Lovers in Rome

on Friday, 27 January 2012

"May be, we should have gone to Rio", She said.


"Instead of Rome, We should have gone to Rio. You know how much I hate the cold. It makes me bad tempered and irritable. My feet were cold the whole time. Rome was a bad idea in December, what were we thinking?"

"Why does it matter now?"

"Life is made of memories, and we would have made great ones in Rio. Better than the ones we made in Rome"

"Life is made of feelings too and back then, I loved you too much to care if your feet were cold all the time, All I wanted to do was look deep into your eyes and tell you how much I loved you"

"You said -  'back then' "

"Yes, I said 'back then' "


"Sill girl! I mean - now,  there are other things that  I want to do besides just declare my affections for you"

she chuckled, "You have the heart of a wanderer.You always had lists - places to go , things to do, people to meet, stories to make."

"Yes,this story will be the best of all"

She had that hard look in her eyes, the one he hated. He knew then , that she had made up her mind.

She said, "Stories without me in them, places without me next to you."

"Life is also made of hard decisions. This is one such for me, I hope you know that"

She looked up, deep into his eyes. "Life is made of sacrifices too, besides, there is the whole love thing."

"Yes, there is the love thing. And the sacrifice thing. For 20 years I sacrificed everything else for love, maybe it's time to sacrifice love for everything else."


"I'll see you later, maybe?"


She walked away.


on Sunday, 15 January 2012

She came to me in the middle of winter at beginning of a white weekend. I remember the warmth of my morning coffee on that Saturday. I remember looking out the window and thinking how the world had turned white and black generously sprinkled with shades of grey. I remember looking towards the east, at the ominously grey skies and trying to find the sun hoping it would warm my cheeks. It took me a while, but when I did find it, the sun was hardly more than a gentle lamp in the sky.

She came unexpectedly. I remember the pounding in my ears and the sound of my breath. Was that really my heart?  Most of all, I remember her eyes. They were a deep green , like a tiny bit of spring in the middle of winter. Sometimes, when I looked closely enough, I thought I saw specks of gold in them. She was my own little bundle of warmth. And joy, oh-so-much-joy!

The doctors said that there was something wrong with her. She did not respond fast enough, but I knew that there was something special about her and that they didn't understand. She didn't think like everyone else. She was a child of spring born in the middle of winter, her mind belonged with colours and music.Her thought did not follow linear steps of logic but followed her own inner rhythm. She needed her own special world, where spring lasted for ever. I knew it before they said it, of course, she did not belong here, with us. She had to go, I knew.

But I had endless days of spring while I had her.

Together we discovered that the world was made of interesting patterns and secret laws. There was an Underthing full of small thingammables which scurried all day and sometimes deep into the night to keep the middle stable. The middle was pushed into place by the beautiful blue Overthing that was filled with white fluff that attracted winged thwangs, which looked for hidden gold all the time. We had to eat apples to discover hidden wishes and drink our milk everyday because it filled up our bones. Sleep was good because, it helped the night fairies spread magic dust on the flowers.

Winter melted into spring with flowing colours and fresh blossoms everywhere. Soon summer followed with walks in the park and hot splashes in the pool. Autumn was a canvas of yellows and oranges which my Zola told me were because of the sun sending some of his warmth to the earth to prepare her for the upcoming winter. Soon all seasons blurred into long walks and laughter, hot cookies fresh from the oven,dips in the lake and made-up stories about numbers that just wouldn't stay put on paper! As is the nature of things, time did fly by, we must have had a lot of fun.

On another winter day, in another time, with another storm building up in the east and suffocating the early morning sun, I look out the window again and wait for spring. For, in spring, I remember my Zola best.


on Thursday, 12 January 2012

20 minutes. To build it up, to grind it to dust. To make it up, to break it down. To run up and reach, to crash and burn. Weave a wreath of magical words, shatter a cherished dream with harsh reality. Make or break.