Chai, we were having chai then – looking at that bookstore around the corner, he said: “I would like to walk with you to the bookstore and then a mile within the bookstore, with a whole lot of gracious pauses, of course. I will allow you to look at the books, but you have to allow me to look at the books in your eyes because in there, the books twinkle.
The narrow alleys lined by boxed wooden walls, coloured with the books within, is an oceanic labyrinth. And that is our world, we will drown and swim and rise and fall and take off and land, for it is vast enough and it is deep enough. But it still doesn’t match the depth of yours, and the depth of where you reside in me. Your fragrance with a bit of mine and the ambient fragrance of the books is a heady appetizer for reading with addictive additives. We will read and read till we are no longer there. We will read till we are within, yet outside of ourselves.
And I know that you will take me to a world of yours and I know that that world will take our words away. And it did, we both wanted to know more than we could know. We both wanted to be there for an eternity. We didn’t have an eternity, but we knew that even that would not be enough.
I admire you, deeply so. I walked with you to the bookstore with the anticipation of accelerated admiration; even then I could not contain. My heart was aflutter. In this sanctuary of my sanity and insanity, of my fantasies and realities, of my contentment and discontentment, of my aged and timeless legends – there are so many tales told and untold. You are my story in telling. I read you and you, me. We will be read. “
With hands warmed by the nestled cup of chai, and the heart warmed with the beautiful words read, she smiled and looked up from her book. He was still looking at that bookstore and was still saying his heart out to her. Something in her was listening, even if she was not, for she got up and gently held his hand. He melted into a smile as she led him to the bookstore around the corner.