Today is Christmas.
One of many 25ths of my 25th year. My first 25th of the 25th year.
It reminds me of you. I know you aren’t very fond of it.
You like the sound of raindrops hitting the soil leaving a petrichor effect.
Yet, this cold chilly winter festival of gaiety and piety wears your reminiscence. Both aren’t mine to claim. Yet both have stayed with me – Christmas and You. I know not what is this, that I feel. To find you even in places you don’t exist, in things you dislike. It’s just like the seasons – changes colour yet the same every year. Like the decorations on a christmas tree – a new element added each year. Yet the same lush green with a white furry coat. The same you with a different element
Is this love? Then I am in love with you. If not, then what is? I do not know. I only know , the hole has started to fill. Not by surgery or by pain; with your existence instead. Perhaps, all of love is an illusion- just like life; like Christmas. Yet, till it ceases, it is a reality.
I must take a leave now. I can’t sign off with you; not because I can’t but because I know not how. I can’t call you by name , as I don’t know how to call. You are rightly named my dear – a king. A kshatriya whose religion is to fight unto the last.
So, farewell my dear.
Until I write again. Until I pour my heart out. Until the last fight. Until christmas rests. - December 25, 2015