//ये हलचल, दिल की ये हलचल, बोले आज आस पास तू मेरे
बिखरा हूँ मैं तो, कुछ पल हवा में, तेरे भरोसा को थामे
चलना भी है बदलना भी है, तुझमे ही तो ढलना भी है
दिल थोड़ा जज्बाती है, भर जाता है बातों से
ये फिर छलके यूँ आँखों से, हो जैसे रेत जरा सी//
❃
8th January 2018, Delhi
9 PM
Dear Diary,
How fast time flies!
It has been a year, twelve months, fifty-two weeks, and three hundred and sixty-five days since Kabir left for his duty, his unwavering commitment to the Indian Army taking him to a place where even my thoughts struggle to reach.
Drass, they call it, the second coldest inhabited place on Earth, and it's where he is stationed. That remote outpost of bravery and sacrifice holds him within its unforgiving embrace.
Drass remains a distant dream, a place that holds a piece of him, a place I've come to know through his words and my imagination.
My goosebumps arise even at the mention of the place.
I get terrified by the cold of Chandigarh. The winds seem to seep into my bones and I find myself trembling.
Those times, I wonder how he is enduring those harsh conditions there, which are ten times worse than this, or perhaps more!
Only God knows!
Time passed in a blink, and so much changed in a year.
Like, so much!
I completed my post-graduation and earned myself a job as a creative content writer in Chandigarh. Kabir's dad retired, his brother found a job and Keerti and Chiki finished college.
What didn't change a bit was my longing for him!
My heart aches with a torment that just refuses to fade.
Seasons passed, and the yearning in my heart to see him, touch him, wrap my arms around him, and kiss him intensified with every passing day.
The hot summers of Delhi scorched my heart, when I stood on the stage, receiving my degree and missing my boyfriend.
The heavy rains of Chandigarh drenched my eyes when I rang his phone fifty times to share the news of my job, but every time the only reply I received was a mechanical voice saying, "The number you are dialing is out of network coverage area."
The chilly winds of Chandigarh made my heart cold as I longed for his warm embrace.
How much I missed you, Kabir!
Valentine's Day, Holi, Diwali, New Year's Day, everything came and passed, but no amount of joy could feel the sorrow I feel from his absence.
The world around me keeps moving, seasons change, festivals come and go, but everything feels stagnant. Time seems to have slowed down, as if it's taunting me, stretching moments into hours and days into eternity.
His absence is silently killing me!
Time has slipped by like grains of sand through my fingers, and yet my heart beats to the rhythm of his absence. It's been more than a year now, a year since I held his hand and looked into his eyes.
The photos on my bedside table of those days in Goa have become my confidants - frozen smiles that hide the ache, moments of togetherness that I cling to desperately.
How I wish I could turn back the time!
Three hundred and sixty-five days have passed, but not even a hundred times, Kabir and I got a chance to properly talk to each other.
Trust me, when I say, it is devastating!
Kabir is carrying a phone, but the poor networks in Drass don't allow us to converse. The calls sometimes do not connect, and if they do, they end in a few minutes and sometimes, even in seconds.
However, they are so so precious!
Those occasional calls are like fleeting bursts of sunlight in my life.
And when his voice comes through the phone, my world comes to a still.
The erratic signal and the rushed conversations remind me of how precious and rare these moments of connection are.
I hold onto his words like they are my lifelines, playing them over and over in my mind until they become a comforting mantra. The sound of his voice, the way he says my name, it's etched into my heart, a melody that sustains me through these long months of separation.
He tells me about the snowstorms, the relentless cold, and the way every step is a battle against the elements. He speaks of the challenges, of missing home, of counting down the days until he can hold me again.
I listen, feeling a mixture of pride and helplessness, wishing I could shield him from the harshness of it all.
He describes his fellow soldiers and his routine, it's as if I'm a part of his world, even if only briefly.
In those moments, I'm transported to his side, my heart swelling with love that knows no distance.
The crackling lines carry echoes of his laughter, the sound of his voice a symphony that resonates in the depths of my soul.
And then, his letters, his letters, now rare and brief, tell tales of cold that swallow the world whole, of nights spent huddled for warmth, of a camaraderie born out of shared trials.
I read and reread those letters, each sentence etched into my memory, each word a testament to his dedication and strength.
Each word is a treasure that I hold close to my heart. The pages are worn from being read and reread, each creases a proof of my longing and devotion.
I trace the familiar handwriting, hoping that it was his fingers I was holding.
And, every time I send him a letter, I pour all my feelings onto the page, hoping that the words will bridge the gap and reach him in the snow-covered land he calls home.
I sometimes die to talk to him, but I can't.
Every fiber of my being, every cell of my body, and every molecule of my existence looks for Kabir.
I want to crib about all the problems I go through, but I can't. I want to share my happiness with him, but I can't. I want to tell him how I dislike my senior who always finds excuses to condemn me, but I can't. I want to tell him how I have made a new friend, but I can't. I want to tell him how I bought ten dresses, cause it was a sale, but I can't.
I want to do a lot, but I can't.
Sometimes, weeks pass without a call, and sometimes a month.
Being in this relationship is sucking the life out of me, but just remembering Kabir's face, his eyes that promise only and only love to me gives me the strength to keep going on.
Drass is a high-altitude area. There are constant instances of avalanches and military attacks over there. I get so worried every time I see or hear about them.
I get so scared at just the thought of something happening to him.
I have never been a firm believer in God, doing poojas, vrats, and going to temples have never been my cup of tea.
But, I have found myself doing them in the past year, praying for his safety, his well-being, and his success.
I so want him to be safe!
My parents are surprised by the change in me, I myself am, but I think it's the magic of love, that has the power to change us from the inside out.
Every little hope, every effort, big or small, matters, when it comes to him.
I can walk till the ends of the earth if it guarantees him being safe.
I've learned to find strength in the waiting. There's a resilience within me that I never knew existed, a capacity to endure that blooms like a flower in the harshest of conditions.
Love, it seems, is a force that can transcend physical presence, bridging gaps and defying time.
I've joined a support group for families of soldiers, a place where our stories mingle and our hearts find solace in shared experiences.
Through these connections, I've come to realize that I'm not alone in this journey and that others understand the ache and the pride that comes with loving someone in uniform.
I remember our last embrace at the railway station, the warmth of his arms around me, his fingers brushing my hair, and his scent lingering long after he left.
I close my eyes and try to recreate that sensation, but it's a pale imitation of reality. I miss his laughter, his teasing, and the easy companionship that we took for granted when he was here.
But amidst the ache and the longing, there's also a fierce pride that swells within me.
He's out there, in the harshest conditions, standing strong against all odds. He's a part of something bigger, a force for good, and that thought makes me hold my head high even on the darkest days.
I am so proud of him!
At times, I can't help but think of the day he'll finally come back. The day when I'll see his face again, touch his hand, and tell him how much I've missed him.
As the world around me has welcomed a new year, my heart remains heavy and cold, just like Drass. I find myself wandering through the city streets, lost in thought, lost in memories of happier times.
The night sky stretches above me, the stars winking in silent companionship. In those twinkling lights, I find traces of his presence, a reminder that no matter how far apart we are, our souls remain intertwined. Ours is a connection that can't be broken.
I often find myself gazing up, wondering if he's looking at the same stars or if he's feeling the same ache in his chest. I imagine he is, and that thought brings a bittersweet smile to my lips.
I find solace in the quiet moments, in the stillness of the night when the world sleeps and my thoughts are the only company I have.
I send my love out into the universe, hoping that it will find him wherever he is, that it will wrap around him like a warm quilt in the snow-capped Drass, and remind him that somebody loves him beyond measure.
I close my eyes and see his smile, hear his laughter, and feel his arms around me. The touch of his hand, the feel of his lips, and the way he looked at me, are the moments that sustain me through the days when the ache threatens to overwhelm me.
As I sit here tonight, I know that love is not always easy. It's a journey filled with challenges, with moments of pain and longing. But it's also a journey that's worth every tear, every pang of sadness. Because even amid the sorrow, there's a love that burns bright, a love that's unyielding and unbreakable.
Tomorrow is a new day, a fresh opportunity to keep the hope alive. And as I close this diary, I send my thoughts out into the universe, hoping that somehow, he'll feel them, just as I feel his presence in every gust of wind that carries his essence to me.
As I close this diary tonight, I send a silent prayer into the wind, a whispered plea that my Kabir stays safe, stays strong.
Meera
❃
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