Sunday, July 12, 2015

2219 : Remember the time

She told him, "Remember you once promised to recite me a poem every night. Tonight is the night".

He smiled and said, "We are both 65 now. I told you that when I was trying to woo you. We were both teenagers in college then. Today all my poems have long abandoned me."

She said, "Fker, dont you lie to me?" and with a wicked grin added "I know you still write some love shove wala poems.".

"Seriously...you go through my personal notes is it? Love tho I definitely don't write. Shove yes, sometimes the thought still crossed my mind",  he naughtily said that, and then he pecked her gently on her head.

"Fker, do you really think I will ever see your notes? Ever?"...she said with a fake indignation.

"Ok, I will narrate to you a small poem. Does size really matter?".

"It always did, and always will", she said with an evil grin, "but today we shall accommodate the small ones", she said heavily accentuating the 'accommodate'.

He said laughing, "Lady, we are both into our final years. Looks like our minds are still young na?"

"Focus idiot. Poem please.", she said stopping him with a hand.

"Ok listen."

"Go on."

"Once many moons ago, I tried to write one night. It was meant to be a poem. A poem very close and dear to my heart. I was using an old Mont Blanc to write on a set of unruled papers. I wrote a few words. Writers block kicked in. I read a few mins later. Trashed the whole thing. Started the poem all over again. I wrote again. Again I disliked parts of it. Trashed and started again. With every iteration the poem was eventually though,almost the same, give and take a few words. I could never ever honestly say that #35 was substantially better than #30 as an example. It was just another version.
Finally I was tired, and I wanted to stop writing. But a part of me said, I should write - I should finish this today. I finished it at #41. If I had written another version I would have discovered the meaning of life" he said and he guffawed at his joke.

She said "#41 versions of a poem, is that the one you are going to recite now?"

"Yes and no."

"And that means?"

"It is just a poem in a few words. I told you it was short. So nothing much to recite."

She was piqued and irritated and said, "Please.... else I shall sleep without the poem. At 65 you are killing me my love. In 49 years not a thing has changed about your habit to procrastinate and buy time. Chalo speak."

"You. Me. Us. Yes. No. Still. Alive. Then. Today. Tomorrow." he said each of these words, with long pauses between each of the words, and he walked upto her, pecked her with a lot of love and then with another long pause he finally added "One.".




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