Short Story Archive for Emotions:

wistfulness

there is an inexpressible sense of cozy comfort knowing that you’ve fully loved someone who even though no longer a physical presence in your life, still thrives as a crucial part of your mind, your soul and continues to lend impetus to your imaginatively woven scenarios of “what ifs” “if only” speculative tangential wanderings giving daily life an intriguing twist and turn – an intrinsic part of life’s fabric of you as a whole ..in a gamut of speculative permutations ..

renoir

 

journaling….fetters …

mind truly baulks at being tied to anything yet I feel like a fraud when I do want the strength of a firm back to lean against and not feel frightened at night… a firm pillow simply doesn’t cut it… .. spoon fed most of my growing years and later after being holy-knot-hogtied to another for the first time … I never knew what true freedom meant… even my thoughts seemed as if they were in bondage … there was no sense of being absolutely free …like we did in our childhood ..running barefoot ..screaming like banshees and scaring one another …jumping off from high ground on dares…whatnot… ..
Now in my 2nd innings… since past 17+ years or so I’ve finally come into my own..doing what I please save for those working years which were a typical admix of awful to good … for in real estate you spend time swimming with sharks and if you’re a minnow…only god can help you… lol…mercifully am retired now unequivocally .. ..
being answerable to none except my conscience is a state to be in and I love this total immersion …finally allowed me… .. life is truly cyclical and now for me magical …
..

Dear Neena ….

tis almost a year and am still reeling from your loss as so many little big things remind me of you …
upon waking up in the morning when I make myself a cup of tea I remember how I made you laugh and the tea would stream out of your nostrils and you’d beg me to shut up … and nowadays as I reach out for cardamom for my tea I remember how you’d so generously shared few small packets with me…
when I grab cloves for flavoring my tea ..I remember your quick tip on how to press the clove pod between thumb and index finger for instant seasoning … and all those quick-fix recipe suggestions for your domestically disabled little sister still make me smile….
songs from old Hindi movies remind me of you..especially the ones we sang together trying to drown out each other …in one-upmanship…..
last week of October brings me close to you as we’d had so much fun on your birthday by ourselves …you’d say I am the step one as there’s no party for me on my birthday ..only on yours ..and I’d try to cheer you up by getting your favorite flavor in ice-cream bars and then we’d insert a lit sparkler in a cup cake and you’d sing “Happy birthday to me” amidst many giggles….as we foxtrotted and waltzed around the living room …
you were always the strong one in our growing years…how can I forget that you singlehandedly dismissed the whole opposition team while playing kabbaddi in our usual haunt …the five gardens in Wadala, Bombay of yesteryears ….that victory still tastes sweet upon recall…
I miss you so much that I often avert my eyes while combing my hair as I see you looking at me …
I don’t know when this gaping hole in my heart will be filled as it’s tough to carry on without your cheery encouraging voice…
I miss you so much that it hurts… …I hope you know …
“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” ~ Anne Lammott

can love be passé

can writing about love be passé tad overdone? no, never

there is so much to love,

a veritable Smörgåsbord in sights, sounds, emotions, songs, poems and all those beating hearts that resound with love in all its more than fifty shades –

everything has an aching beauty that makes my eyes smart involuntarily, heartbeats quicken, catches in my throat choking as I silently clap and weep at same time-

such is life’s bounty-

we are all brigands of love in its splendored glory made keener when its lost and found- there is an innate joy in everything

Even when stuck in a pitiful morass of depression, I found a firefly –
a tremulous feeling of hope as I grabbed that last straw and
fumbled my way back to life –
I am a diehard romantic
hopelessly in love with life
longing to bid goodbye
as every ending is a new
adventure in the making

~

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Saudade

Pierre Auguste Renoir (French artist, 1841-1919) Young Woman Sewing

Painting is by Renoir
~

Saudade (Portuguese)

The feeling of longing
for something or someone
who you love and which is lost.
Or as Manuel de Melo has put it,
“A pleasure you suffer, an ailment you enjoy.”

there is an inexpressible sense of cozy comfort knowing that you’ve fully loved someone who even though, no longer a physical presence in your life, still thrives as a crucial part of your mind, your soul and continues to lend impetus to your imaginatively woven scenarios of “what ifs” “if only” speculative tangential wanderings giving daily life an intriguing twist and turn – an intrinsic part of life’s fabric of you as a whole

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