A Letter To The Love Of My Life

My darling Mishti,

I thought of penning down – I mean, typing down – a poem for you but, though I am not underrating your ability to understand a poem, but, I, for my part, want to be absolutely plain and sincere in telling you what I am going to tell you now (and I am not saying that a poem cannot do that job, only that I am quite a lazy person, lazy to compose a poem, but lazy or not, I am yours and I know you will understand me as you always do).

You know how this is: I just can’t live without you. There is no denying the fact – yes, it is a fact – that you were born to be united with me. I came into the world before you did and had been waiting for you (however, I was not aware that I was waiting for you, yet there was a void in me and I knew someone must find me and quench my thirst for love) and, then, what was supposed to happen, in so unique a manner (oh, what a way of knowing each other it was!), had happened: I found you and we felt an equal throbbing in our hearts and minds!

There are times when we sail rough weather and how uneasy and bizarre everything seems, and during such times I marvel at the way you always find a way out. Many a times I resolve, when we have some arguments, to not talk to you for a few days, to give it a break as they say, but when an hour passes since our arguments, then another, and… and…“and, oh, the difference to me!” Right then I realize that there is no one, none at all, who is more important to me than you are.

I want to know what troubles you, I want to know what pleases you, I want to hear the movements you make; I want to understand all that and more. I sometimes wonder, in an unreasonable manner no doubt, if you are as fond of me as I am of you. Then I rebuke myself for having such thoughts.

I want to write so many things to you but now my thoughts fail me, nevertheless, what you must know is that I love you and, as long as I breathe, I will love you with every ounce of my being. I maintain what I once said: if you are with me, I will find hell heavenly.

An assurance of stupendous happiness is in store for me because you are mine, and I am

Ever Yours,

Puchu

Copyright © 2016 RAMU DAS

Mrs Nobody Writes A Letter To Mr Nobody

Dear Mr Nobody,

It feels good to know that you are having the time of your life. How I know, you might wonder. Well, the last letter you wrote to your son landed in my hand. Perhaps you have forgotten that we live together in the same house.  He is not home, goodness knows where he’s gone; like father like son. And, ah, you write to your son in such a manner as if he is not a son but an old friend of yours. Shameless, utterly shameless you are.

It is a fact well-known that you do nothing apart from complaining all the time. I do remember how you used to complain about each and everything when we were studying together in the college. Everyone was fed up with you. Your very existence seemed an agony. But presently what a great change has come upon you. How well you speak of others (I mean of that lady of quality you mentioned). Sarcasm is your cup of tea, not mine. I will, therefore, speak to you in as plain a way as possible.

Tell me, did you kiss her? Did she kiss you? I mean, really if she wants to kiss you or something, let her do it. And let her do it in your neck. I can only wish, when she kisses your neck, she takes the form of a crocodile.

You say you will be staying in London as long as you please. I hope and pray to God that you will never be displeased come what may.  Well, I have nothing more to say.

Mrs Nobody

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS

Mr Nobody Writes Once Again

Dear Lady CR,

Ah! Don’t worry; I’m not writing to complain again (like I did in the past). You know, I’ve much better things to do apart from complaining all the time. Believe you me, ah ha, I’m writing this letter because I want to express my appreciation for all the things you have done for me. Only for me, he-he-he!  There is not much time left for us together in the college, and I don’t want to delay writing this further. It is now or never.

How kind you are Milady. No matter what people call you to your face or behind your face. What do they call you, anyway? ‘Fat?’  And do they describe you with some other words like: enormous, massive, large, mammoth, etc?  Well, they might be right but I don’t agree with them fully. The thing is they overlook the huge heart you have beneath your exterior. And that is, indeed, a matter of grave concern. But wait, does the word ‘fat’ really apply to you. I mean, you know, fat is bad. We don’t say ‘fat as a tiger’, we say ‘fat as a pig’. Now, pig is an ugly creature. Milady, you are not ugly. I would say you are powerful, well yes, powerful like the elephant.

When someone says you are weighty, I would not say they are wrong. Apparently, yes, you are. However, the word ‘fat’ is really not for you. I have observed – Did I say I’m a good observer? – how deftly you move your fingers. And you do carry your mass gracefully just like Lady Gaga (She has a funny name though. GAGA), and what with the mental quickness, and the agility of your body; you can sing and dance better than most other girls your age, jog some mile every morning.

When you have so many unfat qualities, it is wrong to say you are fat. They are all goddamned fools who call you fat. Believe you me, keh keh keh!

Anyway, I’m so thankful to you! My happiness knows no bound even as I type this letter, and that’s only because of you. I think my first letter – which I wrote a few months back – had a profound effect on you. I’m extremely pleased with your kind words, and the personal service you have provided me. You have also informed me about all the happenings in the college, about the companies coming to the college for placement.

But, my bad luck. I was not keeping well at that time. And when I was a little better I did come to the college to sit for the placement. But there, to my dismay, the Fernandez girl spoiled it all. Neither was she selected nor was I. Kiddies always do such nonsense things. Anyway, I can forgive her, she is a kid after all, and she is a good girl, her papa’s child. Though to the world she might be full of attitude and all that, but she is just fine with me.

Who really disheartened me is the Krishnan girl, that old queen, you know. Oh, what I thought of her! Oh how I liked her! But, dear Lady CR, that old queen is good at beguiling all men’s heart with her smooth talk. But, actually, she is a cold-hearted woman. She cursed me, and lo, I had a boil on my bum, and I suffered from numerous illnesses: cold chest, runny nose, high temperature, jaundice, and whatnot.

You see, dear Lady CR, I have become so skinny; lost more than eight kilos of my flesh, and that’s all because of that old queen. Yet, she is so full of attitude, didn’t even ask me how I was. Peace be upon her.  I wouldn’t wish her a boil on her bum, that’s very painful; I can’t see her in pain. But I do wish her boyfriend a big boil on his bum. I don’t know if she has an imaginary boyfriend or a real one. Ha… ha…ha!

Now, you must be wondering why I have not mentioned anything about your counterpart. I have this philosophy: things of lesser importance should be done at the end.

What was the word I used to describe him the last time I wrote an open letter to you, dear Lady CR? You see, I have a really poor memory when it comes to lesser important things. I think it was a slang word or something like that. Anyway, that’s not important; however, the word seemed to have offended your counterpart very much. A few months back he saw me in the college. I smiled he did not smile back. Instead, he gritted his teeth, shuddered his shoulder unnecessarily (just to imply how strong he was, I guessed), curled his fingers in his palm, made them into a fist as if to punch me hard in the face and quench his anger. But no, I was wrong. I learnt later that he does such acts when he has to go to the loo. When I asked why he does that, no one could explain the reason, not even his closest friends. Strange activity!

Another day, I saw him in the corridor. I thought I should approach and talk to him and bury all kind of grudges, if any, he had against me. His strange activity once again baffled me: he started dancing, rocking and rolling just like Prabhu Deva. Perhaps he had seen the movie “Any body can dance” and could not contain himself, I thought. Oh no, that was not the reason. He saw some pretty girls passing by, and, thus, was showing off his dancing skills. The girls seemed really impressed. Now, after knowing how talented he is, I’m his friend, or perhaps he would consider me his big fan.

“Hi,” I greeted him with a smiling face. I admit that was just a pretentious smile.  Ni-ha-ha-ha!

“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbled. The past incident was bothering him. I had to make things light.

“It’s ok man. Take it easy. I’m your big fan.” He seemed very pleased with the last remark. He started smiling. However, the past incident once again bothered him and his smile faded away. I decided to flatter him a little more if that was the only solution. “Oh man, you are really talented. You score such good marks in the exams, and, I believe, even Terence Lewis cannot compete with you in dancing.” By this time his smile came back to his face, and I added one more sentence: “How do you do these wonderful things?”

“I don’t share my secrets, do you understand?” He replied, boastfully.

“I see. Dance man dance. You are made for it.” I thought he needed some encouragement.

He looked at me as though I were an alien, and asked, very grimly, “Did you say ‘dance monkey dance?’”

“Oh no, I can never say such a thing to a great person like you.” I answered promptly, lest the great person should be angry.

“But you did write a letter where you used a malicious word for me.” I knew he would come to this.

“Oh my! That was just for fun,” I assured.

“No funny business with me, do you understand?” He bellowed.

“Yes, sir, I get you.” I was being as humble as I could be.

“No. That won’t do,” he said somewhat abruptly and added, “I want a lollipop.”

There we go! He was acting just like that Menon girl and that Fernandez girl whom I consider newborn babies. “Alright, here you are,” I said and threw a lollipop at him. He caught it just like Yuvraj Singh, the great fielder of Indian cricket team.

“Now I want a lozenge!” He demanded.

“There you go,” I gave him a lozenge. His catch was better than the first.

“Now a Pizza,” he said. Pizzas don’t come cheap, so I hesitated a little. His demand started becoming aggressive, “I will tell my father,” he said, “and my father will inform his friend who is in the police, and you would be screwed for writing that letter publicly.”

I had no other choice but to empty my purse and order a pizza for the great person.

Dear Lady CR, I think you must have grown tired by reading this letter of mine. So let me stop here, and this, I promise, is my last letter to you, unless situation demands. Tee! hee! hee!

I remain, ever yours,

Mr Nobody

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

A Letter To My Ex-Girlfriend

NB: This letter is supposedly written in a drunken state of mind

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O personality of sinful actions!

I’m sorry that I need to write this letter to you, but I really need to do it. As I write to you I’m drinking to my heart’s content in a bar; with my left hand I’m holding a bottle of wine, –my only company at the moment– and with my right hand I’m scribbling and doodling on a piece of paper all the high thoughts which are clouded with sadness over my mind. Believe me; believe everything I write, people here complain that I’m excessively drunk, and that, time has come for me to leave the bar… you see, it’s just 3 o’clock in the morning, and they want me to leave, morons! They are not people, as I see them, they are potatoes… no! They are lizards, no, no they are dragons. Ha ha ha! I’m drunk!  I’m drunk!  Drunk, drunk… drunnnkkk! achoo!  Am I drunk?

I ordered the waitress to pour me the 100th glass of wine a while ago, now she comes, she looks dashing in her attire, three quarter’s full is her face, she is not a potato, she is an angel, and her ruby-red lips tempts me to have a word or two with her. She gives me a wink and is pouring down the wine hesitantly. But why is she hesitating to serve her customer? Perhaps she doesn’t want me to get over drunk; [doesn’t she know I’m over drunk already?] Why is she being caring, does she like me?  I know, she’d like me now but at last she’d turn as knavish as you were. So let me better concentrate on the letter –the words are flying though, or so I see– and not get trapped this time, for I’m already too weak in the heart. Let me pour my blue blue heart out by writing when the lovely waitress pours down the red red wine on my glass. Truth comes out from the heart when a person is drunk, also speaks of love and hate, but truth and only truth a person speaks when chemically imbalanced he is made.

Hold on, let me take a sip, and my mind’s chain let me unzip.

Done.

Ah, yuck! It’s as bitter as you were! Your bitter love and thoughts are running through my heart and spine and brain and… aha… ah… achoo!

What I intend now to say is… is… is… I loved you truly; I liked your smile, your laugh, and your beautiful black glistening eyes, I liked the curl of your hair, I liked the touch of your soft skin, I liked your sexy voice, and I liked your smell, too… I liked everything about you … But you broke my heart, You… You… You… broke my heart! You broke the heart of the greatest literary figure of 21st century, you shall never be forgiven for that, mind you!

Now, a potato comes to me and puts in his hands on the pocket of my Levis jeans, takes out my purse and a wad of thousand rupee notes from it, I say nothing, instead, I give him the rest of the money –coins– I’ve on the other pockets of my pant and shirt.

Am I drunk?

I feel like vomiting and the world seems upside down, I try to move but every time I try, I fall down, and I’m falling down now. A gorgeous young woman is helping me to stand straight by slipping her arms around my hips; I keep staring at her and finally say: ‘chick, I like your boobs, they bounce well.’ As I said that, instead of getting a ‘thank you’ from her, I hear an echoing sound as though someone has slapped someone hard on the face, but who has slapped whom? Now a lizard approaches me, a speaking lizard it is, and utters something like: ‘Don’t beat this man, he is drunk.’ As he speaks he points his finger at me, ah, he’s referring to me, and the wicked woman just slapped me! She is a bitch! But I couldn’t feel any pain; perhaps the wine has made me stronger. Now, I want to see if any damage has occurred to my precious face by the slap of that disgusting woman. Looking at mirror I see: one me, two me, three me, four me, five me, oh! What the fuss is all about? What is happening? I am drunk, drunk, drunk, I am… brmmmmmmppp!

Tell you what. [What?]  Since the time you left me, I’ve realized that I’m a good-looking man with whom many girls want to spend time. You see, love is really blind for it blinded me and I could see no one but you and only you. But, now my eyes are wide open, and I’ve awakened from the deep slumber of your bitter love. And what is this I see? I see everything as I wished they were. Believe me, even Angelina Jolie is saying she’s tired of Brad Pitt, and she’s more than willing to let her children call me their dad. She says she’d help sign me a deal with Warner Bros! That means I’ll be the next Superman of Hollywood.

But, to hell with that life! I don’t want to be with Angelina Jolie or any other girls. I’m a man of integrity, you know. I cannot act like the bollywood’s hitman Emraan Hashmi who asks for sugar from every less seductive girl, and tries to dip his beak in every other girl.

How are you? How is your new love? Caught a big fish this time, eh? Hope you’ve told him that you would love him till the end of your life just like you told me once. This perhaps you’ve said to gazillion of other guys foolish enough to have fallen for you. Tell me; tell me, what magic spell did you whisper this time? Hope your new love is from a wealthy family, unlike me. I’m sure he can take you to expensive theatre and buy popcorn for you every now and then; he can give you treats at McDonalds on a daily basis, buy ice-cream for you as and when you demand. Wish I was in a position to take care of all your whims and fancies. I apologize.

Did you give him all those nicknames by which you used to call me: My baby, my bacha, my janu, my shonu, my darling, my golu, etcetera, and etcetera?

Do warn your new love not to glance at any other girls passing by; let him behave as saintly as possible.  He should receive the same treatment as I did. Now, I have known being possessive is your birthright and known that ‘possessiveness’ is a word solely reserved for you; don’t worry, I’ll never interfere in your matters as you’re not mine anymore, but for sure you can interfere with my life as much as you want, for I’m still slightly yours. I’ve learnt to let anger live and die within me without letting it outburst (thanks to the anger management book I’ve read recently), I can now swallow my anger for I’ve known the outcome of a decision one makes while one is angry is always devastating. However, don’t think that I want you back. No, no, I don’t.

A person can get used to anything. As they say, time heals everything. Only in the beginning it seems painful, but when a person starts drinking (just like me) it is not going to be painful for the rest of a person’s life. Wine keeps me rocking all of the time nowadays. I know, your memory won’t be erased entirely in such a short period of time, but the more I drink the more it helps.  With more massive hangovers I’ll be able to abandon your thoughts from my mind

Hey Honey, how are you? How is your new love? Do you think I’m drunaaaaak?

So how are you ……? Who am I…?

BRETHREN, FRIENDS, COUNTRYMEN, AND FELLOW SUBJECTS NEVER EVER LOVE A BITCH!

Signing off,

Yours but not yours,

The King of the world

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS

Mr Nobody’s letter to the lady class representative of his class(college)

Hello, So how are you today?

Well, I think your faintly stout body is finally glowing like never before, and I believe you can carry your surplus flesh as sensuously as some girls of your age can. Hope everything is up to the mark and going as per your plan and you are enjoying life to maximum extent possible!

Now, you may be fit and fine and enjoying life to the fullest, but I’m not by any means feeling good at all. The reason is you! Let me tell you how, but before that, tell me something: did I cause you any harm? Or did I belittle you somewhere, sometime? Anytime? Did I say something which you found to be utterly rude or indigestible? I’m not sure if I did any of these ever because you have never given me a clue to know. However, if I did, I did it inadvertently; to hurt you in any way is never my design.

Please tell me, why you do show so much partiality: you send text messages to some students informing them about the lectures and the timing of the college which keeps changing every now and then as if our college is on a rollercoaster; you tell all the other students about the sudden cancellation of some lectures, about the functions and about all other activities that take place in our college. But why don’t you ever inform me about any of these things?  Why am I deprived of my rights of knowing something which is really important? Just like others I expect you to inform me about any changes that take place regarding our class, our college. Well, you do take care of others’ interest pretty well, you want to have a good place in their heart, but you never inform me, you never want to have good place in my heart. What do you think, others’ have a golden heart and I possess a charcoal black heart or something?

Do you know how much trouble I’ve to face because of the lack of information? Every day I have to catch an auto from the place where I live, then I get on board of a train from the railway station which is near my locality, and then, I reach the railway station nearest to our college and get down from the train and again from there I have to catch another auto to reach the college. You can well imagine how much time, money, and energy I spend every day. I feel completely exhausted. You have been chosen as the CR of the class, which means you have been given some rights, and as you may be aware that every right has a proportional duty, so please, I beg you to take care of your duty as much as you enjoy your rights!

Now, you may ask me, why don’t I raise the aforementioned questions to your counterpart (the man CR of the class) who is equally responsible as you are. Well, let me tell you, I don’t expect much from an asshole, so that’s the reason I don’t ask him.

Inform me if you will, if you think I deserve to know about the activities that takes place in our college. As much as you consider the college to be yours, so do I, and so does all the other students of our college. Don’t shy away from your duty but do send your valuable text messages, for doing that you’ll have my gratitude.

If I’ve said something wrong that you find offensive, please do forgive me. Forgiving someone is indeed a kind act, and you being so kind, don’t hesitate to forgive me, please!

Always yours,

Mr. Nobody

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS