Letter to the ex-wife…

Dear Soumya,

Finally I get to spread my arms and have the entire bed to myself. I was looking forward to this freedom for the past few years, and finally time and space are mine alone. 

But hold on, why am I not all kicked about life again, the way it was always supposed to be? I had to roam the world, read 100s of books, sleep with 20 different women and exercise daily to build those ever-elusive 6-packs. It’s been a year now and I can’t even tick mark one of them! Why don’t they excite me anymore?

The eyes do shut down every night but the mind remains alert, hoping to hear the light snore which used to lullaby me to sleep. My hands tentatively move around trying to touch the soft fingertips which had warmth and at times heat too, as my once-reddened cheeks would endorse. Do you still grow your fingernails and paint them with that weird shade of silver?

Yes, I know I was the one who blamed you for being the reason for us drifting apart. Your anger, your tears and your constant cribbing were taking a toll on my peace of mind. But then somewhere I forgot that those were born out of my indifference, my cold behavior and my falling out of love with you. You finally asked me did I ever love you? I did not reply, which said a lot and you left…

Today, I ask myself what is love? If it’s not yearning for you to grab away the Belgian chocolate scoop from my hand, or change the channel the very moment when Sachin is about to hit yet another century, or chuckle at my inane jokes when everyone else in the world seems to be rather laughing at me.

Ma and Pa miss you but they won’t tell me. They want us to be happy – whether together or apart. We laugh often now, but it’s worse than the canned laughter in the late-night sitcoms, we all used to ridicule. Life is good otherwise, my cholesterol is under control and I don’t fart that frequently anymore.

I saw you at the grocery last month – you still buy watermelons? But you never shared my liking for them. I wanted to walk over to you and tell you to burn that fugly frilly yellow frock, but strength eluded me as always. Next week, I’m moving out of this goddam city which throws up your shadows around every nook and corner. But then I know a part of you will never leave me…You’ve taken away my soul and left yours behind in my heart. The heart which I once claimed beats only for you and never thought that it always will.

Love you hamesha,




One Response

  1. This defines u r a versatile blogger… simple yet punching… pls dont stop…keep writing

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