28 Jan 2014

The Love Note

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Her eyes sparkled with interest and mischief as she assessed me across the table. I glanced at her, quelling the urge to hold her stare. But she was a vixen, as she blew the smoke of her cigarette and continued to look at me, as if saying:

If you want me, satisfy me

I pick up the glass of whisky and feel the chill from the ice cubes floating in it as a reminder of reality and the reason why I was there, in the chilly night, trying to get a deal fall through. I was single and working and it wasn't new when women hit on me. They were always the same, talking with their eyes and being discreetly inviting. And I, I would politely refuse their advances. I had loved once. And that would be the only time. Once was forever. It had taken a lot from me to keep the real me alive in this garb of a rich, perfect and famous man.

Are you really here? Or am I dreaming?
I can't tell dreams from truths anymore.

But tonight, she was there to save me. She was different.  I know, all of them are. All of us are - different. But her crassness - no - her boldness was attracting me. Not in the way that I would want her in my bed. But in a way, which would make me take her to the distant lands and ask her story. She had one. Everyone has one. But hers would satisfy me, I know.

When I get really lonely and the distance causes only silence,
I think of you smiling with pride in your eyes, a lover that sighs...

I finish my drink and walk up to her. She looks at me again, most certainly expecting me to proposition her. I do not speak but give her a note. She seems surprised as I pick up my coat and walk towards my car. I do not expect her to come. I do not expect to see her again. But I know if I wished and tried hard enough, I will find my match. 

Are you really sure, that you believe me?
When others say I lie.

I wait in my car, with bated breath. After 10 minutes, I see her walking towards me. She was a glorious glorious woman. Her black sheath dress reminded me of Audrey Hepburn from The Breakfast at Tiffany's. May be, it was ironical that I was going to pull off a similar stunt. But no, that was a legendary tale and such tales do not happen daily. I take in her appearance, her long auburn hair, her casual walking wrapped in a nervous air and the look of anticipation in her brown golden eyes. She was exquisite, yet so vulnerable. 

I wonder if you could ever despise me,
When you know I really tried.

"Thank you, for letting me out of there." She says, her voice like feathers and autumn - not too sweet, not too cold. I nod in acknowledgment and start my car. She is breathing heavily, but it is definitely not the physical energy that is bothering her, it is me.

                                        For it's been so long since I have seen you,

I can hardly remember your face anymore.

 She is afraid but thrilled. Of a stranger who left a note. I am taking her to the distant lands - to the outskirts of the city, where my stories take shape. I had not written in a while, after She left. But here she was, waiting to be woven in a tale again. She was to be my muse. She was to be my story. 

And I'll do what you ask me,
If you let me be free.

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"I have never got such a note before. Aren't you disgusted by me?" She is curious. She has been turned down by many. Always. I look at her and smile. "The note should be the reason enough to satisfy you about what I feel."

"I know who you are." She says. I am not surprised. Of course, she knows, which is why she agreed to come with me. 

"I want you to know who you are." I say, as we disappear into the darkness. 


PS: The verses in purple are from the song "If you want me" by Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova. You can access the song here - 


Aditi Ray said...

This is so beautiful... I wont use any words to express how much I loved this post... I wish to say a lot...and trust me, a lot ! But this time I'll let my silence express how much I loved it.
when things are too beautiful to express, I let silence take control, instead of ruining it with words!

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

It reminds me of just one thing:
Did you think that I'd blink, that I'd go and take the ink to your control
That I'd sell my soul
And does it ring any bells that it sells
That we're living out of shells in a shotgun
If we couldn't shoot, we'd have to run
And finally the cerebral fantasy
Better genes and machines, so we can die looking like we're teens
Like snapshot scenes in smithereens...

Oh, and the ones we choose
Oh, witch hunting fools

I feel the fire...

(You know who :D)

Blasphemous Aesthete

A said...

wonderful post...love the way you weave the song into the narrative.