I found my dreams in your closet today.
I’d stowed them in there. It’s funny, isn’t it, that I barely noticed when I locked them in, and hid the key too?
I found the key first, actually. Hidden in plain sight.
It was you.
Funny, that I didn’t see my dreams peeking out from between your fingers. It’s only now that I remember how it was: you distracting me, all the while casually pushing my dreams out of sight, down, down… so far down I may never have found them.
Then you let them go, abruptly, so abruptly that I nearly fell over as they leapt out at me. Just like a jack-in-the-box. For a second I didn’t realise what they were and I jumped back, almost crying out, afraid.
That was when I saw you for what you were. I wonder why I didn’t see it before. You were the key to all my happiness, a happiness I’d always been a little wary of, a little afraid to reach out grasp. Only brief seconds, before, shining moments still so clear after all these years, but never really daring to hold on. ‘India mein ladkiyon ko kuch bhi allowed nahi hai’; surely holding to something so tightly, so stubbornly, wouldn’t be allowed, either?
A lone honeymoon. Paris. Amsterdam. Rock show. Italian kiss. Pole dancing, Punjabi style. Eiffel tower. Queen.
None of this would have happened without you. Without those four words: I can’t marry you.
So, you know, when I gave back your ring, I meant what I said, Vijay. Thank you.