Realised Embraced Sacrificed

Chapter 4 : The Love That Tried

//ये दूरियाँ, ये दूरियाँ, यह दूरियाँ, इन राहों की दूरियाँ
निगाहों की दूरियाँ, हमराहों की दूरियाँ, फ़ना हो सभी दूरियाँ//

❃

1st August 2016, Delhi
9 PM

Dear Diary,

It has been a year since Kabir's training began. My masters' first year got over. Everywhere, things are going well, just Kabir and I being so away from each other crushes my heart and soul.

My heart is filled with both pride and worry as he undergoes rigorous training for the Indian Army. While I can't be there physically, I find solace in knowing he's pursuing his dreams and serving our nation with dedication.

Every sunrise and sunset, my thoughts are consumed by him, my brave soldier, training relentlessly, miles away from my embrace.

In the tapestry of emotions woven by fate, our love stands as an unbreakable thread, connecting our souls across the distance.

Luckily, he is allowed to carry a phone, even though it's the basic one.

The days begin with a mix of excitement and anxiety, eagerly awaiting his messages and calls. Each time the phone rings, my heart skips a beat, hoping it's him. And when it is, a rush of happiness engulfs me, making the distance between us feel a bit smaller.

He calls me, during his free periods, for a few minutes. That's too once a week, and sometimes not even once a week.

But, are those calls sufficient? No, not at all!

So, I began writing letters to him. Not occasionally, but twice a month. And, sometimes, when I am super lucky, I receive some too.

His letters, oh, his letters!

They are my treasures, scented with his essence and sealed with longing. With each word, he paints pictures of our future together, a future where our souls dance in harmony, and our love blooms like the sweetest of roses.

Sometimes, I get irritated with writing letters and waiting for them.

Here I am, a lover of modern technology, forced to write letters.

Yet, I catch myself indulging in the art of penning these heartfelt missives to my beloved.

I think it's not the act of writing that I abhor; rather, it's the torment of separation that has turned this mundane task into a labor of love. Any mode of communication with him is super welcome, and if putting my emotions on paper is what it takes to bridge the distance, then I'll do it with all my heart.

Every stroke of the pen is an expression of my love, a declaration of my unwavering commitment to him and our bond.

As much as I yearn for instant messages and video calls, these letters, laced with my passion, are like love's whispers crossing the miles to reach him. So, I'll write, because for us, every form of connection is a lifeline, a lifeline that keeps our hearts beating as one in this enchanting journey of love.

And then, there are times when my heart craves to tell him my daily anecdotes, share my secrets and fears, but the time is just not sufficient. There are times when every cell of my body wants to run and hug him tight, but I can't.

Sometimes, I get so desperate to see him, talk to him, touch him, but I can't, and then I feel like crying. Sometimes, I miss him badly, terribly, but all I could do is wait.