Ah, Shivani. So you’ve come. I always wonder why you never come a minute before or a minute later. You come precisely at the point when I sit in front of computer, in the faint glow of the lamp, the glass of whisky at my elbow, and I am just about to lift my finger to type. That’s when I feel your warm breath on my bare shoulder, and I turn back to see your face, that mischievous smile which asks me silently, “So what are you going to write tonight?”
The man inside me tells me, “How can you write when the woman of your dreams is sitting right behind you – so close that you can feel the warmth of her breath and even smell her hair? Go ahead, make love to her. Run the back of your palm on her glowing cheeks, run your fingers through her hair, play with her nose, caress her neck. Go on, just go on. She’s yours.”
The writer inside me tells me, “She’s yours. That is why you must not touch her. She is your creation. She is a piece of art. A perfect piece of painting. Do you want to use the painting as a paper plate? Let her be. Let her just watch while you write. If you want to make love to her, do so with your words.”
But the man inside me protests, “It’s my words that have created her. She’s my character. I can clothe her or disrobe her, it’s my choice. What does it matter to you?”
The writer inside me reasons, “Have can you make love to your own character? Does the doll-maker decorate his own modest home with his dolls? No. Those dolls adorn mantelpieces of other homes. You may have created Shivani, and you have done a good job. She is indeed a dream woman. But once you have created her, your control over her ends. She now has a mind of her own. You can now make her do only what she wants to do.”
Well, did you hear that conversation Shivani? Am sure you hear it every night. Then why don’t you ever say anything? Why don’t you ever do anything? Why don’t you ever make the first move and end this nightly debate? Why don’t you just pull me to the bed that is right behind us and make love to me and then force me back to the chair and make me write till day breaks and I turn around to find that you are no longer there? Don’t you think I will write better that way? I’ve read somewhere that creative people love sex. Now don’t laugh at me, Shivani. I don’t want to have sex because I think I am creative. I want to have sex only to qualify as a creative man. No one at the workplace thinks I am creative. They think I am a lazy, foolish day-dreamer. I even get pulled up for that at times. But if you make love to me, I can maybe boast to them about it, and then they will discuss me in the lunch-room: “Wow, he actually slept with her! How did he manage that? He must be truly creative.” And then I will show them the stories I’ve written.
Trust me Shivani, I am not a bad writer. They will like my stories. I may not be a great writer, but I can tell a story as honestly as I can. I know you know that, and that is why you are here every night, to watch me over my shoulder as I write. Am I not right, Shivani?
So come every night, Shivani. I have so many stories to tell you. I want you to read them when they are fresh out of my head. I want you to tell me if they read fine. I know you don’t talk while you are with me, but from your facial expressions I can tell whether I am on the right track. But there will come a time when I would not like you to be around – that will be when I tell the story about how I fell madly in love with you. I would not like you watching me type that story: I would feel very conscious.
I wanna tell you something today..I met Shivani today face to face.. she too loves you..and your creative pieces of writing. she will be by your side when you will need her.. keep telling her stories straight from your heart and she is always listening...she may or may not make her presence felt..but is watching.. and knowing when you are writing... will watch your step if you ever stumble. She is thankful to you for loving her in such creative way..and making her see herself through your eyes .. make her feel herself... This is certainly beautiful form of love... who says you are not a creative author??
Nobody in workplace think you are lazy, they think you are too good for this place, probably a misfit in a postive sense. Go ahead and write more creative blogs, you know creative people are very rare and you are one. Be proud, I am proud of you as a friend.
Anon: We are talking about the narrator's workplace, not MY workplace :)
CoRnY, gHoSh, CaWHrNy! :D
Well if you insist I guess I have no choice but to keep comin huh! Alright! I will. But keep that door unlocked. I had to wait a good half hour last nite :D
(PS: To the wife: Kidding. Really.)
I think that your posts are kind of getting sickening. seems like smoking, alcohol and women make up the majority of your posts when there are other important issues to deal with. honestly I think no one wants to tell you, may be because they are your good friends but I think people are tired of hearing about your wife and her body and her beauty. I know, I know all of them are going to pounce on me for saying this, but I am sure many feel the same way. You love your wife, there are other ways to show it>...please!!
and I really dont think either this so called Shivani, if infact she is your wife even wrote the earlier blod..
Dear anon @ 10.28 PM:
1. Am sorry, this blog does not deal with "other important issues".
2. This blog rarely talks about my wife.
3. Why am I even explaining this to you?
I just stumbled on your blogs while searching something. I must say very well written and very witty. I also read your blog about post marriage. btw do you write for a newspaper or magazine?? or is this your hobby
Nayana: I work for a newspaper and writing is my profession-cum-pastime.
good i read the comments!! :-)or else i would have thought it was u..
u write reeeally well..
and might I add you are very handsome and charming sans the cigarette :))
You are gorgeous and pretty sans your photograph..::)
well send me your email and I will send my pic and you can make an informed decision eh :))
and whats with the anonymous, anyway it was for BG.... or wait, is that you BG being anonymous..
No Nayana, that isn't me. Though I suspected you'd think it's me :(
oh how like minds think alike:)
You have love on your mind too often, or do I read only those posts !!
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