I was sitting at the Costa Café located in Indiranagar 12th Main road. To my right was the lane, sporadically disturbed by the wagons of sophisticated residents in the area. A Hollywood music puffed to the left of my ambience that comprised the café au lait hued interior, perfectly contrasted by the white Royal Genware Porcelain cutleries. It was a Sunday afternoon. The glass walls of the café were stained by the transparent drizzles of rain. I noticed my faded reflection on the glass wall. The eyes in the reflection held no sparkle. It was a pale face of a 32 year old adult, who has surrendered himself to Norns. Beards on the face was a sign of mental otiose. A good designation flavored with a terrific Pay Scale over the norms has filled the life with luxury. What more I need! I blinked. Tears occupied my vision to lubricate my eyes dried out of staring for long….
She entered into the Café with meek steps. She was wearing a bottle-green colored Patiala suit. Her head and upper body was veiled under a red Kashmiri stole. The veil was perhaps put on as a shelter against the drizzle. She seated opposite my position, three tables to my left. She slung her hand bag away on the opposite chair, removed the veil and threw it on the bag.

I skipped a heartbeat. I saw her after 11 cruel years. She looked fairer and chubbier. Her hair had grown longer; she managed to collect them into a neat plait, falling along her right shoulder touching her lap as she sat on the chair. A waiter came at her service. She bothered not to look at the menu and ordered a large Latte with a quick rise and drop of her eyes at the waiter. A streak of blue mascara made her eyes more stunning. However, those eyes have lost that magical grace. I remember her obsession for eye makeup. She used to imitate every step mentioned by the beauticians on YouTube. She had a rich collection of eyeliner, mascara, eye shadows and what not.  Her concentration during eye makeup was firm. When I had asked her why she put so much make up on eyes despite being a blessed beauty, she had always replied that the color on her eyes proves her chirpy soul of having me as her partner. Every time when she had cried in my arms after a storm of misunderstandings between us, she had pulled my shirt to bury her face within the hug, and ended up smudging her eye makeup over my shirt chest. She had conceded the smudging as the decay of her soul due to misunderstanding. I had always laughed at her childish theories and underestimated it for being absurd. Now that she had left my life, I realized she was never immature. Each small act of love and care for me was priceless. Her love theories held a deeper meaning that always hued her soul bright. But I was blind. I remained blindfolded by the silky rich aims. Neither could I see deep into her mesmerizing eyes, nor could I shelter inside her majestic heart. It was already very late. Her soul has already decayed along with the colors of her eyes. All that was left behind was a feeble streak of fate.

The waiter appeared to serve her order. This time she thanked him with raised eyes and a forced smile. She added some sugar to the coffee, stirred it and then cupped her palms around the coffee cup to soak in some warmth. I spotted a diamond ring in her left ring finger. A spark of reality exploded inside my core. To re-confirm, I looked at her hair parting on the forehead.  There was a small vermilion mark. She was married.

Suddenly the Hollywood music at the background became loud. I realized the café was crowded enough. The drizzles of rain had stopped and the sky was clear. I could see her reflection on the glass wall to my right. A long life has passed. I failed to catch hold of the most beautiful gift ever. The eminence of huge money earned is limited only to the conspicuous objects. I have already lost the angelic affection of the most beautiful girl I could ever imagine. A vacant chair opposite to me proved the destitution of my soul. Neither have I owned an engagement ring, nor a friend to lend an ear to listen to my mental adversity.  The greed to eat money has left me diseased. What do I have? I blinked. Tears occupied my vision to lubricate my eyes guilty of every moment ridiculed for disparaging the people who selflessly loved me.

Beauty often
tabled its love
Crazy enjoyed
taste of toast in toto
Cutleries stinking
in sink of sins.

its been a while,
and my dear one, you're one of the very few who actually know about the existence of this.
i would love to thank you for loving me,
quite unconditionally and teaching me about what love can and cannot do.
i truly am over the love we had,
i tumbled into things i never thought i could achieve.
ive met wonderful people and achieved great heights of intellectual conversations i thought i've lost.
i gained back the edges, cutting through the desolate landscape of the world that i use to feel apathy towards.
these people ive met along the way shaped me into who am i, and made me clear of purpose.

i have to write in order to let myself remember in the future,
this was what i had.

to a,
you were something more of an infatuation and quicksand of self destruction.
i met you when i fell off the ledge of a relationship that turned out to be emotionally abusive for both ends.
shattered expectations and broken visions,
i thought i deserve the worst for inflicting pain upon others.
hence i was attracted to non-committal things like plastic cutleries, paper cups, napkins
and you.
where you use and trash.
you pulled my heartstrings and made me anxious, as i was also doing the same to you, i assume
with unreplied texts and flirty converses.
alcohol filled nights,
and those nights where your mouth meets the softest part of me,
where i give in to the pleasure of an illusion of being loved.
this did not last long,
i was too afraid, like a deer in the headlights.
fight or flight, of which i did both, fighting off my feelings and flight as you were using me as i was  you.

to k,
i wish you didnt have to leave,
much as i hated the british accent,
i definitely did not hate you.
i truly wish id spent more time with you
that evening at an empty reggae bar,
grinding and making moves on each other was far from being enough.
i want to continue laughing at you for being a hairy gorilla,
getting distracted by changkat and all the sober drinks we had.
it made the night even more real,
that we did not need substance to know that we were attracted.
and you stopped when i said no.
i think i fell a little then.
that other evening where we stayed in because it rained.
you didnt murmur sweet nothings,
you made sure i liked everything instead,
asking if i was comfortable, slowly tracing fingers and tongue upon my skin,
then setting ablaze a wildfire which left both of us slick with sweat.
all the ****** fluids weren't in vain,
trickling and forming a puddle of complicated emotions i cannot name and fathom.
both nights with neon lights in our eyes,
we could only see each other.
in broad day,
i was your lover, the one you want to hug and carry and give all attention to.
aye habibi,
if and only if.
i was truly grateful for what we had.

to l,
i met you during the brink of one of your hardest time.
i thought i wouldnt have a chance,
and i didnt know i could like someone of my gender this much, yet.
i love how you act,
and your certainty, and honesty.
i have to be honest, and say i dont know how i feel yet,
i feel unprepared, but i want you,
that i know for certain.
i like you, your humor,
your chipmunk cheeks
you and ice cream.
you're a broad daydream and somewhat of a special snowflake i want to appreciate the beauty of.
give me some time will ya.