Existential Happiness


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She watched him as he lay sprawled on the couch, his muted snore being the only sound in the room. No judgment, she thought to herself. He’s here, and that’s all there is.

A few minutes later, his sleep-weary eyes opened and carefully averted her. She did them a favor by looking away and pretending to be busy.

“You’re very busy?!”, he called out to her a couple of hours later as she wiped the kitchen counter top for the 5th time. She needn’t have done so, it was already clean. But she was nervous and wanted to keep at something so that she could forget how much she wanted to sit by his side.

She let out a nervous giggle (“ugh. Do you realize how stupid you sound right now?”, the alter-ego admonished) and said “Not really, just finishing up here”. She walked over to the couch, and sat down gingerly a couple of feet away from him, smoothing her skirt as she sat. He was typing away at his laptop, his eyes focused on the screen and didn’t look up.

She watched him, enveloped in a soft halo of golden light that filtered in through the lace-curtains, and breathed in his essence: his masculine energy, his smell, his lazy physique and his easy dominance of the environment.

Tranquil beingness. That was how she would describe him.

She willed the image of him to be imprinted in her mind. For those days when life became too much for her. She would take out that picture of him in her mind then, and let these feelings bloom in her heart.

It wasn’t “love”, was it?

Love implied a right of possession. She didn’t want to possess. She wanted to let him be. Be in his element and be HIM. Because that’s what she marveled at. That’s what caused her to feel what she felt. Gratitude. Yes, that’s what it was.

Almost on cue, he looked up and their eyes met. She felt a ripple of fear inside – she hoped her eyes hadn’t betrayed her. He was saying something, narrating a story and the ripple died out. It was fine. She carefully matched the tone of his voice and it was then, just a conversation between friends. No other implication.

Her alter-ego grinned evilly.

In the after, there was a moment. She picked up the cushion that had been nestling close to him, and caressed her face with it, taking in the scent of his presence that was gone by then.

“Existential happiness”, she told herself. Happiness in that which exists.

* * *

Just if anyone is wondering, yes, this is inspired from real life :). And also this song (not the visuals, just the words and the singing):

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5 thoughts on “Existential Happiness

  1. Myyy Gaawwwwd… it was like a picture from my life 🙂 (well alot of the pictures resemble this).. But trust me this is the best read in the recent past. I picutred every frame in my mind and i know exactly what the feeling is … well written Shikha .. would liek to read more of these, it actually gave me some kinda conviction abt how i feel abot a lot of things..

    • @srushti: When I was writing this, I was wondering if it would make sense to *anyone* at all, so I’m super-thrilled that it does, to you :D. Glad to connect 🙂 – I already feel like I know you!

      • 🙂 …. am glad too !!!! some kinda comfor?? i dont know.???. anyways i introspect less *glitch*

  2. Humbling and enlightening. Came here as I searched google for a sweet sounding Malyali song…Anuraga Vilochananayi (Neelathamara). And then went through some of your posts. Keep writing. God bless you. I also do try to write sometimes…(http://yogeshshastri.in/ ).

    Regards,
    Yogesh Shastri

    • Thanks a lot Yogesh! 🙂 Will check out your blog for sure. Had a look at your Java site just now – it’s amazing how you’ve pursued programming and are passionate about it – kudos!

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