Love's Labour Is Never Lost

My husband is an engineer by profession. I love him for his steady nature and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders.Three years into courtship and now two years into marriage, I have to admit I m getting tired of it.The reasons for me loving him before have now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness. I m a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to relationship and feelings. I yearn for romantic moments like a lil' girl yearning for candies. My husband is my complete opposite. His lack of sensitivity, and his inability to bring romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love.
One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision.
I asked for a divorce. "Why?" he asked,shocked. "I m tired,there are no reasons for everything in this world!" I answered.
He kept silent the whole night,and seemed to be immersed in deep thought.My feeling of disappointment only increased. Here was a man who couldn't even express his predicament, what else could I hope for, from him? Finally he asked : "what can I do that'll change your mind?"
Somebody had said it right : it's hard to change a person's personality, and I guess, I had started losing faith in him. Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered, "Here's the a question. If you can answer me and convince my heart, I will change my mind. Let's say, I want a flower from the face of a mountain cliff, and we are sure that picking the flower will cause your death, would you pick it for me?" He said he would answer the next day, my hopes sank...
I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his handwriting, under a glass, on the table.
The note read:
My dear, I would not pick the flower for you, but please allow me to explain why... when you use the computer, you always mess up the software programs, and u cry infront of the screen. I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore those programs and wipe off your tears... You always leave the house keys behind, so I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you. You love traveling but always lose your way in a new city, I have to save my eyes to show you the way. You like to stay indoors, I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom, you always stare at the computer and that'll do nothing good for your eyes, I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails, and remove those annoying white hairs.
" So my dear, unless I m sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do, I could not pick that flower yet and die...."
My tears dropped onto the letter, and blurred the ink. I continued reading... " Now , that you have finished reading my answer, if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside, like everyday, with your favourite braed and fresh milk..."
I rushed to open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching the milk bottle and bread. Now I am very sure that no one can or will love me more than he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone.

The Island

There is a lonely isle...
Set apart,
In the midst of the sea
Where the birds rest awhile,
On their long flight
To the south
They rest a night
Then take wing and depart
To the southern seas...

I am an island set apart
In the midst of the sea...
and a bird from the mainland
Rested on me...

The Helpful Kolkatans....

Kolkatans have always known to be helpful, I hadn't known how much till today. The inevitable believers of the "bandh culture", the ruling Marxists had called a transport strike today, and I had my violin classes... of course I could have been absent, but I really didn't wanna miss the class... my destination wasn't really far but it was far enough to be covered by foot... as the roads appeared deserted with no shops open, no public transport in sight, a typical bandh day for Kolkata, I was actually contemplating calling up my sir to inform him that I after all wouldn't be able to come and would he please schedule another class perhaps next week... Well, as I was deep in thinking , a rickshaw pulled to a stop beside me and a lady on the richshaw asked me whether I would like to share her ride, it was a blessing... because I hadn't even noticed a rickshaw this morning... she was truely a nice lady and I reached my deatination in time for the class...
While coming back, again my luck favoured and I managed to hitchhike a Hiyundi Accent and a young man at wheels!!!! :) ... I had always heard Kolkatans are helpful, today i got to see how much... :)

Agatha Christe's The Rose and the Yew Tree

Just finished reading of the Rose an the Yew Tree...it's by Mary Westmacott..ie Dame Agatha Christe...that was her pseudonym...
It's a profound story of human psyche and it just rattles you.. .every character is so well etched that u just feel unnerved... really...mind u there's no murders and no crime, it's a plain psychological story...and it's a romance nonetheless... but in her unique style... please people, who like reading quirky stories about human desires, love, envy, the sheer evil and the little good of the human nature... just go ahead read it... it's worth it...

ahhhhhh...to be free again....

No this is not about Divorce, or changing jobs, or getting the eyed promotion...this is plainly my feeling about what happens when a person is over and done with the UPSC preliminary Examination...a sense of relief creeps over u....it's like u have suddenly waken up from deep deep slumber and realized the world is so very fascinating...yes CSE does all these to u an' more....ahhhh to be free again... :)

Beginnings

The Distance between inertia and "beginning" is so vast, that upon contemplation, it appears too large to cross.

When we do begin, we make discoveries,
We discover Strengths,
and hopes, dreams not yet lived...
beloved hiding places and
Parts of ourselves....
It's so much easier NOT to begin... what if we begun a dream... and it didn't work???...or we were no good at it, or it didn't satisfy us the way we always imagined...???
We can begin Over and over and over, as many times as we want or need to. We can begin to change our beliefs and the ways we categorize ourselves... "oh I've never been a good ....................."
BEGIN AGAIN
I m GOING to BEGIN to be:
A person who tries many new things...
A person who is Sometimes irritated...
A person who explores new tastes...
A person who travels lightly...
A person who IS...
and i'll continue to add new beginnings to this list...

Columns of the World...

I came across these really beautiful lines by the Mexican poet Betsabee Romero at a visit to this year's Kolkata Book Fair... I m reproducing it here, go on read them..u'll really like it...

Books as a bastion of memory and growth,
sustenance of dreams and utopias torn down by reality
in every news item
in every life
in every silence
given the injustice and oblivion.

Symbolic foundation of invention and creation,
of voyages and real or imaginary paths.

Literature, story, word
the structure and coordinate
that articulate and join irrevocable resistances and struggles.

Books, indubitable and indispensable
fragments of our cultural architecture.

Our literature,
column, roof and floor of our reflections
relative and witness of what's ours
that which defines us
and builds us, deep down.

Reading is the most roving habit
the baggage that holds the most time
history and lives accumulated in words
a translator that speaks in perfumes, tastes, phrases, geographies,
a continent held up by words
written and read in family circles.

technology falls, bursts, fails;
modernity has betrayed us countless times,
literature makes up the pillars
the columns of colors and words that seem to faint away
sometimes
but that, thanks to the great works,
like our pyramids
and their meanings
lift us up.