A note. For life time.

“Did you see my glasses?” She asked holding a paper in her hand. Maybe this is love, looking for each other’s glasses when nobody is there to look after you.
“No, I love your glassless look too. You look pretty.” He said.
“You still don’t want to change? I am yours now. We are married.”
“Correction miss. Our children got married too.” He smiled.
She stared at him and blinked to the days when they weren’t yet married.



“Kabir, what makes you love me?” She asked.
“What makes me not love you?” He shrugged.
“You are never going to change. A simple question, why are you not answering properly?”
“It’s a simple answer sweetie.” He smiled. She was still curious. ‘What made a person like Kabir, a successful doctor, who is calm and patient and more importantly charming personality, love a chatter-box and a hyperactive lady?’
She didn’t say a word. She just kept silent. He too didn’t utter a word. He got up and told her that he forgot something in his room. He came back with an envelope.
“This is for you.” He said.


The lady I love.

I love you. For who you are. For your quibbles and your chatter. For your lame stories and faulty worries. For your kiddish dreams and your soaring aspirations. For the way you let me love you. For all the sentences you complete for me. For all the songs you sing for me. For all the burnt food or sometimes over-salty food you make for us. For all the time you take to decide on what to wear and ask me whether you look good and before I say anything you walk back to your room and change into another outfit. For all the time you take to make a cold coffee for me. I remember you burnt maggie one day.
I even love you with your curls that you don’t like. Even that you call me in the middle of the night and hang up instantly listening to a sleepy ‘hello’. All that you do to make sure I am with you.
I love you for all those blushes you gave to me. For all the smiles when sometime I am alone with no patients I make.
I love you. More than you know. I want to grow old with you. I want to hold your wrinkled hands and I want to see you with blurred visions too. Making the same coffee and making (maybe better :P) food. I want to continue listening to lame chatter even in your incomplete voice later. And in the end, I want to die with you.

Today, tomorrow and forever,

She held that letter and he wiped her tears from her wrinkled face.
“I thought you’d never read it after that day.”


(Photo Courtesy : Tanya Koreth)


on “A note. For life time.
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