After many more winters, There will come a night,
A night you will feel brave enough, To walk down that memory lane.
And one last time, you will want to take a turn, with undeserving hope,
To the alley where we first met.
You will not find me there, or you, then who are you looking for ?
 
But if you stay long enough, you will see –
The blurred and long lost ghost of our pasts – yearning to laugh out loud.
If the winds of Time had swept away my footprints –  Do not linger,
Why do you want the slow wetness of loneliness, trickling down that once happy face ?
 
You have always found the Twilight romantic, But I’ve always been scared by it.
For, It does not remind me of the wonderful Night ahead,
But only of separation, of a tired Day.
 
And like the Day, I will wish you farewell.
But if only like the Night, you had wanted me to come back.
If only like the Night, you had opened the door of Dawn,
For that one last look, before you left me forever.

I have this habit of asking my friends to write me long mails, not all friends, just the ones who can write really good, and I should say this, the person who’ll be reading this post first, Su Chhe, is the best at it, Su always writes me great mails every single time I ask of her. 

2:30 AM, A Sunday morning, a vibrating phone on the desk. Young man with big eyes and bigger thick glasses sitting in front of a computer picks up the phone with a smile. 

He: Hello

She : Hey! You’re awake!

He: Just woke up… What up ?

She: Been trying to call you since evening, is it raining there ?

He: Slept early, had work to do, you know my timings. Yeah, very heavy rain I guess.

She: Yeah, about that, actually thats why I called.

He: Huh ? About the rain ?

She : No silly, I can’t be with you any longer, this weird time stuff is killing me, sure you warned me before we started going out but its not going to work like this for me.

He: What?! We’re not going out, we’re just friends !!

She: Come ‘on…  I’m serious, I can’t do this –

Silence  

She: I’m sorry.

His soft friendly voice takes a deep serious tone.

He: But thats not logical you know, we go out every time you say you want to go out to every place you want to go and I try my best to keep you happy

She: Well, yeah, that too, its like you’re trying so hard to be with me, and I feel I should reciprocate and try to be with you when you’re up during these weird times, but I can’t do that.

He: You don’t have to do that! Even if you were up, I am not sure if I’d want to skip work and talk to you, this is my bread and butter !!

She: You remember those times when we were just friends, back in college? I used to think it was really cool of you to have a night time job and that you pay your tuition

He: So ?

She: Well, I kind of expected you to have a “real” job after college, I already wasted so much time trying to be with you.

He: Wasted ?…This IS a serious job. 

She: What ? Who are you kidding, you’re just a freelance web-designer, you guys are dime a dozen. I really really expected you to be someone with your kind of potential.

He: Is this what its about ? That I’m poor ? That I didn’t turn out to be one of those rich corporate guys your dad wants you to marry ? May be I am poor, but you know what ? Atleast I know what I want to do and I’m happy.

She: Whats that supposed to mean ?

He: You have no idea what you want to do with your life, you came to college to become an Engineer, you said your interest was in arts and designs and you loved “colors”, and I thought you understood my love and passion for it, but you never did, and after college you said you’d pursue your “dream” as an interior designer, you never did, all you ever did was just hang around doing nothing spending your parent’s money. You can’t work, you can’t study. You loathe everything around you, you hate this place, you hated college, actually I’ve never heard you say you love anything.

She: Is that what you were thinking about me ? That I was a rich spoiled girl? There are things I love, when I get to UK…

Snorting at the other end of the phone 

She: WHAT?

He: Sorry, you’ve been feeding yourself with that UK dream for ever, no college wants to accept a slacker.

She: You actually hate me…don’t you ? Why are you even with me –

He: I thought you were ending this. 

She: You’re damn right, I am. You might also be pleased to know that, I’ve been sleeping with someone else for a while, in fact every evening while you slept early.

He: WHAT?

She: Yeah, I’ve been doing that for a while now, and you know what, this guy is actually very very nice, owns his own place, he knows what he’s doing. And he’s tall, muscular and really really well-endowed and he even tastes better than…

A muffled sob… Hangs up

12 years later.

The city of Cannes, its early autumn, a few golden leaves are adoring the narrow road, a short man in his late twenties walking a dog, he’s just humming along to a song in his head looking fairly calm, walking alongside him and reading to him from a file, is a white lady, in her early twenties but she looks young enough to be passed off as seventeen easily, the only thing that would make her look older is the suit and her very stern expression. She suddenly stops to pull out a vibrating phone, talks for a minute and hand it out to him.

(To be continued…)

He walked into his house, dripping wet and cold from the rain. His wet and dirty boot prints decorated by the water dripping off his self, followed him till the door. A thin streak of light from the door crack cast his shadow to be looped over the length of the room as he stepped in. He somehow felt the dark and lonely room represented his life. As he was removing his cold, wet dress, he made a passing glimpse at his service revolver he just placed on his dresser, he remembered what his mentor, Mr. S-, a senior official he worked with, once said, “There were times in my life that revolver looked really friendly to me, the point is…” Mr.S-  always had a point to make, not quite like him, for him, everything was pointless. For a moment there, he forgot he wanted to slip into the comfort of warm clothes, he stood there – naked and cold, unaware of both, and involuntarily lit up a cigarette.