The one that couldn’t be.

I wish we could stay like this till the end of time. Your hands entwined in mine, the gaps between my fingers wholly filled by your long strong fingers, the pressure on my hands slowly building that it was almost beginning to hurt a little. The cab began to move and my mind began wandering aimlessly to all the realms where my figments of imagination had taken me in the past. I was high and hazy and was dripping with desire, the slow motion of the vehicle taunting my eagerness much, making me smile in passive awareness of the situation. The air around was moist and misty and smelled only of you, just in the right amount to crack my senses up and the rain and alcohol, only adding more fuel to my desires for a sultry romantic entanglement this evening with a man who I had been so helplessly in love with forever.

My dear, I still recollect the look in your eyes, the torment and apprehension, and I remember that my sudden sideways glance had met yours somewhere in the middle and it shone brightly in recognition of my most intricate desires. I was drawn to you in the most shameless ways and it was a lot more than what this moment could handle. I lowered my head slowly, cutting off the savage eye contact and rested it on the lump formed by our entwined fingers. I stayed there in contentment for the next few minutes, inhaling deeply now, my lips lightly brushing the back of your hands, evidently giving up all caution. Even in that state, images of your empty face were playing games behind the closed shutters of my eyes, and I knew that every next second with you, I was risking a heart attack and a heart ache at the same time.

Oh! How I longed to plant a kiss on your face!

We were indeed immensely tired and the long walk in the rain had not helped wear the tiredness off. But, every time it rains again, I’ll think of you, I’ll think of how you held me as we walked on and how you reminded me how wonderfully magical it is, to be in love with you. The wind, ever the cupid, was swaying past us, the strands of our hair swiftly dancing in the air and the clothes slowly giving up the dampness. The city had drifted into a sound sleep, and here we were, idiotic lovers, looking into another’s eyes, singing unsung verses of a love story that couldn’t be.

(Did those moments seem as beautiful to you, as they were to me?)

It wasn’t long before that the cab pulled into the reality of the airport driveway and I sank to realize that it was time for you to leave. I was still stuck between the wheels of the wayward dream, in those brief seconds where fantasy and reality exchanged pleasantries – all I could think of was you. Your face, I so badly miss every morning, and the face that comes to haunt in the most beautiful dreams and the worst nightmares alike. I refused to let go of your hands, but when you kissed my forehead, it made me weak and mushy and tearful.There were no tears in your eyes, but the expression on your face was so profound that it whispered volumes of our love in mild subtleties to my miserable being. Before I could even break down or beg you to stay, you had pulled away and walked out of the car.


You were right, there’s not a place for our kind of love in this dimension of time and space. The idiot that I am must stop to hope against hope that there is a possibility of us beyond such rare moments of ecstasy. But I must tell you now, that you departed too soon, to the life that is your reality, continents away. And well, don’t ask me if it hurts that I am not in it.

Published by Anju Dinesh

A writer is how I would love to have myself defined as. Who makes a lot of typos though. Thank God for all these apps that has come to my rescue. Probably not a very good one or successful one at that yet. But someone who did make an effort. Although I finish most of my articles in a haste every single time. And constantly worries if the piece is worth it or not.. Hasn't grown out of the cocoon yet. Hopes to one day write something for myself and not worry of being judged. Because invariably I write about things that makes it easy for the readers to judge to me. Yes I am hopelessly prejudiced about my writing and choice of topics. Goes low on self esteem more than often although I vaguely know that there is something about my writing that can probably strike a chord someday only if I tried a lot harder. Never works too hard. Never works too less. That Never been part of my system. Which means I always play the safe game.I hope to someday break out to that realm of fictitious world where my imagination will stay raw and free, my flow of words be effortless and there would be nothing around me that can stop me or bind me there. Oh Yes! I want to get there.

17 thoughts on “The one that couldn’t be.”

  1. Vinaya Raghavan says:

    This is the dream without delusion, the real
    Happiness is in the subtext between the lines! Very good kiddo, you need to write often to grow old with the writings! 🙂

  2. Vishnu Babu says:

    Nice fingers…. Good Ink… Go on champ… Oceans are not enough to obstruct your desires…!! 🙂

  3. nabeel abdul kadar says:

    Tre bien!! if you’re are able to weave that much with just a small part, I wonder what the whole story could have been.?. Kudos..

  4. Archana Chandrababu says:

    It’s full of life anju… I simply loved it. This is something which i always used to describe as “untold”!

  5. Aparna Anil says:

    I loved it!!! Best part is the way you describe things.. I even touched those long strong fingers.. I felt those emotions as it was me standing there…
    Great work? Keep writing ?

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