Love-Letter (XIX)

Chitraang,

There are times when I wish I were a poet instead of choosing to study Astrophysics. I would be someone like Neruda then. Writing and devoting to you the cruelest little of lines in the most beautiful manner. For you deserve the best. But no, I am only a star-gazer and I cannot summon the sweetest way to call forth your attention. Like my love. Perhaps it fell short, somewhere. Somewhere in between my measuring of the unfathomable and the doing of the needful, my love must have fallen short. 

I think I have in fact been causal to the few rattles that you may have had with Tehzeeb. Frankly, I did not believe you both would last. But, as they say, the stars have lives that not many can live. I am not going to turn this into a testimonial about either of you, for the two of you truly have proven that laws of love do exist. 

Two people, so entirely different, yet happily complete with each other, are a rare sight to behold. In moments when my love for you crosses its civil limits, I wish it were me instead, with you. Am I being selfish, possessive? I do not care. Am I being irrational? I do not care, again. But, look, with that, am I hurting you? Yes. And that is why I leave. I do not wish to hurt you, Chitraang, not a bit. 

I am too much in love with you to either hurt you or not hurt myself.

On nights when you have the time or intention to gaze at the sky, and no one to tell you of names of stars, would you once think of me? Once?

No, I rather be an Astrophysicist than a poet.

Gauri.