E-mail.. that languished in my Draft Box

Posted: April 17, 2014 by Ankur in Writes...
Tags: , , , ,

Its been 2 years or some 3 odd semesters as I sit down to write this letter. 2 years since the day I first noticed you. 2 years since my metamorphism. In retrospect, it seems a long time. However, it flew by so fast. I felt sand slipping out of my hand- uncontrolled and inevitable. But before we step into a new world altogether, I want you to know something. Something clandestine. Something that I have been negating since day 1 to everyone. I want you to know that you matter to me. Probably the most in this foreign land.

I love the way you do everything. The way your wisps of hair fall on your face and you keep tucking them behind your ears, the way you make gestures with your hand while speaking, your green salwar suit which emanates your divinity. Yes, I noticed, I noticed everything about you. I am sorry but I couldn’t stop myself from doing that. I never witnessed what people call as true love, but I want to tell now if they mean falling in love means always thinking about that one person, then I am in love; if they say falling in love means that you never see any other face and just yearn and wish to see that one face, then I am in love. I don’t know whether I love your cherry coloured lips more, or those dreamy beautiful a little tired eyes or those playful hands or those flowing legs or rhythmic melody of your voice or that cheery countenance which effuse like a balmy breeze in your presence.
I know I am not perfect. Not even near to perfection. No, I don’t play guitar, neither can I write you romantic poems nor can I compose and record songs for you. I can’t make beautiful sketches for you either. Believe me, I would have loved to do any of the above things, but I Can’t. 

See, I can be your best partner in rain dance. I can increase your platelets count and make sure it never falls. I can be your best company to the long drives and street foods. I can be all ears whenever you want to do the talking. I will make sure you cry, cry a lot (laughing). If you are cindrella, I can be your lost shoe. I love you.

(P.S. I still have this mail in my draft box. I know we were never meant to be together hence i never pressed the send button. Whatever, I have learned to live up with this unrequited love.)


IIT Kharagpur

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