The Last Letter

Some letters that never reached their destination. And some letters that did...

Some letters that never reached their destination. And some letters that did…

“Though now I realize we can never be together. I still want you to remember that I loved you with all of my heart. And always wished to hear the same from you…”

That last paragraph, was the last conversation we had. It uncovered a book unread after the dust was blown off from it. I was holding her letter, without having any idea, what to do next. It was like I was handed the universe unknown to explore, but my size was shrinking by each moment, while the universe was expanding by tenths.

“Did you see her again?”
“Any where about?”
“How do you feel about it?”, He asked.

My Psychiatrist is a graduate from the Harvard. And he’s the closest thing that I have for a friend, as far as the generation-X definition of friend goes. It’s just that I pay him in dollars rather than scratching his back. But like all friends that I had, he just waits for me to come quickly at a point. And here I don’t want to miss, even the tiniest of detail.

“I have learned my lesson. Perhaps.”
“Look Doc, I know I cannot repeat it, I can’t reverse the clock, I can’t go and check if I would succeed after all this. It’s gone to never return again. All I can do is replay the memory again and again, just to find myself at place, in those corners, under those shades, with that ambiance… where I missed everything, like I wasn’t there.” – I had no way to tell him, what I sought.

“And what good would that do?”

That eve after giving him a visit, I went to a place I and her used to hang around. The rocks are same, the bench, the garden, the trees everything is same. This park used to be the place where we use to discuss the books we read. Love stories, fantasies, science fiction, philosophy and what not. Everything was there, but unconnected, like they had a feud on something. And they’re giving me this look, like I’m some stranger that has walked in amid their thing.

I have a book, its jacket, the pages, and words on them, but I lost my bookmark somewhere. I have no idea what chapter did we left on, what was the last letter that we read… I have no idea from where to move ahead.

She once narrated to me a story of a sailor that was amidst a journey and due to a sea storm, his ship got sunk, and he barely made it to the island near by, he was stranded. I asked her, if he had a compass on him or something like a flare gun, anything to go find his way home… she said, “It doesn’t matter, the ship was everything to him.”

The leaves are falling from trees, like it is a ground that loves them more.  Though it’s too late and I should be going, but I feel like home.

Bench we read letters on, bench we left some letters for.

Bench we read letters on, bench we left some letters for.

– Written as a response to an engrossing piece written by Mam Aima Jamal Yousuf, “Unrequited Love“.

Art/ Picture References:
1. Undelivered Envelope For Letter –
2. Treecat Memorial – StarLink-IRC

No One Dies

Love is like a bird imprisoned in an open cage... - Bano Qudsia

Love is like a bird imprisoned in a cage open. – Bano Qudsia

No one dies for missing the love, I assure you.
They’re right. It’s an exaggeration.

“I’d die if you gonna leave me…”
“I can’t imagine my life without you…”
“My heart will stop if you won’t be here…”

Total bullshit!
Who believes in this anymore?

These notions of bookish love…
Plethora of emotions copied from every fantasy
we are fascinated with…
Every love story we have ever read or seen on screen…
Every poem of love we inspired to recreate in reality.

All lies…! All exaggeration!

Yeah, just not mention any name
that remotely resembles the one
I don’t wanna remember…
Because that sounds like an echo
without the presence of walls.

And for all the pictures alone,
don’t make me care about
the gap
that can be filled.
Because even I am absent from there.

Don’t make me listen
to the songs we heard together,
Also make me forget
the poems that by heart,
we remembered.
Because it feels like being in a ball
without a partner.

Don’t refer me the places,
we used to find ourselves in,
real or imagination.
Don’t remind me of things
that we wrote to each other.
Because it feels like dreaming
without presence of the colors.

Don’t ask me ever of things I loved,
but left keeping tabs on,
like some fantasy series or story of love,
or some novel profound,
we submerged our eves in.
Because loving them alone,
feels like a betrayal.

That’s all. I’m good.

Yeah. No body dies. Just the moments!

And for all the time when I’m with someone,
just distract me from comparing,
how otherwise it could have been…
Because I rather not choose,
to cheat with them or myself.

No one dies for missing the love, I assure you.

But see, I have no shame,
no remorse…
I much prefer this dying
than dying ever in a regret
of not giving a chance altogether
to something that was potent.

Given a chance again,
to dream again,
to fall in love again…
I’ll do the same!

Since making self numb…
might protect one
from the pain,
but bigger loss would be
missing a taste
of a worthy effulgence.

Yeah. No body dies. Just the moments!

– Dedicated to the love, one that comes, one that stays, and one that leaves… The poem is also dedicated to a short story I recently posted: “A Stray Dog“.

Art/ Image Credits: Screen caps from a film, Nicholas Sparks written novel adaptation “The Notebook“.

A Stray Dog

From old comfort zone to your comfort zone… Stray dog made journey of love.

— The story is written in tweet format. I decided to post it on twitter, but then I am not a much of a micro-blogger, so here it is.

  • Once upon a time, a person of grace with kindness in attitude, meets a stray dog in an alley, this dog sits aloof, isolated from other dogs.
  • This dog won’t do much but sit in a corner staring at a person, the stare, that gaze that would follow the person to the end of the street.
  • While other dogs would bark, this dog didn’t. Where other dogs tease, this dog won’t. Yet abnormal stare alone would scare the person most.
  • To keep the teasing dogs away. Person started to keep some cookies along. Person would throw them, dogs would jump, except this dog.
  • So person starts to experiment, like goes near the dog, throws the cookie, but yet no effect. Each day person would go step closer…
  • Until after few days when cookie was offered by hand, dog picks it. Then it creates kind of a bond among them. Person gets comfy with Dog.
  • Dog would even wrestle around with other dogs to keep this person safe. And the person will bring cookies for dog and things like a blanket.
  • Perhaps both Person and Dog bonded on what they shared in eccentricity, they’re both compassionate yet aloof, distant from world around.
  • The person would daily go to the dog, earning the pleasure in taking care of it, and seeing how much dog reciprocated the trust and love.
  • Dog started to care about person this much, that it would see the person through to the home. And person would also love the company a lot.
  • Once a friend asked the person, “What happens to a dog if you move the place? Would you carry dog along like pet, since you’ve such a bond.”
  • Person replied, “Why would I, I don’t like pets. I can’t take care of them. I don’t have time for such stuff, I’m just doing it while I can”
  • Truth was that Person wanted to accept the dog as much in life, but how can one promise someone a future, when one just lives in now.
  • Person still met Dog daily until the day Person left. And dog again was left alone, stranded, aloof in a place where it used to be always.
  • And this Dog would now not dare stare anyone and even in deepest of hunger, won’t even have a bit of cookie offered by someone else’s hand.
  • That… is a fate of stray dog, they never make it home. Job of stray dog is to be known forever as: a rogue, rebel or an alley entertainer.

Ronin (Masterless Samurai) met a Stray Dog …

  • You see, Masterless Samurai, otherwise referred as Ronin, were always referred to as Stray Dogs, because they would wander without purpose.
  • Without master – the retainer, Samurai – no matter how much skilled is of no worth. He’s either a looter, hired assassin or meager vagabond.
  • Under lord’s care Samurai would eat good, sleep good, live good with purpose and direction. The dedication to an art would have meaning.
  • But Ronin is even lesser than a peasant, as peasant would know how to farm and survive, but without lord, skilled warrior would just stray.
  • And such is also a fate of a lover without the beloved, an artist without the audience, and a person competent without the presence of work.
Stray dog dreams and associates self with the humans... Foolish chap.

Stray dog dreams and associates self with the humans… Foolish chap.

– Dedicated to the people who’d dare to love some stray dog, but would never have enough courage to take them home.

Update: 2014 – 04 – 18:

Miss Hina Arshad has recently posted this beautiful poem: “Within” that relates with the story very much. I recommend all to have a read. 🙂

As a follow-up to this story, a poem is published that revolves around the same themes, give a read to: “No One Dies“.

Art/ Image Credits:
1. Casco Viejo Stray Dog (
2. Kataoka Dengoemon Takafusa, collection: kuniyoshi_47_ronin (
3. Sochi Stray Dog (