Rose Day

I still remember how you had created a CD with your favourite songs and gave it to me for listening. I think the songs stay in the memory and became my favorite in the coming years. What I have always wanted was to create a playlist for you like the one you had made that year for me.

This year, I think I will listen to these songs on every day of the Valentine week and watch a few chick-flicks to make myself feel good a put on share some really good quotes from memorable books that we used to discuss.

Like the rose that I gifted that year, I will gift you a list of handpicked melodies though it might make you go back in time to our days of togetherness and transport you a  different world like it did to me.

This Rose day brings you back to me again and I celebrate it with old favourites playing in the background. 

Rose Day: Sacred Spaces

In times of despair and darkness, your soul lingers on a favourite memory for a second and without knowing how or why, there is shift in thinking that realign you to the present. This memory could be a place near the River Green, where you grew up or could be the verdant campus where you studied or your favourite space in your house.

The spaces you love, the view that your balcony offers, your favourite reading space in the drawing room or the serene space you have made for your gods-all become memories to be visited in the mind's eye.

However, my favourite space was my armchair from where I visited many imaginary lands and learnt the magic of written words. The view that this room offered was lovely, with the blue skies and the sight of tall buildings etched across. During the rains, this is the space from where I sang my favourite songs.

Yet my love, you are my favourite sacred space, the one I visit every day, whenever I think of our days of togetherness, the one secret haven where I rest when in strife and where my soul might linger even after I am gone.

You are that sacred space that I will inhabit in the realms of dreams where the bonds of this world don't matter any longer.

Years: Rose Day

May be it was part of my bravado to make  fun of love and how lovers feel when they meet after a long time.

Though the hourglass looks still, the days have fled so fast as if on wings. Here we are, the writer and the written, the wanderer and the dreamer, face to face, eye to eye.

I don't know where you have been and whom you have met but I would like to hear what passed day by day, hour by hour, second by second.

I might have to fight back all the tears of absence that have weighed my heart and you may have to slow down the countless words that never found a way to the lips.

But god willing, when that day finally comes,  I want it to remain still like forever and I want to tell you for sure that I know what a love story really feels like.