Letters to his future girlfriend #3


Dear Nemesister,

I made my choice and that choice granted me the title ‘ex-girlfriend’. Every decision brings with itself an ocean of consequences, I thought I’d let you know the repercussions that entailed mine to perhaps make it easier or maybe more difficult to choose.

They glorify love by telling you that it is about falling for the darkest night with no moon, about seeing the person naked with all the deep-seated fears and anxieties which keep him/her up at night. But in all honesty, the more I got to know him, the uglier it got. I thought I loved him enough to deal with the demons. But somehow, as his facets were uncovered I was left dumbfounded by the darkness of it all and love went straight out of the window, leaving me reminiscing the lesson that the cost of knowing love is sometimes greater than any heart would willingly pay. 

For a long time,
hen they asked me,
“How’s it going?”
 It’s all I could muster
ithout falling apart.

There’s a dark feeling – less than torment but more than distress that I carried within myself while I fiddling every little where : switching from group to another, from one interest to another, wondering about the what ifs and why nots. Oh it bit me, I had thought that I’d find a place to hang to, a place to call my own, a place to exist in, a place to flourish in. But some feelings sink so deep in the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again, some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.

One fine day, when I had started to feel human again, I saw a guy putting arms around his girl and I experienced a knot in my stomach. I let the wave of emotions rise from my stomach to my heart and strip away the healing wounds fresh. I allowed these emotions to make me remember the time he did the same, the way I’d be wrapped in a comfortable blanket of security as soon as he’d put his arms around me. His touch always felt different, even the accidental brushes ignited sparkles. But I couldn’t complain as I was the one who’d thrown away the love that was offered on a pedestal.

When I was asked, “What happened between you two, you looked so happy together?”      I stared blankly for a moment trying to picture the happiness that people saw in us. I allowed my heart to sink and waited for it to get stoned. And then I heard myself replying,
“Relationships are very delicate. They’re like that finely knitted sweater which took hours of patience and consistency to be made. And one fine day, while you were running too fast to catch something that was already out of reach, that sweater got stuck in the sharp corner of the table which you had been planning on to get rid of. You ignore that thread which has been callously stretched out. Months from now, you’ll be looking back at this very point, asking yourself why didn’t I mend it there and then? But darling, till then, the sweater will be in shreds which no amount of repenting can repair.”

Until the separation, I thought loneliness was the sadness which one experiences because of friendlessness but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Loneliness is when you lay down at night and everything is the same – the dust on the fan, the cracks on the ceiling, the peeking bathroom light, the green walls, the wrinkles of the bed sheet; except they’re all burning with rage because they are only looking at one person.

After months of having swollen eyes and a constant heartache, a concerned friend of mine told me that swans only have one partner for their entire life. If they are separated from that partner, they can die of a broken heart. It took me that to realise that I wasn’t a swan and as soon as a new romance started to bloom, I got a handwritten letter from my ex-boyfriend. It smelled of him :

‘The mere thought of him touching you the way I did fills me with a certain kind of numbness. It makes me wonder about the kind of ways in which people hurt each other. Some take the knife and stab it in your heart. While others aren’t done with just stabbing, they hold it there and twist it with their all, until your heart stops beating.

You have no idea how tormenting it is for me to realise that you belonged to the latter.
You threw it all away.
Every little bit of it.
Does he really love you like I loved you?


The bottom line is :

If you could taste the best of happiness momentarily, but you knew from the start that it wouldn’t last forever, cause sadness and bring pain inevitably, would you choose to have that happiness or would you let it go?





Letters to his future girlfriend #2


Looking back at how it all began, you’d try hard to find the exact point where the transition from protectiveness to possessiveness took place? Where from being breathless in love you became suffocated with it? When did this understanding guy turn into someone who’d watch your every move and throw criticisms at every beck and call? With impatient patience, you’ll witness endless chatter turning into a sickening, restrictive silence.

All your male friends will be put under surveillance and by hook or crook, will be declared as undeserving of your friendship by him. Your harmless, friendly touches to  them would be used to convict you as a ‘hint-giver’ and would suffocate you a little more. Every happy moment spent without him would be used to insinuate guilt as if somehow, he had copyrighted your rights to be happy and had become the self-proclaimed receiver of the imaginary title, ‘only I can make her smile’.

It’ll start off with ‘advices’ to help you make a better person and lead a better life, and for the sake of the relationship you’d follow some of them, despite disagreeing to them innately. Slowly and gradually, the frequency of those ‘advices’ would increase and before you realise it, you’d be targeted with fault-finding every day as if there is nothing right with you. When you’ll retaliate, you’ll be paving the road for a fight. One fight after another, one promise after another and the vicious cycle of unfulfilled promises will frustrate you.

When you’ll express your resentment towards him, he’ll try to convince you that he is a changed man, that he is willing to do anything to save the relationship but till then you’ll read him too well and realise that you can’t change the fibre a man is made of. It defines him.

The endless criticisms, questions and allegations about almost everything : the characteristic trait of you keeping your emotions to yourself,  the way you think moderation is the key to success, the priority you give to rationality over emotionality, the clothes you wear, the love handles you can’t get rid of, your need for interacting with new people instead of being with him all the time; will make you wonder if you possess such a huge number of negatives, then why did he get attracted to you in the first place? Why does he still wish to be with you? Such questions will haunt you stealthily and eventually you’ll add them to the pile of other undiscussed things since all your suggestions like giving each other some space went unheard by him as if you’re a fool whose opinion holds no value.

When this constant state of internal misery will continue for the sake of continuing, you’ll realise that hope is a dangerous thing. You’ll hope that just one more kiss would revert things to the way they were. You’ll hope that just one more candle light dinner would end this black magic spell your relationship is under. You’ll hope that this was the last fight and now things will get better just like they were before. And when hope dies, you’ll realise even if you know it is coming, you can never prepare yourself for how it feels.

Now, you won’t be able to run any longer from the truth that has been staring at you right in the eyes, you’ll have two ways to go about it : You can either continue to be his girlfriend by accepting that he is your world, that you can ‘adjust’ to the situation, that the amount of love he gives you is enough to compensate for the negatives which come along or you can choose to love yourself instead of him loving you, you can choose to go through the miserable, gloomy separation with a promise of leading a better life later, you can choose to finally be truthful to yourself. For a while, you’ll be caught between the vortex of emancipation and losing yourself in love.

And dear, what you choose, will either make you a love story or a bridge worth burning.

Only if happiness was unpaid for. 

Letters to his future girlfriend #1



Dear Nemesister,

I can tell you with great experience that he’ll be that guy who’d make you feel like he is trouble when he enters your life. You’ll be amazed by the things he’ll tell you, by the respectful ways in which his knowledge will make you feel dumber. His undeniable chivalry will win your heart and silently kiss away the wounds which the heartbreakers left as souvenirs. The excitement and thrill entailed by a harmless conversation with this witty man will make you go crazy and you’ll feel that life, in his absence, was so dull. The meaningful compliments he’ll give you will make your heart dance with ecstasy over the serendipity of finding someone who doesn’t require an explanation for why you do things the way you do them.  The elation you’ll experience when you’re with him, when the world will appear to be a better place just because you’ll have his shoulder to rest your head on will let you know what it feels to be alive. The shivers that’ll go down your spine at the slightest of his touch will leave permanent imprints on your body.

You’ll be overwhelmed with the realisation that love, however abstract, exists in infinite ways : his intoxicating smell, the warmth of his body, the love in his eyes, the want in his heart, the sense of completeness, the feeling of belongingness, the regret over the inability to pause time when he holds you, those endless dates.

He’ll reaffirm his love time and again : one day, you’ll wake up to a surprise breakfast in bed and you wouldn’t even have to lie about it tasting good; another day, when you’ll be down with menstrual pain, he’ll amuse you with making you brush your teeth while being on bed and gargling in the polythene he so diligently brought; some other day, when you’ll both decide to cook sandwiches together and you’ll add too much salt in them, he’d selfless eat the salty ones which you made and let you eat the tastier ones which he made. The days when he’ll drive hours just to be with you for a little while will make you wonder what in the world have you done to deserve such fulfilling a love. The fact that you can still miss him despite spending the day with him will fill you with a yearning you wouldn’t have known before. The ingenious ways in which he’d hush away your worries, help you unconditionally and surprise you with his unfaltering love will make you wish for a forever with him.


But darling, when everything has a price to be paid for, then how in the world does this level of ecstasy go unpaid?


Fat is the new black

Hypothetically speaking, say in an alternate world, human bodies are so designed that the metabolism works in an absolutely opposite manner than now i.e. the more people exercise, the lesser calories they take in, the fatter they get.
Conversely, the lesser people indulge in physical activity, the more junk food they feed upon, the thinner they get.
What are the definitions of a perfect body in this world? I wonder.
I can bet money over the fact that the curvier and heavier a woman is, the better chances she has of making it in the modelling/film industry. Similarly, the rounder a man’s belly is, the more likely he is to be on the magazine covers.

This brings me to the realisation that it isn’t about what body type is perfect, it really is about what is easily achievable and what is not. When we’re lauding over a man’s abs or a woman’s waist, we’re admiring the person for being able to do something that requires huge level of self-control, discipline, consistency and what not.
For being a public figure, you just have to look different from the rest of the world. If it’s hard to get thin, then you have to be thin in order to be a model and in our alternate world, you’ll have to be as fat you can be to achieve the ‘perfect desirable body’.


What leads to self-loathing and body-shaming is the inability to realise the very simple thing that you’re not a movie star, therefore you’re not supposed to have a body similar to one. You don’t spend hours in gym everyday, you don’t have a dietician keeping track of every single calorie you take in. Darling, you’re a student /a working professional /a parent, you’re not expected to have flat tummy or six pack abs, you’re expected to be fit enough to do your regular chores appropriately.

A model is anybody who looks different from the rest, different in a hard-to-achieve-it manner. When we don’t feel guilty over the inability to run as fast as an athlete, then why do we feel ashamed of not having a body as toned as a model’s ?

Intense social media exposure about everything happening in one’s life brings with itself a compulsion to look good in every picture. The instant gratification received from such indulgence is addictive and unforgiving. Only if the beautiful people around me and across the world realised that they’re much more than the number of likes on their profile picture, that they shouldn’t limit their personalities to something as temporary as physical looks, this world would have been a much accepting place. 





white pearls accumulated in the finest arc

he loved her smile, he proclaimed

little did she know

he’d fiddle the arc into a line

when she appreciated someone else’s humour.

rainbow walked on the road wearing high-heeled boots

he loved her style, he proclaimed

little did she know

he’d burn her fashion with scoffs

when the deep neckline would be too revealing for him.

smiles, slangs and sarcasm seared together

he loved her wit, he proclaimed

little did she know

he’d accuse her for giving hints

when the same wit appealed to other men.

rush of vibrance and vitality filled the dreary room

he loved her company, he proclaimed

little did she know

he’d ruthlessly rob her of herself

when he’d advocate his monopolistic rights over her.

sensuality, rhythm and exuberance no longer remained abstract

he loved her dance, he proclaimed

little did she know

he’d subtly hold her guilty by sulking

when his weren’t the hands that she harmlessly touched while dancing.

frail shoulders never wavered from the weight of big dreams

he loved her ambition, he proclaimed

little did she know

he’d be the one with the pursed smile

when she beat him unabashedly at his own game.


   I wanted to tell you that your love was suffocating me,

but the sentiments in my heart swarmed up my throat and

all the words got stuck in the


that I swallowed bitterly.  



Sometimes, despite all the efforts, you seem to be losing, losing out on everything that you ever desired. Darling, don’t ever underestimate the power of surrendering to the situation. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you wiser.


They might tell you to fight until your last breath, fight until it no longer hurts, fight till you emerge out victorious.They’ll also tell you how to sit, along with a zillion other things. They’ll tell you all with intricate details and explicit emphasis. They’ll keep a close watch on you following them all diligently. And then they’ll judge you for not doing it in the manner it was taught. Your indifference will frustrate them as it’s something that they were themselves incapable of depicting. There they are, guilty of never listening to themselves, victims of some other teacher, teaching others to vindicate their guilt. 

Her ambitious soul did try to

anticipate the future but in

vain as she knew that life

wasn’t going to be even close to

what she’d expect it to be. Yet

she was contented as for the first

time she gave herself to Him

willingly and completely. And

surprisingly, she found relief

in resignation. A relief that

comforted her beyond measure.

A relief that she had silently

yearned for. A relief that could

only be experienced when you

surrender yourself to Him and

find yourself totally secure in

His hands. And she slept a happy

girl that night, dressed in love,

wrapped in a blanket of security

on a pillow of dreams and with a

smile that could calm the most

demonic fury.




With the air brushing past their faces, they both looked in the same direction. His chin rested on her left shoulder, he pulled her closer, holding her by her left arm. He turned his head sideways, delving deeper into her refreshing smell. She smiled contagiously for no reason and because she smiled, he smiled.

With utmost diligence, he removed a twig from her hair and while doing so he said, “I feel like spending a day with where I can just play with you, do your hair, pamper you, pull your chubby cheeks until they turn red, look at you until you fall asleep, look at you even when you’re asleep, hug you without any hush to run somewhere else, imitate the adorable faces you make, cook you food, feed you with my hands, remove the stains from your lips, oh.., your lips.”

She turned her face towards him, craning her neck closer to his face as she said, “yes, what about my lips?” Playfully, she moved her eyebrows upwards, emphasising upon the same. With an intent to finally kiss her, he closed his eyes and lunged his face forward. To his surprise and dismay, she instantly drew her face away from his and for what seemed like a year, silence prevailed. Trying hard not to sound desperate and hiding the hurt in his voice, he said, “I can’t even kiss you.”

She remained quiet for a while and finally spoke, “I know this might sound insane but I find kissing to be more intimate than having sex. A kiss is two lips immersed in the ferocious movements all in the name of unbound passion and yet each touch is the tenderest touch that one has ever experienced. Despite having it all, one can never have enough of it because it’s not just related to the sexual satiation. So it really has nothing to do with you, it just…”

He interrupted her and said, “It has to do with two people being together in that moment, sensing their breaths and revealing a bit of their souls, with a little bit of the inner wounded self that remains hidden from the world and yet has been yearning to be healed all this while.”

Stunned to hear those words from him, she turned to face him and they shared one of those  iconic eye-contacts. So much was said, yet not words were spoken.

And then they kissed.



Despite the impeccable wavelength match, you and him don’t make it. 

Overwhelmed with everyday fights, with the sickening feeling of never being understood completely, with the gross disrespect of your privacy that you so diligently guarded, with the frustration of failing every time you decided to try again, with the unexpected transformation of butterflies to burden. 

You give up. You give up on him. And for quite a while that sinking feeling refuses to go away that you have given up on everything, everything you ever craved for. 


As she closed the door
guilty redemption embraced
her, starving her troubles
yet pricking her conscience
she kissed her unease to
sleep, realising good and
bad are eternal lovers
like the responsibility ecstasy
brings, like the pain that
lesson brings, like the night
that moon brings, like the
dead flower that fruit brings
And she tasted her tears
of resignation, relishing her
new-found beauty as the
ordeal conceived her growth
like the commencing crack
of cocoon culminated in
unfurling of the empowered


He took a deep breath

Trying to absorb her beauty completely

His vivid vision was blurred by the pinching blood tears

which refused to stop flowing.

          He gave in to the sadness that had strangled his heart

Believing that by doing so he might redeem himself of

the misery that guilt brought.

She deserved so much, way more than what he could

Possibly provide. She was so easy to love and so hard to

Please. How could he let her

Go even when she meant the world to him?

He was the reason that such a feminine girl had turned

Into an icy queen whose

Eyes reeked of arrogance and who spewed

Profanities callously. He understood it well that it was

Just a fake artificial pillar

That she had built to protect her

Vulnerable heart from being slain by monsters like him.

He laid awake all night

Wanting her more than ever, desiring her touch,

And waiting for an absolution that would never come.


Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.



Then she realised there are ways as to how people express grief. That human beings, no matter how different and contrasting to each other, will always be connected through common chords of human behaviour. Grief, experienced due to whichever futile reason, comes with an urgency to be recognised, to be felt and to be retained until time does it’s magical healing. Time will perhaps heal the wounds, they say but she sighed knowing that it doesn’t really heal them but blunts the edges so very finely that it just ceases to hurt.

One of the most impactful grievings happens during the loss of a loved one. There’s an emptiness which haunts people at times, the kind of hollowness which they know can never be filled again.The kind that laughs at them while they’re allowing the realisation to sink in that their loved one is never returning again, not because they fought with him/her, not because he/she shifted abroad, not because of any human reason but simply because he/she is dead.

Some people redeem themselves of the gnawing pain by allowing the tears to wash away the misery, by making their hearts lighter with every word they utter in the memory of that person, by trying to revive those specific emotions that were triggered by just the sight of that dear one through the means of the best capturer of memories : pictures. They try to feel something that they’ve forgotten, something that their heart yearns for until they realise they no longer can as he/she took that all away in one fleeting moment.

While others seclude themselves from the entire ‘sharing allays your sorrows’ behaviour, they become quieter and most of the time, they appear to be living in normalcy, unaffected and not even showing a single sign of the expected agony. Sometimes, they even deny the existence of any gloomy sentiment, only to acknowledge it later when it appears to be the only explanation for the continuous frenzy. The world also starts associating adjectives like stone-hearted with them for it is incapable of seeing the invisible cloak of despair that keeps them cold. And then one fine day, when others have absolved themselves of the torment, they break down in a thousand little pieces when a cold breeze passes by, stripping that cloak to shreds.

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