Slut Of The Writerville

Slut Of Writerville

She is sitting alone, drinking. She looks bored, gazing around  with uninteresting eyes at her surroundings.
She is surrounded by many people yet she feels alone.She doodles around with the pen, thinking about ... him.

Her thoughts find their way to Shekhar. Her mind wanders, she is lost deep in thoughts, thinking about him, his black eyes, his deep baritone, his intelligence, his wit, his care that he hides behind the veneer of indifference.

She recalls Dhruv too. Dhruv, with his Taurus temper, his arrogance, his puppy dog eyes, his tall sculpted body. The way he used to make her laugh, the way he used to look in her eyes, how she used to get lost in his eyes. The warmth of his embrace, that feeling of homecoming when he hugged her. She misses all that.

She fondly remembered the composure of Nikhil, his patience, the way he always understood her even when she herself could not voice her own discomfort. The all knowing, all enduring yet compassionate smile, the mischievous glint in his eyes when he caught her unawares or when he defeated her in an argument. His smile, mostly his smile, the most genuine one she had ever seen.

She misses the glow of her heart, the leap in her steps, the shine of her dimple and roses in her cheek.

She reminisces how Dhruv proposed Tara, how she could not even say yes and simply nodded, her big brown eyes filled with tears. She also bore the pain of Neha’s tears when she saw Abhinav and realized what could have been, the way she drenched in the rain that evening, hoping against hope it would take her back to that fateful evening 16 years back. She empathizes with Nara’s awkwardness and deep seated desire for love, with Tara’s insecurities and Neha’s regret. She knows it all.

Who is she? She is the slut of writerville. For she too had loved, like her countless characters and she too had lost, like a few. Yes, as she sits there drinking, etching out characters,  thinking about them,all of whom she has met somewhere on the course of her life. All her life she has dreamed of finding eternal love. She has waited and is still waiting for someone who can make her believe that she deserves and is worthy of true love, who can make her muster the courage to fall in love and to give it her all.

While she waits for her dreams to come true, she realizes that it may never happen for her. For a love so rare, is seldom given to a girl so odd, so unworthy of it all. It is for those with a heart of faith and purity. Of beauty outside and within. It is reserved for someone who is not like her at all. 

So she travels to writerville and starts her search for love. She weaves characters with the yarn of her experiences and tries to spread love in writerville. She tears her love in countless pieces, each piece weaving the fabric of a new story. Yes she is a slut, for she yearns for love, from all her characters. She searches her love, never giving up, endlessly, tirelessly. Each character is different and each one more dear to her than the other, for how can she choose, they are all a part of him, a part of her, fragments of  her heart , a memoir of him , of them, a proof and hope of finding togetherness and  everlasting love.

Yes she is the slut of writerville, for she searches for love, turning from character to character.She lives amongst us. Turn around you may see her. Drinking tea and scribbling away some notes, in her yet another romantic rendezvous.