Time; such a funny notion, an irony for me, for us. A bundle of tangled strings and hopes with our relationship intermingling in its flow. When we were young, we didn’t care about something as trivial as time and as we grew, it was meaningless because for us, timeless was what defined our friendship, not smeared, untouched by the hungry grasp of those moving hands of the clock. For as long as I could remember, yours was the first face I saw, just outside my window, riding that yellow bicycle up and down our lane, yelling at me to get up and come to ‘plway’ with you, and who was I to refuse my sunshine ? I remember rushing past everyone in the house, forgetting that I was still in my nightclothes. I didn’t care, because you were there, waiting, quite impatiently I might add and I never ever wanted to make you wait. Summers flew by like the wind that rushed past us when we rode our first bicycles down that favourite slope and our friendship bloomed like those bruises you bestowed upon my shins. We suffered from your Barbie and Ken phase to my awesome ninja make believe games, our friendship survived those silly tantrums and thrived when you bestowed my blushing cheek with a kiss from your puckered lips. From the first day of school and through our first girlfriends and boyfriends, you were there and so was I. We were always there for each other and it felt that time stood still when we were together and moved slowly and painfully only when we fought. I could never be angry with you for long, you were too important, too precious for me to even comprehend your absence. It was the last year of school and something did move between us, the strings of time pulling our hearts together, because each time you were near me, my heart beat faster than before, your smiles affected me and suddenly I understood how little time I had, to tell you, that something was very wrong or perhaps something was very right and for the first time I understood what exactly it was that made you so special, that I was falling deeply, that I was in love, with you.
“Do you Love me?”, there it was out in the open. When I look back I still feel those butterflies of mixed emotions I felt when these words tumbled out from my lips. It wasn’t like I couldn’t ask, it was more like the time wasn’t right, certainly not with you breathing into my neck while I sat on your lap as you played our song on the piano; my favourite one which you wrote for me. The ardour with which you kissed me made me perceive so many emotions simmering behind your eyes. Was any of it love? Should I have let you have me without knowing where we were going? The dull pounding of the rain outside couldn’t drown out that one question, which was many times on the tip of my tongue, just waiting to be asked especially when you made me feel that you cared enough, when you made me feel alive in so many ways. I always fooled myself to believe, that I wasn’t affected by you, that I was incapable of love when I did, I loved you so much that I couldn’t get you out of my system, you were there in my blood, your sweet words ringing in my heart, each touch burning me, brighter with so much of passion. I would always want more of you, especially now when you broke down all my walls with a mere glance and undressed all my fears, so that I was bared to you, with all my vulnerabilities out in the open. Did you want me? Did you have a need for me, as I have for you? So I couldn’t help myself but ask you the one thing I even denied myself from ever wanting to hear, “I just want to know,” Now be brave, just this once, please, please say that you do, “Do you Love me?”
Because I do.
Dozens of ice-cream, too much of cold drinks and everything that was next to “prohibited” for me otherwise have become my most hogged on items since last week. I generally don’t get to enjoy these things as I attract the cold virus each time I have them. If I’m not lucky enough, breathing problem tags along with these nice coolers.
But ever since last week, I have been extremely fine. Call it the call of the season or change in immunity for good due to travelling, or maybe exercising daily, I have been alright. Oh wait, make it “had” because “alright” is not the case today. I have been coughing since morning and I expected my illness to be restricted to cough but my stupid conscience wanted me to attend extra mechanics lecture today i.e. on Saturday, so my troubles have gotten doubled and now I don’t just have cough, I have cold and sneezing as well, my sweet nose bearing all kinds of paranoiac embarrassments if you know what I mean.
My stop arrived and I moved out with my bag, a little leisurely since it was the last stop. Do you remember that scene from The Mummy Returns where in a small army of Human soldiers has to fight a huge gigantically enormous army of scary looking erectly approaching running dogs? In the movie the humans are lucky enough to be surprised at the sight of them getting vanished. Unfortunately the movie Life had a bad surprise for me. While I adjusted my bag loads of ladies jumped inside the train to fill up the empty seats and loads jumped out to save themselves from the seat hungry Aunty wrath who also carried my bag along with them. So it was me trying to army my way out and pulling my bag towards me and ladies blatantly ignoring my hardship and shouting at each other anyway. As I swam my way out a girl used my neck as a prop to rest her invading nails on to move out ‘cause yeah, skin be a multipurpose gadget. I looked behind and all I saw was the crowd getting. Taking a deep breath I sat on the seat opposite to the train and watched the train take speed. Funny how life moves; so fast; so soon. In just less than 30 seconds I almost survived an apocalypse (as it’s called in the local train dictionary) I looked around a little; wiped my nose that fortunately got distracted for a while because of all that drama and walked up to my bus stop.
There’s a typical pattern I have observed in the past few years; whenever I have a tiring day I find my low frequency bus calling out to me and I have to run and board it; but fortunately it was at a distance today so I could walk my way through to it peacefully and board it.
The bus caught speed and I paid for the ticket to the bus conductor. My mandatory phone check was followed by a loud thud against the speed breaker the bus went over which led to me loosing grip over my phone. It fell down and I bent over to reach out for it; but it wasn’t there anywhere near it’s fallen spot. I noticed a tiny crevice present at the adjacent side of the seat end. The phone must have crept out of it. The bus halted in traffic luckily and I carried my bag out, rushed towards the side of the road to locate it. I saw the bus pass by me and a few men pointing towards the direction where the phone fell. There it was. One of my Lifes in this world. But to add to my maladies, it’s screen was fractured as fuck. There were million cracks over it. I paid another 40 bucks and reached home as I was too frustrated to wait another minute under the sky that almost killed me and my precious phone today.
Numerous complaints that were at the tip of my tongue on entering the house traversed back when Mum surprised me with Mishti Doi and it literally felt like heaven on my tongue. All my problems just minisculed over the entirety of the delight I felt having it.
Meanwhile my Dad examined my phone and the next thing I knew was my phone looked even better than before! Apparently the fractures appeared on the tempered glass which I had forgotten was fitted on my phone!
At night I couldn’t help but appreciate the ironies of the day. The most Chaotic day of my life had it’s own charm; at the end, it left me smiling.
Maybe my broken pieces are not made out of glass. Maybe they are maybe out of seeds so I can find someone who likes flowers, and is willing to grow them again.
JM Wonderland has had an interest in writing since she was 13. She lives in central Florida with her family and says she has all the characteristics of an INFJ. “When I don’t have my head stuck in a book you can find me on social media.” She says.
Your eyes are an extension to your beautiful soul
Would love to experience the calmness those eyes behold
Would love to dive in and listen to your stories untold
For they are an ocean that compels me to dive deep to seek what they behold
Your simple gaze has that divine feeling that my soul craves and it leaves it asking for more.
Kunal Vacchani has done his masters in business administration and international business by the worldly qualifications. He is a traveller at heart who loves to click whatever amuses his interest. He has also worked with most reputed research, advertising organizations in the past for India’s most loved noodle brand. Winning a cannes is something he is really proud of. “I Love my family and friends but I love kids the most. Creativity in all forms and types keeps me ticking.” He says.
For all of the bad,
There was good in what we had,
In every moment of weakness,
Strength compiled solution,
Feelings were new,
But to never just leave as invisible
As they were,
To stay and ache in every joint, muscle, and memory,
I thank God you were sent to me,
To have first touched the petals of a newly born flower,
and watch it sprout from its roots into power of what it never thought it had,
For all of the good,
For all of the bad,
I am glad for what we had.
– Chasen Mercier
Chasen Mercier has been giving poetry away in his town for a year and 6 months now. He writes customized poetry and will write you a poem about whatever you would like in 5-10 minutes. He is also in the process of publishing a novel titled “The Illustration of a Poet.” Chasen is a college student currently attending UC Riverside. He says, “Writing will forever be my passion and I live off of the responses I get from fans of my work. I can’t believe there are so many people supporting me.”
The Wings of Delight team is excited to present #GuestWriterSeries, featuring talented writers-
(insta handle: @temecula_poem_guy),
Kunal Vachhani (@kunal.vachhani),
JM wonderland (@jm.wonderland)
Each writer is unique in his or her own way, and for them words are their home. We hope you all love their works and support them in their writing journey.
Team Wings of Delight.