Quirky Glasses

“What is the hardest thing you had to do?” he asked. Silence smelled of their mingled sweat “Learning to love him” she said after a while. He turned to look at her. “He is a complicated man, Walls are high up around his heart. Scaling them was the most difficult thing I had to do, I am still climbing, I am not over those walls, I am yet to see his heart, To completely call it mine. Some days are easy. He would open up his shutters, For me to run wild in his world. Days like that overwhelm me with a sense of joy. But sometimes, days would pass by, Without even the slightest exchange of words. I would bleed profusely on those days. His isolation makes me impatient, insecure. I feel I am not enough for him, That he deserved more. On days like that, I wish, I wish he would at least look my way. See me for the wounded animal I am, Whimpering alone in the corner. But he wouldn't see me. He is too blinded. His senses are clouded”

More often than not we all have had our fair share of touch with the humane and emotional side of ourselves. I have also been plagued by existential questions from time to time, but the biggest of them came on one rainy evening late at night. Bored with the same old hostel food every day, some of us friends decided to eat out from a nearby place that sold food from a cart or what we call locally as ‘ thattukada ’. They are synonymous with their steamy hot food and tasty curries. And whilst we were busy gobbling up our food, I noticed an old couple standing near the cart. They looked really old, probably in their late eighties, with the man holding tightly onto the hand of the woman, and the woman standing near him nonchalantly, but respectfully, with a blind walking stick clutched on her other hand while rain drizzled down on them. The man was looking at the cart owner, hoping for some sign of kindness but too afraid to approach him. They stood at a respectable pace away from