Dear 2023,

Hope you had a good time messing around and sending me to all possible medical practitioners to get me fixed from head to toe. Sigh! Are we done yet? Relax, I am not complaining, I truly enjoy happening rides (but not at the cost of getting myself broken) but can’t break the letter writing tradition!

Read the Caption

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Last December, I fell in love. I thought it to be a fleeting romance but it turned out to be eternal love. This love isn’t out of a tragic best selling romantic novel or even an unrealistic movie.

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I tell you I am a hoarder.
Unwashed sheets
Unmade bed
Burnt cinnamon candles
Messy ruffled hair
Your smell lingers.

I tell you I am a hoarder.
Red and blue scars
Stained cups
Intoxicated lips
Fragile guarded heart
Your touch lasts.

I tell you I am a hoarder.
Sound of the door closing when you left
Sound of racing heartbeats wanting to stop
Sound of silence that stayed.

I tell you I am a hoarder
You ask me what do I collect?
I chuckle “Souvenirs from You.”

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Sometimes words are not enough. Cold stares, warm smiles, sighs, sad eyes and silence take precedence.

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As we sit under the cold winter sky, I wonder if the stars too need a cloudy blanket to hide and cuddle on nights like these. You keep on humming an incomplete distorted tune which made no sense, just like the thoughts on my mind. Yet, we sit around the fire and talk for hours on end about your insignificant tune and my nonsensical thoughts. I live for silent nights like these when we sit around the fire and tell stories to each other. Other days, we forget about your tunes and my thoughts and we get busy surviving, we forget to talk. But on these nights we realise how insignificant are we and how significant is our conversation. All it needs for us is to light the fire and sit.

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But it didn’t take me much time to realise that re-lit cigarettes, broken glass and us were the same story.

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I hope someday you explore these untrodden paths and chase the orange horizon.
If you do find me, I hope you will look up at the sunset and say “I am home”
For I find solace in nature more than I do in humans.
When you find me, promise me we will find solace together in the smell of pine, forest, sunsets, sound of streams, chirping of birds, countryside music but not in each other.

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At the end, you and I are nothing but petals of the same dried flower fading into oblivion.

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Dear 2022,

Honestly, I didn’t intend to write to you the way I wrote to 2020 and 2021, no offence but maybe I was too lazy for this. Since 2023 hasn’t really been too kind till now, I couldn’t help looking back in time.


Full piece in caption

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I tell you I hate airports,
I don’t want to go see you off
I cannot stand there seeing you enter the departure gate.
You ask me why it’s so tough?
Well, nobody ever missed a flight to stay back with me even if for a night.
Nobody ever stayed back to cook me a cheese omelette and pancake.
Nobody ever left a sticky note on my refrigerator to remind me to drink water.
How do I tell you I like it when my hair smells more of your minty cologne than my fruity shampoo?
The coffee dipped tongues twisted in kisses
The lipstick stains on your white shirt
The crushed paper passes of the concert we left mid way still hides in the pocket of my jeans
The feel of your collar bone against my skin
I have souvenirs this precious that I don’t want to lose them by seeing you off at the airport.
What if you don’t turn back this time?
What if you don’t miss your flight this time?
What if you don’t understand that it kills me to see you go?
Unlike the others you did stay
But I knew just like the others you will leave one day!
I hate airports!
What if I never see you at the arrival gate again?

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