This post has been in the pipeline for way too long. Every time I sat down to write it, the door bell would ring, someone would call or I would remember something urgent I have to do. I’m running late, I’ve only just finished packing my bags, and I have an awful feeling that I’ve forgotten something stupendously important, but I knew I had to put this out on the world wide web before I go.
Buuut, my angst and failure at modern communication does not mean that I miss you any less or have forgotten about you. You’ll be surprised at how often I wish I could get your advice and how the weirdest stuff remind me of you and make me smile. Random stuff like this,
to food items, orange rubber slippers, flowery shorts and the occasional song.
Actually, come to think of it, it’s mostly the food. 🙂
So, I hope you’ll understand when I say that even though I probably won’t talk to you as often as I’d like to, I miss you to bits and am absolutely excited that we’ll be seeing you soon. I think I can speak on behalf of all of us – F, the small one and everyone else that we’re counting the days till you get your fat ass (Sorry. But how could I pass that up? Tee hee.) over here.
Miss you lots.
Have a safe flight.
Plush leather seats,
On his head.
In the background.
In the air-conditioned
Of his car.
Beads of sweat trickle
Down her neck.
Into her back.
By the commuters.
You probably will never read this, but here’s hoping you find your eternal jag someday. If there’s anyone who deserves it, it’s you.
She was one of my batch mates. Although she left school some where around grade 6 or 7, I’d seen her randomly at parties and concerts but was never on a hi-bye basis with her since I didn’t know her that well.
She died a few days ago.
It was terrible seeing her lying inert in a stuffy funeral parlour surrounded by gaudy flowers, looking remarkably lifelike in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, right down to the leaf shaped earrings she wore and the colourful band around her hair. Her face was swollen and unrecognisable. She’d died riding a motorbike with her boyfriend.
I know it’s highly illogical, but I’m pissed off with her boyfriend. I’m pissed off at the fact that a girl, not yet 18 had to die simply because of a moment of thrill. (Yes, I know that he’ll be living with this guilt for the rest of his life, and yes, I do feel a tiny shred of sympathy for him. But just a bit, mind you.)
I’m pissed off because no parent should ever have to bury his or her offspring. Seeing her parents going about in a daze accepting meaningless words of sympathy from nameless strangers made me realize the extent of their pain. No parent deserves to go through that kind of hell.
I’m pissed because I never really knew her. I could’ve talked to her when I met her here and there. A casual ‘hi’ would never have hurt. But I didn’t.
Who knows we could’ve even been friends.