I don’t need a man to give me orgasms. I don’t need anyone to give me an orgasm. I can take care of that for myself.But.
But.Can you turn me on with your thoughts? Can you light a fire in me without even touching me?
Can you turn me on with your thoughts? Can you light a fire in me without even touching me?
Can you see the naked me before you even strip my clothes? More importantly, would you still want me when you have seen the real deal, when all the flaws are out in the open? When you come to know of all the insecurities, eccentricities, the bouts of depression, moody silences, enthusiastic chatter, would you still want to hug me and tell me that I am as wonderful as sunshine on a winter’s day?
If one day, I don’t wish to make love, but want to stay up into the wee hours of the night talking, baring my soul, telling you things I’ve never told anyone, things that I have never spoken out loud to even myself for fear of judgment, would you want to stay awake with me and listen to it all? What if it is my mask that comes off instead of my clothes when the lights are turned off, would you want to keep undressing me? When my demons scream louder than how I do in the whirls of passion, would you still want to hear me scream louder?
Can you make love to me with your words? Not by whispering sweet nothings to me. I don’t want that. I want meaningful somethings. Thought provoking anythings. Mindblowing everythings. I want to be seduced by your voice – the excitement in it when you tell me of all the places you want to see; the melancholy in it when you speak of your lost loves; the longing when you talk about your eternal search for the one.
But can I tell you a secret? There is no such thing as “the one”. There is me, there is you, and there is now.
There are our beautiful minds. And when two beautiful minds mate, magic happens. The earth shifts. The stars realign. The gods smile. Flowers high-five each other.
Can you make that happen? Can we make magic with our minds?
It’s been more than three weeks since my Spiti trip ended and I grudgingly got back to reality.
Three weeks of getting back to the routine of work and home. Three weeks of reliving the tales to friends and family. Three weeks of showing the pictures (even when they showed only very mild interest) to everyone and trying to explain how beautiful the place is in real. Three weeks of recommending it as the next holiday spot to others, as though I know every nook and cranny of it.
Three weeks of getting disappointed each time I look at the sky and finding that the blue is just not blue enough. Three weeks of wondering why there are so few stars in the sky. Three weeks of sweating buckets and having to shower twice a day. Three weeks of dealing with people who test your patience to the very last limit. Three weeks of wincing each time anyone starts talking too loudly. Three weeks of getting stuck in traffic jams. Three weeks of living in denial that THIS is the real world, and Spiti was just a break.
It’s also been three weeks of trying to frame the perfect draft to encapsulate everything that this trip meant to me. I have been waiting for some divine inspiration to strike me, so that I could pen down the most fitting words for Spiti. Well, turns out, there ain’t no divine inspiration striking, and there ain’t words perfect enough to describe Spiti.
So I’m gonna try my best here.
Where do I begin?
Let me begin with how this trip came about. For that, I’ll have to rewind a few years to how I became friends with this girl called Priyanka Shinde from Mumbai. Well, not friends, exactly. We became Facebook friends. She had read one of my blog posts via a mutual friend and wanted to know me more. So we added each other on FB. But that was it. We never connected more than that. We were just there on each other’s walls. I’d like an occasional post, she’d do the same. But every year, without fail, she would call me on my birthday to wish me. We’d talk about how we should meet up some day, and hang up without making any plans towards it. We’d chat on Whatsapp once in a blue moon. But ya, that was it. I lived my life in Chennai, and she hers in Mumbai.
So there I was, sometime during April 2016, going through a particularly low phase at work. But, like many others like me, I trudged along, sulking and stuffing my face with food when humans got too difficult to handle. I’d been wanting to travel but nothing was working out because S had recently switched jobs and owing to a marketing profile, was travelling almost every other week. And making plans with friends was becoming next to impossible with each one in a different state / country/continent. The final blow came when a girls’ trip to Sri Lanka, which had been in the make since August 2015, got cancelled due to some logistical issues. The last major trip I’d been on was to Andaman in September and a three-day trip to Hampi in January.
But it was not just about going someplace new. It was simply about getting away for a while. I wanted to be away from everything and everyone familiar. Needed some peace and quiet. That’s when I saw Priyanka share a trip to Spiti on her FB page. I’d heard of Lahaul and Spiti from a friend of mine many years ago and added it to my to-go list, but never made any concrete plans. “Why not now?”, I asked myself. So I got in touch with her, asked her the details, and before I knew it, I had signed up for a trip with two women from Mumbai, only one of whom I knew vaguely. One more lady joined us a few weeks later.
I don’t know about you, but I constantly need something to look forward to in life. If I know there is something coming up a few months down the line, more often than not a trip, it gives me that extra bit of motivation to get by. And at that point, believe me, I needed some MAJOR motivation. With the trip planned for July, I was beginning to get into a better mood.
And then, with exactly a month left to go for the trip, I got chicken pox.
You know what? I think I’ve rambled on for far too long. Why don’t I tell you the rest in my next post? Come back, ok?
And oh, thank you for coming by! I hope you stay around. (Who am I kidding? I hope I stay around)
P.S.: I’m new to WordPress and still finding my way around. Bear with me, ok?