To a Balcony, With Love
There she was, my crush, watering her plants on her balcony. Her plants didn’t just thrive, they flourished. She must have a green thumb! My admiration for her grew.
She was a morning person, starting her day with a warm cup of coffee, sipping it as she sat on her sofa. I would glance at her from my terrace through her balcony door while watering my plants. Then, she’d disappear to do her chores.
I wanted someone just like her. I sighed when she noticed me and waved. I waved back, captivated. She had a divine aura about her, almost like Goddess Lakshmi, whose stories I’d heard from my grandmother.
Everything around me faded into the background, broken only by her voice. “Had breakfast?” she called out. I gave her a thumbs-up. “Yeah. You?” She nodded in response.
I loitered around my terrace, pretending to work, picking at dry leaves, while she hung her clothes to dry.
“This is for you,” she said, handing me a steel dabba. “Tell me how it is,” she added, before walking away.
It was carrot halwa! Not my favorite. I opened it to find a smiley face drawn with two raisins and a cashew. My heart was overjoyed.
Now, I stare at her empty balcony, abandoned and dusty, with no trace of greenery. She moved away, and we didn’t say goodbye. Perhaps she still keeps plants around and parks her car with utmost precision. Maybe she has wavy hair now instead of straight. I don’t know.
I will love this woman forever, from a distance even if I can’t see her again.
I shared this with my girlfriend, who laughed and said, “Mother fucker! you have unconditional love for this woman! One kiss from her and you would’ve been enlightened!”. I blushed sensing the truth in that statement.
“And stop looking into your neighbor’s balcony, you creep!” she teased. I twitched my eyebrows in protest.
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