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Unforgettable

I’ve tried for a painfully long time but it doesn’t seem to go. This is madness, I’m sure. Surely I cannot feel like this after all this time. But then I hear the bastard beating right inside my chest and as much as I want to deny it, it’s right there, ‘in your face’, as people belonging to my generation would put it.

I can’t seem to forget him. No matter how hard I try. Despite reminding myself EVERY SINGLE NIGHT that the last page has been turned, I can’t forget him. He feels like a part of me now. Like an inseparable part of me. And it’s unusual because I hardly knew him (I think!!)

He’s the kind of guy you just randomly stumble across..at bar or some really random place, when you’re probably sitting at a table reading your favorite author or sipping an Apple cider beer..Just sipping, enjoying your drink, not thinking about anything in particular..concentrating on some pattern on the table and you randomly look up and pan across the room, not thinking about anything..And while panning, you happen to see this guy look up at you and something catches your fucking attention. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, in this very somber, effervescent way, or maybe it’s that haunting depth you notice in his eye, like he’s drowning in them himself. He’s the kind of guy who then comes over with this almost mischievous smile and ten minutes later, you’re discussing non-vegetarianism with him. He’s the kind of guy that looks into your eyes and you feel naked, like he’s almost reading all the secrets you try so hard to hide behind your eyes..the kind of guy who wouldn’t touch you even after knowing you for 3 months (and we’re talking ‘best friend-sh’ material here) but looks silently at the way your lips hold your cigarette. He’s the kind of guy who does not get scared when you tell him that you hate his “I love you”s and his use of “We” in every sentence that refers to him and you collectively. He’s the kind of guy who stays up all night to tell you something profound and beautiful the next morning just because he wants you to read it as soon as you wake up and then start your day..the kind of guy who writes you poems instead of cheesy bullshit, wakes up at 5fuckingAM to wish you “happy journey” for your flight..listens to you talk about bullfuckingshit when you’re sloshed and jabbering about how awesome trains are..He’s the kind of guy you giggle with over the phone when you’re completely stoned. The kind of guy who makes you feel all warm and fuzzy and weird inside.

And then you push him away because you realize (read WRONGLY PRESUME) where it’s headed.

Yep, my head’s all fucked up that way. My life has conditioned me to believe that every relationship I begin to cherish is doomed to meet its ‘destined’ end. And so, before destiny takes it course and destroys something, I race that bitch to the end and do it myself. No particular reason. One minute it’s there; we’re all giggly, all funny and cranky over texts, next minute we’re saying goodbyes. The butterflies drop dead and ice cream, alcohol and badly rolled joints become the way to go.

The weird thing about this is that (surprisingly!), I don’t feel a thing anymore. Just seamless lament for letting go something I could have possible taken a liking to. (Truth be told, I actually did like it. Very much. But that was the fucking problem!!) But apart from that, nothing. I’m not heartbroken or disdainfully depressed or cold or anything. Just a little sorry.

Sure I miss him but Sundays are just 6 days apart :P (If you know what I mean). The only time my thoughts aimlessly wander over to him is when I’m about to fall asleep and a few seconds later, I guess it doesn’t matter really =/

But I definitely feel that something within me has changed. And I don’t completely think it’s because of him. I like to believe that I’ve become little open to the idea of…maybe letting someone in..maybe letting someone know me the way I know myself (because there isn’t a single fucking person who does -.- )..It would be nice to have someone to talk to till 3am on some nights (Nights when I don’t have assignments or I’m not getting sloshed or sleeping :/ ) I’d definitely like to feel a little warm and fuzzy and butterfly-ey at times :) That’s a nice thing right? Isn’t this what makes life a little bearable? Feeling nice?

But me being open to all this still doesn’t negate the fact that I still can’t seem to get him out of my head. He’s just there!; inside my head like that buzzing sound when you close your ears really tight. Just fucking there! Immobile. Light. Thoughtless.And breathing.

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9th September, 1995.

I remember meeting her for the first time on Earth on 9th September 1995. She was all tiny, pink and..well..gooey :s I remember mum shoving this pink..thing in my face and going all, “Colonel, this is yours now. Protect it with your life”.

Soon, the pink tiny thing grew up and I stood in front of it like a barrier with the connotion that it was my integral responsibility to protect and take care of her. She underwent mutation from pink candy floss to this delicate buttery color. I called her “Amul” after the famous dairy brand, also the largest one in India.

And hence she came to be known as Anmol. Or priceless.

And I loved her. To the bit. Every last decree. To me, she was the single most beautiful thing after my mother.

I remember bashing dudes up when she was in prep and then when she was in KG and then nursery. I also remember telling her make belief stories about how I always took care of her and loved her, just to make her my servant for a day or two.

We’re opposites. As opposites as opposites can be. She’s practical, i’m more of the “yay-this-pseudo-icecream-tastes-awesome-man”. She’s one of those people that think that the single most important thing in her life is IIT. I’m one of them “yay let’s put this insect on this frog’s tongue so it doesn’t have to work and spend energy”. She’s those frugal, totally choosy people and i’m one of the, “OOooh look Tom cat soft toy. Oh big shit it costs 1495. But it’s imperative I buy it RIGHT NOW for you never know when the Earthquake that could possibly kill us is gonna take place man. Pleaaaaase I just HAVE to buy this”.

 But I guess that is what makes my bond with her special. She’s the one who’ll hold me back and tell me that ice creams give a bad cold, that career is more important than people or frogs and that I don’t really belong to a gold merchant/diamond merchant family and thus cannot waste precious money on Tom cat soft toys. She’s the kind who looks at me when I cry and goes, “I need to pick up the CD that contains the chapter about Phenols and Alcohols”.

Our conversations are…vague. VERY vague. We have this ritual we sometimes follow when we’re on phone with each other.

Me: (in the middle of some conversation with her) “HELLOOO??”

Her: “Ya say na!”

Me: (hears everything perfectly) “HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOO?”.

Her: “Helloooooooooooo??”

Me: “HELLLOOOOO???”

Her: “HELLLLLLLLOOOO?”

And this follows for the next 10 minutes where we pointlessly screaming “HELOOOO” into the phone even though we hear the other one perfectly well.

We also love modifying names.

I remember this AD on TV about Huggies diapers and there was this baby called ‘Dinku’ in it.

For some crazy reasoning of the cerebrum, we modified it to “Dengue”.

Similarly, our puppy, Ebony became Booz (Ebony->Ebooooo->Boooz)

Or Dhanya became Dhaniya. And then we went on to imagine what her (Dhanya) brother would be called (Saag) or her mother (paalak) or her dad (Kung PAo Chicken) :s

Often times, we would indulge in deep conversations pertaining to worldy issues, something on the lines of:

“So, every cloud has a silver lining”.

“Damn. Silver is expensive”

“Even Bold4 man”.

“I don’t like mushrooms man. They’re so fungii-ey”

“Mushrooms have proteins!”

“I need a glass of citric acid. HAHA GEDDIT? CITRIC ACID?”.

Both: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA CITRIC ACID. Like FLIPPITY FLOP FLIPPITY FLOP”.

 

We both are a bit of adventurers in a way. I remember this one time when we lied to mumma & went to Mad over donuts. We felt like superheroes that day, being able to go to someplace without mum’s prior permission. Then sometimes, we do our mini getaways. Like chill with each other ONLY for some time over coffee from Coffee beans and tea leaves, then make our way to marine drive or a catch up on a movie or just salads. And we talk. Senseless, emotional and everything else we deem important.

Yes, thugging our parents, constant lying, covering up for each other, cleaning up each other’s mess always happened. And through all those hours/days/weeks that we did not talk to each other, our bond continued to grow strong.

She’s my bestest friend, my secret diary, my saviour and the shoulder I always turn to when I need to cry. No one ever has or will take her place. I know she’s one person I can always be myself around and even though I carry alot of baggage with me, she’s one person who always helps me carry it. And that’s what makes this big bad world seem ‘ok’ for a while.

She’s been my ardent guide and always has my back, as do I, hers. For me, she embodies strength. She stands by our family and pacifies everyone during a dispute, stands by each one of us when we need supoort and strength and when I fail to act mature and handle a crisis, she takes over my responsibilities and ensures me a good night’s sleep.

She has the most beautiful smile i’ve seen and she smiles with her heart. I know how hard the last few months have been for her with me moving out to Pune and mum getting admitted in the hospital and I adore and admire her for the courage with which she confronted everything. Yes, she’s human and i’m lucky she trusts me to the point where she can break down in front of me and expect nothing in return.

This is to the gift God gave me, to the companion I always look up to, to the woman of substance:

Anmol, I love you and I respect you for everything you are and you are not. And as you take on the world at 16, I wish you all the happiness and luck you need and even more!

She might have grown up to turn 16 for the world, but for me, she’s still the pink little thing that did not once bother opening her eyes when I picked her up. She’s still that Prep school kid I always bashed up children for when they irritated her. She’s still that gleaming face who holds back tears when I leave for Pune everytime.

Here’s wishing you, little kid sister, an awefully late Birthday. (and this is also your gift. Do not expect anything else -.- )

 

With love,

Dee :)

 

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