Conversation, Fictions, Life

Writers in Talking

This Monday, while heading to the dreadful work place, I saw a couple in Delhi Metro. Sitting on the corner seat next to the door, she was balancing her spectacles.  With her hand in his, he was scribbling words to her to listen. People unnoticed their silence of eyes, and he remained blank on their eyes. In this silence proof place, I heard them talking through stories. This post belongs to their conversation.

He: Days she tracked, had all my happiness, For all misfortunes, wait till she goes back in time.
She: Let me trust you, For a while.

He: Too many hugs to give. Too few people to hug.
She: But he could have hugged her as many times as he can.

He: At a beer shop, he might have paid his another crate of beer. But A girl, who had followed all the way in his shadows, urged for ice-cream.
She: She has been just another follower of his smile.

He: In his comfort zones, she liked the mum version of him.
She: His eyes anyway said it all.

He: All she needs a Reader. She is illiterate of her feelings for so long.
She: He reads that unsaid, of which she is unaware. She just creeps in the moment.

He: Authenticity of Words remained only in her Eyes, she just spoke of a Poet.
She: That poem, he said, was all about her. Each line meant, she meant something to him. A Word.

He: In her talks, she revealed his Name, but she unspelled him. He knew the reason for Sweetness of the cup of Chai.
She: That cup she held tight. In the spur of a second, his fragrance melted her. Her anxiety.

He: All stories revolve around a Cup of Chai. Draped with his soul, she fought all anxiety with a cup of Chai in her hand.
She: All this way, she just smiles. Her eyes, wanting to just relentlessly talk to him. Forever over a cup of Chai (Tea).

He: With all Silence to talk, she lent her ears to his story, and he wanted to hear another story.
She: And she was a girl. A girl with an untold story to tell. She herself was a story.

He: And then she found a note on her back scribbled by his fingers. “I love You..” she felt.
She: That very second, a blush blushed her smile. Her Dimples, deeper than ever.

She finally concluded: That story you left untold, I grab this moment to listen. But no. I want to say now. There is something in this moment. Making me smile.

I heard them saying and listening each and every word. He told a story, and she completed it. They were Writers in Talking.


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