A heartfelt love letter that speaks about a love with no emptiness, only unspoken emotions and endless longing.
Dear Moon Man,
Your Diamond Jasmine writes to you.
The letters I wrote for you over the past few months may have been filled with empty pauses, but there has never been an empty space in my love for you. As always, I gathered your smile as my personal possession and filled every silence with it. In the crowded lanes of affection, my love too has learned how to build a home and live comfortably.
Even when I finish writing poems about you and read them back to myself, and even when I imagine reading them aloud for you to hear, the very lines I wrote sprinkle shyness all over me.
I have one small wish in this lifetime.
Whether you understand it or not, whether you realize it or not, I want to read a few of my favorite lines written about you directly to you. I want to stand close and watch your moon-like face glow a little brighter. If possible, I want to warm myself in the blush of your shy smile. And then, perhaps, I want you to say a few lines that touched your heart… no, no… I want you to sing, and I want to sit there listening.
I have another wish too.
I want to kiss my entire world in one single breath.
You know very well that I can do that, don’t you?
Because the distance from the first strand of hair on your forehead to the nail of your feet is my entire world. Not once, but a thousand times, I can travel the whole distance of my world with my lips alone. The key to my whole universe rests in a single strand of your moustache. The soft touch of its tip is enough to awaken every sleeping sense inside me.
You may ask, “How long will you keep writing letters like this?”
I will keep writing until the carbon in this computer cursor dries out.
So the expiry date of my letters depends entirely on MS Word.
Because I do not squeeze my brain and write these letters.
Every single time, I mortgage my love and write.
And one day, even my love will have its final funeral procession.
Before the news of my death reaches your ears, the news of my love’s death will arrive at your heart. The day my terrifying silence tears through your ears, the death of my love will happen.
In the early days, if you did not see me even for a single day, I used to watch your eyes wander in search of me and secretly enjoy that pain.
But these days, even when a few days pass, I notice there is no great restlessness anymore, and I witness that too with a different kind of pain.
Perhaps that is the law of the world.
Even sweet payasam turns sour when tasted too often.
For me, listening to your voice while cooking in the morning and ending my day listening to it again before sleep has become a stubborn habit. Others may call it a magnetic voice.
But to me, it is the voice of love.
A magical voice that makes me want to die loving.
A mystical voice that makes me want to keep loving even while dying.
It feels like a peacock feather brushing softly against the folds of my ears.
It feels like the ticklish comfort of a hen’s feather circling inside.
You were once only a singer of my daylight, but now you have risen as the singer of my nights too.
What else remains then?
At every hour, it is your waves of voice that echo in my house—most importantly near my kitchen stove.
Perhaps that is why even plain hot water prepared there somehow turns into a feast.
I do not know what strange desire my little kitchen has for your voice.
Because I am always with my phone, everyone thinks I am running a household with a mobile phone.
But only my love knows that I am actually running a household with your voice.
What can I do?
I cannot measure my affection and keep a little for your voice, a little for your face, a little for your smile.
I pour all of it at once.
And on the days I cannot see you, I suffer in ways that cannot be explained.
Even when I break, you make me rise again and love you all over with a force too powerful.
Let our love remain like a rubber ball forever—
even if it falls, it should never shatter; it must bounce back into our hands.
Please do not turn our love into a glass ball that breaks into pieces and scatters beyond repair.
With that one humble request,
Your life-loving beloved,
Diamond Jasmine.