The Triangle Angled

It wasn’t just another day at school. She came up to me and told me that she wanted to be together with my best friend. I obliged and decided to pass on the message to my friend. But I was stopped midway by another gang of girls. They told me that one of their friends also liked my best friend. Now that is one big triangle.

An emergency meeting was called upon. I sat down with two other girls and decided on what should be the next course of action. The girls gave their defence – our friend has been in love with him since forever, but has not been able to tell him,  so I think it is fair by all means, that our friend gets to ask him out. But my friend is also in love with him, although not since forever. What do I go and tell her? The two girls had this view that my friend was just looking to pass time and not be serious about a relationship. I contemplated. I decided.

My best friend had by known that two girls have been waiting to ask him out. He wanted me to just get done with the suspense and tell him already. But I was being asked to delay the inevitable by the gang of girls.

The class got over. I asked my best friend to wait at the back bench. After what seemed like an eternity, she came and sat opposite him. Both very visibly shy.  (We watched all this through the grills of the window of our classroom from a distance). My best friend was waiting for her to say something, and she did. Hurriedly. And then she came running towards her gang of girls. I go in to assess the situation. My best friend tells me – I did not understand a word of what she said. I go out, get her back in and ask her to relax and have a conversation the other will be able to understand. She did. And then there were smiles all around.

Another couple, another happy beginning.

But here I had to break the bad news to somebody. So I went to my friend, and told her – But he is in love with somebody else.

While it was not true then, it is now.
And everyone has found who they were looking for.
Almost.

The Joker Behind the Veil

(If not for Bianca, I'd not have got back to sketching.Thank you lady. And if not for Ledger, the Joker would not have been made immortal. Thank you Ledger.)

The Marine Drive Emergency

I had asked her out not once, not twice, but three times. All rejections. Reasons were as diverse as it will be weird at work, you are such a good friend, what we have is forever and even I don’t want to spoil what we already have.

I was head over heels for her. She kept disturbing my dreams. I barely slept. Once I awoke from what seemed like a nightmare – she was with somebody else. I told somebody about the dreams. But the only I response I got from that person – forget it, it ain’t gonna happen. But I didn’t.

It is true maybe that when a person isn’t in front of you is the time when you miss them the most.

Is it just plain stupid to keep wanting somebody, although they clearly do not want to pursue the relationship? I do not think so.

I landed in Mumbai. I gave her a call. She didn’t pick up. I got a message a while later from her. She was at Marine Drive. Alone. I was staying at my friends place at Marine Lines, which runs parallel to Marine Drive.

The level three heritage building creaked under my heavy steps. I was running. I got a shout out from my friend on the second floor – Best of luck. Did I need it? Majorly.

Chira Bazaar was still abuzz. I made it through the bustle of trucks being loaded and unloaded, as the winding roads took me towards the Marine Lines bridge. It barely had a footpath. But I ran towards where the Arabian Sea was beating the artificial rocks along the bay walk.

There she was sitting opposite to one of those Gymkhana grounds. I could notice her from this far across. She looked beautiful in her sweatshirt, track pants and sporty shoes, just looking at the setting sun. But she was sad. I ran.

I walked the last few steps. I didn’t say a word and sat next to her. She was surprised. But she smiled. Dusk had almost settled in. We didn’t say a word.

I let my fingers slide into hers. And she put her head on my shoulders.

The Arabian Sea splashed waves. The setting sun bought in darkness. But we sat together. Comfortable. We didn’t say a word.

Sudoku

It was five in the evening. She hadn’t come to work that day. But I wanted to see her. I got down at the bus stop closest to her home. The long path was worth the walk. Carrying a box of cookies and the day’s newspaper supplementary, I made it towards H-42 in Highland Hills. I had to call to make sure she was there. She was. A lot of thoughts ran through my mind. Would I be able to tell her finally or would I again muster?

I climbed the flight of stairs to her home. A ring of the bell and there she stood in sporting shorts and a white tee. With a paintbrush in hand, she welcomed me in. She was painting. The canvas lay on the floor. She sat back on the cushion and asked me to get comfortable. I just sat there looking longingly at her. 

She painted layer by layer, while striking a conversation with me. The usual questions did the rounds – what happened at work, how is work and so on and so forth. I tell her I have something for her, and give her the cookie box. She is overjoyed. She loves my mom’s cookies. She stops painting and has a cookie immediately. I smile.

She notices the supplementary in my hand. She enquires as to why I am carrying it. I tell her that it is my new obsession to complete the Sudoku in the supplement on my way home in the metro. She thinks that’s nice. She has the widest of smiles. I look at her, hoping she doesn’t notice that I am secretly admiring her.

I go closer to inspect the artwork. But I know I am closer to her. She always smells good. I make some suggestions, which she thinks are good. We talk a bit more. She always has this fruity fragrance around her. I do not get too close to comfort. She might not like it. I keep my distance.

After a while, I decide to head out. I wanted to stay. But I tell her that I am leaving. She even asks me to stay back. But I falter. She herself gave me the excuse that my mom was home, and I should be getting back. I said yes to that. I must really be a fool.

She came to the door, but didn’t close it. She stood by the stair, and watched me walk out through the gate. Pleasantries were exchanged and promises made of meeting tomorrow. I wanted to tell her. But I kept walking.

I walked on the street, my hands free, my heart heavy. I knew I had missed my chance. I should have told her, while I had the chance. I could have walked back. But I didn’t. I realised something. I messaged her: I think I left something back at your place. She called me back to tell me that she could come and give me my Sudoku puzzle.

But who said it was the Sudoku?

Defy, Submit

(This is something i wrote in the blog of Akanksha's new venture Art on the Wall. Do check their site out, if you want a dash of colour to your room)

I lay in the middle of my room. Four walls. All looking at me blankly. Isn’t it this wall that is shielding me away from all the eyes outside? Isn’t it this wall, that lends you a feel of homeliness? But why blank? Why not my expression? Why not my movement? Why not my love? Why not anything that will liven up the gray of life. Sometimes we are just too involved in a lot of things that we forget that there can be a lot done with the most minimalistic of things.

Walls can be an expression of defiance; it can also be an expression of submission. The most striking wall that comes into our mind is that of the Berlin wall – it defied as well as submitted in the times of requirement and not. The Great Wall of China rises above marvels that pop out of the oil rich Middle East, to be one of the very few man made architecture that can be seen from space. Thus the wall defied again. Defy, submit, make a statement.