letters

Sweetheart,

I don’t love anymore. And I am not ashamed. I live and I believe and I know. He is my life and he exists somewhere in this wide, wide world. Every day he is scared that he may never find me, like I am scared sometimes. He wonders sometimes if he has seen me, where I am and he calls out my name, not knowing what it is. I wish to take his hand and tell him tales, talk of the stars, of dreams, of poetry and of music. He is wise- world wise and otherwise. He will know that love is what corrupted and pained our lives. We shall not talk of love. We shall not love. We shall simply live. I shall live a life called "him". And he a life called "suji". And those two will have all the intensity, the sensitivity to last an eternity. We shall not fester the pains that love feasts on.

With loads of life,

(Not love)

Suji

On Fri, May 11, 2007 3:15 am, she wrote:

>

> dear dear suji, Why did you see him? you told me yesterday that there was

> no love, every baby step that you take now is rational and reasonable.

> where from this unconsciousness crept in you? see it never dies. it stays

> somewhere even when there is no sun, even when the rains fly to desolate

> and far away lands. even when you perch hard in the verge of death there

> will be nothing .............yet something, somewhere will elude your

> senses, you benumbed senses. love never dies, what happens is that we grow

> out of loving for sometime, but never ever can we stop loving. we are fire

> and air - we make life possible with intensity , with gratitude and lastly

> with sensitivity. take care of yourself. loads of love, S

>

Dearest S,

I waited for him, again. He was there somewhere, I am certain. I could smell the musk he wears, his sweet sweat, the esthesis of his body, with every breath I took. I could hear his honeyed voice, speaking worldly words, murmuring, muttering- a husky laugh, an annoyed mumble, humming a tune (words indistinct). I could feel his coarse touch, the prick of his stubble against my cheek. He touched my lips, his rough fingers delicate on my lips, he teased my hair, held me round my waist, again. And when I turned, looked around. I could. All but see him. Why does he taunt me, thus?

Love,

Suji