Monday, March 31, 2014

Haunted by love

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He knows that I am there, waiting for him, patiently & insanely. 


He knows that I will arrive on time to welcome him. 


He knows that he has impressed me enough. 


He knows that he does not have to bother anymore. 


He went away confidently, this time...




Because, I am haunted by his soul, possessed by his charm, bewitched by his words & hypnotised by his beauty.

I am haunted by the ghost of  this living man who is absent now, who is far away at the moment. I can't find any other word than haunted, because from the moment I wake up, till the moment I sleep ( If I really sleep ) even during my sleep I can not think of anyone else but him & I am always in a deep conversation with him, bath room, toilet , kitchen, bus stop, bus 220, bus 8, library, corridors, lecture halls, parks, supermarkets, fountains, lakes, mountains everywhere I go, I carry him within me, rather his ghost follows me, I don't know my blurred mind is incapable of explaining. I have told him all the impressive things before I go to bed, in the whole wide world even though my whole wide world is very limited. I have told him about my life during those silent conversations, my childhood, every step of my life, even though I don't like the word conversation where two people are actively engaged, he is just there in front of me, that is what matters, but he is not that far to be in front, he is close or he is actually inside me, so when I talk he hears clearly, he does not miss anything because when I really talk lips cheat me, words come out arrogantly, violently betraying my thoughts, from my naturally split tongue. 


He has haunted me because at night I wake up suddenly feeling someone living inside my body, a feeling of someone entering to my body & I moan in a sweet pain, my breath accelerating during those haunted moments of exhilaration. Then he is all over my face during those musing nights, my nose sensitive to his smell, Rose masqué or Sandalwood as I believe, is in a constant battle to fill the lungs as much as it can, my eyes sensitive to his gaze, is in a great hurry to stock the images inside the head, my mouth sensitive to his words devour hurriedly large quantities of them inside myself, my ears sensitive to his sound, all erected towards him to record as much as I can, my mind picks, gathers, stocks, saves, compiles, assembles, accumulates, flocks images of him, to be consumed during his long absence. When people run towards super markets in real life for fearing a shortage of food, I take part willingly in this dream marrathon to run towards those images, catch ,condense , pickle them for rainy days.


Sometimes, I wake up from nightmares where he whispers to my ear in a honeyed, soft voice that he wants a divorce, like in an American film. He pronounces those words with such a confidence & a serenity like the day he first pronounced that I will need him more & more. Divorce, it made me start even in my sleep. But, I just smile at him from the corners of my mouth at such a request, with so much of grace, all nodding. Go ahead, I say, bravely. I wonder in my sleep whether I should cry, but no tears appearing, I continue to look at his darling face, rather darling nose , oh no darling eyes  they shine as always, they say he wants a divorce that he is tired of me!  How can I refuse that to my darling man? How can I ever hurt him by my hand cuffs of selfish love. If he wants another love , I should let him go, I should not shed a cruel, deceitful tear to keep him, to prison him, make him suffer & miserable. Go my love, find another, be happy. But then again in my sleep, I get the comfort that we are still lovers, never even thought of a marriage, so how can a divorce is possible? 

During the day, I am all paralysed, I sigh at my plight which carries me in its uncomfortable wheel chair of love of the man who haunts me every night. I have mixed up past, present & future. Days are just long, calendars have lost its value, the time has become a curse. I seek him, while daydreaming, fantasize endelessly on him, indulge in those hallucinations with greatest desire in every second, every minute, every hour not leaving any lapse in time.  

Yet, he is absent as always, only his ghost remains within me.
Yet, I am focused, the month of March, his arrival. 
I know one thing for sure, my life begins in March and it ends too...

By Jahooli Devi
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