An important thing occurred this morning. I woke up in the dark and felt that you were missing from my life for a long time.
Am I wrong in feeling like that?
I have been busy at work for weeks on now. My colleagues arrive at work. They laugh, tell, share lunches, debate and even drop me off home once in a while. I feel at home in my office.
My mother says they all love me at my office. I don’t know. Is that love or is it just that I know love to be something you have only in a relationship. With someone special.
But the sharing and caring my mates at the office do is also love, my mother says. I don’t know. You tell me. Are you there even in those relationships?
Take my mother itself. Evidently, she cares for me a lot. It’s why I never moved out of home. She makes my breakfast. Packs my tiffin box. Frets over my straggly hair. Are you there in that relationship too? You must be. I see how her eyes twinkle when I am back home. But it’s not the same love that she has for my Dad. That’s something else. Brushing his chin and asking him to shave. Smoothening his shirt as he wears it. That’s something else. Intimate, you’d say. Intimate love. So many shades of love. Admonishment. Care. Nagging. Advise. Laughter. Sadness. Arguments. Love in varied forms. My mother.
But she’s there too. The special one. How do I classify that? We don’t meet often. She’s on the other side of town. From the college days. We make do with video calls. We know we have you in our relationship. We don’t even name the relationship for fear that it will break apart. We just know we need each other. In various ways. Situations. And when we meet, we gaze into each other’s eyes. We drown. We talk. We watch lips moving. Happiness twitching along. We remember what we speak. We laugh. We hear the laughter bubble up. We ache. We hold hands to stop the ache. That’s you, isn’t it?
Then that street dog. I discovered him on a rainy afternoon, filthy and wet. Took it in and gave it a bath. He gave me a tough time that day with all the barks and snappy attitudes. But he understood. Very fast. That I was good for him. And then, you arrived in his eyes. And now he marches ahead every morning as I walk to the bus stand. Waves his tail till I disappear from sight and is there in the evening when I get back, rain or shine. You, the guiding light.
Many forms. Many ways. You. In a life fulfilled.
And yet, I feel empty this morning. Can I have a bit more of you?
But to do that I have to reach out and give a bit of you to others too.
I understand. Let me write. Let me message. Let me talk. I know you will be back.
READ MORE: HOW TO BE A BETTER CO-WORKER?