A promise.

There are promises I want to make Fill them with soft and passionate, always, passionate words. Little words that would remind you of a forgotten, happy time I’d like to see them kiss your dreams, your fears, Your wakeful hours and your lonely nights I walk with my unspoken lines, Lines that slip away and reach out for the warmth of my stomach They lie rehearsing-- perhaps for another day. A day for you and me. And for the rest of them to follow But the clock chimes every hour like an uninvited guest, An interfering toe lands its foot; its dirty shoe Walks into a promise I crafted for you Mocks and jabs at words that extend until many tomorrows And everything changes with time. I may not ever tell you, today or tomorrow, But I want you to know I love you. Simply and faithfully.

Always a role-reversal

I have always been of the opinion that differences between people from countries stuck on two different poles of the world are stark, and I naively believed that it is only human to fail at constructing a tangible, lasting relationship with someone who does not hail from your immediate surrounding. Well, that's what I thought until I went to the UK for a year and ended up forming very lasting and memorable friendships with people who probably cannot pronounce my name. I swore to myself that I would not digress, but I cannot help myself. As a student of literature, I have spent most of youth in the library trying to decipher dense and complex cultural theories that delve on the differences in race, sexuality, gender and colonialism/neo-colonialism and the other hyphenated arty-farty terms that has now characterized the twenty first century.Nevertheless, to return to my original idea, my love interest in Leeds, whom I dated (initially, atleast) only because he was painted in this exotic shade of black (which reminded me of my teenage hero Denzel Washington) and had a nose that was as big as the globe (and of course, he had a delicious hot body that African men usually have). I stepped into the relationship with assumptions that make me blush now, but seemed the world to me then. Questions of how different our cultures are, how the women in his country are treated, why widows had to shave their head la di da la di da la di da. If I were him, I would classify myself as an arrogant, ignorant brute who could not understand the world even if she tried very sincerely. Fortunately for me, he was (still is) very benevolent and told me (much to my dismay) that people are not very different from each other. I did not hear what I wanted to hear!!!!!! Now, as its only normal, life goes on and you meet several people who challenge your very ideology. This happened to me when I heard that one of my friend got dumped by a guy on the road and the brute did not think it appropriate to call up later and apologize. This may not be the most intellectually stimulating lesson one hopes for. But it made me think: are French men so different from Indian men? Are my friends tears any different from mine or do we classify, stereotype and engage with people for our own convenience? I discovered from my year long relationship with the Nigerian that he is just another bloke who loves his girlfriend dearly. Perhaps he IS different, perhaps his life experiences have made him resilient to any problem. But I know that life in Africa (even for the rich) is not any different for the poorest in India or the illiterate in the US. Perhaps we need to make an effort find each other. Perhaps we need to unlearn what we have already learnt to believe that "we" comprises of people who are not so different than you and me. Post Script: So after having unlearn what I had learnt, I think my current love interest (who is an NRI) has stepped into this relationship with his bag of assumptions. Gah! The circle of life!