Love over coffee

(image courtesy: cardboard love.com)

Thanks Mama for the super cuppa coffee,and Acha for the chocolates :)
Led to this...my labour of love,a little story..

Love,
Kaveri

She sat at the table,in her favourite corner.Connected her laptop and resumed her regular work.She had to finish those chapters on love and lust, she had to write about how the lady would react when her man would kiss her from behind.Each time her character would be at war with her to complete the sentence,to dance in the romance of the momentary pleasures of love,but her mind would deny such a predictable muse,until she finally minimizes the screen an.She'd then sit and worry about not finishing her work on time,for her regular cheese loving group of readers.Her mind would wander and her eyes would look places until it falls on the cup of capuccino.She'd turn off her laptop ,and take a few sips from her cup.Her favourite choco cookies would keep her company until she finally gets into the mood of writing again.

Life has not been the same for Aanya ever since she loved and lost in loveBut she firmly believed that you don't lose what you don't own.Possession isn't love.Writing e-books on romance,love and lust brought her money for her skills,but not the inner peace that money could never buy.She wore the best of clothes,roamed around with fun social groups,tied up with big publishing houses,and was the modern woman,with absolutely no complaints and issues.

Her inner demons would try to coax her into weakness, bribe her into self pity and stop her from thinking the thoughts of the lovers who'd wait for her short stories.But her soul would step aside as a nascent lover,and sit beside her writer's draft and narrate incidents of pure,passionate,lustful love ,like a person who just experienced it all on her own.

Aanya did not know whether there was a story,whether he was the prince,who was supposed to kiss her good morning,kiss her all day,and kiss her good night,until its morning again.Her warm shell of imagination never let her feel what's cold,she did not know when he was upset,did not know when there was distance,but she did see what didn't exist,loved the person who was a shadow to her imagination of perfection.

Like the aroma of coffee,his shadow stayed,his smell lingered.She wished to be in his arms, to complete her picture perfect frame of a love story,but his denial was clear, she never even tried.Because she knew that she wanted the aroma to linger,so that she would remember him over each sip of coffee.

Aaanya wrote best sellers,nothing of which had anything to do with what it takes to write from the heart.Her lovable ,flirtatious ,fictious characters and their stories were sold like hot cakes,but when someone'd tell her "I read your book,I loved Anvita's character,wish i could be like her" ,she would feel like a patient suffering from Amnesia trying to recollect,who was Anvita,and what made her so lovable.

She continued writing, and finally she wrote her heart out on a little notepad,unlike her laptop ficiton."I don't remember the last incident in my novel that got over a 1000 likes on facebook,i don't understand my book quotes that they share,i still don't relate to the characters others love.I just know,your smell lingers like the aroma of coffee,and I'll keep writing"

 

A walk away

He wakes up in the morning with great difficulty,turns to his side and sigghss.. "Ahh! my baby.your walks in the morning I dislike,you know how i long to see you when I open my eyes."

The man sits up in bed,yawns a bit..and thinks..can I sleep for some more time..Its been a long night..my baby sure keeps me awake to share a few words,however long the day has been for her,she loves the little cribbing I do before the lights are off,and sure does know how to keep me awake even in the dark.(the man smiles as he thinks of it).With eyes half closed,he walks up to the kitchen to make his cup of coffee,(in his mind..Yes darling.I know you like green tea,as part of your latest health regime.So then I thought I'll have green tea as well.You'll be surprised to see me sip that eeky green liquid just to keep you company).

After placing the kettle of green tea and two cups on the table in the sitting room,he walks towards the backyard,and sees the little plants that have faded.the flowers that are yet to bloom.He cribs (Honey ! I told you,please don't keep those plants if you don't have time to look after them.They are not independent ,unlike me) he giggles on the thought of how 'dependent' he actually is.After a walk in the backyard ,he picks up a red rose,and gets inside,searching for a knife to chop those thorns of.In his mind (Oh yes ladyy..I am a romantic man.You'll see that today,but please don't expect your favourite tracks playing as you walk in.You know how I love silence in the morning.he he)

The man hears the door bell and says "Ah! there she is!" He opens the door to see the newspaper next to the door mat.He picks it up,and runs through the pages(not wanting to waste time on world news,when he's awaiting his wife's arrival to give her company for tea.Yes he gets the page.The page that he completely dedicated to his wife,on her first death anniversary.He places the cup of green tea and red rose on the paper...moves his fingers over her picture ,and with a release of a deep sigh,he wets the page with his tears.He says "Its your first death anniversary baby,and you look as pretty as ever in my dreams,the bed still looks like how you leave it and go for your walks in the morning,you are still in my heart honey.Just a walk away"(in the background plays: his wife's favourite track)