Reason Before Passion

Sindhi, Pakistani and a Sufi Muslim

Love Letter

My Love

I know I haven’t written to you in a long while. I was sitting today on our favorite couch in the room, reading the book you hate so much. The morning was pleasant so I had the window open, cool breeze felt most pleasant and refreshing.

I looked out after every few minutes. The sky had multicolored rays of the setting sun playing on passing clouds, coloring them in the most breath taking ways. The sight was mesmerizing. In one of those moments a butterfly decided to fly into the room from the open window. You already know that man is a wild beast, and that’s what I usually am when you’re not around.

There was nothing in the room, including me, that must have smelled pleasant to this creature in order to lure this high above the ground, against a breeze and away from neighbor’s perfectly kept and maintained flower garden. Still, that poor creature flew in all the way up, fighting hard against gravity, and landed on my writing table.

You have always complained about how cluttered my table is, always full of rubbish. Well, the butterfly went right for that rubbish and in all the items it could have landed on, it sat, perfectly straight, on my maroon pen.

I couldn’t help but recall the day when I got that pen. It was summer evening and we were returning from our evening walk from the coffee house. You were so vibrant, so energetic that I had begun to wonder if I had done something wrong. It was, afterall, the evening when I had professed my love to you. I couldn’t explain, in all those years, that moment when you said yes and joy that erupted inside of me. I felt happiness like never before, and I was sure nothing in the world can ever make me gloomy again.

I still remember your smile, your shyness and your words that changed my life forever. That evening, when walking back from the coffee house, we went past your favorite store and you grabbed my hand, all excited and dragged me in there. You very well knew I hated the color pink, still you tortured me asking if the pink hat suited you or the pink socks matched with your pink purse. What more, all the pink accessories you picked up were paid from my pocket, and then I realized why my dad was always down right after seeing my mom. The relationship already had begun to cost me heavily.

Yet, in all the confusion, gloom and terrible future prospects of being with you, I felt your hand in mine, your eyes boring into mine and cool touch of something slender pressed into my palm. It was this pen, the one I have been eyeing for many months but couldn’t afford, right in my hand with my name printed across its body. It was then that I realized you knew all along what I wanted, bought it from your life’s savings, got my name printed but couldn’t muster the courage to give it to me until then.

I still feel the warmth of your hand in mine and the feel of your lips on my cheek when you kissed my bewildered self. At that moment you changed me forever and here I sit, writing this to you from the same pen you gave me with all your love, on the day when we first confessed.

That day’s feelings are returning to me along with all memories of passing years. As I write this, I am reliving each and every moment I have been with you. If you are wondering why the paper is wet, it is because I just realized that tears are flowing from my eyes despite my smiling face. Ironic, isn’t it since you captioned me “Stone Cold” in most of the pictures in your picture book rather than using my real name. I guess the joke’s on me then that I can become so sentimental at oddest moments but remain cold and calculated where others break down.

I don’t cry because of the memories, nor I do so to earn your favor. I cry knowing that you are not here to read it as I write, or read it after I have written, or read it at all till the end of time. I know you must be there, watching over me from the heavens and smiling knowing how stupid I am for you even after all these years. I never grieved your passing … I just couldn’t. There was no emotion left in me knowing you weren’t there. You took that human with you and left the beast behind to mourn.

But that beast couldn’t, not without the human that was yours from the tiniest fiber. I have been that beast since and thought all happiness lost to me. In that despair I am reminded of you, of your warmth and your face. I could feel the scent of your favorite perfume in this room, I can even smell the almonds fragrance of the shampoo you so liked. I don’t know what the code of conduct is up there in heavens, I am really beginning to feel that butterfly was no crazy creature. I know you came all the way from up there to remind me of the human in me that went dormant and I buried it with your body. Even after all these years, you found the human in me in all the beastliness that surrounds me.

I want to tell you how much I love you and will do so for eternity. I only cry because you’re not here to know it any longer. My life and soul is for you, will always be.

Yours Truly

Stone Cold

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December 28, 2010 - Posted by | Short Stories |

1 Comment »

  1. Interesting beautifully written I can actually feel the environment you create in the post! 🙂

    Comment by Noor-ul-ain Hanif | February 20, 2011 | Reply


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