suddenly and yet so swiftly, as if the knowledge of its beauty was always contained within us. I could hear every beat of your heart, feel every breath of yours on my skin as your fingers traced my body – from the hollow of my eyes to the curve of my breasts; the intricacies of my being broke free of the inertness and gave themselves away to a new life. There I was, lying bare in your arms, our naked souls tied to each other; completing me, completing you and creating us.

As I write to you, all I see is a white stretch of infinity. In this unknown land where I spend every passing moment awaiting the sound of your footsteps, somewhere deep down I know you exist even in your absence, within me, for me, just as I can only remember to breathe for you.

Yours lovingly,



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