MEN - the sex that leaves me baffled !

Note: This is a sexist post and my heartiest apologies to those who do not see eye-to-eye on the subject. Well blogging is freedom of speech, no? Hence I shall use that freedom to the fullest !

I wish I could get to know men better. Understand their point of view, rip them down to plain flesh and see through them, to find out how they can make statements of undying love to one and then utter the very same, with the same conviction and the
same gazing intent to another?

How can they keep their hearts rekindled with the same passion and desire-like fire as though she's the only they intend to love, touch and hold for the rest of their lives - being fully aware of the fact that it is only a matter of time before the testosterone rush guides them to another who befits the mould of what they believe to be just perfect ! And then forget her too, for another who pleases the eye, tempts the heart, embarks upon and glorifies the horizons of their fantasy...

His Perception...

My rebound had the audacity to tell me that I didn’t love my ex-fiancé. That all I looked for is mere togetherness, that I just can’t take being on my own, that I always feel the dire need to give out the love inside my heart to someone, anyone – or so he believed. That’s when my patience gave in. Who was he to judge me? Who was he to decipher my feelings for me and to try and put my personality as he saw it? What did he know of my mirth or gloom?

I gave a hollow laugh as I read the text message and decided to give him a piece of my mind.

I told him very clearly that because I don’t casually talk of ‘my undying love’ (as one might dramatically put it) for my ex-fiancé, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t love him.And that my having to call off the wedding was entirely based on my intuition of the future, but not because I failed to feel for him. In fact I very much love him. To this very day. And even as I write. And perhaps in the years to come too... Because when I hold another’s hand, I remember his very instinctively – the artistic fingers, the almond-like nails. Remember them so clearly, that had I been an artist, his fingers I would paint with half-closed eyes!

And when I look in the other’s eyes, I remember his – the hazel eyes, with a grey halo. So peculiar. So enticing. And so seemingly honest! Hadn’t the faintest idea, the very eyes could lie! But to hate them? I don’t think I shall find such courage within my heart. Not today. Not ever.

And people say I love him not? Surely not, if the grass isn’t green!

Her Question...

She sent me a poem. A poem that I took as a sign of her cursing 'fate'. I told her not to do so. I told her that, we, being young and passionate are more than likely to commit mistakes. I told her that I was a living example - having planned and failed.

I repeated to her the quote around which my life now revolves: "Man proposes, God disposes".

I told her about my wedding dress, that now lies in cupboard, folded neatly in a box. The elegant red and gold box, I love. The one box, I would hate to see tattered and dust-ridden. The box that contains my most prized possession - the pink and grey dress I chose the embroidery for...
She thought I was being materialistic and she replied: "I don't want a dress! I just want to be his wife!"

That's when I told her of the significance of that dress. To me, that dress meant a wedding. A lawful wedding, that would make him mine for the years to come. The dress that meant I would be his wife, that I would belong to him, that I would wake up next to him, that I would smell and breathe in his scent every night...

Ik Nazm...

Garr titliyaa'n ye pyaari,

Karein gardishein tumhari,

Tou kahen shookhiyan ye saari,

Baazi ye dil ki haari...!!

Ye aadatein humari,

Jo lagen hain tumko pyaari,

Bigrri hain tumse saari,

Phir bhi hai tumse yaari...!!

Naaz..!

Mujhe hai naaz lafzon pe,

Jo dil k qaid khanon mein,

Ubhartay aur paltay hain,

Barasnay ko taraptay hain...

Mujhe hai naaz ankhon pe,

Jo dil ka saath deti hain,

Tumhe awaaz deti hain,

Tumharey chaand chehray ki,

Bohat ye daad deti hain!

Tumhare reshmi gaisuu,

Inhe betaab kertay hain,

Ru'h shadaab kertay hain,

Teri khushbu ki raa'naii,

Bohat hum yaad kertay hain!!

Why do eyes dream, knowing that its just wishful thinking?

When reality hits, dreams shall change to a blur of nothingness...

The Last Letter...

Dear Love,

So much, had I thought of a lifetime together...

That I would wake up next to you, thank my God for such a blessing, plant a kiss on your cheek and go make breakfast for you. Then, I would help you get ready for work with the hope that you shall return to my arms by the end of the day. But as a tear trickles down the contour of my face, I realize, dreams are dreams after all. Not necessarily meant to come true...