I would want him to wake me up with a kiss and hug me and look into my eyes. I would want to start the day with he making love to me and whispering in my ear ‘I love you’. But this is what I want, and as ‘wants’ go, this is usually not I have.
In reality I was sitting across him eating my breakfast at Mondegar having a discussion on being ‘disturbed’. (The reality before that was, well yes, he did make love to me and then told me later I am stinking (well what more do you expect living in Mumbai in a muggy weather and first thing in the morning… smelling of strawberries?). It did make me sprint and take a shower though, and we came down to eat breakfast at Mondys as people of Mumbai call it.
He claimed that for being a good writer you have to be disturbed. If you see all good ones, most of them were/are disturbed. He further claimed that he was pretty disturbed too. I simply shrugged as I think some of it is simply fear of facing the facts that stare at him on his face. We fell silent after that, he sipping his coffee, I enjoying the warmth of my tea cup in my palms…
Does being disturbed make him a good writer? I guess, after all he does write well, but I wondered whether the corollary is also true? I don’t think so. Besides how disturbed is disturbed?
This was two weeks back. Now lying on my bed during a power cut (this is slowly becoming a regular feature- nothing better to do in this heat) and staring at my glow stars I have stuck on my ceiling, I realized that ‘disturbed’ may make for good writers but bad lovers. May be because being ‘disturbed’ sometimes means drowning in your spiral of depression and self pity. When two people entangle (I won’t use ‘fall’ as maybe between us it was/is never intentional) in relationship, how does the gray area of understanding work? And if everything has to be ‘understood’, then why do people talk, write and think about affection, the great stress on spending time together, the golden rule of communication- being in touch? As D says the foundation or the love or hate in any relationship is just like a prime piece of land in the middle of the city. What it finally turns to – a mall, high-rise or slums, is in the hand of the land owner.
I also wondered whether this is really the end and are we drifting apart? When one feels something for the first time, the impact is much more. And if not, why does the heart ache so much? (And it really doesn’t do one bit for my ego).
It’s almost funny that the man I started calling jokingly X, is slowly drifting away from me - maybe becoming an ‘ex’
