What If?

I often wonder,

What if, we had done things differently?

What if, life had taken a different turn?

What if you had never left me, to wander,

in the wasteland of memories to burn?

What if, we had clung to each other,

held on for dear life, tight?

What if, we had cherished our love,

cared not much, for wrong or right?

What if,

We had realised, what we had was rare?

and not to be tossed aside carelessly.

We were always meant to be together,

not to stay apart and miss each other ceaselessly.

What if, you hadn’t left me all alone?

What if, you had understood my pain?

Would you have cared, had you known,

that your going away, would make me insane?

What if, we had treasured what we had?

What if, we had held on to each other?

What if, we had embraced forever?

What if, we had loved forever?

 Lucks aka Sulekha

The Week that was......Thank You all.

T

A message in your inbox can change your life….forever. It happened to me,  Pandora Poikilos, a versatile blogger, writer, whose work centres around book reviews, product reviews, feature articles, ghost writing e-books, among other things, tagged my blog, http://sulekkha.blogspot.com/ , as blog of the week (23^rd March – 30^th March 2010) at http://peacefrompieces.blogspot.com/p/blog-licious.html.

My heartfelt thanks to her, as she has helped me realize a part of my dream, by choosing my Memoirs. My dream is the same as any other Blogosphere member’s dream, to be recognized for all the hard work that I put in my writing, to be appreciated by my fellow writers and to reach all corners of the Blogosphere and beyond.

I started my journey in the Blogosphere on a sad note, my father’s passing away made me want to put my feelings about him, down in my blog and my earlier entries are all my tears and longings pasted on the pages of Memoirs. He helped me even after he had gone away from my physical world. He had wanted to see me excel in the field of writing and was my harshest and dearest critic. I hope to realize his dream of becoming a good writer and every day I stand before god, with folded hands and pray that I am able to reach those in need of some hope. If my writing can motivate, help or bring a smile to someone’s face, if I can make a difference in one life. It will be worth it.

My father had lived by the philosophy of the great Stephen Grellet, dad had had this quote framed and put up in our living room for us to see every day and live by it.

               

"I shall pass through this world but once. Any good therefore that I can do or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again." 

It’s strange how god sends his angels, disguised as humans to enrich and transform our lives, I am grateful to him for sending me all these and many more , who have added to my humble existence with their contribution. Jim Brandano, bestowed upon me the Versatile Blogger award this month, thank you so much for the same Jim. You set the ball rolling…

Eva Manya, was another link in the chain of angels, her invite to Rimly Bezbaruah,( another angel), resulted in her inviting me to Ladies Club, a blogging community, set up by my Mitr(friend) Kriti Mukherjee, I have yet to meet Kriti in person. All these wonderful people and rest of the members of the Blogosphere have contributed in numerous ways to my life, be it by their comments, links, likes follows or silent readings. A big thank you, to all of you out there.

As my Award week comes to an end, I feel a bit nostalgic about my blog not being posted on Pandora’s page, but am happy that some other blogger will be given a chance to shine and proudly display his/her talent to us all. My best wishes to all and god bless.

Lucks aka Sulekha

Innocence lost.

As I sit and stare at my computer screen, I sense an impending panic attack. My greatest fear is that I will run out of words and my mind will shrivel up and die. Writer's block, I believe is the correct term, but when you are not a writer and still suffer from this predicament, what do you do then?

How do you explain your fears to your friends and family? Nobody understands your anguish, how can they when you yourself don't know the reason. What secrets have you got locked in that cauldron of a brain, which if not revealed, will cause it to explode? 

Everybody has secrets, some a few more than the others. No secret is worth losing your sleep over and definitely not worth losing your sanity over. Sometimes your deep rooted fears resurface, when you least expect them to. A tragic event has a triggering effect on your mind and out spills these maggots of fear and shame, from the hidden crevices of your brain, where they have been feasting on for an eternity.

It's only when you confront them that you remember all those mishaps. The turbulent emotions, the silent cries, the deafening silence the helplessness and fear. Face them they can't hurt you ever again. You are a stronger person now and no longer a victim but a survivor. 

I read a touching story in the morning and have been thinking about it the whole day. It was about a survivor of child abuse. Whenever we hear or read about child abuse, the abuser in most cases is known to the child. He is either an uncle, brother, father, cousin or domestic help, having easy access to the child. The child trusts these men and doesn’t question their inappropriate touching until it is too late.

What goes through the minds of these little children when they are suddenly groped or pulled into a closet under the guise of horse-play by their cousin? When the beloved uncle steals a kiss from the little niece and puts his tongue inside her tiny mouth? When the servant, takes a nap with the baby and fondles her at will? How do these innocent children react to these atrocities?

Most of the times, they don’t raise an alarm, because these men manipulate them and emotionally blackmail the children. In some cases the children are so young that the parents haven’t even had the wrongful touching talk with them. The kids think it’s okay to be touched in this manner by the uncle or bhaiya, because their parents know them and welcome them in the house.

Many such cases go unreported and the children suffer mental agony as they start understanding about these things. Some of them tell a trusted elder but some suffer silently because their spirit has been crushed at an early age. All these children grow up with a lot of issues and carry a lot of mental baggage on their frail shoulders. Their whole outlook towards life and society changes dramatically and even their sexual relations are affected.

Parents should teach their children very early in life, about the kinds of touching which is allowed and the wrong kind, which is not. They should be told to raise an alarm at the slightest hint of unease and if they are uncomfortable with anyone behaving in a manner not to their liking.  Children should be able to trust their parents and be certain of their unconditional love and trust.

The incident of abuse should be discussed openly and the parents should talk about it with the child and also take her/him to a child psychiatrist. Never ever should the child be made to feel guilty or a victim. His/her act of bravery should be rewarded with profuse praise and the channel of communication between the child and the parents should always remain open and honest.

Let’s create awareness about Child Sexual abuse and help protect the innocent children. I am supporting the initiative by adding their logo in my blog’s sidebar.

Lucks aka Sulekha

Racing towards fifty on wobbly legs

I am fast approaching the half-century mark and am feeling the effects of the upcoming golden jubilee event. Hey, don’t be too hasty in writing me off as an antique, because I still have a couple of more years left, before I hit the ‘F’ mark. I am not vain and know that we all have to become old one day and we all will surely die someday, but I am not ready to become old right now.

So to keep myself from going to pot, and also to ward off the sarcastic and hurting remarks of my so-called well-wishers, I went looking for a magical cure for old-age. My first stop was an imposing looking, and important sounding, beauty clinic; even their advertised treatment   had exotic sounding names. I was convinced that my search for an elixir of youth had ended and I was going to be transformed into, if not a Miss Universe, then at least, a Miss World here.

I entered the pristine white lobby with a spring in my otherwise limp step and flashed my 20 odd, yellowing teeth at the receptionist, who recoiled at my gap- toothed ugly smile. She opened her drawer and took out her wallet,  I held out my hand thinking that she was going to give me the clinic’s visiting card but only when she extracted a Rs 50 note from her wallet that realisation dawned. She was giving a hand-out to the crazy old lady with a million missing teeth. Oh, if only the floor would open up and swallow my huge frame, or at least some part of me!! No wonder my family members ridiculed me, I was a freak!

I tried to sound well educated and sophisticated, while explaining to her that I was here for an appointment with the beauty therapist. She wasn’t completely convinced but she did call up the manager on the intercom, all the while keeping an eagle eye on my humongous frame.

I am a large woman but still was surprised when the so-called beauty therapist and slimming expert walked in, she was 10 times my size and her wrist resembled my thigh. I knew I was in the wrong place immediately, but couldn’t make a fast get-away due to my stomach-impediment. So she cornered me and bombarded me with her beauty jargon. I listened with only half an ear as I was still trying to get her entire frame within my line of vision.

She requested that I follow her into the treatment room for a demonstration. I did that, but by the time we reached the end of the long corridor, my eyes had had enough of her jingling, jangling gigantic behind. Inside, we were welcomed by their cosmetologist, who took one look at me and commenced a verbal attack my skin tone, and open pores. Her opening statement was, “you need at least 24 face treatments because your skin is very flabby and you have open pores and also black-heads. Your eyes need work too, the dark-circles need to be worked on and we have to do something about your extremely dull and dead looking eyes.”

I mumbled an apology and waddled out of the beauty clinic from hell, they had made me feel a hundred to my fast approaching fifty. On reaching home, I asked my kids, “Do I look like I have dead eyes?” They shook their head in denial and said, “You have the prettiest eyes in the whole world.” Bless my angels; I felt 18 and not 47 at that instant.

My search for the fountain of youth ended on that fateful day, what about yours?

Lucks aka Sulekha

Brutal Murder and Crystallization by Shloka and Sulekha

Friends,

Let me tell you how this post was created, While I was writing my article, my daughter Shloka happened to read it and commented that it could be made into a poem. Within two minutes, she had come up with this beautiful poem,"Crystallization". Sharing both the prose and poetry with you all and would welcome your thoughts on the same. Thanks....

Brutal Murder

She raised her hands over her head to protect herself from the raining blows, cruel, merciless, whacks on her frail, defenceless body. Her fingers snapped one by one, with each strike on her silent, still form. The shadow didn’t relent and kept on beating her.

Blow after blow, repeatedly, until she was broken from head to toe. Blood was oozing out of her open wounds, mixing with her tears. She kept on imploring him not to hit her, he kept on ignoring her cries.

 He beat her till she stopped whimpering, stopped moving, stopped breathing. Only then did he take a break, but gave one last thwack, just to be sure and walked out.

The Victim was HOPE and the assailant was NEGLECT.

Lucks aka Sulekha

Poem By My Rockstar, SHLOKA

 Crystallization

Silent pleas,

ignored and side-lined.

Imploring eyes,

Responded to with snaps of, “you’re fine”.

A cowering frame,

dying to be ignored.

As tears fall freely,

from eyes that implore.

Crystallization,

Is what I aim to do.

Forget the tears,

Or at least be able to pretend to.

Love isn’t real,

at least not in this world.

A hope or a dream serves,

no one but little girls.

I need to believe,

In endings well deserved.

In knights that slayed dragons,

In lines that learn to curve.

But, I know now,

Things always stay the same.

A laugh is a laugh,

A game is a game.

And I am older now,

Don’t hope for the old foolish things.

I hum the songs,

that I no longer dare to sing.

But that doesn’t change,

The person I used to be.

A little bit more buried,

A little less than me.

Shloka Rawat

My Inspiration- My Dad

"Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.  ~Gloria Naylor"

I have inherited my fondness for books from my Father.. He truly loved books, and being an avid reader, whenever he came across a book he really liked, he would send a copy of the same to me. “Who will cry when you die?” by Robin Sharma was my father’s last gift to me before he passed away. I tried to be strong and carry on with life, but I think I still needed his love and support to go on… That’s when I came across this book again, left in a dusty corner since I’d nearly stopped reading any books, despite my life-long pursuance of that very habit..

Upon opening this book, I came across certain beautiful quotes in the book (mainly compiled by the author) that my Dad had underlined, and these have become my mantras for the New Year, and for evermore.

Sharing them with you:

1. Take more Risks.

2. Get good at being uncomfortable and stop walking the path of least resistance.

3. Living is a gift and we must make the best of it, every day of our lives.

4. There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all.

5. So long as you live, keep learning how to live.

6. Without the rich heart, wealth is an ugly beggar.

7. Reflect on your weaknesses and vow to transform them into strengths that will add richness and energy to the way you live.

8. It’s a funny thing about life, if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it.

9. Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that crushed it.

10. To get more from life, you need to be more in life.

11. Start your day well. You will never be the same.

12. There is in the worst of fortune the best chance for a happy change.

13. Be the change that you wish to see most in your world.

14. If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.

15. Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present, you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.

"I love my father as the stars - he's a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart.  ~Terri Guillemets"

I dedicate all my awards and accolades to him. He would have been so proud of me and my accomplishments. Thank you Dad, for showing me the way and for always being there for me. Love you forever....

Lucks aka Sulekha

Silent anguish

Silent anguish

Silence is the loudest scream,

in the confines of a lonely heart,

Sometimes you need to speak,

to make yourself understood.

Nothing hurts more than your silence,

It grips my heart in its vice-like hold,

rips apart the remnants of my soul,

with its quiet undertones.

I try to placate my heart, and reason,

I can’t hear you above the din of my,

thoughts and feelings for you.

My jumbled up wishes and desires,

are drowning out your words.

The sound of your voice,

Is unable to reach my parched ears.

Sometimes I can hear your heart beat,

From a thousand miles away.

When it happens, I know that,

You are thinking of me. I feel,

A touch of the wind,

kiss of the sun, and hear,

 the twinkling of the stars.

At times when I am sad and lonely,

I feel a warm touch on my soul.

It’s when I cross your mind, and you,

Whisper my name in your sleep.

I feel your name is mine to keep,

Your memory is my keepsake.

Though I think of you night and day,

I was yours for Namesake.

Lucks aka Sulekha

When will my tweets on twitter cause a furore?

When will my tweets on twitter cause a furore?

When I tweet, nobody appreciates them, When will I become famous? When will I become important enough for people to want to know about my life’s every tiny little detail?  Whether I‘ll be celebrating holi or not? If not, then what would I be doing instead and where would I be going? Which conference hall would I be lecturing in and who all will be there to cheer me?

God when will you make me important enough, so that when I dedicate some tweet to someone, the world notices and comments? When I check into a hotel and I tweet, people go,’ Wow’. When I don’t like the room and demand to be shifted out to another one, I tweet, and people go, ‘double wow’, and when I tweet about helping the poor overworked staff in shifting to a better room, people go, ‘what a woman!!!’.

When will my dinner become a topic of discussion? My choice of restaurant, a news bulletin and the number of dishes I order a national concern? When, What I’m going to dig my fork into becomes an event to be awaited with bated breath and when will people not pluck out their eyes in frustration at my nonsensical tweets. When will all this happen?

When I am a well-known actress and I check into a seven star hotel and tweet about the fishes in the aquarium and how my room is located inside the glass aquarium, everybody starts marvelling at my good fortune, never mind the fact that the producers or organizers of the show or movie are paying through their nose for my hideously expensive room. My tweets are my own and my followers are amazed at my witty comments. I go to the bathroom and tweet, ‘More fishes here’, and the world goes, ‘cho chweet.

God, when will I become so famous? When will my tweets cause a furore, on Twitter?

Sulekha aka Lucks

She just wanted to “Live and let live”

She was in love, so much in love, wasn’t trying to make a point,

Didn’t decide to rebel, just to shock the world.

But her family, she did disappoint. They hung their heads in shame,

And threw her out of the house, without a penny to her name.

Her crime was only this that she had dared to love.

Had decided to make her, sweetheart her whole life.

She wasn’t ashamed of her choice, and flaunted her love.

But people objected to it and made so much noise.

The world was up in arms, against these two.

Wanted to tear them apart, But how could they succeed?

These two had decided never to part, and to live in each other’s heart.

Onlookers watched them go, Hand in hand, cheek to cheek.

She had an arm around her waist; And She kissed her on her dimpled cheek.

Smiling at each other, they walked home in no apparent haste.

Two young ladies, so much in love. Why did the world cringe?

Why couldn’t it let them be, why didn’t it believe in, live and let live?

What was the young lovers’ unpardonable sin?

Sulekha aka Lucks

Trunk full of Clothes

Trunks full of clothes mock me,

Their actual number Shock me.

I am a hoarder I admit and state.

That suit I wore on our first date,

The engagement sari is special,

The wedding sari is ultimate.

The dress I won in a competition

Has a place of pride in my collection

The nightie I had worn

When my baby girl was born,

The same lucky one,

I had worn for my son.

There are clothes of all shapes and sizes

Piles and piles of the same surprises

The fainthearted ones.

I am okay with it, I swear,

Yet always feel I have nothing to wear.

I do possess a wide collection,

But when it comes to selection

I fret and I fume

They all seem so out of tune.

There is no appropriate outfit

For the appropriate occasion.

Everything is either,

too loose or too tight ,

too loud or too light,

too out-dated or too modern.

And whenever I am at a loss,

as to what to wear,

with my hubby I reason,

and go out and buy an outfit

just right for the occasion.

-Lucks aka Sulekha

Versatile Blogger Award

I was very excited to find out I was recognized by another blogger, Jim Brandano at http://jpweddingphotograpy.blogspot.com/ .I was honored to find that my blog, as well as 6 others, have been given the Versatile Blogger Award.

Jim has a great blog where he talks about photography among other things!! How do you not want to follow that blog??? Visit his site and I know you'll follow and enjoy it.

With this award comes responsibility. I am to tell 7 things about myself and bestow the award on 7 other bloggers. Those already awarded can’t be named again so Let me begin by saying that, I love all the ones already chosen by my other blogger friends. And also love a lot more than the seven blogs mentioned below.

7 things about me….

1. I love my Dad, he is my hero and my inspiration

2. I am a compulsive writer.

3. My occupation is Home Engineering.

4. I live in a fantasy world, at least that’s what my family members complain about all the time.

5. I hope to be remembered as an eccentric writer.

6. My family is my backbone and my friends my support system.

7. I believe in Reincarnation, karma, destiny, telepathy and souls.

My seven favourite bloggers are:

http://worldasisee.wordpress.com/ Priyashmita is a versatile blogger through and through. She introduces herself in her own unique way, “I am who I am...an enigma for some and an open book for others. A strict disciplinarian for some and a fun girl for others. A heartless authoritarian for some and the kindest friend for others. I am who I am...which sliver of me you see depends on you.” Go to her blog and see for yourself.

http://thilalangadi-sheba.blogspot.com/ Chokher Bali is a truly great poetess and reading her poems is like looking into her soul. Her posts are straight from the heart and touch yours every time.

http://erinsdomain.blogspot.com/ David’s blog is called Erin is Love, Reflections on life with the world's best dog: World traveller, therapy dog, church attendee, stage performer and beloved friend. I adore his posts about Erin, his dog and am always moved when reading them.

http://ardithsquest.blogspot.com/ Ardith is another great blogger, she writes,” I have found blogging to be a great way for old and new friends to become acquainted with the real me; to sort out and organize some of the thoughts that swim in my head; to give my day-to-day routine a little more purpose and direction.” Read her posts and you will know, what I mean.

http://annalwalls.blogspot.com/ “Writing is my obsession, and fiction is my passion.”, writes Anna, and she is a terrific writer. She has three blogs and I love going through her posts. Visit her blogs and be amazed at her talent.

http://lifethrulucylasticaslense.blogspot.com/Lucy says, “Please enjoy my random ramblings and personal observations, inspired by the life that is all around me. Thoughts, feelings, wit and wisdom.” I enjoy reading her splendid posts and look forward to them every day. She has a great blog, see and then believe.

http://saintfaron.blogspot.com/ Sukanya is a terrific blogger and writes about her travels and her other blog is called timid cook. She writes, “It's not the destination alone; the journey matters too...” read her articles and you will get to know her and her blog well.

These are my seven versatile bloggers and wish I could have named many others but alas the limit is seven.

Little things make a big difference

How do you like your eggs?
Do you like your coffee black?
Or are you a tea person?
Tiny bits of information,
makes a world of difference,
To those who care about you.

What’s your favourite color?
The dearest time of the day?
Do you look at the sky and,
Trace patterns on the clouds?
Admire the scenery and sigh?
Thinking of someone special,
why?

Do you like roses or carnations?
In a wild bunch or bouquet?
What kind of chocolates,
Do you like Bitter or sweet?
In a day, how many do you eat?

Do you sleep on your side?
Which side of the bed,
do you prefer to keep?
Do you snore, talk in your sleep?
These insignificant little things,
In her mind she always keeps.
Making her lose her precious sleep.

What do you dream about?
Whom do you see there?
What do you talk about?
Does it make you happy?
Being there with her,

These are some of the things,
She constantly wonders about,
Her thoughts forever with you.
Her love envelops you,
Encircles your heart.
Shielding you from all,
The hard knocks of life.

Even though you are so far apart,
distance is a state of mind.
If you look closely,
you'll find,
her love in your heart,
her thoughts on your mind.

Do you miss her, think of her?
And long to be with her?
Do you want to hold her close?
And never let go.

Do you believe in fate? And,
want to meet your Soul mate?
She is crazy about you,
Is so selfless and sweet.
She is your missing Heartbeat.

Sulekha aka Lucks

Junk food is good food

I wish mommy cooked better food for us?
Why can’t she make chips and cookies,
Cola and cream cake?
Instead of mashed potatoes and vegetable,
Fruit salad and milkshake?

I hate vegetables and detest milk and whey,
I want to eat chocolates and candy, whole day.
And gorge on burgers and pizzas every day.

Why doesn’t she understand that,
Kids love junk food.
Puts them in a good mood.
So what if we put on a few kilos?
Don’t chubby kids look cute?

Someone please tell her to go easy,
On whole grain bread and nutritious food.
And just cook what we ask for,
And make us feel good.

Sulekha aka Lucks

P.S. Friends, I had written this poem when my kids were very young and used to crib about food. Every mother worries about her children not getting enough healthy food and tries to ration their junk food. Hope you like this post....happy reading :)

Loving you is easy.

Loving you is easy,
doesn’t take much effort,
to keep your memories,
in my heart.
The times when,
we were so much in love,
Faithfully stay with me,
never to part.

I am transported back to,
those magical times in my life,
When I was ridiculously happy,
Was so much in love.
That the mere mention,
of your name was enough,
to send me into,
raptures of delight.

I was surviving till I met you,
Then I started to live.
I bring up your name,
in my conversations,
anyhow.
Talking about you,
makes you seem closer,
I happen to miss you less.
somehow.

Days merge into nights ,
without any respite,
From the heartache,
of your absence,
From my empty life.


Lucky aka Sulekha

Is being too sensitive bad for people’s sensitivities?

“The imperfections of a man, his frailties, his faults, are just as important as his virtues. You can't separate them. They're wedded. ~Henry Miller”

Sensitivity is a curse at least that is what I feel. Being too sensitive is not good for anybody concerned. Definition of sensitivity is, is open to, acutely affected by, easily upset by criticism. Why are we so emotional and how does it affect our life? When do people say that you are too sensitive? When we feel, a bit too much, take everything, people say to heart, are pained by unintentional jibes, imagined slights.

Overemotional people create problems for themselves by inviting hurt and pain in their lives. I remember going to my doctor, a renowned medical specialist, and his diagnosis was that I was too sensitive for this world, hence all my medical problems. He had given me excellent advice, which I conveniently forgot, that was, “You need to become less sensitive, develop a thick skin to survive in this world. If you continue being so emotional and vulnerable, you will find it difficult to carry on with your normal day-to day activities and will suffer from depression.”

Today, when I look back at the years gone by and the increasing number of pills on my bed-side table, I regret not heeding his advice. Had I listened to him and conditioned myself to be tough and invincible to imaginary hurts and thoughtless remarks, I would be better off from what I am now, an emotional mess, a sensitive fool, a misfit in this society. One who feels bad if the doctor’s receptionist is rude or the liftman doesn’t smile back or even when the neighbour’s maid gives her a dirty look.

I had a friend who was so much in love that the mere thought of, not being able to see her sweetheart even for a day, or not hear from him at least once daily, drove her to the brink of despair and acute distress. She lived for the moments, when she could speak with him or receive his letters. When I asked her why she behaved in this manner, she simply told me,” I love him”. I had no immediate response, though in retrospect, I feel I could have said so many things to convince her to be gentle with the love pony, and ride her nice and easy.

What do people mean when they say,” I Love you?” What are they trying to imply? Since time immemorial, we have been trying to understand this phenomenon called,” love”. When two people like each other and want to spend time with each other, long to be together all the time and can’t stop thinking about one another, they are said to be in love. He looks into her eyes and whispers these three magical words and her life changes completely; she is never going to be the same again.

The love bug has bitten her, for good. She starts dreaming about a future with him in it, her every thought revolves around him. He doesn’t make her his end-all and be-all, like she does him. She is a part of his life, not his entire life; she is a very dear option while he is her top priority. She being hyper sensitive, feels bad about it and constantly keeps thinking about it, and harming herself, in the process.

This is where we women become our own worst enemies, we fall in love and never rise up completely again, while men glide into love and never lose their footing. They know love is important but so are a host of other things. They don’t lose their senses along with their heart; in fact they hold on to their heart as security and capture hers as down payment. Men are such businessmen when it comes to love. Women are selfless in love and life, they just know to give and never ask for anything in return. But they go overboard with their display and declarations of love, at least the super-sensitive ones do.

The fact that he said, I love you, proves that he loves her so why does she want more? Why this constant need to hear him say it again and again, why the want to know that he misses her when he is far and is thinking about her 24/7? She creates problems for herself by being so paranoid and clinging, she doesn’t realize it but she ends up pushing him away with her maniacal display of emotions. She needs to take a chill pill and sit back on her pretty behind and dream lustful dreams, to keep her mind off the disturbing and negative thoughts. Fantasizing about a reunion with an absent mate is sweet medicine for the soul and prepares her for the actual event, when it occurs.

“A sensitive plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light,
and closed them beneath the kisses of night.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley, "The Sensitive Plant,"


Lucks aka Sulekha