"Life is a pastiche of feelings, responsibilities, relations, actions and he is the prime ingredients of the receipe of my life. I can hear the whisper of his voice kissing my ear drum and saying " Baby, I love you". I love the way his perfect soul,which his imperfect body drapes in the velvet of his skin, caresses my waving beats.I seek the periphery of his body, a body I'm familiar with, a body which makes me alive like the rhymes of poetry.
I make him wait, I make him late, I make him to be angry with me, I make him to be irritated as well but at the end, he always remains there for me with a smile stretching across his cheeks.
When he walks toward north, I go south. Such is our chemistry. Rush, hush, enjoy and win. These are the words he loves to sing.His eyes are like the blip in the ocean of milk.Dark and deep where the sea of his hopes falls into the ocean of believes only to rise and swim. My world smiles on his lips...."
"Riya, come here baby" a voice interrupted me from reading further pages of this diary.
"Coming mom", I answered and hurried towards the dining room.
I entered the room, my father has already taken his seat and my mom was in the kitchen. " So how is your college life going?" my father asked me. He generally is not concerned about my studies but used to ask once or twice a month. "It's good", i replied subconsciously. Mom served the food and we finished our dinner in silence. This is how we take dinner in an Indian family. Talking over the table isn't not something in our culture.
YOU ARE READING
Two Paralleled Lines
Short StoryIt's a story of a girl and her love life, career, family and her journey to get few unanswered question.
