To the Man of my Life

To the Man of my Life

To the Man of my life,

I am in a pretty bad shape now, when I am writing this to you.

Over a dinner, a couple of weeks ago, a good friend of mine blatantly argued on the existence of pure love and soul mate. While he argued raising points on the disputable emotion called “true love”, my dreams suffered a minor jerk. Since childhood, I have been in awe with the idea of dreamy world, fancies and happy life. As days progressed, reality tried to seep its way into my world. However, I, not wanting to acknowledge the truth, camouflaged my world with the real world by heaps of clouds called “hope”.

It is still this hope in me that is attempting to write a letter to you.

There is something I wish to ask you before I crib about my difficulties. Do you love playing hide and seek? No? Or are you watching me in disguise? Don’t you see the eagerness in my eyes to find you? I glance at strangers on road and wonder if it is you.

Where do I search you? In cities? villages? mountains? plateaus? Honestly, I am exhausted. I want to take a leap and skip this process of finding you. I even wonder at times if you are an alien or a mermaid man.!! You know the universe is too large for me. I can cross seven seas and over a lakh mountains if I know the direction. But, that isn’t the case here. Your existence is questioned by people. And they unsolicitedly advise me to settle down for any damn thing lesser than you. “I can’t”, I say upfront. I don’t want to be the princess who kissed a frog to find her prince charming. I am trying to protect the virgin feelings of first kiss, touch so as to completely fall in love and relive those moments later.

Please understand that the problem is severe. I ravenously think about you each minute. I miss you whenever I spot a couple sharing a frankie. I miss you in my every photo taken in DSLR. I miss you beside me in the bus. I miss your smell. I miss the kiss you would settle on my forehead. I miss leaning my head on your chest and feeling the warmth of your breath. I miss your fingers on my curves. I miss you when reading a romantic novel or watching an intimate seen in a movie.

Monsoons are no longer fun and refreshing. Summers are turning mundane. Winters are missing you under my blankets. You are not my want, you are my Need.

Love, I urge you to come for I will become breathless soon. Stories of nearly three decades are to be told to you. There are a lot more memories to be created. River Thames, Eiffel tower, Australian barrier reefs, African forests and Sydney Opera House, are waiting for our love. My new bed sheets, porcelain plates, silky hair are impatiently waiting for your touch. My parched lips and body are dying for the stir and storm you would create when you appear. It would be magic I guess. Like as they say….thunders, high tide, full moon, cool breeze, drizzle. Only you and me when rest of the world is on a vacation. I am sure you wouldn’t want to miss the chance.

Where ever you are – fighting a battle like a Greek warrior or flying in the outer space or diving in the deep seas or developing a computer program or saving the world against dreadful diseases or preaching great things or meditating, please appear right now. Be here in front of my eyes before I finish this letter. Hold my hand before this wind passes away from me. Close my eyes from behind and whisper in my ears. Clasp your arms around me and normalize my restless heavily thumping heart. For once, come over and prove the distressed world that true love does exist. Restore their faith in happy stories and settle down in my arms.

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