Just Friends

"You are late. AGAIN" I said almost exasperated. "I am leaving now study on your own. And Possibly try and flunk tomorrow, so that you learn to be on time. I am sick of it. And Where the hell is your cell phone? I have been calling you for like forever."

I was probably turning green in anger and all i could see was Rishabh standing just in front of me while keeping a safe distance, making funny faces; trying to calm me down. Telling me to relax.

Obviously we were the center of attraction.

"Excuse me please." He shouted across the tables. "One Nutty Fudge brownie for the lady please. With some hot chocolate syrup and vanilla ice cream." And he turned around to look at me, raising his eyebrows in almost a cute way, "Will that make it?"

Here was my cue, and without a pause i added to my treat. "Plus one lemon iced tea please. Thank you."

He took a seat opposite to me.

"So what is the excuse this time?" I asked him, while getting back to my normal self.
"And I thought i was not answerable to this question after the brownie."
 And we both laughed at his comment.

"Alright, but what about your cell phone? Why have you switched it off?" I asked him in a matter of fact tone, possibly knowing the answer already.

"Leave it, you don't want to know. It's just Tanya,she keeps pestering me all the times and I hate it so much. For her, all what a boy friend is ought to do is, help her manage her mood swings, pamper her all the times and accompany her while shopping." He replied almost irritated.

"What else is girl friend for? Stealing kisses in the khopchas of campus?" I asked teasingly.
"Of course not. How can you think so low me? I wont mind booking a room." was his spontaneous quirky response.
"Ughhh.....Shut up. You were right. I don't want to know." I said stopping him midway, knowing well that i can never win an argument with him when the subject is dirty.

In few minutes are order was served and without wasting much time we followed through the topics of the test one by one.

Approximately after an hour since we started, Rishabh leaned forward from across the table and nearly hissed, "To your 4'o clock.". In all these years, we have developed this unique coded language, which we generally use to indicate the direction of hot girls.

I moved a little, making sure it doesn't look deliberate. And with the corner of my eye, I looked into the direction.
"What? There is no one." I said confused.
"Idiot, that guy over there. He is staring at you." He said looking impressed with himself and equally amused.
"Why? Do I have something on my face?" I asked consciously, bringing one of my palm near to my face. "Oh God, this is so embarrassing. Why you did not tell me about it before."

"Are you serious? He is a GUY. We don't stare because some girl has something on her face. We stare when we find them appealing. You blonde." He said surprised, as If i have such a less knowledge about the behavior of opposite sex.
"Ohh i see, but the fact is you guys stare almost all the times for apparently no reason." I said stating myself loud and clear, making sure I sound legitimate. "And by the way he is not staring at all."
"You are blind. I can bet he wants to talk to you, If you just give him a try." He said putting his argument forcefully.
"You know, we are still left with lot of topics to cover. Can we debate about it later." I said as always ignoring the topic.

"Why can't you just accept the fact that others can fall in love with you, that someone can possibly be dying to date you. And moreover people can genuinely compliment you. What is it?" He demanded to know, being pushy beyond believe this time.
"I am leaving, you sit here, question all day to yourself. And maybe that what they will ask you in test tomorrow." I said nearly in frustrated tone, gathering my notes from the coffee table.
"You are not going anywhere this time. I am not letting you leave this discussion." He said with authority in voice, looking straight at me.

"Whats the big deal?" I said completely pissed off. "I just don't feel like that. I just don't wish to feel insecure, miserable about things that do not even matter. I don't want to be the one trying to get the attention and feel like i am in race with other girls and I have to prove my worth every time. I don't want to pretend someone that i love them whole heartedly when i don't. I don't like guys complementing me because i wanted some body who can actually give those compliments a meaning for me. That is all it is about. Did I answer your question now?"

"And what makes you think you are in race with other girls?" He asked. "Do you know I have always loved you?"

I stood there not knowing what am i suppose to say next. And just before I could respond, he stopped me midway saying, "Don't worry, I know what you have to say. You don't need to explain yourself. And I promise I wont let anything change the way we are now. Best friends."

And He just smiled. This was the first time that I ever realized, his smiles and presence do matter to me. Because they assure me. It will be ok. :)

Because it matters

Yeah Yeah... i know, what am i doing here on my blog. I should have been preparing for my test, and those n number of things that are lined up for me. But anyways as always i have just one answer... "Because i want to"

Now for those who are wondering what this post is about.... Lets just say its a small thank you note. Because smallest gesture matters to me the most. It is to let you know (in case you read my blog :P) that more than your words, i notice your actions. Even the tinniest details of your actions don't go unnoticed. In fact they are the ones that i value the most, because they are involuntary. :) Its a good idea to recall them every once in a while, just to know there are people who love you. :D

1) When your mom says "You will find a way. You always did." :)

2) In spite of being the least expressive human being on this planet, your brother places an online order of fabric colors, with a note "try something new", when you tell him.... "mera mann nahi lag raha".

3) When your dad, just cant accept the fact that you have grown up. :P

4) You have a elder cousin, who called you insane names, irrespective of the fact that you are six or sixteen. Now it sounds weird when they call you by your real name in public. :P (No i am not telling you those names. :P )

5)You have a friend who will put her boy friend's call on hold for you. And if he cribs about it, she will tell him loud and clear. "She matters to me more than you. Got it?"

6) Its your special day, and you want something perfect and elegant to dress up. You march down each and every store of GIP with your friend, and tell yourself "I am doomed" and she shouts at you and say "SHUT UP we will find something for you." And drags you till the end of the universe and find the most perfect off white color dress of all times, with perfect matching heels. (It was almost magical.)

7) Your friend comes running 3 floors to wake you up for 9 am class. In spite of knowing the first thing you will tell her is, "I so badly want to kill you". :P

8) You have a friend who is always the first one to wish you Birthday.

9) You have friends who will go through your entire blog post, even if it doesn't interest them. Just to encourage you. :)

10) You have a teacher, who will always believe in you. :)

What do I long for?

“Writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers.”

― Charles Bukowski

I have heard people stating many a times that life is simple, the most complex questions have a very simple answer. We are just not looking at it in the right way. Can it be the other way round ? Can simple questions have complex answers ?

I was having this conversation with a friend last week, when eventually I ended up talking about authors. Authors who are praised and  read world wide, without whom i suppose the term "literature" itself will hold a little less of its meaning. And strangely enough, they all have something in common, i.e. they all write with a purpose. If you look into their private lives and theme of work close enough, you will observe a pattern.

Sylvia Plath an american poet and short story writer. Those who cant recall her, do you remember "Mirror", a short poem as a part of our English syllabus. Yes, author of the very same poem. Most of her work falls into a category of confessional poetry. Her poems are full of references and images that seem impenetrable at this distance, but which could mostly be explained in footnotes by a scholar with full access to the details of her life. She lost her father at a very early age, had a miscarriage and found her marriage falling apart, which she always thought about as love at first sight. Her husband (Ted Hughes) was cheating on her.

Let me show you, one of my favorite pick from her work.

Mad Girl's Love Song

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

Can you relate it now? Does it makes sense to you now after knowing about her personal life? What do you say was she longing for something? Was she desperate? Undoubtedly YES.

Enid Blyton most of her work revolves around child fantasy. She wrote stories of child adventures. Blyton adored her father and was devastated after he left the family to live with another woman. Blyton and her mother did not have a good relationship, and later in life, Blyton claimed to other that her mother was dead and ultimately did not attend either of her parents' funeral.  Am I wrong to think of her work as an attempt to relive all those happy childhood moments that she missed? Can i think about it as a flight of imagination for things she longed for?

Jane Austen the author of my favorite "Pride and Prejudice". She wrote six novels during her lifetime, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey and Persuassion. All based on the theme of romance and happily ever after.  But surprisingly in her real life she never found her Mr. Perfect. I wonder why she was so good in imagining those happy ever afters may be because she longed for them herself.

Now when this conversation got over, self realization hit me hard. What do i write about? And moreover what do I want to write about? What is it that i am looking for??? Do i write to settle down my rage? or in the name of fiction, creativity and imagination; I am trying to communicate my emotions with you??? What is it?

At times like these i really question my level of sanity. Why cant I have a simple answers like everyone else. Like in this case it would have been much simpler if i would have answered myself "I write because i like to write." Why do i need to over think and over analyze everything, every situation? Its not necessary that everything has a logic or purpose.

But anyways I am happy that i at least found myself an answer. Answer is beyond insane, but its a proof of my patience and ability to hold on, when i know it doesn't make a sense and Its nothing more than a useless pointless effort and wastage of time and energy.
Ok, don't put efforts interpreting my last lines. You are not getting close anyways :P and this makes blogging even more interesting. :P

PS- I know this should have been a diary entry instead, but anyways I read it somewhere; one must learn to embrace his/her own weirdness. :)