Dear C,
I am sorry to have been writing to you so late. It’s been
long overdue now. But I am sure you’d forgive me. Why won’t you. You’re magnanimity
personified. I don’t think I even need to tell you how electrified I was upon
seeing you after almost five years. You could see it in my eyes, couldn’t you?
You could see my eye-pupils dilate as I walked closer and closer to you. In
fact, I could hear your presence much before I could see you. I was thrilled. My
gait was competing with my heart-beat. I
don’t know what exactly draws me to you. I think, it’s more of intrigue than
love.
There’s so much we owe to you, and most of the times we don’t
ever realise your importance. I admire how you go on about your business
silently, while everyone thinks that you’re just loafing about. They don’t see
what it takes to be who you are and how difficult it is to be who you are just
because you don’t show it; but when you do, even the mightiest tremble. Now,
you see, this is another reason I am so deeply fascinated by you. You wield so
much power; and yet you are not bumptious. Well, most of the times. You know
your limits well. Your grace, notwithstanding your rather formidable immensity,
is something that renders me in sheer awe.
I could spend hours at length staring at you -- just looking
at you meditatively without uttering a word. And I love the way you stare right
back at me with the same meditative gaze, as if trying to whisper something in
my ears — maybe the secret of life, its origin, or its culmination. I am sure
you know it. You’ve seen it all. From you it all began and into you it would be
all laid to rest. When I see you I somehow I feel that all my thoughts are being
subliminally subsumed by you. And I think you are one of the few who has the
fortitude and resilience to withhold them without showing an iota of disdain or
alarm. With you can I be assured that
the brine immanent in my eyes is-- and will always be-- less than that in
yours. It’s a consolation of a different kind. Maybe you won’t understand.
Feeling your cold body touch mine makes me feel connected to
the past, the present and the future simultaneously. I feel as if I am here, I
am there, and I am everywhere your vast expanse spreads. I can’t even begin to
imagine how you engulf so much in you when even the little that remains bare
seems endless. Yes, I feel, that’s one of the most remarkable quality that draws
me toward you: you are deep. Unfathomably deep. In others I always seek depth;
and in myself I always seek height. Shall I tell you a secret? I fancy my heart
as mysterious as yours.
I can’t still forget that night when your entire body was
glazed in shimmering moonlight. For the first time, I saw the moonlight dance.
It was dancing to the symphony created by the sound of waves swashing against
the shore and the bombination of the blowing breeze. A symphony I had been
longing to hear for many years now. I only felt bad for there was no one with
me on that full-moon-lit and vernal night who could truly appreciate this
surreal moment. There was no one with whom I could amble on your shores hand in
hand. There was no one to who could recite a poetic verse or two to commemorate
this splendid moment. There was no one who could be my anchor on your shores or
in my life. I often say this, and I say
it again: I’ve never had very big aspirations. I’ve always looked for joy in
small little moments such as these, but when one is denied even those, then,
one is bound to feel a little resentful. Won’t you second me, O Mighty Ocean?
With fondest love
aviD
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