Jun 29, 2007

An Ode To Daddy Long Legs

As I sit here on my brown and fawn colored desk, white tube lights, hushed voices, the clicking of the keyboard, sterile environment, I think of you as you give way to the unknown.

As I stare at the computer screen hour after hour trying to make sense out of these insipid contracts somewhere half the way across the country you are intent on making innumerable lists of what to take with you, what to throw away, what to keep hidden within the labyrinth of your mind forever.

As I pen my thoughts down on this torn piece of paper you are trying to fit in your whole life into a couple of suitcases and bags but alas a few tears spill over, so do a host of giggles, some sighs and a collection of dusty old dreams.

As I cross the road trying to make my way between the ugly huge bus and the swanky new Mercedes, lost in my thoughts, you are opening new doors dreaming of a blinding sunshine.

As I go about doing my mundane daily chores you finally finish packing the gamut of memories in different compartments.

As I remember every tiny detail of that long ago august evening, coffee on 100 feet road, the conversation, the music, the feel of your arms on my shoulders, the long drive, the starry sky, the midnight walk, the laughter, Romeo and Juliet, you say farewell to this life and tip toe your way to new avenues, hesitantly at first but confident with every stride.

As the rain comes pouring down cooling the parched earth, I rush outside to feel the spray of raindrops on my face and tonight I spare a single fleeting moment to think of you wondering how pensive your thoughts would be as you sit by your window watching the last misty rain which has become a mere drizzle by the time it reached your city.

As you traverse a new pathway, and hop, skip and jump down the yellow brick road I am reminded of the small boy I use to play with, and somewhere across the oceans, thousands of miles away I am biding my time to get ready for my travels hoping that I’d be able to see your footprints, hoping that sometime along this journey I’ll turn around to find you by my side….

Dedicated to one who must not be named, to one who said he'd love a dreamer, he'd love someone independent,he'd love someone who loves late night coffees and over night phone conversations,to one who'd be delighted to be woken up at 4 am in the morning by annoying messages,to one who knew the lyrics of my favourite song " Romeo & Juliet",to one who'd love traveling as much as I do,to he who'll never ever understand me...

Jun 21, 2007

Fly Away Again.....

Yeah I am feeling bloody impatient today. It seems everybody is getting to where they want in life but me. Last week I was on the “ I don’t know what I am doing with my career” mode, then I switched on to “ I am the only one who isn’t in love with her job” mode, and after a lot of afterthought and contemplation I finally settled on “ Everything in life has a time” mode. Someone I know had his visa interview today and he should’ve got it by now. Yeah he also seems to be leaving for the Promised Land on my birthday (sometime in august). I called up my eternal whining partner in Chennai and started complaining about how every soul I know is going somewhere but she and I. It just so happened that she was also accompanying this friend of our’s to the U.K visa office. I was like “ Shivi what the hell? Even Vaish is going to Brighton, Thri is going to Pennsylvania, P is already in London, Parag is going to Leeds and that nasty Fatty is going to Washington D.C to do a course I always dreamt of doing and here are you and I just stuck in the middle of nowhere. Doing something we ain’t even in love with.”

That’s the story of my life. Stuck in a job which isn’t bad but hey I am not exactly enjoying it. I keep weaving dreams and building castles in the air wondering when will my time come. Shivi and I have made at least a million plans of how she is going to study in California and I’ll be in New York.. We’ll go for a holiday to Venice one summer or Greece maybe. We’ll meet up when she comes down to NYC or I’ll go visit her in L.A. Then maybe we’d catch a shuttle and go to Ohio too for a bit. Sigh! I love traveling; I can’t stay in one place for too long. Can’t help it. I have lead a wandering life since I was a kid all thanks to my father cos he was in the army and hell I hated it at that time. I always had to say goodbye to all my friends and change schools and start afresh all over again. I just wanted to stay in one place and often wondered how does one feel when you are born in one house and live in that house half your life until you are an adult. I don’t know. I have changed so many houses, been to so many places, made so many friends, bid adieu to most of them.

Finally when I was 10 years old we settled down in one city and I stayed there till I was 18. Those 8 years were probably the closest I have come to stability and being rooted to one place. I got out for college at 18 and I have been on the move ever since. I could have stayed at home but I chose to move out. Till date I don’t wanna go back and lead that easy life of comfort. Living at home is a luxury I think and I don’t wanna get used to that. There is soooooooo much to do, so many new places to go to, interesting people to meet ( not to the creeps though). That is why I get this itch when I hear someone is heading out to UK and someone to the US. Last week I told my Mum on the phone that I wanna go work in Afghanistan. I was serious. I checked up job positions in Afghanistan[found something in Kabul Municipal Corporation;)] for women and they did need lawyers and human rights activists but apparently I am too young. She went ballistic saying whats with me and this wandering streak in me. Why can’t I just lead a normal, peaceful life like most sane women my age would? How am I supposed to explain to her this feeling of being stifled as I sit on my table doing my monotonous job day after day, dealing with buildings, structures, bricks and mortar, corporate ventures and contracts. This is not me. This job is so far away from what I dream of doing. I didn’t go to college thinking I am gonna be doing this after I get my degree. It just happened by chance cos my other plans didn’t materialize. But that doesn’t mean that this is what I am gonna be doing for the rest of my life.

Finally after a lot of arguments my Mum agreed to the United States. There is no way in hell that I am gonna be allowed to set one step in Afghanistan as long as my family is around. I guess I’ll just have to wait for my time. I shall go away too someday.I'll go everywhere. Go do something I can be passionate about, get that degree I so wanna get, study some more. I'll go to London and roam around this one city I have heard so much about. I'll go to Greece and wanna see the Acropolis, and how can i forget Paris, have a cup of coffee on a sidewalk cafe .I'll go to Prince Edward Island in Canada so I can finally go see all those places mentioned in "Anne of Green Gables". I'll go to Istanbul and Mongolia and my favourite Australia.Sigh! Till then I have to bid farewell to all my friends as they go on to greener pastures pursuing their dreams.

So Thri, best of luck. Hope you get that teaching job you’ll be so perfect at.

Vaish I hope you finally learn how to be independent and stop hankering and getting worried about stupid relationships.

Fatty I envy you woman, I am so jealous. But wish you all the best nonetheless.

P I miss you soooooo much. Someday you’ll be arguing at the International Court of Justice. Knowing you, I am sure you’ll get there.

Parag, my monkey I hope you manage to get the CFA degree you so want and kick Willem’s butt in South Africa hahah!

Mister Daddy Long Legs you’ll be leaving really soon for _____. I want you to be really really happy and hope all your dreams come true cos you deserve nothing but the best.

Shivi darling you are in the same boat as me but maybe some time soon in the next few years you’d get a job at the HARPO studios as a producer.

As for me, I’ll just have to wait for a new day till my time comes to fly away again.

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? — it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies..."

Jun 15, 2007

Dancing Eyes

It was a night out at a friend's place when she noticed him making conversation with someone .She wanted to to go home and was thinking of ways and means to get them to drop her home before they decided to go out partying but somehow she got talked into it and before long was heading to this new nightspot in the city. She was muttering under her breath “ Damn I hate, so hate these late nights.” She entered along with the rest and looked around for an interesting face only to be greeted by the same old pretty faces with a jaded look and an empty head to compliment that perfectly.

“I wonder how they do this week after week. Dress up to look all sexy and beautiful and make idle conversation with a couple of flighty people whom you wouldn’t bother to call or keep in touch besides meeting up with them in these so call happening places.”
“ Yeah isn’t it painfully and excruciatingly tedious to make polite conversation.”
She looked around to see the new guy standing behind her with only a tiny hint of a smile on his face.

“God I do have a big mouth.”

She had spoken her thoughts out aloud which she seemed to do pretty often these days.

She asked almost scornfully,“ Who would you be?”

“ Oh I forgot to introduce myself. I am Akaash’s cousin .”

That is why he had tagged along with them.

She looked away trying to locate the others in the crowd. They seemed to have vanished. She didn’t like this stranger who insisted on talking to her when her conversation skills seemed to be on a sabbatical.

But then again there was no harm in exchanging a word or two. At least she wouldn’t feel like an outsider. She took a sip of her Bloody Mary[She loved the tangy taste of the tomato juice blended with vodka and a dash of Tabasco sauce and the salt on the rim of the glass, which gave it that added zing]
and turned to look at him.
“ You have a smoke?”

“ Yup I do.”

“ Thanks”

“ So what do you do?”

That’s how the conversation started in a crowded bar between two strangers from two very different walks of life. He was from Dubai and had just shifted to India looking for a job and she was a journalist working in Delhi the last couple of months. They got talking and before long she started enjoying herself. There was something about this guy with light eyes. Not the green catty kinds, but the light brown, hazel eyes. Dancing eyes with a naughty glint in them.As if he had a million questions to ask her and a million stories to share. He made her laugh with his silly jokes and anecdotes.He had travelled a lot, born in India, grew up in Dubai, studied a bit in Chennai but finally landed up in Adelaide. He had gone backpackking all over Australia, shared a nightcap with a moonshiner, had a meal around a campfire at an aborginee settlement, made friends with a kangaroo, been scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef and he liked his marshmallows all gooey and syruppy with hot chocolate in the middle of the night .
He wanted to know why she liked a fruity peach perfume and if she wore kohl everyday.

He asked her why a Bloody Mary and not Long Island Ice tea and why Benson and Hedges lights instead of Marlboro lights.

He wanted to get her an apple juice of all the drinks she could possibly think off.

“Apple juice. Wonder why apple juice.”
He’d go talk to Akaash when Akaash wanted to introduce him to his friends and come right back standing close to her but still not close enough. He’d insist on lighting her smoke each time she wanted a light instead of just handing her the lighter. They didn’t have the conversation of a lifetime that evening, they didn’t even have a heart to heart chat. It was just two strangers who initially started talking to keep monotony at bay.But those few stolen hours with him felt like a lifetime transported to another world.
The party got over and Akaash came over to bid goodbye and he told her how his cousin was looking for a job. She heard Akaash out patiently but her eyes kept wandering towards him. He was standing in one corner alone, with a smoke in his hand lost in his thoughts.

“ I wonder where his mind is?Is it in the endless desert somewhere wandering on a caravan or is he out on a moonlit night riding through the outback? “

“ He really needs a job. He is 29 years old and has his wife to take care of.”
Had she heard him right? He was married. She didn’t exclaim her surprise or regret and nodded saying “Oh. Yeah I am sure he would need to support his wife.”She looked at him one last time before she got into the car. She thought she saw him starring at her with a forlorn look on his face. It didn’t matter. They drove away.

She did meet him again a few times. They never had a conversation again except for an odd sentence or two. She never tried to talk to him too. She’d ignore him but sometimes their eyes would meet and just for a fraction of a moment she’d see something unspoken. She would turn her gaze away. She didn’t want to look into those dancing eyes again. Those bewitching dancing eyes…

Jun 8, 2007


“So you’ll stay with me?” she asked me with a drowsy look, her kohl smeared eyes half open and speech slightly slurred, I could smell the wine in her breath. “Yeah if it suits my budget I shall.” I gave a non-committal reply and took a sip of my drink. That was the first evening I met Isabelle and within a few hours of meeting me she suggested we go for a drink. Isabelle looked like one of those women who had a lot of friends and acquaintances and her social diary over flowing with events. I was taken aback because she didn’t look the sort who needed the company of a stranger she had just met. The prospect of spending one more evening all alone at the hotel room disturbed me and I was only too glad to comply with her wishes.

I had recently shifted into the city, a result of an impulsive decision to take a new job and start afresh. There I was in Delhi spending the first few days within the confines of the four walls in the hotel room. Having precious little to do it seemed as if the walls were closing in on me when I got a message from an old friend, who was settled abroad, asking me to give Isabelle a call. “You’ll like her. She is friendly. You could meet her for a cup of coffee. Besides she is looking for someone to shift in with. So she could help you out with accommodation too. I told her about you and she is waiting for your call. Just call her up.” said Ayesha on the phone. She was feeling rather guilty that she wasn’t there to show me around. Ayesha had been begging me for years to come down to Delhi permanently and when I finally got a chance to it wasn’t Ayesha’s home anymore.

It was rather hesitantly that I called up Isabelle that winter afternoon, my mind full of apprehensions. I almost decided not to but when I saw the sniggering glances of the manager of the hotel I realized that I couldn’t stand to sit in that room one more day flicking through the channels on tv. Isabelle sounded quite friendly as Ayesha had said and she quickly gave me the directions to a coffee shop where we planned to meet. I reached first not knowing whom to expect because I didn’t know what she looked like. In walked a young girl dressed casually in jeans and a full sleeve white cardigan. She was small, not even 5 feet and her hair was tied up rather untidily in a bun giving her the “just out of bed” look. But she was pretty, looked like one of those dolls we played houses with when we were children, the kind, which had pink chubby cheeks, and eyes, which would open and shut.

“Parineeta?”, “Isabelle?” we said almost in unison and nodded our heads simultaneously. She giggled and I couldn’t help but do so too myself. The ice was broken that very first instance. That’s how I landed up with her at her favorite pub that night, 4 drinks down and quite happy with life cause suddenly Delhi did not feel that alien under the effect of alcohol. It was then when she mentioned she was looking for someone to shift in with. I was in two minds initially as I thought I wouldn’t be able to afford paying really high rent and Isabelle did not seem to be the type who would stay in a place, which is less than posh. But surprisingly she agreed to my budget and said we’d find a place in a nice locality.

It suited me fine and yeah I had been right about the locality being posh. She found this beautiful little house in an up market area and insisted paying three fourth the rent while I paid a quarter of it. Those were hard days and I was getting a meager salary. Isabelle turned out to be my woodwork angel. She wouldn’t let me pay for any of the expenses at home accept the rent and life was much easier all thanks to her. She was so generous that sometimes I wondered “Hell why is she so nice to me?”

Isabella baffled me in more ways than one. I knew she had a past which she wasn’t too comfortable talking about because every time I back from work in the evening I’d see her sitting with a glass of wine starring wistfully at the sky. I’d join her once in a while but mostly I avoided alcohol on weekdays. One day out of curiosity I asked her
“ Why were you named Isabella?”
She smiled “ Didn’t I tell you?”

“No you didn’t.”

“ Hmmmm! My father was a professor of History and was particularly fascinated with the history of Spain. I was named after the Spanish Queen Isabella. The one who granted Ferdinand Magellan the permission to sail around the world.”

Her friends called her Isobel and they would be out every night at some pub, lounge or a bar drinking. I couldn’t afford to lead such a lifestyle and I wasn’t too much of a night animal. So I’d be off to sleep early and many a day she’d wake me up to talk to me. One such night in a very matter of fact tone she said “ Oh and did I tell you that I am going through a divorce.”

“Oh! Ok!” was all I could say. Nothing I said would sound apt at that moment so I chose to keep quiet.

That’s why she’d spend hours and hours just sitting quietly and looking out of the window or go for long drives in her car with a bottle of wine as company in the middle of the night .Those times I would have no clue where she was and when she would return. There were men too who’d come in at the dead of the night and leave at wee hours of the morning. I never saw them but heard fragments of voices sometimes.

She had a million whims. She bought fresh flowers for our house each week. The first time she came home with flowers she wanted to surprise me and when I opened the door all I saw were flowers cause Isabelle being so tiny looked like a fairy hidden behind the bunches of flowers she was carrying. She cooked like a dream and made the most delectable Thai curry and till date in spite of it being more than a decade the smell of the Thai Red Curry reminds me of her.

She liked the smell of incense sticks and so we always lit incense sticks after she smoked a cigarette in the living room. In the morning the faint traces of the strong smell would still be in the air. With her around there wasn’t a single fleeting moment of boredom in my life. This one time she forced me to come for a drive with her at 12 at night with a bottle of Pepsi mixed with vodka and that entire journey as she drove all around the city we sang “ last Christmas” slightly inebriated maybe at the top of our voices.

Isabelle had a fetish for shoes and must have owned at least five hundred pairs. Each night when she got ready she’d ask me which pair would go the best with the outfit she was wearing and she’d strut in front of me with her six inch heels gleefully and ever so confidently that I’d be amazed how could she survive wearing them day after day. She had innumerable earrings and beads kept in these lovely traditional Indian jewelry boxes. I would have a fascinating time just fiddling around with them, as she got dressed. She ‘d say “ Parineeta they are just earrings sweetheart. What is so fascinating about them?”

Starved of such feminine vanities and trying very hard to make ends meeet, I replied saying , “ You won’t understand. “

Isabella drank too much. She drank each evening and sometimes I almost felt like asking her to stop but you can’t ask a 25 year old to stop living a life she wants to. It was a path of self-destruction. Living on the edge. Going out night after night, drinking binges night after night. Sometimes I wouldn’t meet her for days altogether cause our routines were so different. One day late at night I had gotten up for a glass of water when I heard the sound of sobbing coming from her room. I walked tiptoe wondering what could have possibly happened when I saw the door half open and Isabelle lying down on her bed with her long hair all-open .

“What happened?”

“ He left me. He doesn’t want to be with me. Said I was a whore. Sleeping with different men each night. He doesn’t’ understand. I am breaking from inside. How long am I supposed to put on this façade of all is fine. How long? They make me happy. They make me feel beautiful. All these men. At least for that night I fulfill every fantasy of theirs and I feel wanted, needed. Unlike the way he belittles me time after time.”
I saw the envelope containing the signed divorce papers from her husband. Isabella had hoped that he would change his mind but he hadn’t. Somebody had told him about the colorful life his now separated wife was leading and that was the final nail on the coffin. The result lay in my hands. I didn’t know how to console her. What could one say? A part of me wanted to be all blunt and tell her that she got it upon herself but I couldn’t be that heartless. I just held her while she cried herself to sleep.

Next morning she looked perfectly fine, as if that incident at night time had never happened and she was back to leading the bohemian life she did without a hint or trace of regret. I never said a word about that again. She continued living in deliberate oblivion of the reality. After a little while I shifted out and except the occasional phone call heard very little from her before we altogether lost touch. It has been a long long time now and sometimes I wonder where Isabelle is? What is she doing? Is she happy? Does she still have that glass of wine sharp at 6 in the evening? Does she drive aimlessly in the middle of the night as she use to? Does she still cook a delicious Thai curry? Does she still look at the sky for hours altogether with a wistful look on her face?

Wherever you are, I hope you are happy Isobel. Hope you finally laid the ghosts of your past to rest. Hope you found your Bohemia.


Jun 4, 2007

It's Just A Book

I read about this particular incident on a blog(http://always-a-musing.blogspot.com/) recently and it disturbed me. It made me realize that the world I was born in was a different world and I am not even that old, 23 to be precise. This small incident, which I am about to relate, took place in Kansas City, U.S.A. But it is something worth sparing a few moments and thinking about.

The owners of a small bookstore called Prospero in Kansas City took a drastic step on the Memorial Day(don’t ask me what that is ) weekend. Tom Wayne and Will Leathem have always believed in the power of the written word. Mr. Wayne also runs a small publishing house. It was the love of reading and the feeling of something amiss in their lives, which made them open the bookstore in 1997 and it was the same love, which had prompted them to buy second hand books from students and wandering families who couldn’t afford to carry the burden. They thought that instead of these books being wasted away they could make sure that somebody makes use of them.

However as the years passed their stock of second hand books only increased due to a sharp decline in reading books in America. The numbers of people reading were decreasing day by day and so were the sales. They had accumulated over 50,000 old books and there weren’t any buyers. They tried every possible way to do something about these books but to no avail. When they wanted to donate these books to correctional institutes they were flatly refused. Even stock clearance sales did not work as well wishers who’d buy some of the books would the next day deposit the books at the doorstep of the store.

A few weeks earlier frustrated by the grim scenario and finding no other way to express their anguish they did the unthinkable. They built a bonfire outside the bookstore and to the surprise of the bystanders and passers by they burnt a few hundred of their books. These two men passed a cultural statement, which has sparked of a debate amongst the clerisy and the common man in America and has sent all of them clamoring to take a stand on this issue. Most people are of the opinion that this is an appalling way of attracting the attention of the nation. But Mr. Wayne and Mr. Leathem believe that if not this then what would have stirred the nation. This is a nation where hysterical women are more bothered to carry on an agitation to get Sanjaya kicked out of American Idol, a nation where in a matter of days front page news becomes page 5 news.

Nobody uttered a word when they were making tireless efforts in trying to make the best possible use of these books. Now who are these people condemning their extreme step as an overtly melodramatic act.

I was saddened after I read about the book burning in Kansas. To think these are the desperate measures these two bookstore owners had to resort to just to make the common man aware. We are apparently living in an electronic age and take pride at having devised means of communication at lightning speed. This is not just about decline in reading in America. It is about decline of man’s power of thinking the world over.

We don’t have time. It is a rat race out there. We don’t seem to have time to spare even a half of an hour to be alone with our thoughts, to be open to the possibilities of imagination, to want to know about somebody else’s experiences in life, feel happy in their joy, sorrow in their sadness, to want to know their plight, to let ourselves be transported to another world and live another life. Books are all this and so much more.

Imagine a childhood without princes, princesses, dragons and knights.

Imagine not having spent endless hours with Famous Five and the Five find Outers.

Imagine not being conversant with Pip’s struggles and Estella’s heartlessness or Oliver and Fagin’s saga.

Imagine a naughty 10-year-old boy without Hardy Boys or a tomboy without Nancy Drews.

Imagine not having spent all those times reading Agatha Christie or Sherlock Holmes at break neck speed trying to guess who the murderer is.

Imagine not crying at Heathecliffe’s sordid life.

Imagine no Pride and Prejudice and no romance between the outspoken Elizabeth and the proud Mr. Darcy.

Imagine not having known Howard Roark’s resilience and Dagny Taggart’s persistence.

Imagine this world consisting of just us muggles, no magic, no Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Imagine you as not you and me as not me.

Imagine a world without books.

I've traveled the world twice over,
Met the famous; saints and sinners,
Poets and artists, kings and queens,
Old stars and hopeful beginners,
I've been where no-one's been before,
Learned secrets from writers and cooks
All with one library ticket
To the wonderful world of books


Jun 2, 2007

Of What Was, Whats If's & What Could Have Been's

A summer night way back in 1991, somewhere in a small hill station. The conversation between an 8 year old girl and a 7 year old boy.

Girl [pointing a finger]:- Look up it is so pretty.

Boy :- What is there to see? It is the same sky and the same stars. I see them every night.

Girl :- But here the sky is darker and the stars shine so much brighter and there are millions and millions of them[smiles!Trying very hard to make him understand]

Boy :- Uffffff! I don't wanna see. Can't you see these multi coloured pebbles I am trying to collect? I wanna have the biggest collection of them in school.

Girl :- "Fine you can keep your pebbles to yourself."[ walks away with a huff and a puff]( thinking -"Whats with boys? I don't like them.")

Boy :- I am glad she is gone. Girls are quite strange.

Present Day :-I was going through my inbox and found this one mail written by me on a crazy day amidst a busy schedule to a friend about someone I’d had a thing for sometime back. My friend was of the view that I have a penchant to get besotted with the most unsuitable men. So came this mail elucidating my position. Felt like a lifetime ago. Time flies and maybe sometimes we have these unfinished chapters. Sniff* Sniff*

Yeah I know I attract the wrong kind of men.Well I have known this guy as long as I can remember. Almost all my life but yeah liking him in itself has been quite a surprise for me. You don't meet someone after 14 years one evening and by the time the night is over you are left wondering what hit you. But he is such a charming mix of nerd and the fun types. In fact he is more of a nerd. He prefers sitting at home during weekends and doesn't like the idea of partying every Saturday but he went to Goa for New Year's and had a ball there, got a tattoo{dragon if I may say so} on his arm. Most of his time is spent in front of his laptop because he is techie and even at home he is always doing something or the other on the computer, be it web designing or playing some silly game or the other.[ men i tell you are fundamnetally different from us] He wouldn't take me out partying on a Saturday night but took me to this real chic’ restaurant with live music, for a candle night dinner. He loves blogging and I am in love with the way he writes. Till a while back there were articles on the net, which referred to the posts on his blog. He is not overtly nice to me ever. He is cocky when I expect him to be sweet, surprisingly sensitive when I am expecting him to be rude. He is laziness personified cause he won't even get me a glass of water but so chivalrous that he always opens doors for me, even the car door. Never lets me pay a penny. He’ll take offence if I do. Has such a short temper but insists on dropping me home and won't get angry even if I can't tell him the way home and we have been roaming around in circles for more than an hour trying to figure where I stay and I don't have a clue. Most of the times when we talk he would be telling me something happening in his life and I'd b feeling that damn I know him more than he knows me but suddenly he'd mention some small detail I about me and I would be taken aback cause hell how does he remember everything in spite of trying to act that he doesn't listen to half the things I say. He says the funniest of things and makes me laugh. Even his rudeness is tinged with humour. Damn I am totally at sea with him and he looks like a giant {he is 6ft 4}. My sister says he and I would look like a couple of idiots together. I really couldn't care because he is the one I like and kind of want to be with. Though I won't get a chance as he is leaving for the US in August and won't be coming back so its pointless getting into anything now. We’ll never get to know each other even if he and I were childhood buddies. I mean almost. That’s ____ _____ for me. Damn think I said too much. But guess I can tell you.

I am glad things are working out for you but they aren’t the same for everybody and its not always wrong choices but just the circumstances. Things don't seem to fall into place. But it’s cool. Life goes on. Darn!!!!!

So that was it. It has been 6 Months ever since. Life has moved on and I haven’t even had time to look back except for stolen moments like this one and a lingering feeling of what could’ve been? Sigh!


A Soppy Me