Posted in Midnight musings

Letter to a dear friend

Hello my friend,

I know we haven’t talked in a while. Not a while actually — in very very long.

I miss you many times, I think of you often. Sometime I walk past a place that is associated with you, sometimes I see your face in my dream, sometimes an incident reminds me of you, and sometimes there is just no reason.

But everything else just goes on happening, and I do not know what to say to you at that moment. That hello I thought about you? And then what?

I know we don’t talk. Remember, how we said, we won’t drift apart? We will always talk. You are my bfffffff my one and only, you understand me like no one does, but we did in fact stop talking.

Funny, how life happens when you don’t notice it. I miss you many times and I think of dropping a text, but then I stop because I don’t know what to say… I worry because I think I am bothering you and you don’t want to talk to me.

Then there are times when I think I am the silly one who holds on to things and moments unnecessarily when everyone else moves on.

But then I remember how we laughed till our stomachs ached, how we visited new places or settled into the old comfortable ones, how when I was scared and alone you held my hand and I felt that things would be easier, how you made me feel important, how I shared my problems with you, how everything with you was a little more fun. I hope I did the same for you my friend.

I have no complaints. I know what happened, why we don’t speak often, we grew up we got jobs and responsibilities or you know circumstances, you don’t even have to explain because I understand. I just want to say I love you no matter how many years it has been or will be since we talk.

I will always remember you. I will always be your friend.

No matter how many years go by I will still recognise you in a mall. Maybe I won’t run towards you because I am scared because I think you don’t want to see me, or that it is awkward, or not cool or something like that.

But I will be happy at that moment. I will always have with me the tiny details I learned about you over time — like how you love purple but you tell everyone your favourite colour is red, or how you eat chocolate ice cream with extra chocolate sauce, how you like to run after little kids on the street and play with them, how you thought that Australia and new Zealand are the same thing, how you are scared of spiders, how you would watch horror movies and then call me in the middle of the night because you are too scared to sleep, how you would always eat too much chilly even when you cannot handle it, how you were too lazy to complete your homework but never lazy to come to help me, how you shared your food with me when I forgot mine, how you stayed over at my house when I broke my little toe, how you travelled a day just to be there on my birthday, I can write forever if I have to, but I will stop.

All I wish sometimes, is to spend time with you again, go again to those places which we called ours. Only the thought relaxes me, specially now when everything moves so fast and I cannot understand who is my friend or who is my foe. But I understand one thing that maybe we never will be the same again, and it is okay, what can we do about it?

I have learnt from my mistakes, I have tried to be better. I think, if we met today you might see how much I have changed in a good way, and be happy for me. I will still make mistakes, it is sad that I will not have the comfort of your words around me, but then again what else can we do.

You know how scared I am of getting attached, of getting hurt.

I worry you will laugh at me if I ever say these things to you, I worry that you will not remember me so I might never say this to you in person. Because I am scared.

When we first moved to a new school, new city, new college etc, I was scared you’ll get new and better friends and forget me, I still feel sad about that at times when I am feeling low and I look around me and do not find you. Sometimes I think it is my fault, and there are other times when I think that is not the case. You chose to stay away, you chose to not talk. You are happy that we are no longer ‘bffffffsssss’, that we do not have to see each other.

Or maybe you think I have changed too much, or you never really liked me and we were friends because it was convenient at that time. I am as confused, but that is something I always was, don’t you remember friend.

I don’t know whether whatever I have said to you makes sense, even if it doesn’t, I know you will understand, because you always do.

I will end the letter now with a thank you. I miss you a lot. And I will always cherish you. I wish we could go back, but while we can’t, I have made my peace with our memories.

I love you.

Your sappy friend.

Posted in Midnight musings

My mother’s cassette player

We had a tape recorder in our house, so huge that when I was small I could not lift it. It was black in colour with blue markings on it. The time when cassettes were still very much in, CDs and DVDs were unheard of and no one would have ever thought that there could ever exist something called a ‘cloud’ that will hold everything you could ever imagine.

That big cassette player was my mother’s loyal companion, it could even play the FM. Whenever she found a quiet moment to herself she would look through her large collection of cassettes and play one of them filling the air with sweet melody. The sound from the old players was something different, I think it sounded sweeter with the slight, ever so often, crackle. It is from her that I acquired the love for music. Her cassettes collected over a couple of decades were placed carefully on a shelf that was too high for me to reach. I would climb on a chair and skim through her collection trying to find something that was ‘trendy’. I usually settled on pop songs like Alisha Chinoy, Bombay Rockers or the occasional English albums the ‘Nanga boys’.

My mother’s loyal companion survived several seasons and transfers, sometimes requiring minor tweaks.

After some years, in my attempt to reach my favourite song quickly I jammed the rewind key. No matter what you do, it would not go down or up. We tried everything. To go back a song now, you had to fast forward both sides. It was again too small a thing to be bothered about for long. But, over the days we stopped rewinding songs as fast forwarding them would take ages. We got used to listening to the whole album once to reach back to the song again… It’s just a song, right?…

It doesn’t matter if you can’t rewind, the good song will come back. It’s on the other side. You have to wait for the entire loop to play. It will come back. It has to….

Posted in Midnight musings

There is a lie you partake in

There is a lie you partake in. It’s beautiful so much that you do anything to not let it break. It’s so carefully constructed that you can’t see the truth that has been buried behind it. If at all the truth tries to find it’s way out, you quickly find that beautiful lie to cover it with. I was a part of a lie too, so beautiful that nothing else has ever come close. It was my seed, but two other people watered it daily, one more than the other. It grew so big that it consumed me. The truth came forward many times trying to talk to me. I didn’t want to hear it because of the two people who kept my beautiful lie safe for me. I knew the seed was faulty, something I had scrounged for in the storm. The thick foliage seemed too good to be true, but those two made me believe and I believed because I wanted to. Then one day they stopped, leaving the lie there. It didn’t grow, but it didn’t die as well. It’s still in my backyard the beautiful lie one of the best I have seen. I go back to it even now, when no one comes there anymore. My lie carefully grown by the two who don’t exist anymore. Their words are still hanging there, their impression still lingers ages after they stopped nurturing the lie. The truth is poking out, marring the beauty but I can only look at the lie. Alone I visit it again and again to look at the lie.  My beautiful lie, so carefully constructed by the two, one more than the other.

Posted in Midnight musings

I was once a movie star

I sometimes wonder why I stopped writing/imagining. My imagined world is the coolest place to be. I am a budding movie star giving a talk show and all of a sudden I am dancing at a college party all the super cool and difficult steps. The boy I had a crush on is gobsmacked after looking at me. He is wondering how he survived all these years without knowing me and he knows that now the only way he lives is if I am with him. The wind blows and our eyes lock and we are in love, but we don’t tell each other and let the eyes speak and meet each other every day. Next thing I know I am in New York I am really tall and wearing very high pointy heels. My hair is swishing in the wind and I am getting late for a meeting. I am the youngest boss of that place wherever I am going and everyone admires me and is scared of me too. Next thing I know I am in a meadow with the most exquisite scenery in front of me. I am wearing everything prim and proper and I feel so relaxed. Suddenly I am on the stage accepting the best actor award…..

I wonder why I stopped imagining. Maybe because when I was in school there was so much left to see. Now, after experiencing few years of adulthood I don’t want to see anything else. I don’t like growing up. I wasn’t made to grow up. My imagination has given me such high standards that my life is half dead trying to match up to it. I want to imagine again but “logic” tells me to stop being childish and well what else is there? It’s so weird to be stuck in the middle. I can’t live in my dream land because I know better and I don’t want to live in the real world because it isn’t better. I hope I survive. Because I gave up on living a long time back.


Posted in Midnight musings

The white house with blue windows

When I was small we used to take a lot of road trips. I remember getting up early. Packing snacks for the trip. My mother and father would drive alternatively. Sometimes we would stop by the road and pluck fruits from the trees, my father would tell us how to identify different trees by their leaves. My mother would tell us about the different rock forms. It was a delight to traverse through the expanse that is india. So many different things we would see within 400-500 km. It was amazing. Even though there was more to see during the day, my favorite part of the trip always was when the sun came down. Everything was cooler than before, the wind slapping your face, the smell of evening. The orange streaks turning into purple and then dark blue
. It was my favorite. The stars would appear above the lights below. I don’t know what it was but that is what I looked forward to the most. So beautiful I could cry.  You could see squares of light from faraway houses.  Sometimes you could peak a little inside their houses. Get a glimpse of their life.  I wondered if we ever meet would we ever know that I crossed their house so many times. Sometimes you could smell the food being cooked.  Sometimes you could see a single house standing alone. Almost always it was white in colour, with blue windows and white lights. It looked barren but intriguing. Nothing short of a scene from a novel
I wanted to go there. To go inside.
Look at it. The blue windows never gave much away. I would look at that house for as long as I could. and then think about it.  It’s not one house but many like it. I never knew whether it was a happy house or a sad one.  You just know it when you look at some houses. Like the small hut in the middle of the farm with the golden lantern was a happy house. I saw many of them.  But this one. This one was so secretive yet so beckoning. Sometimes when I reach home every night I feel like I have reached that very white house with blue windows. I can enter this one too.
Behind the wooden door would be the answers to all the questions I had as a child, all the imagination put to rest, my mind satisfied because at last I could find out the secret of the white house with blue windows.

And it’s the same like I saw it years ago. Away in a distance with white lights.

But when I enter, the secret remains. Everything is still hidden. I am inside the house but I am still trying to catch a peak, except now I am tired.
And I still don’t know whether it’s a happy house or a sad house.

Posted in Midnight musings, Random

I wish we were all vampires

Nothing to do with twilight series here, but yes the vampire-ness I am talking about is inspired from the vampire species in that series.

I wish we were all vampires. Weird statement, yes, but I have my reasons:-

1. One of the biggest reason is immortality. You never have to worry about anyone dying. For someone who is prone to anxiety the thought of death can send the heart racing at the maximum speed possible. And not one’s own death but death of a loved one. So once everyone is a vampire, this worry ends. (I know the entire problem of what will everyone eat if all of us were vampires and the issue of sustainable development and what not but if we are wishing, then we can wish anything)

2. Speed. Travelling takes a lot of time. If you’re from India you’d know that it takes even more longer. Distance itself is a hassle. If everyone was a vampire we’d just run to any place we wanted to be. Imagine never having to pay for travel again.

3. No sleep. You don’t have to sleep you’ll get so much done. There’ll be more to see and more to be done.

4. No heart. No elevated heart rates. No anxiety I guess.

When I started writing this I thought I had a long list of reasons but I have run out of them at 4. If I manage to find more I will add and hope we were all vampires. (only the kind of version I want)

Posted in Midnight musings, Random

Sleepless nights #1

I don’t know what it is that keeps a person sane in this ever so maddening world. You wake up one day to realise that everything you believe in has been smashed to smithereens and you had been soundly asleep by then. Everyone expects you to “grow up” about it. Like nothing happened.

I and many others hate the word growing up. Why? What is happening. Why can’t we actually just grow up. I remember my 10th birthday. Getting a double digit in my age was an exciting experience. Growing up was exciting. There were dreams about growing up, taking up a job, living alone, surviving alone, maybe marrying someone you love. Going to holidays, laughing loudly making memories.

When did these simple things become too much too ask. Was an entire generation fed lies while growing up, why is there so much dissatisfaction.

Why have people, people you called/considered friends become evil. Why in a world with unlimited connectivity, there are more misunderstanding?

I want to know just where did I or everyone else who can relate to me go wrong. Why is it that we are facing trouble just being. Merely existing is such a big task, and no the answer to this inst death because I want to know what did I do wrong that I do not have the right to the life I wanted. Even after having almost everything why is there the crippling self-doubt always my only true friend.

Which brings me to the question where are my friends? Who are my friends? We were supposed to be each other’s guiding light, but now all I see is darkness and I am trying to desperately hold onto something but all I catch is air.

What happened exactly? Is it just me making things up, or something else? Who has the answers?

Please tell.