Leaving holes.

He didn’t leave a hole when he left. It’s because he’d left a big hole even when he was there. Because even when he was there, he was not really there. Sometimes, he was lost without traces. All she could do was wait, for him to come back home. Sometimes, he packed his bags and ran away to some mountains. All she could do was learn about his adventures through the letters he’d send. Sometimes, he took jobs that took him all over the country. All she could do was plan to visit those places in vacations only to realize he was home before that.

The hole grew bigger with each day passing. It became bigger with her realizing that he has been walking in and out of her life, like she was some public parks in the city. It became bigger as she learnt more about how he was absent in her past. It became bigger as he failed to be there for her every time she needed him.

The hole had been filled though. Half of it was filled by her mother. A portion was filled by his brother, another by her grandfathers. Another one by her best friend and another portion by her boss. Then there were the portions filled by boys she sometimes call lovers, always getting replaces for she always believed that men always leave, nobody really stayed.

So now that he is gone, she doesn’t feel a hole in her heart. That hole was filled up and sealed with cement, long time back. Maybe it’s time to dig it up again.

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Conversations I will never have.

“When do you miss her the most?” he asked.

I looked away wondering how to give an answer to that. An answer that wouldn’t make me sad. An answer that wouldn’t make me realize, if I haven’t realized it already that I miss her. Outside, dust had settled down with the downpour of the afternoon. The sun was subtly setting, the hint of orange was slowly spreading in the cloud. It still felt like February although it was almost April. It still pinched my heart when I thought of her although it was almost a year since she was gone.

I tried to articulate an answer. But there was a lump in my throat and I had to fight the tears trying to roll out of my eyes. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat before opening my mouth and closing again. I didn’t dare to look at him.

“When I…” I said, trying to find my voice, raising it louder with each word. “… when I come back home and there’s no one asking me what happened to me that day. When I cannot sleep because my feet are ice-cold and freezing. When I am on my laptop on a Saturday afternoon, and no one calls me for a nap. When no one remembers that I hate kerau, any kind of peas and when people complain that I am still wearing four layers of clothes because I am that kind of person who always carries an extra layer because I feel cold easily. When I don’t know who to call first to say I will be late which I don’t want to at times because I will have to explain ‘why’. But I would have come back home to tell her everything anyway.”

I sighed, realizing I still didn’t have the confidence to look at his face. But the silence was deafening. I could sense that he was still waiting for me to say something more, so I asked, slowly looking at his face, “What about you? When do you miss her the most?”

And now it was his turn to look away.

Regret.

Regret looks like the never-ending lines of pilgrims
with tired face after walking for hours.
It sounds like him gasping for air while talking to you on the phone,
as he too, is among them
And tastes like the chocolate ice-cream they have on their way,
while resting under a shade in the hot sunny day
It smells like warm tea being distributed,
in the bahal near you, for them
and feels like an emptiness and heaviness in your heart,
a sad smile and teary eyes everywhere.

Regret is not being able to go to Dipankha Yatra
for he asked you not to.
It is missing once in a lifetime opportunity,
one that you had been waiting for all your life
Regret is killing one of your dreams
because you couldn’t fight with him for it anyway.

Regret is love
The reason why you didn’t go,
you didn’t want to break his heart,
thus you broke your dream
Regret is life,
You got the chance only when
you were not supposed to grab it,
a chance to live your dream .

On a Weekend Note.

Today I took a wrong turn. Climbed into a wrong bus. Walked the street I hadn’t done for a long time. Remember few memories of rain, flood and two important women in my life.

Today I tried two different places to eat in my home turf. Learnt a gully, laughed out loud, and just relaxed with my boss.

Today I wish I was telling you about him. Instead I think of things that doesn’t remind me.

Today as I listen to this other him, I realized I have missed the other him for a long time.

Today I wish I could tell a story to a friend.

Today or rather few days ago, I was told that most of the people mistaken me as a lover of a friend. I couldn’t be more happy, I wish I was your lover dear friend, (Poem coming soon 😀 )

Today I want to be a child again.

Today I miss Baa very much.

Today I become a child again.