Wish list

I want to watch the sunset and sunrise with you. I want to look that moment in the eye. I wnant to watch the sky change colour from black to purple to blue and back. I want a moment of perfection before we slip back into our mundanity. I want that smile on my face before I frown over a pot of masala to cook you that perfect meal. I want a moment that transcends communication. I want us back.

I want you to look at me when we turn towards home; really look at me. I want us to come back to life. I want you to hold my hand. I want proximity. I want my relationship back. I want the magic of dawn to infuse our lives with the simple pleasure of a smile. I want to hold you close, and forget the world. I want to close the distance that has become such an integral part of our relationship. I want to hold you, look in your eyes and smile again. I want you to look at me and smile again. I want us back.

Will you watch the sunset and sunrise with me?

The silent story

Sunday morning was her idyllic time. It was when tea, the newspaper, the silence they all got together and comforted her. In the weird quagmire that was her life, she needed the comfort of an unfailing routine. That was what they had become, a big fat wad of silence.

Not so long ago, there was romance and laughter. Somewhere in the conversations they had a slower enunciation happened. The rapid, non-stop syllables that were hammered out a syllable a second turned into something slower, more pronounced. Over time, they became a few words a minute. Even later, there was silence. The mother of all conversations. Now, their relationship was sealed, with a piece of paper and a host of other social specifications that was condensed in a gold pendant that she wore around her neck.

The scrape of a cup pulled her out of her reverie. She was back, immersed in the magazine section of the Sunday paper reading and being quiet.