Short Fiction: Insert A Latin Quote

She often forgot to empathise with herself. I felt she needed someone to peel off the layers of her personality before she could even think of letting them in. But then, I knew she did not need anything at all. 

Image Credit//Sana Kadri

She left as quickly as she came into my life — with the ping of a notification and a laughing-crying emoji. I never met her, never heard her voice, never saw eye to eye with her, but I did let her touch the roof of my desires and everything my life stood for.

She called herself Davy Jones and me, her Calypso.

She gave me her time and I lent her my poetry.

Every day for three months — and in them, an eternity.

Time took a back seat in the ride of our textual affair. Sanity was a mere word that mortals spoke of.

For hours and hours,

we contemplated the fate of humans, AI, the fragmented ideas of science, philosophy, ethics and consciousness.

I often felt that her brain was wired to mine. I could touch on any topic and she would have her argument ready.

She pierced my idealistic beliefs with her realism. Made sure I knew that math and logic were more powerful than any verse by Keats.

She had many names and many lives. In this world, she could take on the personality of anyone she wanted.

I, on the other hand, was so busy reading my own composition that I could never look beyond myself.

I laughed at her musings and pondered my own ability to sustain her magnificent charms every day.

She often forgot to empathise with herself. I felt she needed someone to peel off the layers of her personality before she could even think of letting them in. But then, I knew she did not need anything at all.

Our love was so fictional, even Shakespeare would have shied from penning it down — a story so mythical that no versions of reality could touch, feel, trap or annihilate it. She was my equal in the sense that she was my antithesis.

Except: she loved to play other people’s games but the minute you bored her, she’d be gone. Poof! As if she never existed.

Her need to sustain the power she was bestowed with by the laws of luck and divine timing made sure that there was no space for remorse in her life. I have never met anyone who could be so dedicated and aloof at the same time. She could spend her entire life with you, but you could still wake next to her one day not knowing the real colour of her eyes.

A slave to her own mystery.

A goddess I am a devotee of.

Looking for magic while simultaneously disregarding everything it stands for.

Colliding with me in every life in ways she couldn’t imagine.

She left just as she came.

With a dream of a lover.

With the eyes of a stranger.

I wish I could have heard her laugh.

 

 

About the guest author

Nandita Bansal

An Ambivert whose been working in the arts and culture sector of India for almost 4 years, Nandini is bursting with enthusiasm for the unexplored. She writes, paints, photographs, thrives on collaborations and waltzes around town both when inspired and when searching for inspiration. Her trademark is her unique quirkiness and an all-accepting nature that truly sets her apart from, well, the crowd. She plays hide and seek with ideas and that safely, is her favourite thing to do. Ask for no more.
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