The Women in your Life.

You may meet her at a mall, when you casually turn back to see her flipping through that one book that caught your eye in the shelf. She would seem the quiet type, lost in her own world, where only black ink on white pages exists. At first glance, nothing would strike you about her. A closer look will reveal more. A tastefully chosen earring, accentuating the soft curve of her earlobe; the colour of her lens frame; those carefully chosen sandals. The way she carries herself. Her confidence in standing in the middle of a store, not caring about the world around her,  focused on the words - the worlds within. And you would yearn to connect, to be allowed entry into her world.

You may meet her at a clothes store, dressed casually, nonchalantly even, in old shorts and a faded top. Your mouth would open slightly before you realise it. You would have not seen her face yet, but you are already drawn to her effortless elegance , her unassuming confidence.You strain to look at her face, but those tresses evade your mind. You sigh, wishing you could speak to her, the sigh conveying everything- the desire, the hope , the futility. You are afraid.  Afraid that by getting to know her, she may somehow fall short of the angelic vision in your head. You sigh and you walk on, the image never quite leaving you.

You may meet her on the warm sands, amidst the sun the waves and the euphoria- a solitary figure, sitting by herself, her legs crossed, her eyes open- seeing nothing and yet seeing everything. Her curls sway gently in the sea breeze. You are inexplicably drawn to her,. She calms you, detaches you, makes you pause for a minute and look at it all- not as you, but as a third person- looking at the world, your perception of the world through your eyes and the resultant thoughts, emotions and memories they evoke. You see it all. And it scares you. You snap out of it.You snap back in. And you see everything. You see her. Your world has changed.

You may meet her at a mall, on the waves; you may see her on the road as you pass her by. She may strike a chord in you. Touch you in a new way. A brush. A touch.  A word. A mood. An emotion. An experience. A memory.



This is  blog post number 100. A personal milestone for me. This blog has seen five years of my writing.  Thanks for the encouragement, the criticism and the motivation. Here is to a 100 more.