By My Bedside

She snoozed the alarm. But she knew that the other alarm was on her way to her room. Nylie came in and walked around like she owned the place. She was always so fresh in the morning. Something that Sasha liked and hated. Then, as was tradition, Nylie jumped on Sasha's bed. Then she licked her face.

"No Nylie..stop...," groaned Sasha. But Nylie wouldn't. She jumped on the sheets and sniffed Sasha's groggy face. Then she rubbed her wet nose on Sasha's cheeks. "Alright okayyy...I'm up," said Sasha.

There was nothing new about that day. Sasha went to work, met her friends and came back home.


There was nothing extraordinary about that day.


The next day however, there was something different. But Sasha didn't notice it.


She didn't notice it the next day either. When she did, a week had passed.

Nylie entered her room but did not jump on her bed. She settled herself on Sasha's bean bag, rested her golden head on it and looked at Sasha. She only looked.

Sasha woke up that morning. For a week now, her second alarm did not wake her up. She looked over at Nylie. "What's up baby....are you feeling okay?" Nylie looked up, tilted her head like she always did when she was spoken to, and continued to look at Sasha.

After breakfast, while getting ready, Sasha kept looking at Nylie, wondering what was up with her. Maybe she's not feeling well. She'll be fine...I guess.

Weekend.Nylie followed Sasha around like a lost pup. "She's forgotten her mom," said Sasha's mother. "She's stopped following me around."

Sasha got slightly worried.
"I don't know what's up with Nylie. She's been acting strange for a week. You think she's sick mom?"
"I don't think so. She's eating fine, sleeping fine. She doesn't have a fever.."
"But she's been looking a little morose. She doesn't stop following me. Is she depressed?"
"Does that happen to dogs?"
"I don't know. Is there any reason for her to be depressed?"
"Maybe you should spend more  time with her, Sasha. Take her out for a walk more often."
"Hmmm..yeah. Alright."

Sasha felt a little light headed that day. She still decided to take Nylie for a walk. But Nylie did not want to go for an extra walk after dinner. She sat in her bed and resumed staring at Sasha. These days she only stared.

Two weeks. Nylie hadn't chased any pigeons in two weeks.
She only chased Sasha around. Sasha bundled up her dog and sat with her in her bed. She spent a lot of her time these days patting, talking, kissing, cuddling Nylie. But Nylie's reciprocation of love was no match to Sasha's. Whenever she could, she would rest her head on Sasha's knees, run herself against her. She mourned when Sasha left the house to go to work.
She mourned when Sasha fell sick and puked.
When Sasha went to meet her friends.
When Sasha went to the bathroom.
She mourned whenever Sasha was out of sight.

"I've checked her. She seems to be in perfect health. She's not really depressed. Internally, there's nothing wrong with her," assured the doctor.
"Why has she suddenly become so insecure of me?"
"Dogs move in packs and elect a leader on their own. Sometimes they may even change their idea of the leader. She, I think, has changed who she thinks is the leader. First it was your mom, now it's you."
"But why?"
"Dogs have a strong sixth sense. There must be something related to you that she now thinks is leader-like..."

As an after thought, the doctor also said, "Sometimes dogs also assume themselves as the leader of the pack. They therefore consider it their duty to protect people of their clan. In that case, she's simply looking out for you."

Another week passed by.

Yesterday Sasha felt light headed again. Nylie went in and out of her room the whole day.

Today, however, everything changed.
Today Sasha sat in the bathroom for a long time. Nylie stood outside the door. Both cried together.



That evening, Sasha made up her mind. She knew what was to be done.
-----------------------------
She didn't need anybody else to come with her. No one knew. There was only one person who did, and it was she who accompanied Sasha. Somehow, no one questioned why a dog was in the hospital.

Sasha looked up at the ceiling, feeling peaceful. She wasn't carrying any weight around--emotional and physical. The problem was aborted. She was free. All attachments were severed. She knew her mind. She finally knew her mind.

Tonight Nylie slept in Sasha's bed. Sasha stroked her beautiful golden head and felt comforted and secure. She knew those feelings were mutual. Two days had passed since the hospital visit.

Nylie hadn't mourned in two days.

Come fly with me

She settled herself on the seat and looked in front. She really wasn't looking forward to this journey. 9 hours on the flight. Kill me, she thought. If only I had remembered to keep my sleeping pills handy.

People started filling in slowly. She prayed that the seat next to her remains empty. Just then a man in semi formals sat next to her. He half smiled at her. Dead, she thought.
--------
She finished the breakfast and looked outside the window. The man next to her shifted in his seat. He's going to start a conversation, she thought. Somehow, she always knew when people wanted to start talking. Somehow, everyone seemed to want to talk to her. Somehow, she didn't understand why.

"So, your first time in London?" he asked.
"Second. Yours?" she asked
"I visit London every year. My family is settled there."
"Hmmm.."
"By the way, I am Mark."
"Uma.."
They shake hands.
"So what do you do?"
"I'm an accountant. Just visiting some friends in London. How about you?"
"I have an export business.. So do you like your job?"
"Well....it's alright..." she said trailing off. This was her least favourite topic of discussion. An accountant was the last thing she ever wanted to be.
"Good for you. I'm not that crazy about my work."
"You have your own business. Doesn't that keep you on your toes?"
"It's a family business....."
She wanted to tell him to say no more. She got the point. He didn't add to his either.
They sat in silence for a while. Think I should continue the conversation? He started it so....

"So, work brings you to India?"
"Oh, I am an Indian. I'm a half and half. My mom's British, my dad's Indian. I spend most of my time in India."
"Oh, interesting. ."
----
She fell in and out of sleep for an hour. She felt that Mark too was having trouble sleeping. Finally she gave up trying to sleep and opened her eyes. She saw him looking at her. He smiled, embarrassed, and said, "I find it quite difficult to sleep on the plane."
"Me too."
They smiled.
"What do you do apart from work?", he asked.
"Well...I like reading.."
"Really? What kind?"
"Ohh you wouldn't be interested.."
"No no..tell me!"
"Classics..mostly drama."
He sat up straight and looked at her bright eyed.
"Go on..." He said
"A lot of people think its cliched but I like Shakespeare.."
"How lovely. Me too.."
She smiled and looked in a distance and said..

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frests his hour upon the stage, and then is..."

She turned around to face him, since he started reciting the lines along with her

"....heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

They laughed.
"That's one of my favorite lines.." said Uma.
"Same.." he said.
-------------------
"So what kind of music do you listen to" he asked.
"Rock and roll" said Uma.
"To say the least, we both seem to share the same interests," said Mark.
"Let's see then. Your favourite band?"
"The rolling stones. You?"
"Haha.. Would you believe it if I said the same!"
"I grew up listening to them.."
"In fact, that was the first time I came to London. In 2007 to watch their A Bigger Bang concert!"
"Really!?! I was there too!"
They both laughed again. And it gets interesting, thought Uma.
"For all you know, we might have met during the concert back in 2007.." said she.
"Believe me, you'd have remembered me if you had met me. I was the weirdest looking adolescent. I was difficult to miss..." said Mark.
"Haha.. We all looked silly back then.."
"Nah, I was exceptionally silly.."
"You know what was actually 'exceptional' about that concert..?"
"The digital representation of the Big Bang?"
"Hahahah...exactly!"
----
How many spoons of sugar?
One spoon, no milk, thought Mark
"One spoon, no milk," she said.


2 spoons, decaf with peanuts, thought Uma.
"2 spoons, decaf. Would you have some salted peanuts too?" he said
"Sure sir," said the stewardess.
---------

"So..I write too, sometimes," said Uma.
"Poetry?"
"How do you know that?"
"At this point, I feel I already know a lot about you. You basically seem to like everything I like!"
"You write poetry too?"
"Yup."
"Crazy...no wait. I've been writing since I was 9."
"I started when I was 11."
"Do you still write?"
"No, but when I do get the time, I scribble sometimes.."
"Haiku.."
"How did you know?"
"At this point, I feel I already know a lot about you...."
"Hahaha.."
--------
"Do you have a rash? Your neck is all red.." he said.
"Oh it'll go..."
"Urticaria?"
"Hmmm..."
"Happens with old woolens right?"
He smiled. Can it be?..., he thought.
------------
"Nice tattoo.." said Mark.
"Thanks...Ah.. it's a flower," she said, half looking at her wrist.
"Nice. Looked like some wonky writing at first..."
She looked at him. He looked back mischievously. She smiled, embarrassed. Then they turned away.
--------
"We're going to land in half an hour..." said Uma.
"Ummhmmm.."
"You're going to start panicking now, aren't you?"
I must be mad, she thought. This guess work is too specific. Am I getting too hopeful?
He looked at her, intently.
Then he smiled, nodded and looked away.
"You already know a lot," said Mark.
"I think I know why.." whispered Uma.
She wasn't sure if Mark heard that.
-----
"You know the hardest part about a long plane ride?" said Uma.
"No internet?" said Mark.
"Yeah. Can't check my mails...or Facebook..."
"Blogs, comments and unfinished conversations...." finished Mark.
Ah well, time's up, they thought.

------

"So..you're a professional writer huh..", said Mark.
"Just as much as you are a painter."
"It is my hobby..!"
"Writing is my hobby too! Anyway, I'm glad we brought up Shakespeare."
"Nah, it was Rolling Stones that did it."
"Oh yes, and that reminds me. So you WERE there at the concert in London! Why didn't you tell me!"
"I told you, I was an awkward looking youth. I didn't want to sabotage my chances with you.."
"So who was that guy who's picture you sent me?'
"Haha..I don't know him. He was some abercrombie model."
"What! So I have been chatting with someone else all these years!"
"Haha. It was just a different face, but it was me all along!
"I can't believe it.." said Uma half amused, half shocked. "I thought I was friends with the hottest guy in the world.."
"Actually, you're no better! What about the 'flower tattoo' and the fact that you're 5' 9". The tattoo was originally the name of your ex boyfriend written in Chinese, I figured that out much later. I had to zoom and scan and what not to figure that out! Haha. And madam, as far as I see it, you are most certainly a 5 feet nothing!"
They laughed for a bit and went quiet. The announcement about the landing echoed inside the plane.
-------------------
"It's been 9 years Mark. Nine years of finding you on a poetry site and talking to you. It feels surreal to be sitting next to you."
"Well...one can safely say that the world is small.."
"Yes..."
"It's been nice knowing you there.."
"Yes, same here. Quite frankly, I can't do without our conversations."
"Come to think of it, would it have mattered if we hadn't met..."
"Not to me. For the first time, reality is rather dull, eh?"


They went quiet. Lost in thought, Uma looked outside the window. Then a thought crossed her mind that gave her worry.
Looking back at Mark, she said, "You know, we did lie to each other a lot about how we look.."
"But we were truthful about who we really are. Does it matter that we lied about how we look?"
"Not really...does it matter to you?"
"Nahh..."


He yawned and looked around. And then at Uma. She didn't looked convinced.
He explained, "Look. Over the years of our conversations, you and I were as we are - stripped down to our bare, honest, truthful selves. I liked you then, I like you now. That virtual friendship has been more real than the ones I have had in the real world. I would like to keep it that way. I'd like to meet you again Uma, but in a world that we find comfortable and friendly. The world where we met. I want to see you again as the green dot that appears on my chat screen. That status that still makes my heart jump. I want to resume our lives from where we started of. There is nothing unreal about the web. For many years now, because of you, that has been my most valued reality."

She smiled and felt grateful. She felt she could spend the rest of her life with Mark in that chat box.

"And about all the lies we told each other?"
"Ha ha. For that I'd like to quote the famous Mr. Rhett Butler- Quite frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

The landing was smooth. They collected their belongings. Shook hands, looked at each other one last time and departed from separate exits.

One rainy night

Dafaq. The first thought that crossed my mind when I walked towards the exit gate of the Metro station. The winds and rain came down on us like they were at war. I could hear the loud 'thud thud' echoing from the cars parked outside the station. Crowd started gathering around the exit, no one dared to walk outside in the rain. No umbrella, raincoat or a sudden sprint towards safer shades could save anyone from being drenched to the skin. I like the rain, I do. But this feeling is relative. In any other city of this country, I wouldn't mind walking, strolling and smiling in the rain. Rains do bring back beautiful childhood memories.

But at night when it is raining. In Delhi. Walking on the streets alone. That, is a different feeling altogether. That, is neither a happy feeling nor does it induce nostalgia. All you're thinking is - a. I hope I'm not transparent. b. I hope I get an auto. c. I hope the driver is not a creep. I stepped out of the station seeing that the rain would go on for at least an hour. Within five minutes, my umbrella was ruffled by the wind. It became a flower. I had to throw it away and walk towards the auto stand.

Not a single one in sight. Through the haze I could see a few bystanders pacing up and down the street to catch or jump into a running auto. Not a bus, not even a tempo was in sight. The stretch of road was eerily deserted with just rain and the night for company. I shivered as the winds blew without a care, a sense of foreboding took over me. Tonight, if I reach home unscathed, it’ll be a miracle.

Just then an auto came and stopped next to me. I jumped in and the man drove without a word. I kept looking around the place, hoping to see signs of people to feel psychologically safe. Through the mist and the faint street lights,I did see someone.  I saw a silhouette of a man hailing down my auto. I was immediately irritated and asked the driver to go faster. For one, who can guarantee the intentions of the auto driver. And then another passenger. NO, this auto is MINE. How many men can a single, drenched girl handle.  As we crossed the man, I saw his face. It was reproachful.…I cursed under my breath and asked the driver to stop. Great, I have just increased my chances of getting raped tonight. But his face, something about his face made me take the chance.

The man hopped on. He sat on the corner of the seat. He didn't look at me. He seemed shy but I had my guards on. Along the street we rode together, the three of us silenced by the rain screaming in our ears. There were no streetlights, the driver had to stick his head out to see where he was going. Suddenly, as luck would (not) have it, the auto broke down. There I was, stuck in the middle of I-could't-figure-out-where,  with two potential rapists for company. Even though, up till now, they were decent with me. I prayed to at least 56 Gods within those 15 minutes. I was mute while the two men were busy figuring out what went wrong with the auto. Cars and trucks were zipping past us. Not one stopped. The guy never once looked at me and spoke to the street while directing his assurance to me, "Koi baat nahi, shuru ho jayega (Don't worry, it'll start)."

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I could hear the promising purring of the auto engine. Saved. We rode ahead, all three of us wet and cold. The guy spoke to me while again looking at the street, "Appko kahan utarna hai (Where do u need to get off)?" I answered without looking, playing it cool and confident, "Sector 56." He said, "Uhh mujhe toh sector 22 mein utarna hai. Mujhe chaurahe pe utar dena (Uhh. I need to get off at 22. Just drop me off at the intersection.)" My mind immediately thought, yeah that sounds cool. Who wants to go all the way to drop him home. I chanced a look towards him. He still had a reproachful face. Screw you, I thought. I can't handle the guilt. Hating myself I said, "Bahut baarish ho rahi hai, aapko ghar he chord denge (It's raining a lot, I think we will drop you home)." Perfect. Sector 22, shadiest sector in Noida. A plan to drop him to the door step, laying the bait for my own rape. I swore loudly in my mind. But his face, something about his face made me take the chance.

We rode into his sector, drove inside the narrow lanes. It was almost pitch dark, the auto headlight was the only light providing us hazy visibility. In the middle of no where, the guy asked the auto driver to stop. I gulped. It was a lone bungalow, the only one on the street. If he makes a move, I'm going to rip his face apart. Such violent thoughts make me confident.

The guy got off and paid the driver full 100 rs. He told the driver not to charge me. I looked at him suspiciously. He looked straight into my eyes for the first time and said, " Bahut dhanyawad auto rokne ke liye. Aaj meri wife aur baccha pehli baar ghar aa rahe hain hospital se. Aaj late hona nahi banta! (Thank you so much for stopping the auto and giving me a ride home. My wife and baby are coming home tonight for the first time from the hospital. I couldn’t afford to be late today)." I was completely taken aback. I smiled. All I could say was a weak, "yeahh....."

 From the gate he called out to the driver, shouting directions for the best way out of the sector. I think he might have waved too.

The ride home from there was a really pleasant one.

Past Perfect

A short story I wrote for a contest once. The topic was love letters. Here it is

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where are you going?" she asked him softly, like it was practice, knowing very well where he was headed. He did not answer; he usually never did. A blank, dazed expression had made room in his eyes for some years now. They saw everything but reflected nothing. "Posts..." he said, trailing towards the door.

He was gone for a few minutes but Lata wasn't worried. This is a drill he will follow for a while now, she thought. He came back from the postbox, with the second envelope, addressed to him. He sat on the living room couch and leafed through the pages. She watched him read for some time and walked away.

"Dearest Sunil,

This is my second letter to you.

Do you know you have the most beautiful eyes? It's just the right shade of light brown. I loved looking into your eyes; they reassured me. Today was our second meeting. I was still shy but you seemed composed. Of course I knew it was just an act—your hands betrayed you. Never before did I ever find it so endearing to shake a sweaty hand. I loved the way you spoke. Every moment swept me towards our future together. You spoke of your travels, I thought of our home. While you told me about your past, I imagined us aging together. It pained me to say goodbye to you that evening. The more I knew you, the more I was convinced that we were meant to be. Many prospects had come my way but what did they even mean to me? While the elders spoke about our union, my heart, I knew, was already yours. Every meeting made me think of the next.You were addictive.

As you got up to leave, we didn't shake hands. This time, you just held mine.

You have a scar on your left foot, did you know? It's a birth mark. I think it's beautiful.

I love you, Lata
-------------------

The next day flowed lazily. White noise was a neighbour now. Nothing had changed. He spent the day watching the birds and the trees, and never emoted. He ate his meals while she watched him from a distance. Loneliness was now a friend.

Next day, he opened the third letter in a slight hurry—as if his life was rewriting itself.

Dearest Sunil,

My love and admiration for you grew the day you put your foot down in front of my father and said, "Lata will study as much as she likes. After she graduates, we will tie the knot." You waited while I drowned myself in notes and books. On the night of my graduation, you bought me a beautiful yellow silk sari. I got your name embroidered on the blouse sleeves. So silly of me! I still have that sari. It reminds me of our youth.

You got your wisdom tooth during our courtship days. But it was extremely painful. You had to get it extracted.  With a swollen mouth, you went mute for two days. Those two days, time stood still. During that time when conversations were the foundation of our relationship, silence didn’t do us any good.

I love you, Lata.

--------------------------------------

He walked around the house, today a little more dazed. He sipped his coffee while looking at Bindu, the sparrow, his beautiful evening companion. Today she was building a nest. Lata asked him, "Isn't it fascinating?" He looked at Bindu and whispered in his frail voice, "Bindu is a big girl."

He walked a little further outside the house today. Should I go after him? Lata thought. Many minutes went by. He came back with an envelope in his hands. He walked towards the dining room. Pulled up a chair and read.

Dearest Sunil,
We danced the whole night; the entire universe was celebrating. One night before our wedding, our families put up endless performances. While waltzing across the floor, we whispered sweet nothings to each other. I buried my face in your coat. I wasn't nervous about the next day. Getting married to you was everything to me. It was like freedom, my soul felt light. From the day I first met you, I knew one thing—this fits. As I smiled to myself, you whispered in my ear."We will have a daughter. Her name will be Bindu."

You burnt your wrist that night when you insisted on cooking. That was my first day in the kitchen. You still have a mark on your wrist.

I love you, Lata.
--------------------------

When she walked into the living room after her bath, she knew immediately that something was new today. He was bent over, looking inside the fridge. He looked around but it did not seem he wanted anything. She walked over towards him and asked him, “What do you want?” He didn’t answer as usual. His movements seemed confused, yet he pulled out the ice pack with the surety, with purpose. 

The next day the letter read.

Dearest Sunil,
You were made the Vice President of your company. A big position with multiple perks. Your parents were extremely pleased and I was beside myself. You were the pride of your family. In almost every family gathering, most conversations started with, "Sunil this...Sunil that." I was proud, of course. But I never said it. Because you knew it.

Good days continued but then came the grey ones. You became busy, I saw you less. You travelled more and you stressed a lot. Normal food was replaced by medicines. You started losing weight, you became careless about yourself. Things changed slowly but surely. But I mostly never complained. You mother always told me, "A good wife only supports, she doesn't question." But you still gave me answers. You were always guilty.

Your hard work did pay off eventually. Your company gave us a penthouse. A house that came right out of our dreams. The first day we entered it, it almost felt like the first day of our marriage. We laughed, we ran around the house, we sang. The world had suddenly brightened up. You and I were newlyweds again.  

As a young man, you had a problem of nose bleeds. Every summer your nose bled at least twice. Your mother and mine spent most of their time advising about various concoctions and natural remidies that would prevent the bleed. You just smiled and waved them off. "I'll be fine," you said. So every evening you came home looking for the ice pack kept in the fridge. I laughed seeing the same drill every day. You would sit in front of your files, with an ice pack on your head, diligently doing your work. You said this was the best solution. You made me laugh.

I love you, Lata

--------------------------------------

She saw him walk towards his room. He carried the three envelopes in his hand. She walked behind him, curious. He looked around the room, confused but slightly certain of something. She wanted to help, to go in and ask him. But she knew this was not the time. He was in the process of discovering something significant.

He walked towards a suitcase kept next to the window sill, camouflaged with her shawls, bed sheets and packets of incense sticks. He opened it and dropped those letters in them.

The next morning, he slowly tore the new letter.

Dearest Sunil,
You remember that amazing trip we took together to Rome? Bindu was 10 that time. You bought a beautiful suitcase from there, I remember. You said, "This will be my dear diary. You will remember me by the contents of this bag." Years passed by and you kept many souvenirs, letters and Bindu's broken toys here. This bag is truly a reflection of you.

You started losing your hair during your mid thirties. I always thought you looked handsome even with scanty hair.

I love you, Lata.
-----------------------
"Chinki," he said in his frail voice. She came running out of the kitchen. "What!...What did you just call me?" He looked blank, his eyes were vacant. Minutes passed by, they became painful. She cleared the table and walked away.

Dearest Sunil,
We lost our son before he came into the world. We were heartbroken but you hid it, as you always did. A year went by and I remembered our still son every day. You got me out of my thoughts—I thought I would always be lost there. You kept reminding me, "But Chinki, we still have Bindu."  You called me 'Chinki' when you wanted to console me, reason with me. It always worked like medicine.

You have mole on your palm and a mole under your left foot. Both signs of prosperity, the pundit always said.

I love you, Lata
-------------
He sat in the verandah today, and yesterday. He would sit and and watch nothing.
Today, he cried. She didn't go outside to wipe his tears. She let him heal. Maybe my letters are healing? she thought.  

Dearest Sunil,
Our daughter got married today. You were a picture of calm while I stifled my emotions. You held me while I bade her goodbye. A lifetime of happiness awaits her, you said. Smile, don't cry, you said. I buried my face deep onto your coat. I smelled the same cologne you wore on the night before our wedding. I felt reassured.

A month after Bindu's wedding, we got into a car crash. We were saved but your spirit was crushed. It was then that you realised that death was always very close. At all times. Roles were reversed. I became your emotional anchor.

You have a problem squatting, did you know? We always had to choose WC’s for our bathroom!

I love you, Lata.
-------------------------
They sat together in the veranda the whole evening that day. A year had passed, some letters were hidden inside his suitcase, some others forgotten on the veranda table. Their 60 years were captured in words, but did they find their source, she wasn't sure.

The evening they sat in the veranda. Something was different today or was it all the same. She couldn’t tell. She sat with him, watching the trees, the birds and the bees. She too, today, looked at nothing. The evening wrapped its wings around, and left the two alone in the dark. She kept dozing off in between. He never once closed his eyes. Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she felt a tingling sensation in her hand. She felt she was still dreaming. Slowly as she opened her eyes. The movement was gentle but not confused. He slid his shaking, wrinkled hand inside hers. Their fingers intertwined. For the first time, he wasn’t looking towards the vast nothingness in front of him. He was looking into her eyes, she was sure. She wanted to see those brown eyes looking back at her, but it was all dark.

A few moments passed. And then, the sun rose.
------------------------------------------------------------
Dearest Sunil,

This is my first letter to you.

Happy birthday my love. Today is your 90th birthday. As your wife I have no more worldly gifts to give you. I have nothing beautiful to offer. I do, however, have a lifetime of memories that I would like to gift you today.

The slate of your mind has been wiped—you may have forgotten the world. But for me, you are my world.

The day you walked inside my house with your parents, I was too shy to look up. I saw your hands. That was the first thing I fell in love with. Your hands. We spoke inside my room while our parents outside exchanged prolonged pleasantries. You spoke and I just listened. Everything you said made me respect you, made me admire you. When you got up, you shook my hand. I knew I wanted to never let go. This was our first meeting.

I miss us. God has willed differently, I know, but my belief in our love is unshakable. I know one day you will come back. You are lost in your own mind, but your heart still belongs to me.

I love you, Lata.