Thursday, July 17, 2014


Outside the night was punctuated by neon lights whose yellow patina gilded, albeit tremulously, temporal points of solidity along the roadside. The moonlight was muffled ,as though penetrating muslin. It was a tenebrous night. And i , standing outside, in the winter cold, in my pyjamas, felt most intensely, the discomfort and traumatizing impact of my presence here which, though indubitably incongruous, was exacerbated as an anomaly given the circumstances which accounted for my presence here.
I think i am equable by nature. I also discern, though i hope unostentatiously, my powers of understanding human nature. If the concrete, by virtue of its prosaic quality baffles me, the recondite, given its abstracted nature, augments any knowledge i may seek to possess or lay claim to.
He has been ignoring me. There is nothing tangible to corroborate this misgiving of mine. He is as solicitous, as concerned as ever. However, these outward ministrations of regard, more pronounced now, intenser, indicate a guilt, a crises of conscience. I strongly feel i am no longer an anchor in his life but expendable. I have deployed indirect stratagems to extract a confession from him but he seems outwardly irreproachable and that raises suspicions.
My own position of unremitting honesty is conspicuous to me. I have given this relationship not just my fidelity but my entire being. While i have endeavored to evince incontrovertible allegiance, i have expected a similar loyalty from him. I do suspect men, in general. I think they are distractable and prone to fastening their sights on other things if suffused with boredom. Has he met someone? Is our intersection a done story now? Such imponderables lead me to behave irrationally and stand outside his house, seeking evidence for an apostasy that i have already predetermined as ineluctable though i lack proof.
I daren't alert him to my presence though i want evidence. I stand vigilant for hours till sleepiness and fear of catching flu propels me homewards.
In the morning, first thing, he calls. Is this an exercise of self exoneration or exorcising guilt. Hello, i carillon, in a tone sweetened by optimism. We set a date for lunch.

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