She’s She !!

“Promise me, you’ll write; and you’ll keep writing”; she said. I, for a moment could say nothing, well; for I wanted to write and by now the desire to actually jot down whatever I had inside had grown manifold. I knew, in her I had found the light I was so desperately seeking. Perhaps, sunshine had crept in through the seepages of my broken soul; she was shining bright. Her redemption of me, it was worth every word that I had ever thought of penning down.
The mind that was idle all this while; covered with the moss of lethargy; had finally found something worth writing about. She had to be captured, seized in words; for she won’t otherwise stay.

She had this knack of being awry; amiss, all the time. Certainly, not a dent in the near so imperfect soul that she proclaimed herself to be; her imperfection radiated rationality, fierce at times; so fierce that one would begin questioning the sanity the world portrayed. The world was never her cocoon, she was hers; her imperfections made her perfect. Imperfectly-perfect she was, no shades of grey about her; the wrongs making up for the right; for, Who cared if the wrongs weren’t layered like the rights we encounter these days?? She didn’t, and I didn’t mind; for I was in awe of her; I still am.

Lost she used to be in her thoughts, as I immersed myself too, trying hard to fathom the depth of what she held within, but all in vain. Vanity there wasn’t, though illusionary; but it was beautiful and fascinating; as fascinating as the person who held me captive. And, she was captivating; her words and actions all in sync, all the time. She could manage a myriad of emotions; and she carried them off rather well, nothing layered; nothing subdued. The black and the white never merging into anything grey; she held and withheld each; both equally vibrant; she was magic indeed, she still is.

Even more titillating was her silence; stunningly beautiful and mesmerising. Her words could never convey what her silence did, hard to decipher it was; yet the pull of it was something beyond comprehension. Words can paint a hazy picture of her; putting her silence into perspective though is hard. She manifested defiance; hard it was gauge what was playing on her mind.

Amazing it was to be transported from my humdrum world and to be taken to a distant land, a land of magic, where she would cast her spell and make me just gaze at her in wonder. All my senses would come to a sudden halt, as if surrendering everything to her will. She would then tip toe into the mind and set the ball rolling, casting thoughts and molding them into words. She was of frantic appeal to the mind, she continues to be; for collating bliss and despair and gluing them with the mortar of words hasn’t been so difficult. She does make it difficult, for she settles nowhere; my mind is just too small a playground for her to fit in. But, she does evoke a plethora of emotions as she passes by the corridors of my senses; good enough to ignite the flame and an urge to put into context the Magic that SHE is.

She was and still is hard to contain; in words and in reality; like her emotions, in haste at times. Effervescent she was; at times like a gush of wind, blowing hot and blowing cold, here and there, everywhere but nowhere. Nowhere I say, because that’s what she stressed upon; being nowhere, going nowhere and ending up nowhere, for me though she was everywhere. That was she, rock steady now and fickle then, and like everything else it added to her aura, the vibe she spread, warm and cold all at a time. And, it was beautiful, and she knew it all along, for she knew she was beautiful.

P:S: And, I’ll write; as promised, I will; for in her I now see my words taking flight and a dive, all at a time.

None but, She !!

“Speech is silver; silence, golden”; I said, as she nodded in agreement. Silence thereafter, and thus began the spate of pauses; awkward at times, at times intriguing. The beauty of it all though was unparalleled, something mystique about it, her silence akin to her was enigmatic. She could freeze and set ablaze a thousand thoughts directed at her with her silence, and then she would speak; just a word or two; as if breaking a spell that she’d not chosen deliberately to cast upon you.

She spoke less, really less; as I would chatter away all the time, she was of the observant nature; for she came across as someone who was all within herself. The look on her face seldom gave away as to what turbulence brew inside, an onerous task it was for her: to manage ten different thoughts at a time, but she held the reins well. And; well that was she, at her best, her words never played second fiddle to her thoughts, for they would be in sync all the time; she managed and tamed the chaos well; a high mind turning quotient all of it was.

She would smile, and she would smile often; perhaps her way of negotiating the silence that had taken over. It was tragically beautiful though, thought- afterthought or no thought at all, she would just smile thus veiling the entropy of the mess that was all-devouring. The facial muscles had gotten used to the chaos perhaps, for the stimulus remained unchanged. She would break out into laughter; but that wasn’t too very often, at something really foolish; a tactic that would work; no pretensions and just no effort at all. She managed the business of going about and acting normal quite well, the smile that lit up the skyline of her face prevented one from getting a feeler of the storm that raged on the inside.

Her temperament too was one of a kind, hot and cold and numb; it varied in varying proportions. She would fly high this moment and come crashing down; all by herself; the very next instant. She would be poetic and emotional; and blunt and rational; all at a time. A mixed bag she was, juggled her emotions as her thoughts would keep juggling in her mind; the face mediating the crisis in between all that she withheld. And, she wouldn’t give away, not the least bit; stubborn she was, to herself; merciless at times; but all to herself, because she just couldn’t give it away; all for herself. She was right though, there remained no room for negligence. The soul had tuned itself to the ways of the world, the world she held within, all by herself again.

And, she would ask me to write; would give me reasons too, reasons just being reasons, the subject often elusive; as elusive as her thoughts that would rush into my mind’s embankment. Hard to contain she was, her thoughts and her soul, perhaps putting them down in my attempt to cage a part of her will somehow yield in capturing some part of the elusive SHE !! For now, I am set; the flame not flickering; in her light, I’ll bask, and in her light, I’ll write. And, it is beautiful, and now, I know it, for I know she was beautiful.

P.S: And, Yeats meant her when he wrote:

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And, loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,

And, loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And, She was She !!

And, she was full of herself, at times so much to an extent that it would seem narcissistic, but that was about her. Pretending to be aloof but she wasn’t, for she knew it all, maybe; it was her defense mechanism, built and developed over time, for it covered her scars well. Contradictions galore, it ran in her, this way and that, hither tither all the time; and that was she: chaotic and composed, soaked in ice this moment and breathing fire the next. And, it was beautiful, and she knew it all along, for she knew she was beautiful.

To decode her, to be able to in fact was never easy, no matter how hard one would try, her resilience at not giving it away made her worth the admiration. Steady and steadfast in resolve, undaunted and unperturbed by what was to come, she was what she stood for. Cranky at times, well most women are, but most importantly, she was a woman. In the midst of so many women around who preferred acting like girls (you know what I mean), she was a woman, minus her eccentric behavior, although that has my benefit of doubt.

She loved to read, was well read in fact; the issue however was she couldn’t be read, her eyes spoke something; her lips contradicted, she wouldn’t agree though. Well, contradictions in abundance!! Her silence spoke better; the lulling storm within, before it went on a rampage. The calm and the rage; withheld and laid bare, added to her persona; that was about her. And, it was beautiful, and she knew it all along, for she knew she was beautiful.

She wrote remarkably well too, poems and stories, write ups and articles, of hope and love, life and happiness. The beauty of it all often camouflaged the pain she chose not to show, she wasn’t vulnerable; for she had no other choice left.

She talked less, way too less; she would rather contemplate, not knowing what to think or talk about, would come across as attentive and indeed she was. Her voice often cracked when she held up things within, or as she would suggest it was a bout of cold that would go away. Her Voice echoed Oscar Wilde’s poems, there was a tinge of melancholy to go with hope and cheer, as balanced and neutralized as she preferred to be. And, it was beautiful, and she knew it all along, for she knew she was beautiful.

And, she was broken, with a broken smile and a broken soul, held tightly all by herself. The apprehensions that ran within never showed without, for they had no room. The complacency of the world might have taken over, but she was strong within; she chose not to fall for it. The daily transactions of life had little to do with what she had in herself, the chaos outside was well left where it was supposed to be. Perhaps, the chaos running within her was far greater, and it made sense; for she had seen much, suffered and learnt stuff in a way she never imagined she would. She would count her recklessness and impatience as flaws, but they added to the bundle that she was, she wasn’t seamless. And, it was beautiful, and she knew it all along, for she knew she was beautiful.

As, John Keats had put it up:

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep”

She was and still is a thing of beauty, that’ll forever remain, etched in the heart and the mind shall follow this time. Her nothingness, well that’s what she manifests: nothing in everything and everything that now means nothing. No, not really!!

P.S: And, I’d still:

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay a while And she will be loved !!

Demise of the fan in me !!

As I made my bed last night and prepared to call it a day, my phone beeped, a text had arrived from a friend; it read – “Mate, Chester Bennington is no more”. That was it, my sleeping plan gone for good. I felt numb, gutted and shocked beyond words. For the first time in my life, the demise of a celebrity was hurting me. If fandom could be defined, this was it!!
Cobain had passed away when I was too young to understand his legacy and Mercury had gone when I was a toddler with no idea whatsoever about the kind of phenomenon he was. Jackson was huge, but I wasn’t really a big fan. Chester though, might not be in the same league, but he to me was an integral part of my growing up years, my high school days, my teens: his voice and his screams were something that my generation had admired, adored and loved. Chester was gone, with him perished the dream of watching LP perform live.
As my teenage years flashed in front of my eyes, I did shed a tear, not because he was gone, but; he took away a part of me, a part of my childhood. The memories of buying audio cassettes way back in 2001 to downloading videos of LP performing in Texas, I had grown up and so did technology. From tapes to audio in mp3 format, things had evolved but that voice remained the same. Although LP as a band had started to experiment, fiddling with different genres, Chester with his vocals hadn’t lost his magical touch.
Way back in 1999-2000 when boy bands were a rage, Brazilian collectives and established singers like Dion and Twain were making headlines, Eminem had emerged on to the scene and had a dedicated fan base, my generation craved for something different. Something that would be an amalgamation of the old and the new, something that would define angst and hope; love and denial, a voice that would not just be raw but a cut above the rest; and there was LP!! A band that would go on to represent all of it- rock, rap and metal – NUMETAL had arrived!! Lyrics that would pierce through the heart and touch the soul, songs that would crawl through your skin, make you numb and in the end, give you some hope.
The hope grew and manifested; record after record; album after album and collaboration with other artists, it kept people like me asking and seeking more. But, like everything else music had to evolve, and that began to show. Post-2007 LP shifted gears, the screams had mellowed and metal elements faded. Auto-Tune had emerged and the excitement of listening to LP was never really the same. No criticism here, but expectations of a follower like me wasn’t met, the LP of yesteryears was sorely missed.
Cut to today, LP will never really be the same; a guitarist; a drummer can be replaced, the back- up vocals can be managed, the lead singer though is the soul of any band. Hard it is to imagine any iconic band without its lead; think of Led Zep without Robert Plant or Metallica sans Hetfield. Chester’s shoes are way too big to be filled, and for a fan like me, I’ll do what I’ve been doing for many years now, plug in my earphones and hear Chester scream – that’s what he did best. RIP Chester Bennington, you’ll always be missed !!

P.S: I’ll keep you in my memory and Leave out all the rest!!

Not an Adolescent Affair !!

“You live only once, you love only once”; at this juncture in life this seems to make sense, although partially. I did love, and will continue to live. But, did I love just once? No, I didn’t, there’s heartbreak or a rejection everyone has faced, lived and experienced. Mine was probably a one sided affair, a comedy of unrequited love. Not taking any names here, not going to mention any anecdotes either. What I am going to write will probably sum up that feeling of falling for someone for the very first time.

It might have been an infatuation if I think of it now, but somewhere, deep within a locked compartment of the heart the feeling remains. The formative years perhaps, 12-13 year old; I was on the threshold of experiencing something new, the feeling of falling for someone. The feeling I developed then; towards someone was as pure as the driven snow, unadulterated not an iota of lust or physicality involved. It was perhaps that one glance and one eye contact that mattered. To be able to see her from a distance was an achievement in itself. And, I believe a few people would relate to this.

Love back then wasn’t held captive by expectations, just that feeling of getting up and being able to see her just for once was all that mattered. And, somewhere this remains, to be able to give it all without knowing what the future holds, while treading on the fine line between maturity and immaturity is something that never happens again. When there existed no calculated risks, no win-loss situation, when a Yes or a No just didn’t matter, is something that will never happen in life again. Also, the commitment level: to be fascinated by something without expecting anything in return is something that fades with maturity. The feeling of being in love then wasn’t bound by practicality, it knew no reason. It wasn’t narrow, driven only by emotions; proposal-disposal didn’t matter, the mind and the heart worked in sync, no disagreement between the two, for both sought that one common thing – just a glance, and maybe; a smile.

And as somewhere down the line, I grew up, realized this wasn’t meant to be and found love again. But did I forget the feeling I had for that someone who to this day remains the first person to have made me go weak in the knees?? I did not; and this as I had mentioned will stay for a lifetime. This is what shaped me, shaped my attitude towards feeling and falling for someone again. To this day, I get Goosebumps if I hear her name, to this day I have this image etched on my mind and to this day, that adolescent love affair of mine, although one sided; continues to shape my outlook towards a relationship.
That said, we men, most of us have been through this I believe, and we never grow up, perhaps never grow out of it.

Love and relationships might come and go, but that feeling of being in love for the very first time remains, it stays within us. We choose not to show it, maturity sets in, but there’s this tiny little space within our hearts that still pulsates thinking about the days bygone. Falling in and out of love might happen; keeps happening but the first experience remains special forever, for there didn’t exist any ifs, buts or may be (s).
May be that one expectation from one’s own self to make it work, no commitment, no fantasies, and no worries about what is to come? And that feeling is something I know, at least I, for myself will never experience again. Sheryl Crow did say it right when she sang, “The first cut is the deepest”. The scars remain, I don’t show it, but it doesn’t haunt me either. It makes me smile, for I did love once; I’ll love again but; I’ll not love the way I loved her.

P.S: Whoever she might have been, wherever she might be, she will always be special; for she was the first one to have knocked on the door of my heart. Life and Love will go on, but that tiny little space shall forever remain vacant.

Right to Love, Right to Be !!

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.”-Harvey Fierstein
I started with the quote so as to express what individuality is, what freedom to express is and certainly what freedom to be one’s own self is.
“Abhishek, Can I ask you something?” asked someone I had known for a couple of years now. The question seemed normal, I was more than okay to answer him in the affirmative, the confession that he came up with made me understand how narrow I had been all my life, and my so called liberal thinking was put to test that very instant.
The Question: Would you be friends with someone who is Gay?
The Answer: Yes, I do know a couple of guys who are, and they are friends with me.
The Confession: I am Gay

It took sometime to calm myself down; it was something I hadn’t expected. I had known this chap for almost a couple of years now, he looked normal, like any other 28-30 year old would. No matter how practical we assume ourselves to be, no matter to what extent we go around boasting about the liberal and free thinking ideologies we claim to have, it does take some amount of guts to digest something of this sort, when it is least expected.

It uncorked the bottle of crisis that perhaps the person was holding within, his identity, coming to terms with it and it was contagious, the emotions were contagious. I could sense the anxiety, there wasn’t any doubt in his mind, and he had no qualms with regard to his sexual orientation. The only issues were – Would his family accept him? Will his friends still choose to be friends with him? How would the society treat him? Will he end up being an outcast? Family, Friends and Society aside, the bigger question lurked, inside me; how should I react? Then, it was time for me to do the answering, some soul searching, clear the cob webs of all the narrow thoughts, the jokes I used to crack on ‘Such’ people. It made me feel sick; made me shiver; made me emotional and it made me question the kind of bigot; I had become.

Although I had never questioned my own sexual orientation, and perhaps I never will, but to come to terms with the fact that a person I knew to a certain extent was different, was difficult. He was as human as I was, he was entitled to have his own way in life, live life on his own terms and most importantly love on his own terms as well. If I could shove the dumping I suffered up my own arse, why should this guy’s sexual orientation, his preference or his identity be something that I shouldn’t accept? He deserved no bias and he deserved no discrimination either. If he had found a confidant in me, why should I let him down? Not talking of any friendship here, but that’s what the “human being” in me should do and that’s what I did. I held his hand, more than being just a friend, I chose to be his friend, and I will be one as long as I am alive.

I am no LGBT activist; I don’t change my profile pictures based on laws being approved by the US Govt. But, I am a human being, educated, open minded and liberal, and even if I weren’t, it shouldn’t be my business to meddle with what goes on inside someone’s bedroom. I felt liberated, I felt that I was open to new experiences in life, seeing life from someone’s perspective and realizing that ‘people aren’t difficult, they are different’. It was an eye opener, for all my assumptions, prejudices and “Homophobia” was gone, gone for good.

P.S: I am no LGBT activist, I am as straight as straight can be; but I was narrow too. A confession might have helped the person in feeling light to an extent, but he did me a favor: he killed that Bigot in me.
More to come on this; a struggle that most of us don’t understand, perhaps some bigots never will.

Being A Single Child

This write up is about people like me, who have grown up alone, with no one except but for parents around them. It is about being a ‘Single Child’, the experience of being one, what comes with it, the pros and the cons; although, at this stage of my life and given the kind of pessimistic approach I have developed towards people and situations, I’ll rather write about why I don’t enjoy being a single child anymore.

Being the only kid in the family was fun while growing up, doting parents and I knew all the focus and attention was on me. I had the most liberal kind of upbringing so to say, from getting what I wanted (though I had to negotiate over them with my academic performance) to me going where I wanted to go. At that stage, I enjoyed every bit of the attention; the chocolate bar was mine, the toys were mine and I knew I wouldn’t have to tolerate someone else wearing the tee I loved. It was all mine for the taking, from the verandah to the corridors- whatever existed, I was the King.

Never had any issues like most people with siblings have, I used to hear my friends saying that perhaps their parents loved the other one a bit more. I never faced that crisis, my parents were all mine, totally devoted to me and they still are. But, that’s the child in me jotting the experience down. For now, I know that regardless of how much fun I might have had, there was something I missed out on, and perhaps I’ll miss it for a lifetime.

As a single child, I looked out for friends with whom I could be me, and now that my life is all screwed up I realize all most of them were just acquaintances I had. I wish, I had someone I could relate to genetically if not mentally. Someone who would be as responsible towards my parents as I feel I should be and someone who would make up for the deficiencies that I as a son have. As a child, my parents probably had assumed me to be the most perfect child they could have had, but with age catching up on them and on me as well, they at times fail to realize that I am as human as they are. It does feel empty and hollow within, for I know I lack that option of falling back on someone who would at least be genetically compatible. I feel lost, alone and without anyone; more than I have ever felt before, for I know I’ll have no one after my parents and my parents have no one beyond me, and this realization is stressful.

With age, a single child realizes the amount of pressure that he is under, for all the expectations are on him, from being the only one to uphold the name of the family to being the only one who would keep the gene alive. Parents tend being over obsessed and over indulgent, and having a way out seems difficult. From being the one who once had his own way in doing stuff, I no longer have the free hand in deciding my fate. The child who had the freedom to live life his own way has to live solely on what he thinks would keep his parents satisfied, there’s no ‘PLAN B’ and above all else I am the lone warrior; and, that is when I miss having a sibling the most. All the fun I had while growing up seems meaningless and all the attention that I had; I wish were divided.

P.S : This is my own take on how it sucks to be a single child, any contradiction will be highly appreciated. It might probably feel a little better if I get to know someone who feels it’s an absolute bliss to be a single child.

Not Just Another Place to be !!

This isn’t a review about a pub I used to frequent; rather it is more about an emotional connect I have with it. This write up might not fit into whatever I have written so far, but this is perhaps my show of gratitude to a place which helped me in suppressing the demons I was fighting within.

They say , “Music Heals”, and sure it does; I discovered this healing touch the day I checked in there for the first time – ‘Urban Mantra’ it was. I thank my mate Navajit for introducing me to this place which would later turn out to be a healer in the real sense. From the music that was being played to the beer that was being served, everything seemed just so chilled out. But, given the state of mind that I was in, it didn’t really make any sense to me then. The crowd was young and the songs peppy, the beer was chilled and the fries were crispy, but that was something I wasn’t looking for, and just as I was about to leave, a band came up on stage; and there it was – my affair with THE PLACE started.

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Depression, be it professional or personal can creep in at any point of time. There are a lot of remedies people suggest to get out of it. I have been a victim of it and there were times when I almost gave up. From not meeting targets to not getting a call from a beloved one, there are things that suck you in like a black hole, the mind seeks solace and the soul seeks rest; and I discovered music could do what anti depressants couldn’t .

There are times when the demons you fight within crave for some attention and I realized I should give them just what they needed – some chilled beer, and I was there at Urban Mantra again. Soon, the affair deepened, the frequency of my visits increased. There had been times when I had to persuade my friends to come along and there were times when I didn’t mind being there alone. From making numerous calls to Gautam to keep a seat reserved to even making myself comfortable on the floor, I just went there for the music they played. The bands that belted out numbers that I knew and could sing along to literally pleading them to sing something I wanted to hear. It was just about the music and the beer, for once and perhaps for a good couple of hours or more it took me out of the mess I was in. The targets didn’t matter; my non-existent love life didn’t matter, all that made sense then was that I was having a jolly good time, I was healing.

Finally I had found something to look forward to; I found a place I needed to get out of the crap I had surrounded myself with. From cheering for Liverpool to applauding P.V Sindhu, this place made me fall in love with sports other than football too. The place made me realize my ex wasn’t as beautiful as I had always assumed her to be, there were others who were a few notches higher (unfortunately all of them were taken, I assume). Jokes apart, the place did infuse a bit of life in me.

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I had always believed I needed people around to get my shit in place, and this place was just beyond perfect. To be able to mingle with random people and to see those who were so much in love, around, it did make me feel that happiness is indeed contagious. The ambiance, the crowd and the staff indeed left an everlasting impression in my mind.

As, I had mentioned; this isn’t a review, I won’t rate the quality or the service or the ambiance, this piece is just an ode to a place that pulled me out of something, perhaps pulled the demons out of me and calmed them down with some chilled beer and good music.

P.S : Thanks Gautam for picking up the phone each time I called. For making me appreciate Sia and The ChainSmokers. And yes, I now know James Blunt does make a hell lot of sense. 🙂 🙂

A Freak, A Friend !!

It is not very often that you come across people on a journey who tend to leave their imprints on your life, in this age when everyone is glued to their smart phones, exchanging hellos and smileys in the virtual world, real conversation does take a backseat. A journey, a travel; that too an 18 hour long ordeal so to say on a snail paced train is perhaps never the perfect setting for someone to communicate with a co-passenger. Specially for a typical mechanical engineer like me, who tends to take his academic background far too seriously, striking a conversation with a girl who of course was a stranger on a train was just not happening. And, there was it; a notion that was about to change.

February 15^th 2015 indeed marked a special day in my life; I was destined to meet a stranger who would go on to break a few stereotypes and foolish prejudices I had built up in my mind. Miss Nishtala had arrived!!

A bindi on her forehead, a sleeveless tee and capris; honestly the moment I saw her I thought her sense of dressing sucked big time, a mistake I still regret making. From arranging her berth and luggage, she did stuff that most girls having a male accompanier wouldn’t. Yes, she did have a guy to accompany her and it was soon going to be journey he wouldn’t forget too.

Ms. Nishtala had this peculiarity in her, which for me (a guy who had limited interactions with the opposite gender) hadn’t come across, she wasn’t adamant. Although, she was busy doing her stupid antics, which included making faces at her companion, muttering random stuff (which I assumed were either lyrics of some song or were expletives) and forcing her partner to eat of her hands, she might not have realized that there was someone who was observing her do all that.

Half an hour into the journey, and the moment arrived. “Aap kaha jaa rahe ho?? “, a random question from a random stranger to another, it took me 30 odd seconds to realize that the question was shot at me. Thank Heavens!! I didn’t have to break the ice. And, there you go, the conversation started. From academics to area of interests, from science to religion, from Modi to Kejriwal, she knew it all. At least it showed to be so; on the surface. Ms. Nishtala went on and on and on, from cursing the pathetic condition of the Indian Railways to the need of privatization, this girl left me impressed. I hadn’t met a girl who knew so much about Mr.Kejriwal let alone as to why the Aam Aadmi Party was formed. Little did I know that her companion was cursing me in his mind, for he had a very little to say.

A night into the journey, and the conversation continued the next day; this time the topic being a friend of hers, who was on the same train, she failed to realize that I knew nothing about him, probably I wasn’t even interested. From the oranges that were being sold at the Nagpur railway station to the weather of Bangalore, Ms. Nishtala had a say on everything. Her talkative nature was slowing earning her a fan.

Late in the evening, her destination arrived; getting down from the train, she assured she would stay in touch, and By God!! She did. I had assumed, that she would turn out to be just another co-passenger, with whom you talk random stuff, share a cup of tea and say good bye. But, She was here to stay!!

After a couple of months, I happened to get a Hi! from her, the conversation started again, although in the form of text messages this time. As days rolled by, I happened to explore the other side of her, she wasn’t as insane as I had assumed her to be, she was perhaps a few notches higher than that. But, that was her sanity, her USP. From politics to real life experiences, from what went on at my workplace to her petty issues, our small talks included it all. I had by then seen a major fall in my own personal life; my relationship had left me gutted, all that I had counted upon had left me deserted. Social life had gone for a toss and depression had slowly started to creep in. It was then, that I experienced what friendship could be, at 27, with not too many friends around to share my stuff with; life had started screwing me bad. But, the magic that Ms. Nishtala was, I could see hope emerge. From her insane talks to her lecturing sessions (which made no sense at times) I could find a bit of motivation to get up and go about trying to keep things normal. Although, she never really stayed in touch as much as my words are making it out to be, but a text or two in a week was enough for me to realize that there was enough madness left in this world to be taken care of.

There you go, Ms. Nishtala, you did leave an imprint that will never go away, thank my stars for colliding with yours on that fateful journey. I made a friend for life, an insane freak who set things straight for me. An abnormal being who pretends being normal, you did bring about a bit of normalcy in me. You did teach me a few stuff or two; a mechanical engineer can find a friend in a girl too.

P.S: Thanks Shweta !! Thanks for inspiring, thanks for being there when you were high and I was low, Bottoms Up to You!!!