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Can you have two soul mates? No? Oh you know nothing. I have two. Two wonderful women. I doubt if they have ever met each other. I must ask them this. Oh briefly I think. Would they hit it off, like I do with them both? I wonder how the conversation between them would be. But put me in a room with either of them and I never want to leave. They aren’t similar though I could describe them in many similar ways. Smart, funny, intelligent, creative, huge animal lovers, feminist, loyal, energetic, beautiful both in and out, musical, well read and just plain lovely. But my conversations with both of them are vastly different. Though in both these relationships, there are hardly any topics not touched.

Where did I meet two such women you ask? Good question. Very pertinent too. Since context is everything. In a place that resembled hell. Yes. Both of them in the same place at different points in the same year. Oh! What a year it was. I went from love to love that year. Despite having sunk to new lows in my self esteem. But two of them were special. In ways in which I have never expressed to them, either. They got me through the year and more. If they are so similar, yet so different, why talk about them together? Well because in my life now they co-exist. The thought of seeing or spending long periods of time with either of them fills my heart with immense amount of joy. As one of them returns from a long sabbatical in a cold faraway land (no seriously!), I realised how much they both mean to me. How much I wish I lived in the same city as them. How much I want to see them immediately. Without even talking about my problems, they found ways to take it all away. Both of them in their own unique ways.

So let me tell you a little more about them. I can’t keep saying there is nothing like them and give you nothing to believe me.

One of them is a perfectionist and she reads a lot. Not like the normal a lot. A LOT. She devours books to say the least; small books, difficult books, fat books, easy books, children’s books, academic books, adult books. Not the books that you think should be called adult. I never asked her if she reads erotica. A conversation for next time.

The other one is passionate to the core. She is principled and very dedicated. She is not one to make compromises on those for she lives by them. We have had many a conversation on negotiating between choices and compromises; the boys we date; love, life and loss; and feminism in our lives.

When I break it up this way, I’m afraid I’m giving the impression that one is not passionate and the other doesn’t read. That is a faulty impression to be polite and completely wrong to be correct. But I am fully aware that no matter how hard I try, I cannot explain these relationships as well as I wish to. So permit me that flaw.

My life would be a depressing place without them. I am sure everyone says that about their soul mates. My love life is a confusing place because of them. Not sure anyone says that about their soul mates. But I am pretty sure, despite the circumstances under which we met, I will be grateful to the closest to awful woman I have ever met for bringing these two into my life.

Yes. I have two soul mates. And I love them both similarly and very very differently.

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It was never about the ending. Mostly about the story.

This was just another story in the book.

There was always the risk that the journey this story takes would not be sufficient or satisfying; I would feel an emptiness for the story could have offered more. Yet, it didn’t. Who is to judge if it was too early or too late in the picture.

Truth be told, the story could be changed or tweaked a little to fulfill my wishes. Or it could be damaged entirely so I don’t know it anymore.

The story never happens in vacuum. It sets off ripples and sometimes even waves.

Some stories, however, when they end leave the waters calm and unchanged. I never see signs of them again and that knowledge is somehow soothing.

I never truly know which story will go which way. Till the story pours out of every inch of me and I then attempt to shape it. Sometimes, I don’t and it shapes me, shakes me to my very core.

Every story is not just written into my life. It is written onto my body, my thoughts, my dreams. Especially my hopes for what stories look like, feel like and taste like.

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The story will go on.

I am merely a delivery mechanism. A vessel to voice its emotions and feelings. A story, any story, every story, quite possibly did not start here and will not end here. I am just the vague in between halt. It enriched my life more than I brought it to life.

There is no right or wrong.

This story can be shaped by me in any way, sometimes with grace and elegantly; sometimes atrociously. I must allow my mind to flesh it out or end it in my mind. Unfortunately, often prematurely. The time comes when forces align, when stars shine and when the entire story falls in place. Even then, it is not the end. It is always in limbo.

‘Stories never end.’

 

Inspired from song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GC63HGcsfEg