Untitled
She sat with him, just besides the 7 foot tall hour glass, looking at nothing in specific. There is that feeling of familiarity; that feeling of comfort. Nobody is in a hurry for the time to pass by. Neither of us want anything to happen that wouldn’t have happened without a magic wand. She loved that level of comfort. There were times when she was not so much in peace with her closest friend. And there she was with him and everything seemed just perfect. There was nothing more or less she would have asked for. He seemed to understand her as nobody ever did. He nodded at the right pauses; he agreed to the agreeable and disagreed fervently at anything that seemed to ruffle her ruffled, wet, feathers. She would break into a laughing fit at his antics…go all jelly kneed at the way he pouted and acted hurt. No matter what they ordered he wouldn’t budge till he had a bite of her dish.
They said she’d pampered him a lot. She thought otherwise. Their three month old relationship had reached such heights where in she could trust him with her life. And so would he.
Just now and then she would wish for him to talk as well… she wouldn’t mind learning dog-language either. Well, she was in love with him and love makes you wish for crazy things
6 comments:
i like reading ur blog and hv often thought of writing a similar one myself. but every time i set out to write about personal experiences, my mind gets messed up....you don't know where introspection ends and brooding begins...it gets too loony to handle...don't u face this problem?
...now i know this is not an agony aunt column...but hey it's lent! time to do a good deed ;)
It's so freakin relative, the term loony*. Every time i get done with a post, i shake my head in that quintessential, south indian aunty with ash-on-the-forehead, manner for i find them so whiney( my posts, not the aunty) and pouty and what nots. But most often than not i get away with it.
Else, i wouldn't really get a comment wanting me to give gyan on introspection, brooding, and the likes...:). Must have been a dotty male.
PS: I asked for a bheja fry, but was served an empty plate.
Ms Pie...a scary attempt to create bheja fry inspired the previous post...bfry is supposed to be the antithesis of the squeaky clean "yak yak" series...that blog is so freakin surf exel white that it would beat the ash donning southy aunty's 25yr old son to the Mr. Boring Lifetime Achievement award...for christ's sake! even i don't read it!
...by the way, south indian aunty's are one helluva subject..esp. the buxom ones..lots of character and spunk..
The Yak just needs to put the incessant yaking to better use...like incessant yakking on earth saving subjects like the oriental nod of the buxom south indian aunty or btter (worse?) her 25 year old son coming up with the 79th Chettinad outlet in Detroit.
Post a Comment