Is it?

It is a saturday morning; the outer atmosphere is still fresh
and chill as the sun shies to cast its complete shine like a bride
shying to slide off her veil to the groom. Inside the house,all
the rooms are still lifelessly except the bedroom which lazily
breathes back to life. The clock has just ticked past 10'o clock.

He : hmmmm
(He heavily breathes out making the room's air still heavy.
He just awakes to the fact that he is awake,turns to his right;
she is still sleeping)

His biological clock : Hi, it is me who woke you up.
( He lazily walks to the toilet to piss. Though the morning's
first piss titillates his mind, his body strongly feels the pain
of a long inched-away week's work. He tumbles back onto
bed and burrows down beneath the blanket.)

Another biological clock (reminds) : Hey Mister, You havent
romanced Your wife for a week now.
(This one really excites his mind and energizes his body.
Now he longingly sees his wife. She is still sleeping; he
whines to himself that her clock is too slow.)
He(talks to himself) : shall I wake her up now? no, she is
asleep; so what? even my feelings are asleep. Isnt it my
duty to wake them up? hehe
(he grins mischieviously like a villain does it to herione in
any commercial movie.)
Fanned the flame of desire,he now tries to think up an idea
to accomplish his sudden whim.
Before he pecks on her cheek,her jaw moves like a dragged
rhythm.
She(with her eyes closed) : why did You get up this early?
He(his mind stutters to hit on a reason and
he bumbles) : bb-reak-ffast
She : huhumm, no breakfast today,straight to lunch.
He : ok, I dont want breakfast.
She : then sleep
He : no
She : whatelse
He : nothing
She : this is ugly, dont entertain any stupid thoughts now.
He : but the stupid thoughts are lovely,arent they?
(He rolls his body closer to hers)
She : huhumm
He : These weekends are pleasurable,that too we lying
awake on the bed late morning.
She : lie, i am sleeping
(she smiles playfully with eyes still closed.)
He : no,I dont lie.
She : offcourse, You are lying (she pauses for an effect)
on the bed.
He : huhumm
(She now opens her eyes and flutters the eyelids looking
at him.)
She : good morning,Sir
He : you look fresh even now.
She : Do I? what might be the reason? maybe You want
something from me.
He : nothing
She : so you dont want me?
He : shut up, I wonder how I was all those years before
meeting You; I couldnt think how I was happy,sad,joyous,...
like how I am now,though You were not there; but now
I dont think I can live without You.
She : too much of compliments are not good for my health.
He : You know, there are hours I dont think of You
completely involved in my work; there are minutes that
disturbs me reminding the fact that I miss You; then
there are seconds,though I try to dismiss them, that denudes
the reality that we are different and I am going to miss You
ever one day. Finally this moment where we are together
deceivingly threatens me, giving the glimmer of its transience.
(He burrows his head onto her umbilical region.)
He (few seconds later) : I am being boiled in a couldron of
all these emotions.
(She lifts her front part of the body to see his eyes visibly
with false emotion in her eyes.)
He : what are You looking at?
She : I just checked whether you were crying. Pitifully You
werent,no, your emotions are not enough.
She(annoyingly playful) : I was eager to see a man crying unmanly.
He : huhumm, dont You feel my love?
She : no
He : why?
She : How will I if You repeat the same lines I have said
the other day. that was awesome, I emoted perfectly with
tears. You literally copied my lines,culprit.
He (manages) : okay,okay, what to do? I dont read romantic
novels like You. But my love is true,my dear.
She(naughtily) : Is it?

A reminder

Here is yet again a conversation,the easiest of all in writings,
narrating an exchange of thoughts between two personifications.

T : what is this,boy? You are not writing anything nowadays.
M : (wears a wistful face)
T : what happened?
M : nothing. It is just that I don't write nowadays.
T : why?
M : why is this nosy why?
T : shouldn't I ask this to You?
M : no
T : why shouldn't I?
M : don't know.
T : You seem depressed a bit.
M : I am frustrated too.
T : interesting, then You do have many things to write.
Don't You?
M : Yes
T : so, why don't You write?
M : why should I?, Sir
T : (laughs mischievously)
M : don't laugh. Even if You laugh I shall not write any.
T : don't talk stupid.
M : You tell me this. Are I a true writer?
T : Aren't You?
M : seriously I don't know?
T : how could I help You?
M : You are nice,but You cannot help me.
T : huhumm
M : tell me what is the basic fabric of any writing?
T : Were it cleverness, the writing wouldn't get its simplicity;
Were it magic, only magician could do;
Were it an innate talent,one's writing wouldn't evolve.
I am tired of trying to be too smart here. Let me be honest,
it is honesty.
M : a thread that I don't have to weave my flowers.
T : why is it so?
M : Because pendulum swings to the extremes.
T : what?
M : my thoughts swing wildly between the good and the bad.
T : so
M : so one excites me to write and the other one warns me
not to write. i cant keep drawing one side of a face.
The picture goes meaningless.
T : so where is the way out?
M : there isn't one, I guess.
T : nevertheless You have to express, my boy
M : but the expression goes distorted,my Master.
T : do You know the secret of art? The art breathes its life
only when You try to be honest but not when You are honest.
M : I don't understand your clever language.
T : because You have limitation.
M : maybe your sophisticated thought is too clever to
my bounds of intelligence.
T : sorry,You stupid, I didn't mean the limitation of your
understanding of things.I meant there was a boundary,
a horizon in all that gives the same a definite shape.
so the boundary of Your writing is your limitation.
In other words, though you keep drawing one side of the
face,though your picture goes ugly, there is a living of art.
Hadn't there been this limitation, You wouldn't have
started to draw itself.
M : Excellent, Sir. An excellent attempt of elucidation laced
with the sophisticated diplomacy.
T (with a wily smile) : You are too hard a nut to crack.
Aren't you?
M : but not as unyielding as You, The Eternal
T : why is that so?
M : You keep hitting my mind's door until it opens,
feeding it with caress, often letting it retrospect on your past
-the beautiful memories, brood over your present
-the fateful happening, and ever long for your future-the hope.
T : (looks II with love in the eyes.)
M : Yes, You keep loving me,nagging me and haunting me.
You come to meet me every single moment.
T : but remember, Dear, one day I shall not come to see You.
So do finish all your work before I lose You to my enemy, the destiny.

To my Dear

Hi,

I know I write this letter after a long time,nearly five months
after my last one. It is not that I dont want to write You one,
but it is the foresight of your rejection that held my emotion
back all these days. But this time I have to do it,not for
the sake of my pent up feelings but for the sake of
your own existence.

Only few things have transpired in this lapse of few months.
Firstly I have slowly learned to mature myself in the spate of
successive failures. Though everyday dusks with a sense of
loneliness and depression, a sense of courage and faith dawns
on me the next morning. Secondly I am running after the
following statement to understand what it reads,
'Furious activity is no substitute for understanding',
but often forget not to run furiously.

And then as always your thoughts scrabble for a hold in
my mind, the old memories haunt me like a deep crying
sound in the mid night. I try to overcome it in vain,
not knowing that it has become the base plank of my little
wooden house. The whole process is like a fish bone stuck
in the throat, neither I can swallow it nor I can spit it out.
What would a beautiful flower do if the only woman in
the world denied it? What would a little baby do if
her mother refused to kiss it? what would I do
if you didnt embrace me?

I feel like I am denied a drop of water when a potful futilely
leaks to the ground through its crack. It looks like a jumble
which I cannot play well. Altogether My life has become like
a game where I am not given authority to take decision but
only allowed to ride on fate. The word 'fate' seems to be
the father of God 'Proteus' trying many shapes to take
You away from me. But I keep your thoughts intact to
continue the flame of desire to kiss You,my lovely Muse.
Yes I am ready to swim against the tide all along the sea
to see You in your own island with a smile.

Yours honestly,
.......