The moonlight stunned as I looked at those same black eyes, I felt the wine drop-down, staining my dress, my lips quiver, my eyes water, I closed the door fast, it's all a trance, an illusion, isn't that what love is,

It can't happen, it's not possible, I am imagining, probably I am just high, I sigh out of regret, why is God so vicious to remind of her.

I opened the door, "Hey, hmm, I have come to deliver this postcard".

"No kid, you are mistaken, it must be for the next door", I sigh.

"It is for you", determination filled those black eyes, "my grandma wrote this to you, please you, you have to accept it".

"Grandma?" I spoke nonchalantly,
"Look kid, no women who would waste her time writing to me, not then, not now", I turned to retire.

"Valli", the women murmured as I stopped dead in my track,

"Does krishnavalli strike a bell",

"Krishnavalli", I mumble as I felt myself being nudged into oblivion of nostalgia.

It was the 23rd of December, the rain was pouring heavily, the cold shower couldn't extinguish my furious mind, I could feel myself relinquishing composure as I sneaked in to meet her, the women whose love melted everyone yet that love did nothing but murder my soul.

"Is it true", I question her, her black eyes were unreadably red.

I took her hands in mine and pleaded, "Let's leave, let me take you away with me".

"It can't happen, prince, what happened between us was probably just a phase, this is not natural, and I can't leave my home, I can't dishonour parents by running before my marriage".

"Marriage, what is marriage, a freaking agreement people sign, to legalise love, just so no one could question them when the fuck, would you be able to love him when you love me", I shout as her lips met mine, I could feel her warm lips envelope mine her tongue taking control making me melt, the overpowering agony abandoned me as I felt warm, beautiful and at home. The feather-like kiss slowly deepened melting away all my hostilities, that few seconds, in perfect synchrony, our hearts longed for closeness,  fragrance and just for the other.

I was panting hard as she left, I couldn't stop her, she couldn't stay any longer, my little butterfly flew away assassinating me.

"You?", I questioned without turning back,

"Her granddaughter", a feeling of anger, sadness and self-pity overlap me.

I felt a hands on my shoulder, "she wrote this 50 years ago but she couldn't give it to you as she didn't want to ruin your good life.

"Good life", I let out a chuckle all humour having drenched, " 59, 59 damn years, I lived like an orphan, all because of her, what was so freaking wrong in our relationship, that I was not settled, I would be a wanderer, I was not from her country, what was so wrong that she couldn't even talk about her relationship" I felt my vision blur as I drained a whole bottle of liquor, the intoxicant bringing out the beast in me as I kicked the tables and pushed down the plates.

"Aaaaa", I shout not to her but me, for believing her, for letting myself down, my eyes direct to the young women in front of me and question directly,

"Or was it because I am a girl?"