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The other woman. What about her feelings, her dreams, wishes, wants and needs? For isn't she a woman like every other woman, after all?
The other woman. What about her feelings, her dreams, wishes, wants and needs? For isn’t she a woman like every other woman, after all?
Believe me when I tell you that I will think only of you whenever I see a sky filled with stars because our relationship has a striking resemblance to starlight.
Do you know that some stars are just a speck of dust but those are often the ones that shine the most? Just like our relationship.
Home-wrecker. Whore. Slut. That is what I am often called.
Really, all I want to do is watch a rainbow in the sky while holding your hands and still feel like a good person even though I know that only one of these things can happen at the same time.
I want to hold your soft palms without feeling the edge of your wedding ring that along with my fingers, pricks my conscience.
I want to listen to you tell me that I am your entire world and I want to have a chance to believe it.
I want to love you without the guilt and I want to kiss you without the pain of knowing that you are mine only as long as our lips are at it.
I want to make plans with you that don’t involve an alibi. I want to make real plans with you. Like what we can have for breakfast. That is, if you stay over, ever.
I want to start believing that you are not a whole different person when you are not around me. I want to know that you are not making ten year plans with her even before the perfume from the back of my neck can linger off your body.
I want the big small things. I want to share an ice-cream with you knowing that the other half of the ice-cream belongs only to me. I want to split a half melting chocolate bar and eat my share and eat the rest that sticks to your fingers.
I want to you to make love to me. When you hold my naked waist and press your lips against mine, I want to tell you that I have thought about this moment and pretended that my fingers were yours. I want your teeth to bite in between the folds of my skin and when you ask me if it hurts, I will tell you that it hurts terribly. It hurts terribly to not be able to do the same to you.
I will tell you that it does not hurt every time I see perfect photographs of the two of you. I will tell you that it is OKAY that you choose to hold her hands during daylight while you struggle at the very thought of making eye-contact with me in public. I will tell you that I don’t want you to leave her because I care about your happiness. I will tell you that all this cheating is not tearing down my heart and making me feel like a terrible person. I will tell you that I don’t think about whether our kids will have my eyes or yours every time you play with your children. I will tell you that I am not crying as I write this and that I really don’t wish that you were here to just hold me.
I will tell you all of this. But you of all people should know what a good liar I am.
I want to tell you so much more but I will end the letter here because we never have enough time.
I don’t have the rest of my life with you. I don’t have the rest of my day with you. Our conversations end when she opens the door. Our phone calls end when you cannot whisper anymore. Our dates end when someone we know might be around the corner. Our sex life is always dark no matter how many lights I choose to bravely keep on!
And my man, my letter will end right in the middle of a sentence despite me wanting to pour out my heart to you.
Because that is our fate and destiny after all.
Editor’s note: This is a work of fiction, a slice-of-life portrayal by the author.
Image source: sad woman crying by Shutterstock.
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Neelu might have outwardly forgiven Ramesh, but in her mind, which once was filled with unconditional love for Ramesh, there was now a seed of resentment.
Ramesh’s footsteps paused at the entrance of the hotel’s ballroom. Inside, his school’s reunion party was going in full swing. The air was heavy, as expensive perfumes and the aroma of food from the buffet table, mingled. There were low murmurs, tinkling laughs and clinks of cutlery.
Ramesh had not wanted to come, knowing that she would be there. She, Neelu, who once had been the love of his life. Taking a deep breath, Ramesh entered the room. His eyes found Neelu almost immediately. She still looked the same. Maybe there was now grey in her hair and a few wrinkles on her face. But her vivacity, her mannerisms were still the same. Things, that had first attracted him.
Arathi Rajagopalan, founder of 'House of Kalart', talks about thinking like a designer & transitioning to thinking like a business owner.
Excerpts from an interview with Arathi Rajagopalan, founder of ‘House of Kalart’ – a fusion jewellery label that merges global aesthetics and traditional craftsmanship.
When did you start ‘House of Kalart’ and what was the intention?
I started House of Kalart in 2017 as a venture where painting, drawing and embroidery are married with metalsmithing to create well-handcrafted fashion jewellery. Along with painting and styling, the venture aims to create a holistic fashion experience for a bold and dramatic woman!” As a child, I had always been fascinated by arts and crafts.
While marriage and motherhood is not the be all end all of women's lives, isn't there something good in them that we should try to find for ourselves?
While marriage and motherhood is not the be all end all of women’s lives, isn’t there something good in them that we should try to find for ourselves?
And believe me I am a feminist; not a bra burning or pink chaddi campaigning type, but a feminist nonetheless. What does being a feminist mean? There is so much confusion regarding what is feminism that it almost always automatically translates to man-hating.
I am all for equal rights for men and women, fighting gender bias and stereotyping based on gender. For that matter anyone can be a feminist, not just women; men can be feminist too. My husband is a feminist, my father is a feminist, my brother is a feminist… And to my utter disappointment and shock there are actually more women I know who are enemies of feminism than men.
"Why you have reduced your identity to being wife –daughter of somebody? That’s not your only identity. You are gifted, you need to be known, appreciated liked or criticized for your own qualities and work."
“Why you have reduced your identity to being wife –daughter of somebody? That’s not your only identity. You are gifted, you need to be known, appreciated liked or criticized for your own qualities and work.”
“So you are the one??”
“Is that a question or statement that you made?”