Posted in Letters

Give my love to…her


As I lay here, on my death bed, I would like to share my last wish with you. It’s no surprise that my body will soon wither away, just like the bunch of roses you offered me to take to the grave as a farewell present. So I request you to pick one of the finest roses in the lot and keep it in your shirt pocket, while everyone else is busy with the formalities.
After all the rituals are over, and you head back home, I want you to cry your eyes out. I will not stop you from spilling your emotions because just like the spell of rain ends, so will your grief. As soon as your heart begins to feel better, let your mind take charge of your actions. Change the bed sheets and your pillow covers, and open the curtains. Take a shower, and put on some fresh clothes. You can channel all your thoughts towards your heart right after you do this.
Seems easy, right? I hate to break it to you, but this is only 50% of the task that I have asked you to carry out for my dying soul. You might feel reluctant at first and you have every right to deny my request, but I have valid reasons to still put it forward. Besides, I won’t even be alive to see your bitter reaction. *Inserts tongue out emoticon here*
I suppose you’re all set to go to work. Well, Don’t. You will, however, need to step out to fulfil my desire. Don’t use your car, honey. Go on foot. And don’t forget to carry the rose I told you to pick. It is alright if it has wilted because it will hold more significance this way. You’ll know how shortly.
Now head towards the market area, and turn right after three blocks.
There. I don’t think I need to guide you further. You know which door to knock.
Don’t be afraid. She will let you come in. There is no need to inform her about my demise. The news would have reached her anyway. Once you both are done with the awkward exchanges, I will need you to offer that very same rose to her.
Look, she might get mad at first, but she will cool down too. Don’t let her series of insults get to your heart. Those are just bottled up emotions flowing out. But whatever her decision may be, make sure she does accept the rose. That will give her something to think about.
You must be wondering why I asked you to go to her and not move on instead. You see dear, I know she still cares for you, even though you drifted apart. You were high school sweethearts, and it was only misunderstandings that sent you along different paths.
We both were connected, but we didn’t have the luck.
You both had a spark, and now you’re getting another chance to rekindle it.
And as funny as this may sound- I trust her. I trust her because poetry runs in her veins too, and misjudging a writer’s heart is completely out of the question. I know she still has a drawer somewhere in the corner of her house that is devoted to you, even though it might be jammed due to brushed off thoughts. And I also refuse to believe that she is embarrassed by those cheesy couplets she wrote for you back then.
Now that I’ve stated my reasons, please be patient. She will respond. And your love will blossom again, just like old times.
In a few minutes from now, my heart won’t be here to get hurt by your choice, but my soul will ache if it sees yours wandering alone.
Go back to your old lover, my dear. Cherish her. Say you’ll marry her, and mean it this time.
Basically, give her my share of your love.

This is me, signing off from your love.

Image by Brittany Nicole
Be her immortal now
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)
Posted in Letters

Dead Letter

25th December, 2014

Subject: A Dear John letter

Dear Man-at-arms, 

Hahaha; got you! Guess your eyes just popped out at the sight of that highlighted subject. (I have an evil grin on). I was just returning the favour from your last mail. Alright, alright, stop fuming already, papers are inflammable. Save it for the battlefield. Besides, I have Major (pun intended) stuff to gossip about.
Both Angel and Fairy are dressed in their new chestnut coloured outfits, which have sparkly sequins. They just won’t stop springing up and down the stairs. “Daddy is coming! Daddy is coming! Daddy will bring us dolls!” Well, that’s the background music for me, and this is better than music to your ears, I suppose. And listen no dolls this year. This is a punishment for you, not for them. The Matryoshka addition can wait till you learn who’s Angel and who’s Fairy, okay? 
So Mr. Field Marshal, at what time shall I collect you from the station? Erase your sceptical expression. You thought you’ll receive your medal of valour and I wouldn’t come to know? I have my own spies young man. And by the way, who is Jenny? Better keep her at arm’s length or else! Yes, I’m sending an inch tape along. I swear I’m saying this with my arms akimbo and left foot tapping simultaneously. I know you are snickering at my bottle green face right now, but you better not take my warning lightly.
Come on, don’t give me that innocent look of yours. I’m not going to get coaxed into believing you. I am not going to…Fine. I’m letting you off the hook only because of the way you puckered your lips. Oh! Why are you so irresistible even in missives? I’m sure this is what you get paid for!
You know, I miss you. I miss you a lot. I never realised this simple sentence would ever carry so much of weight one day. The walls have turned starker than ever. Even the glitter and shimmer of Yuletide couldn’t shadow the presence of your absence. Our fir trees didn’t hum this time, nor did they bear any sign of merriment. The scrumptious looking cake and turkey tasted worse than sawdust.
I visit the station sometimes, to recollect the moment you left me with two gifts at once. The way I rammed into your embrace and how my feet swept off makes this platform a paradise for me. However, it’s a bit of sorrow too. It first makes me smile like an idiot and then creates a heap of wipes too. Sorry for this wretched handwriting…this fountain pen…is so irksome at times. Don’t nod your head like that. My tears dripped off and fused with its ink. You know I can’t even tell a white lie properly.
Please, don’t even think of quitting. Just shush that thought away now. Your pride is what makes me proud, and it’s indeed an honour for me to state at social gatherings that my Man, is at Arms.
My only source of happiness is the carefree laughter of these two munchkins. When I’m not able to pull myself up, and on the verge of an outburst, they say the silliest of things, which cheer me up and at the same time irritate me. Your daughters, aren’t they? You’re smiling now, aren’t you? Yes that’s the one I wanted; a dimpled one.
I apologise for that joke. I may have said it in humour, but there’s no way I’m ever going to love anyone more than you.
Come soon honey. I haven’t removed the mistletoe from the doorway yet. 


Jane (apparently)

And it got stamped with…