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Her eyes show me the light of the day
 The crescent of her lip sings for my soul
 Her long black tresses show me there is hope
 Her being by my side makes me feel whole

Simi re-read these lines, before she shut the book.

“This would make any woman feel beautiful and loved”, she told herself.

Sigh. He was awesome. Every word he wrote seemed to mesmerize her. She re-read each of his verse several times a day. His words were simple, but they oozed feelings. This was the first time she felt love. That peaceful, serene feeling inside. Every written word spoke to her and many a time she shed a tear feeling the emotion. The rhymes caressed her and tickled her body. She did not know what it was, but she was in love with it. She looked forward to his magic every week. She lived for it. His poetry made love to her and she lived on thinking that he was her lover. Week after week, month after month.

Today, she put her feeble hand in mine
  I held her tight never wanting to let go
  She looked up and asked if I’d leave someday
  I felt her smile on my chest as I said no

Simi did not know how he looked. She did not know what kind of a person he was. He was a magician to her, who weaved magic with words. He was her knight in shining armor, who rescued her from the dark. He was her reason to wake up everyday and every Monday was her reason for living. His verses appeared every Monday in the local magazine. It had been about three months now and Simi had lost herself in his words. She had called the local magazine to find out something about him, but they had no information. They said that he sent them his work, via email and they were not authorized to disclose his email address.

There she stood by the nearby pond
  Soaking the sunset with her skin
  She turned and came rushing to me
  Brushed my cheek before kissing my chin

Simi wanted to meet him, to talk to him. She wanted to read his mind and see how much of a genius he is. She wanted to kiss his fingers that wrote these words. She wanted him to hold her and recite her favorite verses. She wanted to ask him, whom does he talk about in her verses? She wanted to tell him that she was jealous of his muse. She wanted to beg him to write something for her. About her. If not anything else, she just wanted to look at him. And die.

All she had was a name. Ansh.

Ansh, who was the most vital part of her today.

Her laugh intoxicates my heart
  Her touch makes me feel alive
  She is my reason for being
  In her love, I seem to thrive

Simi felt a strong pang of jealousy. Who was she, whom he spoke about? Was she his wife? His lover? His mistress? She can’t be as beautiful as he describes her to be. Simi hated her, for reasons obvious. Yet, unknown. She wanted to be her. In words and in reality. She wanted to be a part of Ansh. She wanted to see him, to show him that she was beautiful. She wanted to prove to him that she can trigger poetry too. She wanted him all for herself. Just for herself.

The next Monday, Simi rushed to her doorstep to collect the magazine. Grabbing it, she ran into her room and shut the door. She flipped straight to the last second page, where his verses always appeared. Today, a story stared back at her. She looked at the bottom of the page. “Kamal” it said. A fear gripped her. She hurriedly browsed all the pages from front to back, no glimpse of any verse. No mention of Ansh. Her heart seemed to crack as tears welled up in her eyes. It had ended just like the way it had begun. Suddenly. She slowly walked up to her drawer and pulled out a bunch of papers, tied together by brown twine. She read every page again and wailed out loud, expecting her screams to reach Ansh. She did not want anything now. All she wanted was for him to know that she will miss him.

Miles away, Ansh sat on a boulder by the sea, scribbling into his notebook. There was a bright smile on his face as he paused between words to complete his sonnet. A national monthly magazine had approached him to write for them and he wanted his first work there to be a master piece. He did not have to try much, he knew. He had the most beautiful woman by his side, who evoked poetry and passion in him. All he had to do was to let it flow.

He heard the chimes of an anklet behind him and turned around. There she came and touched his right shoulder. He felt his body lose control. She always had this effect on him. Meenakshi. Her bright eyes tapered perfectly like a fish tail. Whoever had named her, had named her perfectly, he thought. She kissed his cheek and sat next to him and let the wind blow through her hair. Ansh had met her 3 months ago at the railway station. It was the sound of her laugh that attracted him to her. Day by day their conversations grew and soon Ansh asked her to come home to live with him.

Meenakshi had agreed and today she had given him all possible happiness he could ask for. She thought that Ansh was the one who had saved her, but for Ansh, she was his lifeline. His reason for living. He put his arms around her and rubbed her right hand, which ended at a slant elbow. He turned to her side, lifted her charred chin, looked into her sole eye and kissed the remnants of her cheek. His lips brushed her jaw and they both laughed. This always happened.

Ansh did not think twice before including her in his life. He was in love with her. The fact that she was an acid attack victim did not bother him, nor did the fact that she had to beg to survive, after she was abandoned by her parents. All that mattered to him was her. Her zest for life inspired him, in spite of all that she had been through. She had taught him to accept life. And then start living. He would remain indebted to her all his life.

He shut his book and held her close to him. The sun slowly set, as he helped her cover her face with her veil.

In the dim light, he looked at her and felt pure happiness inside.

Meenakshi, who made his words flow and who made him want to live.

The End.

~ Soumya


  1. Beautiful. You have truly arrived.

  2. that is beautiful. I hope there are more men like that out there :-)

  3. I am sorry I did not keep in track with ur posts. this civil judge thing is keeping me busy :(
    btw "Her bright eyes tapered perfectly like a fish tail. Whoever had named her, had named her perfectly, he thought."
    I dunno but I looooved this line...actually the posts fully. such a beautiful flow to it and i cud visualize it!

    1. Oh ho, no problem Red, drop in when ever you can :)

      Thank you so much.

  4. Soumya,

    No words can justify how GOOD this is and with such selfless love told.

    Take care

  5. This is love.. so well written and beautiful phrases you have coined..

  6. Beautiful, Soumya.. you know, this can be developed into a short story.. it's simply beautiful and very touching.. I had a smile in the end and its a lovely way to start a morning...

    Simply beautiful one :)

  7. your stories give me goosebumps.. in a good way... =)


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