A Letter to My Darling

A Letter to my Darling

27^th July 2011

Dear Beloved,
                        Do you sit on a table under lamplight as I do right now, letting the tingling heat emanating from the light bulb touch upon your skin? Do you feel the cold grass, a complete contrast to the heat, touch your elbow, as if making an attempt to soothe the heat, when you take a break from writing and walk into your own small backyard garden? I hope you feel similar things when you sit to right back to me.

The laminated wood feels really smooth and the cushioned chair really comfortable, but these things aren’t that much fun. It is much more fun to be outside in the open, breathing in fresh air, filled with the unmistakable smell of monsoon; and the clouds, so lush and black, just floating by. Do you feel all this when you step out? I hope you do.

It’s all green and clean wherever you look. It reminds me of our mornings together, sitting in the balcony after the rain had passed, sipping steaming hot mugs of coffee. Just looking around myself, at small things even, some that have changed, some that haven’t, reminds me of you.

It has been very long since I last saw you, but your voice is still heard in every sound I come across, the whistling of the leaves, the honking of the cars, the falling of cutlery, the sound of birds and even the silence. They all sound like you to me.

The world around me seems to be radiating your presence, thus I feel you are within me even though I know just how far you are. My thoughts of the world inevitably turn to thoughts of you. Does this happen to you to? I hope it does.

I hope for a lot of things, but most of all, I hope to see you again, hear you again. And this world around me only seems to consolidate this hope.

But for now I will be content with just a few words. So write me your world so that I can make it a part of mine.

Truly missing you,
Your darling Emily


So she remembers me. Misses me even. But I know that these memories she has of me only have a short life left to live. I want to meet her, my darling, whose letter seems to say that she would die of loneliness, but as circumstances pertain I can’t even write to her. I read the letter again for nearly the tenth time since this morning when it arrived.

Me and her, we have known each other for many years, a lot many years. I think our story began all the way back in the first year of college. She so beautiful and elegant, walking down the corridor with a stack of books in her hand and me a skateboard nutcase speeding down the corridor in that four wheeler of mine. And as it usually goes............ BANG!!!! Both of us fell (though sadly she didn’t fall on me). You have no idea how much it hurt (though she’d had fallen on me I would have forgotten the pain in an instance). Technically, this usually fits the love at first sight scenario, sadly it didn’t. So much for the set up. This started our first few years of constant war. We would call each other names, play pranks on each other(not the type you play in kindergarten, the type engineering and economy students play in college. Let your brain go wild and guess.), though one of the stupidest things we did was when she called me “crazy” and I called her “an old hag” (though I didn’t mean it!). Even up till the last time we were together she continuously called me crazy (I dared not call her an old hag!).

But like all good romantic stories utter hate transformed to utter love, like pixie magic (that’s how she explained it, I told her it was all because of the awesome me and my charisma. But she’d always laugh it off, never realizing how serious I was and how much she hurt the slight and small narcissist pride in me by doing that.).
We were never married, not even engaged, but we were always together and maybe closer than any married couple that has ever lived and will live.

And so before she forgets  me, our love and everything else; I want to write to her, meet her and say goodbye since I don’t think I could live with myself, all happy, knowing that the love of my life has left me without saying a word, because I couldn’t give her  a chance.

So I will write a reply to her letter. And go and hand it over to her for her to read so that I can tell her what I feel and how much I love her before she forgets it all..........


30^th August 2011

To my Darling,
I am sitting underneath a lamp so that I can feel the tingling heat just like you did, although I haven’t taken a break yet to go and enjoy the cold grass and let it soothe the heat. Even so I’m sure it would be a very nice feeling indeed.

Darling I don’t know how to say this, but I think you would’ve noticed that you’re forgetting things, forgetting people and soon you will forget me too. I want to be there with you, hold you in my arms and drown you in my kisses, before I become nothing more than just another person for you. Till my name and face stop holding any special meaning in your heart and mind.

It is painful for me to know, that you, who wants to make my world a part of yours, will forget that you ever wanted this. That you who are my world, would leave and let me drown in this pit of oblivion where I would have no one to call my own. But I also know that there is nothing you can do. If I could do anything, I would have done it a long time ago.

After all, why would I not want to save my only haven, you?
Only an insane man would sit idle. But when a man realises he cannot do anything, even if he is sane; the pests called insanity would take over. Loneliness, helplessness; they are just there to nurture this insanity.

But Darling, I’m done feeling helpless, I will not let you go before I meet you and tell you how I truly feel. I have tarried too long and I hope it isn’t too late. I just don’t want to let you go. These threads of love seem to be tangled around your presence too well; no scissor is being able to cut them.

Even though you are not here, every time I look into the kitchen I’m reminded of the days we baked Christmas cakes together. Also the day I made the white sauce explode (god knows how!) and we spent hours cleaning the white goo. Though it took us so long because we danced to music while we did that.

And the memory of us dancing reminds me of the day of our college dance or “prom” in our last college year. We slow danced to some old jazz music that none of us recognised. That hardly mattered since we were too busy looking into each other’s eyes to care about anything else. It was that day that you confessed to me. I had wanted to do the same but the old skater dude seemed to have lost all his guts, it suddenly seemed harder than landing a 360 inward heel.

There are a million other memories I could recollect. Sadly if I did that this letter would be converted into an extra long autobiography. It would be my autobiography but most of the pages would tell your stories.

Darling, I know you will forget but I have to say it:
Even if I am forgotten by you today
                You will be remembered by me tomorrow
                                                    Remembered by me for the infinite tomorrow’s to come.

For the last time..
Yours lovingly,
Your beloved Matt.


I folded the letter neatly and put it in a small white envelope, which I stuffed into my coat pocket. I left the house quickly, not wanting to waste another moment. I reached the tube station, took a ticket and ran the next train in an attempt to not miss it. But I missed it anyway. After constantly fidgeting for about twenty odd minutes, I got on the tube that would take me directly to my darling, to my Emily. The time on the train passed by as though it was stuck in a thick liquid, unable to move. It took an eternity to reach my location.

On my way to Emily I saw a flower shop and couldn’t restrain from buying her flowers. A beautiful bouquet of red carnations and chrysanthemums, her favourite flowers, symbols of love and to top it off I added forget-m- nots (ironically I believe that they explain my feelings better than that letter).

With all the time I had wasted I literally ran to where she was. I rang the bell twice, no answer. Tried another two times and after a long pause the door opened. Her aunt stood on the door.

“Thank God! You decided to come. Her condition’s getting worse. Earlier when Terry came to visit her, Emily said that she didn’t know her. What will I do Matt? She is like a child to me, I don’t think I can take this!” she said, while ushering me in. “ Hurry up! Please do something. You might be the only one she still remembers.”

That is if she remembers. I ran up in a hurry cradling that little hope that was still left.

I fearfully knocked on her door.

“Come in.” She called in her sweet and gentle voice.

I slowly opened the door waiting and observing. Did she or did she not remember me?  A long pause followed. She observed me too, trying to figure out whether i was one of the pieces of the broken jigsaw puzzle of her memory.  Finally she looked up, a quizzical expression on her face.

“Do I know you?” That one question made that cradled hope drift away, far away, somewhere I couldn’t reach it anymore no matter how much I stretched. So I just gave up. I pushed that letter deeper into my coat pocket and decided to start over.

“Hi! I was your batch mate in college. Sorry, I haven’t been in touch with you. You don’t remember me? It’s OK. My name is Matt by the way, told you since you didn’t ask yet.”

“Wow. You talk a lot. Man! I sure did know some crazy people or so my aunt says. Guess you must be one of them. You’ve gotta be crazy!”

Crazy ha?!  Might as well. And a tiny kindle of hope lit up again. Our conversation continued for hours and made way for more conversations. Long days began to fall short and would continue like this till the day she forgot me again. Till then we will continue making new memories, that I would add to my long autobiography that told tales of her.