Friday, January 25, 2008

'Thank you' cannot be gift wrapped

Your gifts always make me cry. Did I tell you that I opened the first one while walking back home in a light drizzle of a rain? How I stopped and stared at what came out from the tight folds of the crisp wrapper? How I was glad that the wet drops on my face could be called raindrops?

I know I didn't thank you enough for the Madeline, oranges and apples, each bite of which took hunger and loneliness away.

I know I didn't talk much when you walked me to the train station everyday after work.

Why are you so kind to me? I don’t know what to do with so much of it!

When we waved goodbye and I saw your car turn the corner and I realized that I didn’t have the keys to the hotel, I wanted to call you who'd already gone.

When people leave they should be let. Not that otherwise they won’t.

And then when I tried talking in strange tongues to another fellow-out-of-the-hotel-locked and we wondered how to wake up the neighborhood, why did you come back?
Some goodbyes don't mean a thing. And when we kissed each other in the dimly lit lobby, I didn't tell you how scared I was. Some kisses don’t mean a thing. And the same mean more than I dare understand.

I know I didn't hug you longer when we last met at the airport. A second longer and I couldn't have gone away.

I know I can never tell you I love you and how much. Because someone else did...long before me.


Blogger Preetha Nair said...

You take me into some deep emotional territory ........
reading your posts are like emotions extruded from the frozen frames of life......

"Thank You"

2:27 AM  
Blogger Samyak said...

Thank You!!!

U're still strumming my pain with your fingers.

3:46 AM  
Blogger Poornima said...

Preetha: :)

samyak: Thats some nice music I must say!

4:30 AM  
Blogger one among said...

hi poornima,

read this couple of months back...your post brought them back ... a nice gift..

Some men give so that you are angry every time you ask them to contribute. They give so that their gold and silver shoot you like a bullet. Other persons give with such beauty that you remember it as long as you live; and you say, "It is a pleasure to go to such men." There are some men that give as springs do: whether you go to them or not, they are always full; and your part is merely to put your dish under the ever-flowing stream. Others give just as a pump does where the well is dry, and the pump leaks


10:06 PM  
Anonymous sonu said...

"When people leave they should be let." True to the core...

7:31 AM  
Blogger Poornima said...

OAC: When is that blog gonna be made public now!

Sonu: And when they come back?

8:46 PM  
Blogger Samyak said...

@Poornima: Do They?

9:49 AM  
Blogger aks said...

hey sweetheart .....tha last was amzing......and ya some kisses are strange....meaning a lot at times ....

8:21 AM  
Anonymous sonu said...

Poornima :when they come back ? ..
open the door for them..but dont close it ..let them walk out whenever they want to...

6:58 AM  
Anonymous Naveen said...

"I know I can never tell you I love you and how much. Because someone else did...long before me."

Ugh, your posts bring tears to my eyes, a broken heart that is mine.

9:58 PM  

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