Letters to Anita : Letter 5

            A sudden searing pain jabbed at his back electrocuting his spine. He wanted to scream his lungs out but sound seemed to do the lacking. He tried to reach his hand to something at his back but the coldness of the steel sliced his flesh as he tried to. Someone was watching him. He tried to look but his eyelids were too heavy to open. Somehow blood has filled his mouth or was he hallucinating? His legs gave away and he slipped into a muddy ditch in front of him. He tried to pick himself up but it seemed his legs were chained to heavy iron balls. Suddenly he realized what the ditch was for and coldness ran through his body. A cloudy rainy dusk will bring the night soon. Calmness begins to envelope him and there is no pain anymore. He just wants to sleep now. As he slipped into his sleep a dark figure appeared over the ditch. He couldn’t make out who it was. Behind it the tree seemed like a grotesque monster ready to devour him with dark boughs. Or was it the figure. The monster started reading from a piece of paper. Was it his letter? It was barely audible to him. He did not care anymore. He closed his eyes and he loved the darkness. There was something very reliving about it.

Letters to Anita : Letter 4 continues....

Dear Anita,

             

              My heart aches. My heart aches so much that I feel that I should squeeze the life out of it. But then again, it’s your heart that’s beating inside me. Don’t you feel anything at all? Don’t you remember anything? Don’t you care at all?

             

              My friends say love hurts. Stay away. I try to stay away from your thoughts. But loneliness fogs my heart like a winter dawn. It is that loneliness that hurts me. I am not telling you that I love you. I mean it. It is something beyond my control. Your silence is the tombstone of my love for you and it tears me apart.

            One day I have to wake up. I have to wake up from dream, from my hope. I cannot take it anymore. Once I had a shoulder to lean on and bury my sorrow. But now there rests a head which is not mine. I cannot bear to see this. I want this to end. So I will not bother you anymore. You will never know what it is like to be me.

Yours Always.

P.S. – Please at least meet me for one last time.

His hands holding the letter were trembling with anger and yet a hint of guilt trickled out of his mind into his heart. It was enough to soften his heart. But this has to end anyway. There’s no harm in meeting her. She must have read the letter by now.

Letters to Anita : Letter 4

           Rain lapped at the cheeks but the shadowy figure continued to brisk down the street.  The sharp-edged moon is long gone and dreams can wait for a while. Puddles danced in sinewy strides. Tucked under the arm was a semblance of hope.

            A single street light fought the darkness in lynching rain as winds whistled in pain. A silhouette began to appear.  The other end of the street couldn’t be seen at all. An old tune hummed between the lips. Razor like blades were cutting through the body. Wobbly legs carried the dark figure. At the catacomb of its mind, thoughts were running wild. In its heart was a strange desire. As always. But the reality is far from wishes of a whimsical mind.

            As the figure reached the end of the street, a ghost like house stood in front of it. Tucked arm revealed a trembling hand with an envelope. A little red letter box creaked in dismay. Red paint was peeling off its body. But this time it was not a quick delivery. For a moment the eyes were transfixed on a neatly sealed envelope inside the box. It was for the deliverer.  It quickly picked up the envelope and replaced it with its own.  

            A single street light fought the darkness in lynching rain as winds whistled in pain. A silhouette began to disappear.  Too many thoughts crossed its mind. Somewhere there was a hope. The creaking letter box woken up a pair of soggy eyes. It peered through the sheet of rain and saw the figure. It was nothing unusual. It does not even bark herald anymore.

Letters to Anita : Letter 3

Dear Anita,

I stood there at the end of the street looking down to the emptiness. Strange sounds of night hurt my ears.  Stray dogs heralded my presence with pity in their eyes.  A waning moon casted a long shadow on the ever dark streets. As I looked up to the stars in the sky, all I could see the sharp edges of a lazy moon. I began my walk to the end of darkness. I hummed the song you sung to me. My words fumbled and my legs wobbled. But I kept on walking.

            At the stroke of dawn I reached home and birds chirped to greet my untimely arrival. But it was not my home. My home was in your heart. Your name is etched on my stone heart with softness of your smile. Often I juxtaposed myself in believing that I don’t love you. My mind says to move on. But my heart tells me to stay on. My heart is at war with my mind. But at the end it’s my heart that wins. It is because it’s not my heart at all. It’s your heart that beats in me. I have only taken care of it all these years. But now people tell me that I am heartless because you have taken it away.

            Etched in forlornness is the sketch of my day dreams. Happiness has emptied itself at your feet to beg mercy for peace. But that is as far it reaches. Though the heavens have opened it up to bring rain and peace to a parched earth; I still walk down that street with rain as a guise. It helps me to hide the tears.

            I still walk down that street where your home is. I do not need rain anymore. My heart still cries but, my parched eyes have nothing to offer my cheeks. It has dried up. Only the tears of sadness as rain will bring it comfort. I will wait for that rain.

Yours Always.

P.S. – I still walk down that street where your home is. I still love your home.