Can you Measure the Distance?

Dear Az,

Since, you love reading me through my write-ups than to chat-in-person, let me now do some talking.

Three-months and you are gone. I am somewhat recycling to ‘what you have met’ (with few exceptions); keeping myself busy at work. In past two months, I have started contributing and collecting accolades again – for my work, for my ideas, for my creative talents; and yes, the political brick-batting. [Suddenly, worms of politics have dirtied my workplace and, I get soaked into it. I hate this but always the best player to the game.]

Anyways, this is not to speak about what going at work. It’s all about YOU and ME – the two most dearest peoples I have loved, and misses.

I haven’t said you many a things, till now. I haven’t spoken about me to you, so hurtfully. Agreed, we did spend years with each other; many a evenings, fought-and-kissed, made to the bed and satisfied; yet…I always remain standing in the dark behind you, watching and waiting.

In the last few months, a strange feeling was overcoming me and I was basking to glory; or about to reach your love till you bought a ticket to highlands. I regaled and left to my mooring with a broken tambourine. I haven’t said you, that last time when you hugged me – the night before you left; I had a gulp hidden inside my throat about to explode, yet I smiled back; only to break down once you are gone. That night, I cursed myself, and complained to Almighty (if there is any) for making me ‘what I am’.

Honestly, I don’t recall the numbers of raindrops that have drenched me one evening, while we were returning on a bike from Gol Gumbaz. I don’t make an effort to visit the places where we have memories of ours. I lived those moments to every nanosecond, I knew your touch, I can feel your breath. But now, they all gone frail and fail to measure the distances…

I ain’t complaining, but I impatiently wait for that little chat window to open with a scribbled word from you. Do you know sometimes, it feels like waiting for the postman, from the yesteryears and then he cycled through without any packet from me? I know, it sounds too dramatic, rather melodramatic to core but, that’s how it feels. And, finally one-day you says something which is nothing much a few monosyllables… (Ah, dear me!) I die a thousand deaths reading those monosyllables.

I ain’t complaining, I do understand – we have lives different from each other. I ain’t trying to bring the poles together; I didn’t wish for ‘something crazy’. I know, I am standing at the dead-end and there’s nothing for me, to continue. In fact, I expect nothing except ‘you’ – the forbidden fruit, which the GOD has denied to me. I ain’t a Eve, I am Adam dahlin’.

But, could you spare few minutes after your friends are gone, the prayers are said, the food is eaten, and the lights are out. Could you spare few minutes for me, and say ‘that you’re fine, you do think about me’. Life might start cycling and, I am hopeful, there will be ‘a day’ when we both meet each other again – till that time, please spare me few minutes of your for MYSELF.