Aakansha finds Aakansha

 It was a clandestine affair. An affair I could never let go off. The rendezvous engagement  was all my heart yearned for. This love, this involvement had given me my identity, my sanity. I was in love with both of them.

You got it right- both of them TOGETHER! Why does it has to be choose one?

"Aakansha, pick one- the red or white."

"Only one- doll or car."

"Choose one, Aakansha- science or arts?"

"Aakansha, you can't have both- career or home?"

Why can't I have both? A little of both the worlds. A scoop of every flavour. But no. In life, it had to be only ONE. One love. One home. One purpose. One life. Yet, here I was in love with both of them. The inborn conditioning had not helped. I fell for them despite all odds. In fact, I never realized how and when the fall, befell me.

I had bulbous reasons for being the agar of this growth. Each of them had an attractive profile. He, let's call him Peter, the steady, blank space who absorbed my rants and rebels. While, the other he, let's call him Penny, the flow of my thoughts. The three of us together traversed time and lifetimes before being shaken out of our reverie.

When I hold Penny, I feel empowered. I am energised and empathetic to emphasize my point. Together, Penny and me tickle Peter and our threesome knows no boundaries. Together we swim across oceans of doubt and procrastination to land on islands of independent expression and exploration. We are shapeless, formless and beyond boundaries of a logical society.

The three of us together assume shapes and forms that may not have existed. We are non- existent in an existing time frame. We are the present of a delightful future.

"Aakansha, Aakansha, you just can't continue this! You can't cheat on me like this."

A husband of ten years moaned.

"I gave you liberty and you exploited it! How can I trust you anymore?"

Accusations with accuracy too couldn't deter me. I was beyond realism. My clandestine affair with Peter, my paper and Penny, my pencil was not to end. Husband could complain. Family could wait. What couldn't or what shouldn't wait was my affair with my passion, my writing. My writing was my new found identity. However,  shapeless, formless yet it had a life of its own.

Aakansha had found her Aakansha.