Beware, My Friends

I am living in the land of nothingness
To the very bottom I have sunk
Happily have I all the poison drunk
For it came from my sweetheart, my princess.

When loving was convenient how madly she loved me
And such rosy pictures painted that at once made me happy
But, unknown to me, alas, the loving had an expiry date
For now in agony I sigh and curse my damnable fate.

Beware, then, my friends
And be careful of those soft little hands
That once would wipe your tears away
Next in your heart with a dagger make way.

Copyright © 2018 RAMU DAS

Lovebirds

Lovebirds often fight,
Make, and then break many a promises
Shed tears, wet their pillows and mattresses
But if one decides to go quiet,
The other seems unable to survive
They are, after all, each other’s delight.

Though their fights are never ending
But as a while goes
In their reasonable and unreasonable reasoning
In all gain and loss
They once again only find a new beginning
And thus their love keeps renewing

That’s how love birds are –
In love while being at war
Near, ever when afar.
Seem uncaring but they care.

Copyright © 2017 RAMU DAS

 

The Importance of Money

Whoever said that money can’t buy happiness (and that money is not everything) should have added, be that as it may, money can surely reduce sadness, money can help make friends, money can keep all kinds of relationships strong, can help buy you those delicious food that you desire, will make people look upon you with reverence, make you a role model (no matter you deserve to be one or not), can give you confidence, can make you feel secure, and money can do so much more. Now, then, would you say money is not important?

It is strange how people give lame excuses when they can’t directly deny you the moment you want to borrow some money. But the strangest of all is when your very near and dear ones (the ones you thought you could depend on), for whom you sacrifice everything, to whom you give your all, seem to maintain a distance from you when you are in need. On the one hand human kind is the embodiment of hope, love and care, but on the other hand we are selfish, ruthless, vainglorious.

To save embarrassments in life, to prevent depression from ruling your life (thereby ruining your life), you should – no, not just should, but you must – make yourself so strong, so capable that you need not ever depend on any one. But what happens when you have too much money? Should you cling on to your money for ever? It is indeed very difficult to part with one’s hard earned money. Not everyone would understand, but the earner of money knows that very well.

The main question that should concern you, however, is when someone’s whole world is crumbling down and they can’t do anything about it, will it be worthy of you to be like those heartless materialist who turn away from helping others? Would you also let others feel what you once felt the moment someone said no to you when you were in need? From your experience you know how much it breaks your heart to find none helping you, therefore, can the knowledge of that prompt you to help the needy as much as you can? You know you have two square meals a day, but there are people who can’t afford a single meal a day; they eat something light once in two days or maybe three days. You might ask ‘Why don’t they work?’ Well, you know, if a skilled person is out of job most of the times, how is an uneducated, unskilled (some disabled) person supposed to get a job.

So, here comes your money. Money can help you help others. Money can open new avenues and empower people to do their best, to see the brighter side of life. Money is, therefore, important. And whoever say money can’t give you happiness, that money is not important, ask them very gently to just go to hell!

Copyright © 2016 RAMU DAS

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

When You Are In Love

True love is hard to find. Once found, there is nothing like it – it is complete bliss! Love makes the world go round, don’t you know.

To a lover, in the beginning, – yes, I will be talking only about the beginning stage of love, for, you see, gracious reader, I am a beginner myself – no one in the world seems as important as his/her lover. When you find your special one, friends’ friendship does not remain as strong as it were before; brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers, relatives seem, all of sudden, secondary. Lovers’ love becomes the top-notch objective; lovers’ interest comes before anybody else’s.

It may seem strange to others, as it once seemed to me, how lovers often confine their worlds around each other; how upon the slightest utterance of one lover’s name the other brightens up, becomes somewhat restless, blushes. The way one lover takes care of the other, it seems to a lover, no other can do. The loverly love is divine (or so, a lover finds).

Everything to a third person may seem ridiculous, but only a lover knows love’s power. You must fall in love to know this, this peculiarity of lovers; what feelings/thoughts one lover evokes in the other.

Newly in love – my love, I ought to say, is true to the core – I feel elated and excited. I could not have gotten any other person as good as the person I have found. I love her for what she is, and she reciprocates. The woman I am in love with is the woman I am going to marry. I am not married yet, you see, neither is she married (you may verify this bit of information if you like, ha-ha!), so I believe we were destined to know each other; now I have come too far and I cannot think of not marrying her, and, of course, I cannot allow my mind, not even remotely, to think she would not be mine. Love is ours, and our solid emotional investment must bear fruit (veterans, don’t discourage me by some stupid funny quotes like this one: “A man in love is incomplete until he has married. Then he’s finished.”). Our relationship is going great. In most of my waking hours I think of her, and, she tells me, she does the same. I feel lucky to be in love with her. She is, in more ways than one, better than me. But we don’t really make any comparisons. Our love is unconditional. Love makes a person humble. We stop being headstrong and learn to compromise wherever necessary. We crack silly jokes and laugh at them too. In short, I am happy with the way things are going; I am happy with my love life. I have learnt to be selfless, and now I am more concerned about her happiness than mine. I know if she is happy I will be happy.

More often than not, lovers are possessive about each other. My roommate often quarrels with his girlfriend (lover). They have a long-distance relationship; he stays in west side of the country and she in the northeast. They call up each other every day and speak for hours and hours. With them every petty issue slowly turns in to a major problem, and, when helpless, my roommate comes to me for advice and suggestions as though I am a love guru or something of that sort. Just the other day he had a long argument with his girlfriend. In the morning, he sent her some messages on WhatsApp and although she saw his messages but he got no reply from her. He saw her online and yet she did not respond to his messages. He was enraged at this. He called her up, her phone was busy; she was talking with someone, but who? At this thought he was further enraged. Every now and then when he comes to me with his complaints I try to console him as much as possible. Earlier, when I was not in love, I used to find this outburst of emotions unreasonable and superfluous. Now that I am in love I know this outburst of emotions is reasonable and genuine.

If you are not in love you would not know what feelings lovers have, why they are possessive about each other, why they act and react the way they do. You would know this and more when you are in love!

I like this song and I dedicate this song to my love, my dear Moon (by the way, Moon is her name), and to all other lovers like me:

Copyright © 2015 RAMU DAS

As I See You Growing

When out you came into the world
And spread your limbs and made such faces
Like some unwanted exclamations and dashes
A season of great festivity was unfurled.

What joy, oh what joy I derive as I see you growing!
When you fuss, when you cry and when you sing;
When with anger, stuffs from your hand you fling
And defying reason when with joy you leap
In your mother’s wardrobe when you peep;
And when the oversized clothes you try wearing
When you learn, when I know you are knowing
What joy, oh what joy I derive as I see you growing.

I want to tell you all I can
For none loves you more than I, or your mother, do.
Though there will be many a man
Who with an ocean of flattery will try your heart to woo.

Innocent though you are, but of the world you cannot be sure
Society, sweetheart, is knitted by hard and soft strings.
Turbulences and tornados just as admiration and accolades
Are restless birds and never cease fluttering their wings.
Know right from wrong and be careful equally of saints and sods.
But discard not the noble thoughts in you and your heart keep pure.

Copyright © 2015 RAMU DAS

A Damsel Once Found Me Interesting

Much to my surprise a damsel once found me interesting,
And did all the things that a lover tends to do
Tried to understand my joy and my woe
One thing led to another, and our thoughts kept linking.

On my part I was quite unclear from the start,
If she knew lust from love; then which was she truly implying?
However, the validity of her love I refrained from questioning
And let the artist have a free hand on her art.

As days went by, my suspicion grew stronger and stronger
And like Sherlock I began reasoning,
Drew a conclusion and began wondering
How in plain words to her shall I my thoughts decipher.

After a while, as it very often happens,
The affair took a gloomy turn
And nothing of her old love remains
And her memories now I burn.

Copyright © 2015 RAMU DAS

The Love Song

A poet once wrote a love song and it was beautiful. And he made many copies of it, and sent them to his friends and his acquaintances, both men and women, and even to a young woman whom he had met but once, who lived beyond the mountains.

And in a day or two a messenger came from the young woman brining a letter. And in the letter she said, “Let me assure you, I am deeply touched by the love song that you have written to me. Come now, and see my father and my mother, and we shall make arrangements for the betrothal.”

And the poet answered the letter, and he said to her, “My friend, it was but a song of love out of a poet’s heart, sung by every man to every woman.”

And she wrote again to him saying, “Hypocrite and lair in words! From this day unto my coffin-day I shall hate all poets for your sake.”

By Kahlil Gibran

Season To Love And Be Loved

I was minding my own business,

When, however, her gesture, all of a sudden, attracted my attention

Although, I have been told looks are subjective and often do mislead

But she seemed so enticing; I thought should I, once again, gamble on love?

Engulfed as I was with such a great excitement I did listen to the heart one more time.

“Lo and behold!” the heart said once again, as it did before my first heartbreak. “The season is here, the season to love and be loved.”

 

Copyright © 2014 RAMU DAS

I Care

Many a words I may not speak,

But, dearest, you mean the world to me.

Do not think I play any trick,

And don’t fill your heart with jealousy

Never a girl other than you do I see.

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

And She Moved On…

HARK! (Photo credit: MEL810)

Once strangers we were
Soon no strangeness remained
At times, at a distance you were, then so near
And now, aches my heart, oh look! It is maimed.

Blame must I my eye, it sees things changing
Yet a little closer to you I wish to be
Should we, once again, in the rain go dancing?
But oh! Now you care little for me.

Hark, like you, I shall try to move on!
What are you to me anyway, when to you I’m none?
But the residue of my true feelings can never diminish
However, regret I shall not, no… not a thing!
Or be immobile with grief, or loss my sense of being a being
In your thoughts’ sake, I shall but write my verses with great relish.

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

Love Not Confessed

And she would ask me why I write about love.
Is love the only subject I have known?
Why not I write about sparrows and tiger and dove?
Love is love, I tell her, and don’t you moan.

I know very little than love as such.
I think of thoughts and my heart unfold,
Many a tests against me she would hold.
I try to tell her that I love her much.

Keenly I glance at her and I do see:
She thinks not of this man but many a man.
Oh, she thinks of men better than me!
Ah, how do I confess my love for her then?

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS

Betrayal

Naught she cared when out of love I touched her heart

But, alas, out of lust when the son of a gun touches her bosom,

She cries: “Oh, darling, once more, oh just a little more.”

Tell me, oh friend, how can jealousy not play jealousy’s part?

Then, off I go from her, and brood near the silent shore.

Shan’t I love a stripping whore, but take delight in being lonesome.

For love, much I did: once, twice and thrice

And lo! She told me a lie then lies after lies.

 

Copyright © 2012 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 100^th 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 21^st 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

You Are So Unkind!

Much I’ve seen and much felt: Old, new, friends, and foes

I know who cares and loves, and who adds to my woes

My faults I tried to wash away, if any, there has ever been

Yet, I’ve been accused of being private, arrogant, and mean.

 

Promise I to you, that truth is what I only preach

Though, at times, rude I’m may seem in my speech

But just care to consider and try not to be out of my reach

Love that you offer, I’ll return the favor be you a goddess or a witch.

 

Young lass, you cared and implied love (though, not said)

Love lasts in hearts that is pure’s

But that love (that I thought was love) just did fade.

Tell me, how, then, am I your’s?

 

You always wanted to converse with me

And much did I like you and wanted to make you feel free

Concerned I was about you, as I have always been,

And don’t want you to despise me,

Sometimes I don’t, sometimes I do mean

All that I say; I say that you may heartily grin.

 

I wanted to see you laugh and giggle

But so unkind you turned, yet feelings I tried to desist

With hope that you might like me, I did wiggle

My hope is just hopeless, for your intention is to punish

 

I vow not to say a thing, not a single thing!

If that gives you pleasure, and if that’s what you desire

And I’m ready to lose the sense of my being

But my infinite love for you’ll keep burning like fire!

 

Pretended, yes pretended I have, like, not a thing I know

False love, pride, wealth, fame and vanity’s glow are all fatal blow

Prudent, I think, it is to be humble, oh, and what is there to show?

Simplicity, honesty are both strength, yet you thought I’m low.

 

A mere trick to know you better and to speak with you

That I interrogate for suggestions, an answer, or a clarification

Exclusive trick it is, and I judiciously play only with few

My lonely pursuit: writing; my moderate ambition

But oh! Your help means nothing to me.

Your wealth and accolades are yours to keep, from them I try to flee

Nor do your skills, scores, ranks, mean nothing to me

That’s yours, that’s yours; wish you more of it so happy you always be

 

Consider me an eccentric, and I’m as good as a droll

We are not yet done; not very well we played our part

Not just a droll I’m also a Muller, or to you perhaps a fool?

All that has gone, has gone, however, things anew we can start

This thirst for love, I thought, might bring us bliss

But your recent gesture, by all means, was just a painful kiss.

Your recent gesture separated us and took us miles afar

As though stranger I’m, and my proximity to you… you deter.

 

All my worth is on the verge of decay

What value one might intend to add?

To survive can I find no better way?

Cruel love you’re making me extremely mad.

 

Yes, blunders, I admit, sometimes I made

And experienced fear and hurtful hate

But, leaving me uncaringly now that you run

Pity it is, oh love, but such love I shun.

 

And mind you! Never say my love I didn’t display

For I did, as much as I could, in my own way

But you! Did you ever think of me even a wee bit?

When I tried to come closer and attempted to talk

As though, I was someone below your standard and not fit

That ignoring me, boisterously, here and there you did walk

 

I did come with hands clean and intention good

But noticing your gesture, changed my entire mood

Oh, how much you abhor me, I’d never known nor thought

Ah! What love is this, if such malice for me you’ve got?

 

Am I so wretched that an untouchable you make me feel?

Oh! Why do you cause me so much pain that is not easy to heal?

Glimpses of true love and tenderness in you I fail to see

If this is my fate and such life is, so it be!

 

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS 

 

 

 

My Bliss

Bliss, Please (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Oh, condemn me for the fault is all mine
She tried her best
But her feelings I did decline
And walked out in jest

Time and again, her interest in me, she show’d
Approve her love, I must!
One more time my love must glow’d
Before things change to dust

Let me rest and let me die in peace
In her arms where I find my bliss

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS 

Strange Is The Mind

Ideas and thoughts strike the mind
In the lavatory and in places that no one would ever believe
At midnight and at times when I dine
When in the shower or when half asleep

At such odd hours work my mind
To jot my thoughts, handy, no pen or pencil I find
And consider recalling the thoughts after awhile
But strange is the mind, and is not always agile

My mind wonders and keeps on pondering
So aimless, pointless, and sometimes absolutely meaningless
Visits unknown places and keeps wandering
It’d have been better if I was always physically senseless

Sometimes the mind struggles with my heart
And the battle is mostly by the mind, won
The heart’s desire, the mind thwart
Wish mind had a heart of its own

Mind is selfish and is often not right
Although, the mind’s process appears to be brilliant and bright

That may take us to a certain height
Heart speaks of feelings in a manner, very straight.
But oh, mind is firm with its might
That by no means bring to me any delight.

 Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS

Yes, I love you!

 

“I – um – er – I mean – well I – I think – huhh – I mean to say – ahh – that is – I – la – la – la – love you!!”

Mustering up all my courage finally I told her that I love her, although my stammering and hesitation made it sound quite awkward, for sure. But there was immeasurable love in my awkwardness which made her (the girl, I like the most, and of course, love the most on earth) smile and laugh out loud.

“Huh, come again?” she asked turning to my side, her black eye caught my brown eye, and my heart started beating faster and faster. She acted as if she didn’t understand what I was saying, or maybe she just wanted to hear the words one more time. Magical were the words!

My heart’s wish was to be by her side all the time, I can breathe better when she is around. I adhered to and obeyed what my heart wanted, and once again I blurted out the three golden words. Boldly! This time, loud and clear. I didn’t care at all if she was going to mock at my condition or whatsoever; it was my desire to say the words, and it was imperative to let her know what I felt about her so that no other guy could get hold of her.

As I said the three most precious words in English I saw few costly drops of tears rolling down her check, I handed her the scarf that I was holding in my hand, and she wiped her tears away. I don’t know what made her cry, I thought my saying of the words had hurt her, and made her cry. Therefore, I asked her: “My dear, tell me. Tell me why you cry lest I should never forgive myself.”

She stopped crying and smiled a little – I don’t know if that was a real smile or a fake one – but that was just enough to relieve me of the pain I was going through and she said, “Oh dear, you know not how much I love you. I’ve been waiting for this day, and today after two years of knowing each other you have finally said it. You can’t fathom how happy I am!”

“Dear, I wanted to propose to you earlier, but I never had the guts to do so. But hey, look here, I do it today,” I immediately responded.

I always loved her, but the only word I used was ‘like’, never ‘love’ and she always used the word ‘we‘ – (like  ‘we are there for you, don’t feel lonely ‘we’ stand by you‘). Still now I don’t understand who that ‘we‘ refereed to. I wanted to hear her say the word ‘I’ – (something like ‘I’m here for you’). I never considered myself worthy enough to get her love: first of all I’m a poor guy from a poor family, my status among my friends was very low. But I knew she liked me just as I did, for she sometimes said too many caring words when I was a little low, she tried to understand my situation, and when I was angry or frustrated, she consoled me many a times and cracked jokes that made me laugh, and I liked that more than anything else. She made me go crazy, like a little child I fell for her charm.

Today I find what a big fool I was! What a fool I was to have never proposed and say my heart’s words to this pretty, lovely, young, dazzlingly beautiful girl. Oh, she loves me. Yes she does!

“Now, since you love me and I love you, may we kiss?” I asked impatiently. She said not a word, I assumed she had no problem if I did that, as I got my lips closer to her lips, she indicated no displeasure and then I kissed and kissed and kissed a little more. So delicate were her ruby-red lips, I touched her soft little hands, her silky, shiny, long strand of hair bumped on my face. Right then, it started raining. Oh, what a romance it was and we thanked God for arranging everything so perfectly and creating such a romantic atmosphere just like in the movies –romance was in the air and we could feel it and smell it.

We couldn’t resist our temptation and started kissing  each other once again when all of a sudden someone pinched me on my shoulder – it was a hard pinch, not a pinch of love but of anger. It pained, “Ouch!” I said and looked for the thorn in between two roses and found: my elder brother staring at me as if he was going to finish me at a single gulp.

“What the hell! Why are you here? And where is she?!” I was surprise to see him.

“Oye, it’s 9 o’ clock in the morning, won’t you go to college?” my brother shouted.

I noticed my premium pillow was partially wet as if rain poured on it, but there was no way water could seek into the room; there was not even a single hole on the ceiling of my room. I tried to reason that out for five minutes and later realized: it was the consequence of my passionate kisses!

“Yes, I will,” I said, and got up from my bed.

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS