Letters to U

Dear,

The only thing that stops me from coming close to you is the fear of losing you. There are so many times when I have the chance to tell you about my love for you; then you smile and I cannot take the chance to miss that one precious moment just to find an answer to my wandering thoughts.

Do you love me the way I do? I ask this often to myself.

Yours . . .someday,

M

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The Apple Tree

Once upon  time, not a long time ago, there lived a wanderer. You know how all wanderers are! So you see this one was not an exception. He sold artificial ornamental-plants for a living as he was too lazy to work as a factory-labour.

There was nothing extraordinary about him. Now, some of you may wonder that if he was so lazy, then who made those ornamental-plants for him. Actually, he got them from an old grandma.  Every day he would stand at the window of this old grandma’s hut and say,” I am a poor boy who ran away from his village. I have no place to go, no job to do. Please give me some of these beautiful plants and I will sell them and in return I will bring you fire wood.” On hearing this she would give him the plants she had made the previous night. In return he brought fire-wood from the forest for the old grandma and would put it below her window.

One day the boy came to her window, like every other day, and started saying,” I am a poor boy who ran away . . .” he had just begun when he heard the old grandma coughing. he said,” Dear grandma are you sick?” She was still coughing. He knocked at the window. The window slowly opened and the old grandma forwarded an old artificial apple tree. ” Only one plant!”, the boy thought and took it. He went from village to village and home to home but no one bought it. Some laughed saying,” How funny! Apples grow on dwarf trees.”  A lady   said,” I can’t put it on my centre-table, it looks old and dirty.”

The boy was very sad and tired. He could not sell it and had no money to buy food. That evening he did not bring fire woods for the old grandma, and fell asleep under a neem tree, as it was getting too dark. In his dream he saw that the old grandma was watering the plastic apple tree.

Next morning when he woke up, he was surprised. He was surrounded by red juicy apples under a big apple tree which looked exactly like the plastic apple-tree. He was very happy.

He earned a lot of money by selling the apples. He thought,” I have enough money so I’ll stay in the city and enjoy till I spend my last penny.” After a week when all his money was lost in drinking and gambling he returned to the tree. In his dream he again saw the old grandma watering the tree, only this time the tree was not artificial, but she looked sick. Next  day he again went to the city to sell apples. After wasting all the money he again returned to the tree. In his dream he saw that the tree was dead.

On finding the apple tree dead that morning, he furiously went to the old grandma’s hut and started knocking at her door. When no one opened the door he asked the neighbours.

He was shocked to hear that the old grandma had passed away. He was ashamed of his selfishness and laziness. He ran away into the forest weeping.

The old grandma was very sick so she was unable to make the artificial plants like everyday.  She waited for the boy to return the day she gave him the old plastic apple tree. But he did not return. She died that night. She cared for the boy so she prayed to the gods to let her help him. The gods hearing her prayer let her soul to help him. They gave her a week. It was her soul that the boy saw in his dream. The boy was lazy so he did not bother to take care of the tree. Hoping for the boy to realize his mistake and work hard, the old grandma’s soul prayed to the gods to let her stay for another week. She was very sad because all her efforts to help him were fruitless. The boy was lazy so he did not take care of the tree even this time. The boy thought that he was lucky to get the money without any hard-work. it was time, and when she left the tree died.

 

Letters to U

Dear,

Difference; a great word to bear

The void separates you from me: this nothingness

I fear

What will it take to bridge this gap

But in vain have I devised thousand maps.

How can I cross this chasm when there’s nothing to hold.

A leap of faith is the last hope.

But what is hope when it’s lost?

How can I reach you when you are not waiting on the other side?

When I am not in the vicinity of your sight!

What if I’m lost in the middle of my flight?

What if the distance is too long and the chasm too deep?

I may scream all I want

While you are unaware of my need.

But I’ll still stretch my hand towards you

Maybe you’ll look back and reach out to me.

 

Someday . . . yours,

Jenny

 

 

 

 

 

//This letter is the property of a close friend of mine//

 

Letters to U

Dear,

There must be something between us. Everyday seems the same without you- empty. Everyday with you is the same- beautiful. If only my words had the ability to express how I feel about all the little things that you do for me I think I would dedicate a whole book to it.

My dreams express it better. Yes, you were there today. We were standing where you were singing to me yesterday. I was standing alone on the mountain. The setting moon was in front. then you came flying from the moon. Your foot walked lightly on the petals. You walked towards me . . .

Will you walk to me someday like that? I would smile and let you hold me for yours forever.

Yours . . .someday,

M

Time Here…1

“Time ki bahut kami hai,” this is the reason why 12 o’clock always means 1. It’s nothing new! I love to set my time ten minutes fast so that I don’t have to hurry. But Prakash loves the excuses I cook up right at time to avoid his temper.

“I couldn’t find the bali(ear ring) you gifted me.” it was my excuse this afternoon. I knew he was angry but my cute smile(so he says!) and the excuse melted my dear Prakash’s heart.

Prakash! He is my best buddy, but I don’t know to which degree. We love spending time together. I proposed him, you know. I know, it’s not conventional for a girl to propose. But “propose”, here, simply means,” I like you, but I would like to fall in love with you.”

Talking about today, I’ll be dead if mummy reads it.

Oh! I almost forgot. Hi! I am Pratima.

Stupid na! P for Prakash and P for Pratima.

“Life ka matlab na khul k jeena hota hai.(Life means-to live fully )” my tagline. I love to speak in Inglish.

I was talking about today. He said 2 o’clock and I reached Rajendra Chowk at 3. I told mamma I am going to see my ‘friend’, Jasmine. Jasmine! you don’t know her! She is the fb sensation of our class. She gets minimum 137 likes per upload. She in ‘the epic’. I hate her. “Inglish name rakh lene se koi angrez nahi ho jata!(One doesn’t become Inglish by having an Inglish name!)”

So, I was telling you about my afternoon/evening, whatever you say. “But you know what Inglish me Hindi jaisa feeling nahi aata hai.” Whatever! Let me tell you my story. At first he said nothing, what can you expect to hear when you are an hour late, but later on while I was stuffing my mouth with golgappa, he said,” I didn’t wait for an hour,” I was busy gulping the heavenly golgappas. He was just five minutes early than me. So you see! I was not late(technically, he was late too), so there was nothing to feel like a convict for making him wait. Better he than me.

So you see! I don’t have enough time but I like spending it.

 

Letters to U

Dear,

Walking into the deep blue sea I think, maybe now I can feel the way you do. Watching you feel the silence is not enough. I want to hear you whispering to the cold. I want to know how it feels being you, how it feels when my eyes touch you. Those innumerable lines that you dedicate to your unrequited love, I want to be yours in them at least for once.

Yours . . . someday,

M

By Choice

I don’t know for how long I had been crying. I just remember sobbing endlessly under the sheets. my heart was warm, my feet cold.

“Do you ever feel the same when you can’t understand what’s happening around you?”, I asked myself.

“Why can’t we be honest?”

“Is it too difficult to help someone selflessly?”

“Can you share it with me?”

“Does it bother you when you don’t smile back?”

“Am I asking for too much?”

“Why can’t we make this world a better place to live in? If not for all, at least for one who still believes in all that is good.”

I could not find an answer.

Still, I choose to trust.