Letter to Future Self

So a friend of mine suggested this – why not write a letter to your future self? It’s kind of like talking to yourself (?); except, I’m publishing this so I’ll stick to the normal stuff. I’d rather not have you peek inside my head.

And you should know I've done this before. But this time I’m not a 12 year old stuffing paper down the spines of books for myself to read a year later.
So, here goes.

Dear 31-year old Me,

The fact that you are reading this letter now can mean one of the two things:

      1. You have a secure job, a great life and lots of time to spare so that you can read your past blog posts.

2    2.  You’re freaking jobless and you kill time for a living. In that case I don’t know how much ‘living’ you’re doing; I mean you’re practically dead if this happens.

Well, if you are completely content with everything around you, that’s amazing – you've achieved everything you set out for so go find yourself a new set of problems. And if you’re not then all I can say is – wow, you are more consistent than ever!

However, back in 2014, you had some funny (albeit realistic) problems. Let’s have a look at how far we have come, shall we?

You wanted a good CAP (not kidding!).

Yeah, remember that stupid horror story which comprised of a digit and a few decimal places and somehow equated to your level of academic intelligence in college? I wonder if it changed for the better after all.

BUT, you know this thing about you; this little voice inside of your head which keeps telling you to read more and appreciate knowledge? You see, when you were a kid, marks didn't matter to you. It was about knowing and learning and going to sleep everyday with the sheer satisfaction that you now knew a little bit more about this marvelous universe. And it should always be that way – always. Because, really – so much for grades! Right now, at this very moment, does it even matter?

You wanted to travel.

No honestly, if you've STILL not been to Tokyo and London and Paris, I want you to bang your head on the nearest wall; then leave whatever you’re doing, go to your room, pack your suitcases and leave! I don’t know where you’re going to go, but really – just go. It’s now or never.

It’s a great planet and I don’t think there’s anything you wanted more than treading the same paths chosen by your favorite people – Tolkien, Lewis, Austen, Bronte, Dickens, Elliot, Rowling…this list can go on and on. Remember – great men found inspiration in little things. If you want to see the world through their eyes, read their books, perceive their inventions and revel in their creations – go places, meet people, learn more about the planet. So what are you even waiting for? Go, go and go again!

BUT if you've actually been to these places and you’re laughing at this letter right now, then I want to congratulate you. This has been the best dream you ever had. And I hope you have enough money left to plan your next trip because you know you can never have enough of this.

You wanted to write a story.

Everyone wants a story. Back in 2014, you didn't have a story. You wanted to write but you didn't have a – let’s see, you didn't have the right prompt. You wrote many stories – but you never wrote THE story, you know? What Harry Potter was to Rowling, what Middle-Earth was to Tolkien, what Romeo and Juliet was to Shakespeare. There wasn't anything like that for you!

Well, it isn't easy – but do you have a story now? If you do, please tell me you are writing it down. If you don’t it’s completely fine, one day you will. Don’t ever stop searching for it.

You wanted a house of your own.

I’m sure EVERYONE has this dream – to build the perfect nest. So, I hope you have a home now. Maybe you've built the library you always wanted, and maybe you have a fireplace (even if it’s make believe) and I really hope you have that one dog and two cats you planned on adopting. Oh, and do you have that wall? You know you wanted to paint a wall in your house with scenes from your favorite fictional wonder lands. Lothlorien, Hogwarts, Westeros, Never Never land and heck who can forget – Narnia (check behind your wardrobe)! I’m sure you have one hell of a house! 

Oh, and I hope you have enough food. Remember to keep your fridge always stocked.

You wanted to fall in love.

You were never ready to “settle down” and you know that. I mean there was still so much to do – go on a crazy road trip, dive from a cliff (or an airplane), go to COMIC-CON (hell yeah) and get (accidentally) married in Vegas! Of course, it would be awesome to share all this with ‘someone special’.

There are some people who believe in the theory of “waiting” for someone. But knowing you, you’re not going to wait and settle for just anyone – knowing you, you’re going to find the most amazing person in this universe for yourself and you’re going to reach out to them.

And every time you think of failed and unrequited loves, tell yourself this - they didn't choose me, and they missed out on

     1.   A truckload of love and

     2.   One hell of a person.

    3.   Like, what were they even thinking?

So if you have found someone now, it must be really the One. Pat yourself on the shoulder; you've done a good job.

And most of all, you wanted world peace.

Nah, kidding. But yeah, I’m sure you had some other goals which weren't completely personal. You wanted to start an Animal Shelter. Oh, wait.

Anyways, you did reflect a lot on life and people and beliefs and the Universe. I think your thoughts made you a better person, so always keep thinking J

Now that we've come to the end of the letter, I’d just like you to know one thing – you’re cool. You know you are and I’m not saying this to sound ridiculously self-obsessive or whatever. And I honestly feel you deserve to give yourself a break and for once appreciate everything around you.

Look at nature, look at your friends (and your pets) and look at all the things you have – and I hope you’re smiling right now. And even if the world looks terrible, you know you can brave it – because if you really want to, this terrible world with its hurricanes of fear and misery and rage can still conspire to make you win. It takes courage to seek out a silver lining in the cloud. And you can do it.

So don’t worry too much. Curl up in bed, pick up a book and put on some music – you deserve this life and much more.

Keep it up, future-self.

Lots of love,

21-year old you. 

                                         

The Ten Minute Blog Post

I don't usually publish ten minute posts. But. 

It’s been an awfully peaceful day. The rain is splashing on the large window in my room. It’s a very gentle sound – the sound of water sprinkling lightly. It’s not stormy; it’s rather graceful – the way the drops are falling. For some reason, it reminds me of a lady dancing – spinning on her toes, twirling and swirling under a ceiling imprinted with tiny glittering stars.

Since I’m at it, I thought I’d share something with everyone – a few days back a couple of friends and I went to explore this dark neighborhood. I could say it was really exciting – but then again that is another story and it won’t find a place in this post. What I wanted to talk about was the place. 

Houses – lots and lots of isolated houses strewn across a park. There were old houses, new houses, neat houses and dilapidated houses. Some of them had gates laid wide open, as if openly inviting the night into their chambers. Some of them had dim lights on their porches. Some of the top floors were flooding with light; some of them lay as silent as the dead. I’d like to know who lived in this quiet neighborhood, just so I could ask them what it felt like to live in the middle of complete serenity – or rather a peace which haunted the inside of your brain to the point that it unnerved you.

The next time I go touring the neighborhood, I’d like to sit and write about the other sights. There is beauty in darkness and a certain aura of mystery in a place which is so desolated. I’d like to find out more about it.

Anyways, on a completely related note - I suggest this poem called The Listeners by Walter de la Mare. It reverberates my present thoughts perfectly. 

Well, this brings me to the end. I’ve been a lot more productive today that I have been this whole week. Maybe it’s the weather. Or maybe it’s the effect of waking up early. I don’t know. I probably never will. 

                                              

                                                      Credits: tnousy on deviantart

Odysseys.

Have you ever wanted to go some place more than any other place in this entire Universe? Well, I have. 

It's that time of the semester when you are inching towards completion but you are just not there yet because LIFE. Every day a new job comes along and it's pretty much like a Christmas Tree decoration - it clings to you and weighs you down. 

At this moment, we need motivation and we need to explicitly GET UP AND RUN TO THE FINISH LINE. I've been quite frustrated off late thanks to the monotony of life. It's OKAY to be happy and it's more than okay to be sad about something, but to be nothing at all - now that actually scares me. I almost thought I've lost all reasons to go on, until a tiny something that happened in class today. I have exactly 20 minutes (break time) to make this thought remotely resemble a blog post. So here goes nothing. 

When I was 11, I had a mad urge to pack my bags and go to Tokyo. I am not kidding, I was actually very inclined to wake up one day and grab some clothes and just GO. Of course, an 11 year old kid doesn't really know about the realistic limitations on this decision - such as VISA and money and air fare and so on. All I wanted was to see Tokyo. 

I had no family members who had gone there, I had no idea of the distance, heck I did not even know how to get to the nearest airport, let alone another country. But I had dreams and I did not let them vanish into the emptiness. For me, Tokyo was not just any city - it was a city of a billion dreams. When I read The Little Girl at The Window, I had a surreal, almost fantastical vision of Tokyo inside of my head. It was sometimes a quiet rendition of walkways with cherry blossoms on either side. It was sometimes a busy, modern city with too many cars and shops and people. It was the symbolism of a torrid past, a bustling present and an intelligent future. I wanted, more than anything, to believe in the Tokyo inside of my head. 

                                           

                                           

I had read so much about Japan. I had the quintessence of Japanese culture morphed into my brain. I wanted to travel this land that I had read so much about. As much as I loved the secure life I was leading, I yearned to set eyes upon Tokyo. I binge watched a lot of anime and read a lot of manga, and somewhere along the way I fell in love with this city, fell in love with this country and to put it simply - I really just fell in love. 

Even now I wonder, that all the time people waste in falling in love with other people - if they only fell in love with places, they'd be less disappointed. 

As time flew by, I started dreaming of other places too. I read about Austen's England and Fitzgerald's America and nothing was the same for me. I felt like places, more than anything else became my reason to live. The hope that one day I will get there - stand next to the very place I had read about and take a photo to capture that amazing moment. I know people dream, but I think for me, the dream had mounted to a maddening passion. 

I wanted to stand at King's Cross and feel what Harry felt when he boarded the train to Hogwarts. I wanted to run across the landscape in New Zealand, and feel like I am in Middle-Earth. I wanted to drive through New York in a fancy car and for once feel like Jay Gatsby. I wanted to look out of a window in Amsterdam and spy on the city like Anne Frank. I wanted to walk through Kyoto and somehow, see the world through the eyes of Himura Kenshin. 

Of course, these are but dreams. In the midst of college, I sometimes I forget that I even have these dreams. This has happened so many times. All the work and all the delusional happiness sometimes brings you down. I look around and see people who are happy with other people, people who are happy with other jobs, people who are happy with other lives. And at this moment, every thing I do seems petty and pathetic. They say the grass is greener on the other side and this is perhaps the truest of all sayings. I sometimes honestly feel that I can never be happy because I have nothing to live for. 

But something quiet interesting happened today in class. My Lecturer said something that brought back a flood of memories. He said, "I won't be able to solve your doubts next Friday because I'm going to Tokyo." And he smiled. And for that one moment, the image of an 11 year old kid packing her bags and telling her Mom that she's "going to Tokyo" flashed through my mind. I felt a surge of appreciation for my Lecturer because he had unknowingly reminded me of that one crazy, mad dream which had dominated my childhood. My mind which was settling into a spiral of darkness, seemed to have suddenly spotted the sun. I wanted to leave the class and run outside. I wanted to just pack all my bags and leave for Tokyo. Somewhere deep inside, I wished to reach that stage in life when I could really just make a spontaneous decision like this and go with it.

I think that the one reason I actually have to live, the one reason which is purely my own decision is this. I was living to go places and make my own Odyssey. And in completely normal non-literary language this would translate to - "Screw people, screw homework. I'm travelling." After all, what's the point of living if you are not living for something?

Have you ever wanted to go some place more than any other place in this entire Universe? Well, I have. And I know Tokyo is waiting for me :)

Of Scorching Autumns

You know one of those times when you travel long distances and the only thing going on inside of your head is a particular part of a particular song? It can be SO distracting especially when you’re walking down the pavement and the music inside your mind feels so real that all you want to do is burst into song. Today the only song playing on repeat is “Photograph” another precious relic from Ed Sheeran’s collection of songs.

Anyways, on this miraculous occasion, when I have decided to immediately follow one blog post with another, I will entertain you with what I call a free verse. It’s not the kind which should be mistaken for poetry – it’s scattered and broken prose. Feel free to interpret it whatever way you want.

Her favorite season was autumn. Her favorite shawl was Mauve. She knocked over vases down in the hall; her blood absorbed in the golden carpet. She smiled all the time, she smiled in joy and she smiled in pain. Her words like a downpour, brought along a hurricane. She loved alone, she loved silently. She loved very much. Fall leaves fell. No loves returned. She pondered a little, bookmark in her hands. How does one love someone who is loved by many? So many loves came and went. Was she too late? Was she too early? After all, how do you love someone when they cannot love you? The skies turned orange. The sun turned red. Much like the blood on the golden carpet. She slid in the bookmark. She let one more love go by. One day it would return. They always returned to her.


                                     

That’s about it. I don’t know what kind of literature to categorize this as! It’s almost prose but not quite there. Some elements try to rhyme themselves, although I swear I did not mean them to :P What inspired a random verse like this? I don’t know. I was just intrigued by a concept that came up in my mind many days back. How do you know if you play any role at all in the busy and fluttering social life of someone who has a billion friends? For all you know they are the Lancelot to your Elaine, and they will only acknowledge your existence once you are dead. In the worst case, your body will PROBABLY have to float down a river for them to notice you (To get this reference, read this beautiful Arthurian poem by Alfred Tennyson --> The Lady of Shalott)

I think in today’s world, we really take each other for granted. We don’t give the right people enough importance because we think they will always be there. Which is okay, and I do it as much as everyone else, but it’s sad that we hardly ever give love to those who love us genuinely. I know this will probably never get across to the right people because they are too busy with their lives, but I’m just glad I could pen down something about it J

So, the sun’s almost gone down. This horribly scorching autumn afternoon has finally passed. And I shall … see you in the next post! 

Thinking out Loud

Today I came across one of the most beautiful songs about love. And you should know that I don’t usually do this – but today is special somehow – and I honestly can’t let this song go. Most of the time I write about romance skeptically, or rather sardonically, but today I really cannot help but be impressed by Ed Sheeran’s impeccable ability to inspire so much.

In a slow paced, perfectly tuned and amazingly lyrical song, Sheeran accomplished the impossible – he actually got me to write a blog post in the middle of the busiest semester I’ve had in ages. So, maybe before you get started with this post, you should listen to this song – Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran. 

I’ll quote my favorite part in this song:

I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe it's all part of a plan

This line has never resonated so perfectly inside of my head as it did today. After all these years, after a legion of loves and hates and joys and tears, I can say that nothing …absolutely NOTHING can define the moment you fall in love. And of course, nothing can justify the moments that follow. And once it’s over and done for, you never recall the person as much as you recall your happiness when it lasted. And because we are people and we are selfish and we are motivated, we move on and we find love again.

Just close your eyes and think about the sea. Yes, you read that right – think about the sea. The vast water body which reflects the entire universe at night and you can see the Milky Way splashed across the waves almost shimmering like a hundred thousand candle lights. The sea reminds me of falling in love. Maybe it’s because I spent most of my childhood in an island country, I don’t know how to make sense of this – but perhaps the thought of looking out to the sea reminds me of love.

When I was twelve, I distinctly remember standing at the side walk next to the Esplanade, and looking at the beautiful cityscape. The Marina Bay Sands hadn’t even been conceived nor the Flyer. But something about the silent skyline, the water with those glimmering ship lights, and the tall looming skyscrapers made me feel amazing. I hoped that one day, I’d be able to stare out at the sea with a special someone and tell them about all the thoughts which were running through my head at that point – you know the point when you feel indescribably infinite and yet unbelievably One with the universe.

That was the beginning.

Love was like the sea for me, it was vast and it was reflective of a billion wishes – so many shooting stars. I was quite the hopeless romantic back then and somewhere deep down I still am. But love evolved into a very ethereal concept.

I thought of that nameless, faceless person and I aspired to visit every place with them. I ran on the meadows with them, I spent hours studying in a library, I lazed in a sofa in front of a fireplace and heck, I even binge ate with them. None of the men I decided to like (or not like) came close to this entity inside of my head. But with every mistake in life, the vision became clearer.

It was never about one-night stands or flings or anything like that. Maybe that’s why I lose interest in people who cannot admire permanence. I get SO bored of people who bask in the transient stages of a relationship and hop from one person to another simply because they cannot commit. When you are so sure about this person, then why leave them for another? Why create problems for a person whom you “love”? But I realized that sometimes people can never be sure, and even though I pity them for their indecisiveness, I also forgive them for it. It’s not a sin to love after all.

I want you to know one thing. When you see the person you “love”, if you can look past them and see yourself grow old with them, they must be the one. And this isn’t your overactive imagination speaking – this is the kind of love when you don’t even need to be in a relationship with the person to love them. This is the love which stays after marriage, after aging and maybe even after death. This is the kind of love that calls out to you on your deathbed and you fight every impulse to stay alive just for the sake of this one person.

No romance can justify this love, no story has been able to portray this kind of love and no song can play to the tune of this love. It’s a degree below a mother’s affection, but nearly there. It’s so beautiful, it’s so extraordinary that it moves me to tears.

So when Sheeran says:

…   I will be loving you 'til we're 70

And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23

He is probably trying so hard to bring out this love. He’s almost there himself, but not quite.

Before I end this post, I want you to know – that I am also scared. That I am absolutely frightened of the future as much as you all are. I think of the countable years in my life and I think of all that I want to accomplish – I have a million ideas inside of my head and I want to bring them out into the open and weave a tapestry of innovations. I want to travel, I want to draw, I want to write so much and love so much! It’s never going to be enough – and sometimes I will freak out and grow silent. Sometimes I will love from far and fail and stand up again, just like every single person out there. I too fear the prospect of growing old, and dying alone. I am afraid of never making the perfect story, I’m even more afraid of that faceless person never showing up. And I’m afraid of myself more than anyone else.

But if it were not for you, where would I be? J I am strong now, because of the wonderful men and women in my life. The few countable people I have grown to love and admire for their continual support. And I know, that despite all the rotten ideas we keep making up about love to avoid it, and after all the little problems we have faced on the way – we will never let ourselves down again. The next time any of us fall in love, we won’t need to tell each other – I’m assuming you will know it then. And that’s because it will be different and it will be worth it.

I'm thinking out loud

That maybe we found love right where we are

 I think, I honestly think we can find love right where we are. 

A Transient Permanence

I was 7 when I read my first proper novel. It was one of the many Famous Five series by Enid Blyton.

I was 8 when I wrote my first poem. It was about my friendship with a Flamboyant 'Gulmohar' Tree. (For those who just watched this movie, yes I had a very very Groot friend in a tree.)

I was 10 when I wrote my first play. It was about a mysterious telephone, that apparently talked by itself and spooked the hell out of everyone in the house. 

Of all the firsts I've had in my life, the only firsts which mattered, were the ones that helped me grow. Not just as a human, but as a living, breathing, complex mixture of cells...truly a genetic miracle. 

Today is special. Not the special you'd feel when you first walked, or you first flew above the clouds, or even the kind of feeling when you first fell in love. Today is special because I chose to make it so, and as I write, I feel the creation of memory in mind, like the etching of words on stone. It's like a transient permanence. 

I'm thinking of great men. Men whose faces you can trace in the stars of the night sky. Men whose voices you can hear, like notes shimmering down your heart strings. And I'm a little content...that while I can never be as great as them, I can always dream of them and believe that some day, when my time comes, I can achieve at least a mere fraction of what they did. 

While writing I don't really like noise or any form of lyrical music, but unfortunately I'm currently surrounded by a bunch of idiots who are making a great deal out of some petty homework assignment. I understand that homework is important, but when I look at the likes of great people - Einstein, Feynman, Hawking - I wonder if any of these men actually fretted over competing with humanity. They stepped out of the rat race, didn't they? That's what. They stood out. 

In light of recent events, I actually came across a this Buzzfeed post as a tribute to Robin Williams. A friend showed it to me this morning, and needless to say, I'm quite struck by the beautiful message that Williams' character utters. I thought I'd share it with you all, so that you too may appreciate the beauty of this message - 

"Please, don't worry so much. Because in the end, none of us have very long on this Earth. Life is fleeting. And if you're ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night. And when a shooting star streaks through the blackness, turning night into day... make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular. I know I did. "

It's a great message, and it has been spoken by a great man indeed. Larger than life, these surreal existences which make the entire world look tiny in comparison...!

How would a great man react to a normal life like mine? Every day I am forced to live and follow the conventions of social norm, and what I see is a hopeless despair. Like John Green said, we are paper people living in paper towns. I see the transience of relationships, the uncertainties and insecurities that follow human minds wherever they go. We all want to be an irreplaceable asset in someone's life. But I know I am not, and I will never be. Always the second choice. Always the crumpled paper that was thrown away and picked up after the beautiful sheets of paper were used up. Always, always alone and choosing to remain so. 

What did it take to become truly great? I believe the great men, who seemed eternally happy in their fame and achievements, were actually really alone. Never lonely, but always alone. And people would always be surrounding them, like in the photographs. Physical presences that existed for the sake of existence. 

But once I'm done writing and these facts hit you in the face like a gigantic yellow school bus, I realize that these aren't harsh anymore. When I think of Robin Williams and I appreciate what could be his most beautiful dialogue, I realize that great men were famous and popular and they inspired the world. But even with so many people looking up at them, they were really, actually just alone - on the magnificent stage of life. We don't know what led Williams to commit suicide, but these great men, who seem to go astray silently, they always seem actually - just alone.  

John Keats died far away from home and his tombstone doesn't even have his name on it. It simply says this - "Here lies One who Name was writ in Water". It was done on his request, and more importantly when I think of it, Keats who was a great lover of beauty, wouldn't want a conventional ugly gravestone. He would want poetry to flow through his heart, even after his death and it only seems just to place a reminder of the transience of life on his grave. But it gives you a sense of closure and a feeling of permanence, knowing that Keats who has left this world will always linger some where at the back of your mind.  

You know what I think of people? I think their hearts are like lunch boxes. You know the kinds you took to school as a kid? Yeah, those ones. And these boxes have a few compartments. There's a different kind of food in every division and you don't let these mix with each other, because every food has it's own unique taste. 

I think the hearts of great men had a little space for the few people who were special to them. But there was one big reserved space, just for themselves. It was like that special dish, made by Mum, which you wouldn't share with anyone, because it was yours and yours only. Great men had great capacities to live alone, a feat which only the truly great people can achieve. Because, really, how can you know yourself if you are constantly surrounded by people who belittle you with competition? And then how can you succeed in knowing the world without knowing yourself? 

I don't think there is anything successful about getting good marks and a great job and a spouse and a house and a car. These are material successes that will come and go. But to get a great idea, now that's something. To understand yourself and your passion and your purpose in life, that is REALLY SOMETHING. In my opinion, great men didn't get money and fame - they got this epiphany and that's all that matters.

They strolled down dark boulevards alone, graced the wooden tables of pretty cafes and walked the lawns at midnight, under the silver constellations. They, along with their great minds and even greater souls, tread the Earth, becoming even greater than Kings. They didn't need to be told twice about wishing upon stars, because they were already travelling at a blistering pace to catch up with these very stars. And before you knew it, they alone, made their lives spectacular.  

Letters to the Dead

Dear ________,

Letters. They are meant to be hand-written on yellowing manuscripts, to be stuffed into an envelope that smells like all the old fragrances your grandmother once used. They are meant to be wrapped up with ribbons and dropped off at someone's doorstep. Letters are beautiful and a few simple words speak volumes. 

Unfortunately, this letter will never reach you. Even the most heart-felt written words can never reach the dead. You can scream and yell out to the skies, but your words will only skim the horizon between life and death. 

That's the nature of letters - they only go so far. Yet, it isn't a crime to write to the dead, it isn't a crime to voice thoughts. After all, those who are gone forever are those who were most treasured. 

I'm trying to keep this old-fashioned so please bear with me and read on. Now when you look at us, from wherever you stand, I know it will be nothing. Life in its entirety seems so small and so insignificant now that you have tasted the mysteries of Death. What's it like to look down at us from behind those golden rays of the sun, from up above those silver strands of clouds? A patch of green, a drop of water, the signs of life - they all must seem so tiny. 

What are we but pawns on the vast chessboard of life? If you're playing games up there with God, it must be amusing to watch us all. While we fuss over the little problems, you must be relishing the taste of sweet bitterness - how grand a purpose must you serve to reach Heaven? Do you miss living on Earth? Do you miss living at all? 

Caesar once said,

Cowards die many times before their deaths.

The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

It seems to me most strange that men should fear,

Seeing that death, a necessary end,

Will come when it will come.

I wonder how many times I have died worthless deaths even while my heart was beating frantically in fear. I wonder how many times I have failed myself and many others by not living.

You on the other hand, have finally sacrificed your existence and have left the world, in a braver fashion. It's true that those who have embraced death peacefully are indeed so much braver than we who struggle to live. 

When you were alive, I thought I knew all about you. Now that you're gone, I spy questions arising, like glass bubbles from the ocean - so many of them - what was your favorite this? What was your favorite that? Did I even know you at all?

I knew you as a kind person with varied interests, while another person knew you as a completely different avatar of mischief. How is it that two people who knew you, ended up knowing two such contrasting personalities? Then, what were you like in real life? Was I fooled and are you looking at me from up above and laughing heartily at my stupidity?

Now that you're gone, I feel like I never knew you at all. I may have become a closer friend, I may have gone on to understand you like no other - or I may have even come to love you. But what's lost is lost and you are one of them. 

Every time I explore a new interest, I come across something that you may have liked. It enthralls me that even after you are gone, I am coming to know more about you. I stay on those pages for hours. I read what you read with a keen interest. I read between the lines because what I knew about you...I just never knew enough. The unspoken words and unheard conversations, I want to live through everything that could have happened, so that I can proudly say – a someone close to me has left the world and yes I knew so much about them.

Witty talk, heart-to-heart talks, heck even Facebook threads won't be enough. All I'll know is your talent in bantering and your use of great analogies. Will I ever know how you felt deep within? Will I ever unravel the mystery that is YOU?

Of all the people around you, I think I was the one who felt your loss the most. Or maybe everyone feels that way. I will never know because I will never ask. I feel loss, not because of the philosophical connections I had with you - more because of our simpler bonds. Like for instance, you had been the first friend I had spoken to. We spoke about books and movies and art and ideologies. When I ventured the wrong way, you tried more than once, to pull me back. I remember each and every moment like it happened yesterday. You spoke to me - you loved me, like you would love a friend.

Before the day you died, I met you and you asked me once again - "are you in love"? I said "no, because truly there are greater things to life" and you agreed. I am happy that before it all ended, I was able to confess what I really felt to you and sharing that one moment of truth with you, before anything else, was my infinity. 

I know despite all the emotions you must be feeling, right now, there's a smile on your face. You're probably shaking your head saying, "that conversation meant nothing". But I'd like to believe that it meant something. I'd really like to. Because now that you're gone, what you may have felt is an open mystery - a something akin to space - dark and full of a million possibilities. Yet there's light, yet there are stars and one of those glistening fireballs may carry a legion of hope. 

If this letter reaches you, it will be a fine miracle. I don't believe in miracles because honestly, I have never witnessed one. But I'm waiting for the day this reaches you somehow, and I know you will smile down at me...and I'll probably feel happier. And maybe, just maybe, I may start to believe in miracles after all :) 

With love, 
Me