Thursday, October 24, 2013

The Blur.

She nudged away stray tendrils with the back of her hand, and couldn't help smiling at their soft texture. Just as playfully, they rushed back quickly to play hide and seek with her bright kohl-lined eyes.

Her eyes. He loved her eyes. They were so intense, so big, they seemed to gleam with the radiance of energy around them.

There was a certain energy about them. Not eerie or uncomfortable silence, but the cheery, warm welcome of wordless-ness, that questioned the purpose of communication itself.

Pinning the rebellious strand back in place, she continued to graciously knead the dough in front of her. There was still an hour to go and she'd be done in the next 20 minutes.

Which left  40 minutes to get ready, wear her favorite red kurta and golden jhumkas, and of course retouch the black magic : kohl. She loved kohl, and its intense black quality - like a black hole that took everything in its stride, no questions asked.

He'd never really asked questions. He knew what he wanted to know. He knew he had her from word go. He knew he loved her from before.

Before, when he first met her. Before, when they started smiling. Before, when he first kissed her hand. Before, when their lives became awesome.

Awesomness, of course is a relative term, he thought, smiling at the thought of the bright red kurta she'd be wearing today. He knew that, no questions asked. Surprises surprised him, he basked in the pleasure of knowing her every thought.

Hmmm, thoughts totally blew her away... So she could sit in front of the window pane, for hours together, a book in one hand and a coffee in the other.. and continue to contemplate life, before after and now, ups and downs, screams and tantrums, laughs and fears, chokes and smears.... hmmm. And then all of a sudden a squeak or a shout would shake her from her reverie and accuse procrastination. Almost as reflex, her hands would move back on the pages. Guilt had its annoying ways of creeping into her personal life, like a honk on a quiet street or perhaps, a banging doorbell in the middle of her siesta?

*Knock Knock*

He walked in to the smell of homemade choclate slush cake. She jumped at the sound of gift wrap along his fingers. They both lunged for their respective targets.

Almost ceremoniously, they stood together to cut the cake, comfortable in the joys of quiet anniversary celebrations. Later as they fed each other pieces, he naughtily scratched a smile on the back of her hand and slid a love band through her ring finger. Because love was simple, precious and eternal. Because love was theirs to keep.

In thirty years of blind and mute togetherness, they cheered on yet another year of silence. He swiftly released the locks around her ears, he knew she'd be smiling. No questions asked.

Celebrating the Platinum Day of Love with Indiblogger and Platinum


  1. Its really a well written piece. Great work. all the best
    please read my post too and dont forget...promote it :-)

  2. Nice, simple, and different... one of those quiet type of piece that steals the heart! :)


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