Fiction: Becoming whole…

“I want you”, your voice is rough with desire. I look up at you. Your eyes speak a million words. I come closer to you and press my body against yours. I feel your arousal. All I want is to give. To satisfy. To make love to you. It’s been so long. I yearn for the touch. I reach up and touch your forehead. My fingers seek the lines that add character. They caress the cheeks, the lips and the chin. They caress your ear lobes. I stand on my toes and kiss your forehead and then your eyes. My lips and tongue seeks your earlobe. I gently nibble. I hear you draw a sharp breath as you grow harder between my legs. My body grows warmer, as if set on fire by your desire. You let me play. You wait for me to take the initiative, as if testing my resolve that you know I sorely lack.

My lips continue seeking your skin. From your earlobes to your cheeks. Your chin. Your incredibly soft lips. The little dip of your throat just below your Adam’s Apple. I kiss you as if to memorise every inch of your skin. You enjoy every second of my touch, never demanding, never hurrying up. It feels like you’re determined to enjoy tonight to its fullest. I make up my mind. To give you my all. To make love in ways you’ll never forget. I unbutton your shirt, pausing to explore every inch of skin exposed. My tongue seeks to taste every inch of you. My heart wants to give you my all. As I unbuckle your pants, I feel you losing patience. Now I know what it takes to send you over the edge. My mouth and my lips offer the pleasure I know you need. Your hands seek my body, satisfying itself instead with running your fingers through my hair. Minutes later you draw in a sharp breath and stop me. “Please. I want you.” My heart explodes with joy as I give you what you need. As I straddle you, you seek my wetness. You take control as I relinquish mine. I feel you fill me up. I feel you fuse into my soul. I give you my all. I feel your climax build as you stroke me. “I just want to let go” you tell me. I give you my permission and you allow yourself the freedom. That pushes me over the edge as I let go as well. I feel you go over the edge, fulfilling me in a way I’ll never forget. You gather me in your arms and kiss me again. It’s then that I realise it. You complete me. You make me whole.

Thoughts…on love, marriage and honour

So many thoughts crowd the mind that I’m having trouble putting them all down. But I guess there must be catharsis at some point through words and this catharsis has taken far too long to come. So here’s a fair warning. This is going to be a random, perhaps incoherent blogpost. First, about marriage. What is it about that institution that makes it so sacred that everyone and their cousin tries to save it, knowing fully well that those who are actually in it don’t want to be in it any more? Is it social sanction? Or is the attitude that so many others are unhappy in marriages but do nothing about getting out and so why should only these two? Why do we as a society so consciously privilege duty and “being right” over being happy? Why, in the eternal struggle between love and duty, does duty almost always win?

And then there is love. What is it about this emotion that’s so elusive that you spend years, perhaps decades looking for it and never find it? And then one day, when you’ve resigned to destiny and settled into the humdrum of domesticity, to the mundaneness of a loveless marriage, to perhaps to the corporate rat race that all of us run, that it hits you. And you are sucked in. Sucked into a whirlpool of emotions that you can’t quite recognise or handle. And then it is a downward spiral. And before you know it you’re in it. In love. With someone. With life. With something you do. Or perhaps with love itself. And you can’t live without it. Suddenly you realise you can’t live with mundaneness any more. Your 9-5 job, your marriage, your everyday life no longer suffices. That you need more. And perhaps need to lose something critical to gain something even more critical.

Finally there’s honour. There’s this question of what people will say. Of family honour. Of personal reputation. One step out of the line and all this comes into play. Who are these four people who are constantly worried about your life, your love and your activities? Honestly, don’t they have their own lives to live? Why do we constantly try to hold ourselves up to impossible standards set by others?

So many questions that my head feels like it will explode from all the pressure. Why can’t we, as a society just leave others alone to live their lives the way they deem fit? Why?

Travelling solo…

I really missed travelling solo. The world seems to have a problem with solo female travellers. Especially Indian tourists travelling with an entourage. Two aunties asked well-meaning questions on why I’m travelling alone in a space of two hours. Not that it’s any of their business but for some reason, people don’t seem to get it. Some of us actually LIKE travelling alone. We like travelling without an agenda or a plan. We like to decide what we want to do on the fly. We really do like it.

This time took the idea of “deciding on the fly” to a whole new level. My travels are usually planned weeks, if not months ahead of time. Every minute detail, from travel to accommodation to forex is meticulously accounted for and executed to ensure minimum glitches. I’ve been almost obsessed with the need to know literally everything before I set foot out of my house. And it’s worked every time. I’ve usually travelled with zero problems or roadblocks. I believed that this was the only way to do it.

This time was slightly different. I didn’t have time to plan. Except that I wanted to arrive in Singapore a day earlier than needed, I wasn’t quite sure of much else. I wanted a vacation. I needed one. And I knew that Bintan was a good bet. But other than that I literally had no clue what I was going to do.

With four days to the travel, I managed a hotel booking. But I still had no clue how I was going to get there or get back. And then, with one day to go, I booked the ferry. If you think the story is over, you’re mistaken. I checked the time taken from Changi airport to the ferry terminal and for some reason, Google Maps told me it was in Malaysia. That’s when the panic set in. But it was too late to do anything about it. I checked again and still no updates. I was sure I’d booked myself into the wrong ferry from the wrong country and there was nothing I could do. And I did the only thing I could at that point. Took a beauty nap.

I woke up to leave for the airport and shelved the reflection around the ferry and the terminal. It was only when I arrived in Singapore that I checked again and to my relief, the terminal was less than fifteen minutes away from the airport. To cut a long story short, I got my ferry. From the right country and the right terminal. And I also managed to book my return to Singapore. But that’s when it hit me. It’s a simple life truth that lack of time to plan taught me.

Sometimes you may not know where to go and how to get there. You may not even know what the hell you’re doing. That’s ok. It’s ok to not control every minute of your life. It’s ok to not know how to control or direct it. It’s perfectly ok to not know what next. You just need to trust that it will be ok in the end. Otherwise it’s not the end. And yes, while you’re at it, travel more. Travel alone. Reconnect with yourself. Especially if you’re a woman. It’s ok to sit down and have a drink in solitude. It’s ok to do NOTHING in solitude. If you don’t enjoy your company, who else will?