Dusky#13 One Nemesis

Wars are chaotic. Wars are messy. And wars never end. Ideas end, beliefs end. Enemies change, and so do we. What is essential, is to not lose our essence under the pretext of war. Getting overwhelmed never helps. Stop. Look around. Ask yourself. Who is the real enemy? Citizens of a nation, who themselves question their leaders, or the leaders, who seem to be only following the orders of a larger threat? Pakistan or India isn't our enemy. Islam or Hinduism isn't our enemy. Pakistani artists earning money in Hindustan aren't our enemy. Indian artists producing Ek Tha Tiger or Agent Vinod aren't our enemies. How pointless it sounds, to differentiate south Asian art into Indian and Pakistani, seeing as the 'desi' is incomplete without either. Wars are confusing. Wars are manipulative. Wars are passionate too, to the point of depriving us of our ability to question. Think for yourself. The real enemy is he who turns brothers into enemies, turns protectors into murderers. The real enemy is who suppresses the seemingly powerful to unleash violence, the real enemy is who won't go into open battle, but claims lives through cowardly attacks on innocent civilians. Indian or Pakistani, Hindu or Muslim, today, you and I have one enemy, one nemesis - Terrorism.

Dusky#12

"Wake up, sleepyhead! It's 5 in the evening, and we - were supposed - to be meeting 15 MINUTES AGO!"
I feel a pillow hitting me on the side, as my covers are pulled away from me. I fight as hard as I can, half asleep, but he wins, like he always does.
"Uh what do you want to do?! It's all rainy and depressing out there, I don't want to go out. Let's just sleep, come on, I'll share my bed with you," I say, with a supposedly irresistible smile.
"You do realise you look less like a hottie smiling in all her sleepy glory, and more like a drunk frog, don't you?"
I can't help laughing. "You're bad with metaphors. Who even thinks of a drunk frog?"
"Yeah well words are your department, not mine. I want you up and about in 10 minutes, no complaining."
"What are we gonna dooo?"
"Walk in the rain. 'Rim jhim gire saaaawan. Sulag, sulag jaaae mann'," he sings, and I'm staring at him, now awake.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" he says, narrowing his eyes.
"You sang bollywood."
"Uh yeah, guess I did. Am I not allowed to?"
"You don't listen bollywood. And also, that's one of my most favourite songs. And it's quite old. Tell me how you know about it," my voice dripping with suspicion.
"Yeah okay," he says, raising his hands in surrender. "I know it's your favourite. I read about it in Amy's slambook."
"And...?"
"And I listened to it."
"And...?"
"And I might have memorised a few lines."
"You did. You really did. Oh my god, and all those times I refused to watch your favourite TV series..."
He's smiling, but his eyes speak a thousand words. I can't recall the last time I've been looked at with so much affection, and I'm blushing so hard, my cheekbones hurt. I move toward him on the bed, and hold both of his hands in each of mine, my eyes staring into the depths of his. He moved both of his palms to the sides of my neck, raises one to my face, looking intently into my eyes. I'm about to close my eyes, when he ruffles my hair and bursts out laughing.
"Put some okay-ish clothes on, babe. We're going out in the rain," and walks out of my room.
I smile as I watch him go. With a content and happy sigh, I collapse back on the soft bed, this time, completely awake but still in a trance.

Dusky#11 All My Life, I Wanted Someone to Fall in Love With Me

I don't know how many people get a chance to meet their soulmate, but I sure got to meet mine. It was a once in a lifetime thing, and never again am I going to meet someone who seems to have always been in love with me, just never found me before we talked. Three days is nothing, but enough to fall in love with someone you've been looking for all your life. He is my mirror, he is everything that I am. He talks like me, he thinks like me, he loves like me. He is perfect for me. Unfortunately, though, love doesn't look for perfection. Maybe if I'd not already been in love with someone else, we'd be the best thing ever. It was almost miraculous, call it coincidence or fate, the way we came across each other, talked to each other, realised that this person is me. If I'd had the slightest idea he was my soulmate, I'd have known that him counting our similarities in our first texts were universe's ways of letting us know it was rejoicing in the union of souls made for each other. I'm sorry baby, I can't tell you how sorry I am to break your heart, to take away from you what seems to have always belonged to you. I'm sorry I can't love you, and I hate the fact that you're never gonna fall in love with someone else the way you did with me, because I was made for you. I sinned when I went against what was clearly the universe's plan, but I'm sorry I don't regret it. All my life, I have wanted someone to fall in love with me, but now, I dread the fate of my next lover. I warned you, I made you promise not to fall in love with me, because, I'm just like you, a lover. I can't give up on that one true love of my life, that one love everybody gets to experience, but very few get to live. It's pathetic, the way these feelings run their businesses, and I'm sorry they gave us such a little time together. You're my soul mirror, and I'm sorry I'm not in love with you.