Before love

There is a period of love before each love

when you eagerly expect calls from long lost
acquaintances with whom you have nothing to share

To come across anyone from your address list –
The administrative assistant of a previous company,
The girl you met in the bus couple of months back,
The cousin of your friend’s friend,
The daughter of your mother’s colleague…
in the melancholic bagatelle of a hotel just
to remind them you are still around

Days when you travel aimlessly in metro trains
from one station to another,
watching couples hand-in-hand, eye-in-eye,
sitting next to you in their own beautiful worlds

when you sadly find out that
something as insignificant as
checking mails, recharging mobiles and washing
clothes tops your priority list

Passing through certain city streets
that remain strangely vacant on working days,
you would walk along with a friend
who turns silent near the sea

On the cold floor of an empty church,
you would close the eyes and think of
the darkness inside a beehive
on top of the church tower

There is a period of love before love

When you alone know that you arein love with something that you don’t know