Thursday, 5 May 2011

#48 …when you become a poet.


I had just got engaged. It was one of our candlelight dinners that he frequently got arranged. That’s the best part about an Indian engagement. The soon-to­-be bride is pampered the most. I think it’s also the best part of a girl’s life bridging two totally different phases of her life. Anyway, so there we were sitting across each other on the dinner table and the order had been placed. My fiancé suddenly asks if I have got a pen. Since I didn’t, he called for the waiter and asked him to arrange one for him. He took a tissue from the stand in the middle of the table and started writing something. It did seem awkward at first, but then since everything seemed to be strange about him in the beginning, I decided not to pay heed. He appeared to be giving a lot of thought to whatever he was writing. After a few minutes, he handed the paper to me. It was a pleasant surprise. A two-line poem in my honour, that too in Hindi, a language he is very poor in. The broken words, the misspelling, everything looked cute then. As is said – Only the feeling matters!!

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