Letter to Part-time Love

Hi,

On and from my Dubai visit, three things have been priceless -- the wonderful memory of the stay at our host's, my Seiko, and the green Fila loafers. The green loafers were a favourite, and I often teamed it up with a white shirt and blue jeans, in spite of being way fatter then than what I am today. It was so unusual a colour for a shoe back in 2007-8, that there have been instances when, say, at a given place, if I left my shoes out anywhere, it would be identified as mine. The colour was catchy, not loud. It was shrinking with many washes and finally, the mother gave it away to the kids in the next-door garage, last year. It was compensated by a loafer from Woodlands almost immediately, which had the same green as a part of the upper. I love that shade in a shoe, I don't know why.

It is strange that on a day in which I indulged extensively in retail-therapy, the brownie would come as a gift from I's mother -- a Mandarina Duck bag, given to me especially because neither her, nor her daughter c/would use it. Why am I even writing about it? Because the only reason they couldn't carry it was the colour -- the Fila loafers green :) When you have loved something deeply, the universe conspires in its own mystical way blah-blah...

Part-time love can be intensely involving. It is no less than a full-time commitment. And so fulfilling. Like a promise which emanates hope, even if it results in being broken. Beautiful things these -- love, promises, memories...I loved a lightning. Shred me with tender love-bites into violent bitter-bits. My love wasn't the green which returned, changed in form. My love was fully part-time, from which I emerged, stronger, deeper, mellower. Who said part-time love couldn't exist? It filled me up.

A palette, if not a canvas,
Full-time yours, K.