On Love

Dear man of my dreams,
Stop ghosting me
(at least send me a meme)
that is if you yourself are not a ghost-
Give me a sign if you exist!
And if you are going to be late,
Don’t worry, I can wait
but if you are never going to come,
If you are dead already
Or if you were never born,
Can you somehow still let me know so that I can move on?

8 billion people on this planet-
Many of them married,
some live in North Korea, some in jails,
but still there must be many eligible bachelors out there…
They say I should perhaps
Look again into those dating apps
Dig deeper
Search harder
Further and farther;
Dates
after dates
after dates
after dates
I’ve met new strangers, new lovers,
new friends, new fuckers
new followers, new unfollowers,
But where the hell are you?

As my friends
and colleagues
and the whole wide world on Instagram’s getting married
finding so much love
and love
and love
and love
(And God, they are so much in love)
I am fearing what if I am missing out?
I want to try saying I love you to an actual person
That you, my darling, are the one
Who for a change is not my own reflection.

I call you man of my dreams
even though you have never once appeared in one
Meaning, says Marvel,
not just this Universe you don’t exist in any Universe.
Look, I don’t mind dying alone
Many people have done that happily
And I am sure I can be one of them too
But are you sure you are not there?

Are you, god forbid, one of those guys
whose ‘Hys’ I never bothered to reply?
Are you one of those I have been ignoring?
Because I think you are a bit too boring?
How am I supposed to know if I actually meet you?
Will there be violins in the background that will set us in a daze?
While my hair blows in slow motion and you can’t help but gaze?
Shouldn’t there be a clue
that tells me if I am meant to be with you?

You will know, Saloni
You will just know, they tell me
That is, of course, if we ever meet
That is, of course, if you are there
I am starting to think maybe you are not…
If you are looking for a sign for you to send me a sign
Can this qualify as one?
It’s not great, but it’s better than none.
I am not really sure if this is how it works
But if it works,
Dear man of my dreams
find me or let me find you
And let us find love…
And love
And so much of love
That we’d spam their feed so bad
they’d regret us finding each other.

**

How not to date in the 21st Century

Growing up in India, when I was in school I lived with an unsaid rule – Dating was strictly prohibited. It was believed that a heart in love could be a major distraction for the brain preparing for a “bright” future. And since nothing comes before career, I stayed away from boys. Even with the onset of puberty when I was being ravaged by hormones and what seemed like infinite crushes, I kept to myself. But secretly I did harbour a desire to be desired. My crushes would crush me because it seemed to me that no one would ever like me. I had to be more pretty, I had to be more intelligent, I had to be perfect but I was anything but any of that. So I hid deep under the books.

Then came college. Everyone falls in love in college or at least that’s what I had figured from the limited Bollywood movies I had watched. But the problem was I didn’t. I waited for someone else to fall in love with me but that didn’t happen either. I made many friends along the way, some of them were guys. Ek jawan ladki aur ek jawan ladka kabhi acche dost nahi ho sakte (a young man and a young woman can’t ever be good friends) – the famous dialogue from the movie Maine Pyaar kiya would echo in my head but soon I realized that that was utter bullshit. I learnt to love the platonic way. But still having no boyfriend made me feel like I was missing out on something. Everyone needs to have a love story, come on! While I crushed over some out of my league seniors, and rejected some so-called under my league juniors nothing materialized. First year turned into fourth and there I was still without love. But at least I had a few not-so-great stories of unrequited love up my sleeves – seniors dating other seniors, friends falling for other friends while I sat there watching, liking a few of them but clueless about what to do about that. And why would I do anything anyway, it’s not like anyone was going to love me back.

I was not pretty enough, I was not smart enough, I was not confident enough.

At the beginning of my professional life, I downloaded Tinder hoping that it would open new doors for me, that maybe it would revive my pathetic love life, maybe finally I would have some good gossip to share with my diary. This new raging popular app was about anything but love but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t exactly love that I wanted. I was desperate for attention.

And Tinder was perfect for that. I was overjoyed to see that so many people had swiped me right. Maybe I was more attractive than I thought (I realized later that was only partially true, I had an advantage of being a girl). Out of so many matches that I had, certainly I thought, I would find love. The year was 2015 and six years later through all the deep ocean of matches I found only and only disappointments. First, most of the matches are ghost matches. Your conversations would never begin and if by chance they do, they won’t go beyond how do you do. And if at all things go ahead and you go on a date, you’d for some reason never go on a date again with that same person. Something just wouldn’t match with your match and then you would go back to the app. Maybe after a small break or a long one, you’d go on another date. And finally, after a lot of swiping, you’d find someone decent. Someone you find yourself laughing with, someone you find yourself thinking about, someone you find yourself obsessing about. Congratulations, Cupid has finally hit you. You are falling in love. And that’s the precise moment things between you and him would end. Mr. Cupid has led you to another disappointment only through a slightly longer route.

Have you too dated someone who was already dating someone else but he chose to keep you in the dark about it? Blissfully unaware, things between you and him are going well. You have been seeing each other for a while. You have explored every restaurant in town together. You feel comfortable with him. You can be your weirdest self, crack lamest jokes and talk about all the things white and blue. You think about him all the time. “Dude, I like you”, you finally admit and tell him.

“Hmm, but I am already dating someone else.”

Your heart is a bit broken, but you pretend you are cool about it. You are chill, you are indifferent. He is not even worth your anger. But well you are angry. After a couple of imaginary conversations where you tell him how wrong he has been, he realizes his mistake, and he apologizes but it’s too late and you walk away even though you still like him but you know better. That you deserve better. But these confrontations would never actually happen. He would never realize his mistake. And in case you forgive him and give him another chance (which I actually did) he would hurt you again (which he actually did). You wish it wasn’t like this. You wish it was better. You still missed him. His thoughts wouldn’t stop haunting you but slowly and steadily, like that damn tortoise, you would finally heal and come out of it.

Congratulations, now that you are all fit and fine, time to get some bruises again. Feeling bored and lonely? I know just the app you need.

Once I met someone I thought was great. He was a part-time comedian and we really were hitting it off well, especially over the chats making each other laugh over lame jokes. Constantly sending each other texts, our phones were frustrated with 24X7 WhatsApp notifications. Then we decided to meet. It was a good date, there was a connection, I could feel it. “So, when can we meet next?” I texted later. “I have decided to get back to my ex.” He replied.

Oh well, that was a joke enough. My phone fell silent again.

But okay, fine, it’s just one date so you move on. Shit happens, you move on. You move to another country in fact. And yet the Tinder stories don’t have any better ending. So you decide to date someone outside the dating apps. The old way. The organic way. Just want a boyfriend for fuck sake! Is that really such a complicated wish? You ask the Universe. Nope, it isn’t, the Universe replies. And voila you have a boyfriend.

But he is nothing like you ever imagined.

Have you ever dated someone who is both absolutely obnoxious and ridiculously sweet at the same time? Someone who is both shallow and deep? Someone who is both smart and dumb? Someone unpredictable? Someone borderline bipolar? Okay, nobody’s perfect. You also have your vices. Weird as he might have been, at least you have a boyfriend. Every time you are with that guy, you question why you are with that guy. Every time you aren’t with that guy, you still want to be with that guy. Even when he is not there, he is there in your head. What will you say if this happens and he says this? What will you do if he does this? The daydreams won’t ever stop. Why do I have to be this obsessed? And why can’t you stop? Like you are trapped in a swamp, you fall in love. At last, you surrender. Love is blind after all. You will figure something out. Maybe you will learn to navigate through the confusing lanes of love. But before that even happens he is already stomping all over your heart.

Damn my heart has been broken so many times it doesn’t even resemble a heart anymore. It’s more of a heart bhurji, heart keema, heart soup, heart kachumbar.

And yet my beloved finds a way to break that into tinier pieces as if on a quest to find my heart atoms, and the subatomic particles, the quarks, and maybe also the sub-quarkic particles.

You break up and after a long process of healing, you are back in the dating arena. And somehow the only option you can come back to are the dating apps. And they throw at you all kinds of weirdos. Like for example, this one:

Do you remember that one kid in your building who would ring your doorbell and run away? We have all been him at some point but then we grew up and stopped doing that. Except for those limited edition premium quality fuckboys who have internalized that game into their psyche.
I met this person, I went on a few dates, I liked him, and it seemed that he liked me too, so I liked him a bit more. But then he started ignoring me. And I was like, huh I see. Another defective piece I guess. I ignored him and I moved on. We weren’t that involved anyway so it was relatively easy. But three months later, he was back. He was replying to my stories, liking my posts, trying to initiate a conversation. I didn’t understand that. “Dude what the fuck?” I asked. “I am sorry,” he replied. To ignore or not to ignore that’s the question. Maybe he meant that apology. Maybe there was a genuine reason for his behaviour. So I gave him the benefit of doubt, and in the process, I also gave him what he wanted – a place in my head absolutely rent-free. As soon as he has my attention he throws it away again. As soon as you ignore him he comes right back in. Some call it the typical “Hot & Cold” behaviour – if someone you are seeing displays it, get the fuck out. Otherwise, welcome to another freshly brewed toxic relationship made out of completely organic bullshit and mind fuckery. Throughout the time you are vested in him, he’d give you mixed signals. So you are constantly busy plucking the petals of a rose wondering if he likes you or not. Does he like you or does he not? Does he like you or does he not? And meanwhile, he is already engaged to someone else, and guess what you don’t have a clue about it.

How can one dare to date in the 21st century? Love is dead. Humanity is dying. Anyway, you don’t want children from someone who’s still a kid ringing people’s doorbells and running away, someone whose gene pool deserves to be stopped ASAP. There is no point in bringing children to a world that is dying, where there is no love, no respect, no kindness, no trust – just an endless game of swiping left and swiping right, scamming left and scamming right. We fear what machines will do if they become conscious like us. Do we fear what humans are doing while we become like machines – disconnected from our conscience treating others like play toys, like yet another commodity?

Stop it Saloni! Don’t be such a cynic, you tell me. There is someone out there in the world for you, you console me. And someday you will find that person, you reassure me. Yes, love in the 21st century can’t be this grim for everyone. And I am glad it isn’t. Surely the pre-wedding shoots tell a completely different story. If they are not a hoax, I guess there is hope. Some of us are lucky to have partners who understand us, who stand by us, who genuinely love us, trust us. While some of us are not that lucky despite having found partners. Because like we observed earlier that not all partners are right partners and sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart. Some of us may never find love. Some of us may never find partners but still find love. And some of us may find none. What category do I fall into?

Through all my dates (and I have only narrated a few here) went wrong and right, I have learnt something. First of all, I have realised that I am pretty enough, smart enough, and confident enough and I don’t need any man to validate that. In between the heartbreaks, there lie memories that are close to my heart and those have really helped me grow as a woman. I am grateful for that. Surely, I have not found romantic love that could last long but I have found love in a spectrum, taking different forms, holding different meanings, and that love still exists in my life in relative abundance. For that again I am grateful. As for romantic love that is supposed to last long, I am clear that I need a man who is not another disappointment and if that can’t happen, then I have been single almost all of my life. I think I can manage it for the rest of my life as well.

Being single in your youth is great but who will take care of you once you grow old? You ask? Well, with the kind of air we breathe, the food we eat, and the health services we have it’s possible that we might never get that old anyway.

So yeah, don’t worry, be happy.

***

Error 404 – An Ode to f**kboys

I need a man
Not a disappointment.
I need a man who, for starters, reads
I need someone who listens
I need a man who understands
Who is looking for something beyond superficial connections
a bit of humbleness
a bit of modesty
a bit of depth
a bit of stability
I need a man
who is thankful
I need a man
I can be thankful for
I need a man
who is not stupid
I need a man who thinks
Or at least someone who has a high probability of thinking
I need a man
Who speaks what he means
Who means what he speaks
I need a man
Not another humanoid pendulum
Or an ill-researched thesis on his ex
Or a tasteless stew of delusion and arrogance
I need a man
Not a leaking faucet of insecurity
Or a stale cocktail of toxic narcissism
I need a man
And multiple orgasms
And someone who’s capable of giving those
someone who’s more functional than my two fingers
I need a man
And a bit of love
And a chance to give that love back
I need a man
Who respects
Not someone who suspects
I need a man
Not a predator
Not a ghost
I need someone who really exists.

Error 404. Your request can’t be found.

A letter to my 16-year-old self

Alright. I need to come straight out and tell you – Boyfriends are overrated.

I know you know that and you still want them but chill a bit. You have infinite expectations from yourself and zero ideas about how a man’s brain works. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t. But smile more. It’s okay if your braces show. It’s okay if you aren’t on top of the class. It’s okay if JEE is frustrating. Your life is not a disaster. Please don’t sell yourself short. It’s going to be okay. Not just okay, it’s going to be genuinely good.

I know this concept is alien to you. But don’t take things too seriously all right? You don’t know what you want. And they don’t either. So grow some spine. Grow some spine to make mistakes. Because mistakes teach you.

I know how sad, guilty, angry and frustrated you feel. 12th grade; the gateway to your career, the gateway to your life – Ooh! So fucking important. Better not screw it up. But you are screwing it up every single day.

And I want you to know that it’s okay. You think self rebuke might work but it doesn’t. You think you have messed it up but you haven’t. You think there’s no point to your life but even if it’s true it doesn’t matter.

Expectations are killing you. You are facing failures for the first time. Your limitations are naked and ugly. Oh, how much you hate yourself for not being smart enough, for not being diligent enough, for not being determined enough!

Don’t. You deserve to be loved, my love. You deserve to be loved.

Maybe you already know that but you can’t help it. And in that case, I want to tell you – Don’t take those emotions too seriously. Don’t let your feelings judge your character. Bad feelings are not exactly bad. Good feelings are not exactly good. Remember -They are not you. They are just emotions.

Don’t hold things too close. Walking away is sometimes necessary. When you stand too close to it, you don’t understand what you are looking at. You require distance to really know yourself. You require time. So be patient. Be kind. Be forgiving. Most of all to your own self.

You have always pushed yourself harder and I get why you do it. But sometimes it’s important to look back and see what you have achieved. Sometimes it’s important to let yourself fly, break every constraint, run free and wonder – what is your life about, what would you do if you could do anything?

Dream of dreams! Not careers! Careers are boring. You don’t believe me? You want to be rich, I remember. Well a decade later, we are nowhere close. But life ain’t bad. I am not perfect but I love what I do. I love how I dream. I love this imperfect life.

I know you think a lot about what other people think about you. Your image matters. But is that image really you? They are thinking about a thousand other stupid useless things. You are not here to prove anything to anyone. And how does their opinion matter anyway? They think you are a geek? They think you are weird? So what? Accept it and it’s not your weakness anymore.

And you know what – you are lovely! You are kind. You are brilliant. You are beautiful. Don’t believe your deceptive mind telling you that no one would ever love you. Lots of people will. Lots of people do.

It’s the heart that matters. Let it guide you. It will take you to absurd weird-ass places but you will fucking enjoy it.

Yes, I swear a lot. I know you are judging me. But I also know you don’t exactly mind.

I know life is a struggle right now. But try to be happy. By that, I don’t mean that you force happiness on yourself when you actually feel sad and end up feeling guilty that you don’t feel what you are supposed to feel. By being happy, I mean when your life is going smoothly cherish it. When you face any challenge turn it into an opportunity to grow. You may not always succeed in doing this but pat yourself on the back every time you try. That’s the real victory. And love! Love, love, love, give it away as much as you can. To people, to places, to yourself. When you go through pain, which inevitably one day you will, remember it’s the most profound experience you are ever going to have. It will hurt but it will teach you the most. It will hurt but it will make you a kinder, more compassionate person. When you are wrong, accept that with grace because there’s nothing wrong with being wrong. Don’t be ashamed. Take that as a lesson and move on. And yes move on! Use memories as a guide, nostalgia, as that light-hearted, feel-good movie. Be hopeful, always be hopeful for the future – as Queenie, a movie character you are going to come across soon, says, “You never know what’s coming for ya.”

Love,
You

My new hobby

Is to think about you,
I search for the tiniest of our memories
in the remotest corners of my heart
stringing them along in
a new narrative
every day
every night
like a mini theatre in my head,
I watch the same films,
same characters,
same scenes,
reach the same conclusion.

My new hobby
is to have imaginary conversations with you,
even though mostly,
in reality,
you spoke too much
and I didn’t at all
but now I say it all;
your part
my part –
things we would have never said
things we would have never done,
You are so painfully interesting in my imagination
I long
and I long
wishing that you are near and real,
tangible,
lovable,
knowing perfectly that if you are with me
all your imperfections are real too.

My new hobby
is to idealize you
and then to wonder how you aren’t ideal in fact,
my new hobby
is to clutch your memories close to my heart
where no one can steal them,
my new hobby
is to wonder
whether to tell
or not to tell;
whether to text
or not to text;
What even?
Why even?
How even?
Rather be satisfied
with my mental conversations
and everyday memories screenings
than to awkwardly reveal my secrets to you,
What to do?
What to even expect?
Would you even understand what I mean?
I am scared that in the end, you will leave me on seen.

Nevermind though,
You are and you will still be in my thoughts.
Silent suffering,
Mysterious rejoice,
It seems that’s my new hobby.

The Love Song

You are into her before you even know it,
You love her before you even know what love is,
You aren’t sure of course,
Sometimes it’s so easy to just be a pervert,
Sometimes it’s so easy to put your friendship on sale just to get rid of some momentary bouts of loneliness.
Friendship?
What is friendship?
Apart from that caring and sharing,
Is it the line that you swear to never cross?
Even though you are mostly hanging around this side of the line longing to explore the land opposite side of it,
Mind says it might be fun,
Mind says we should be hopeful, of course nothing would change.
What mind? Mind intoxicated with lust among other things?
Liar.
Liar.
The fucking temptress.
Nothing remains the same,
Stop with the tendency to make simple things complicated.
Let me continue walking on this side of paradise,
I love it,
No, trust me,
It’s not the question of me being corrupted or scrupulous,
Maybe it’s simply the question of me being hesitant
Or cowardly
Or in denial.
Don’t ask me.
Don’t argue.
Do you understand the implications of what you are implying?
It’s so easy to fall for her though,
No wonder it has happened before
With other people,
In other places.
It’s easy to stand in the queue,
Waiting for nothing in particular,
Maybe hanging out with people who share the same object of admiration.
Admiration?
But I fucking love her,
But they do too!
It’s so easy to love her though,
I don’t know why,
I don’t know why,
I don’t know why,
It makes me fucking hate myself
I don’t want to be another leech yearning to be loved back,
I wanted to love –
Unconditionally
For once in my whole god damned life!
Maybe that is why I am standing in the queue,
Hoping for everything,
Hoping for nothing.
I like to believe that you are aware what it means to me,
What you mean to me,
I like to believe that you are aware of my presence in this queue,
And in a way you even like it.
Who doesn’t like to be loved after all?
Makes you such a bitch.
And I love you even more.
I know you won’t say it out loud,
I know you are in some evil way even wanting me to confess,
Yeah, good luck with that.
There’s more thrill in secretly searching for various shades of the same colour in your eyes,
There’s more thrill in noticing the varying sizes of your pupil,
There’s more thrill in unabashedly juxtaposing my fantasies on to you,
There’s more thrill in listening to your voice in sync with the songs,
There’s more thrill in watching you kiss other people,
The bittersweet sigh from my heart,
I have dealt with this before,
You can be my ultimate romantic tragedy.
Anyway, I am not sure if I am capable of making you my happy ending.
So ignore my love,
Ignore my love for you, my love
Meanwhile I can write millions of love songs on you,
Which I hope would disappear from the face of the Earth,
Unread.
Especially by you.

A love letter

Dear,
How scandalous and embarrassing of me to anticipate for the day when I will be able to speak to you again,
when you are not supposed to exist,
when your charm is something I should easily resist
But look how glittering you are!
Even the dawn can’t make your presence disappear
How tempting it is to touch you,
even though it’s a common knowledge how toxic you are
How attractive it is to pursue you,
even though it’s widely known how forbidden you are
O Honey! O Darling!
Why mustn’t you desert my heart?
You bring death to my life,
You bring life to my death,
You bring love, you bring hate,
You bring joy, you frustrate,
You destroy, you create.
Are you even real?
How embarrassing and scandalous of me to be influenced by you so much,
Wasn’t my life already complicated enough?
No, it is pointless to accuse you
Because I think you make my life simpler instead.
You are blood into my veins,
Air that I could breathe,
Despite your debatable actuality,
You mean,
You exist,
As if nothing else matters.

***

Dead lives,

Dead lives, dead leaves,
Scattered across the grey streets,
On a soulless journey to nowhere or everywhere
with the winds sweeping them onto different destinations
With the time decaying them back into life;
Just so they could fall lifeless once again.
What do you hope to find in this circular maze?
How are you different from other carbon corpses?
Dead eyes, dead voice,
After all, a beating heart was never your choice!
Like the stones, like the deepest ocean bed,
You are silently waiting for the end ahead.
Hush!Hush!Hush!
Don’t think it too loud!
Hush!Hush!Hush!
The stars might overhear!
Time might end today or after infinity,
But the blood must continue running stale in your veins
The thoughts must wander lost always.
Dead leaves, dead lives,
sleeping indifferently on the streets at nights.
Make sure there’s never anything to see
Make sure that the eyes are always wide shut
For if they blink open, if they ever do,
It will all come fiercely rushing through,
in all its unfairness,
tearing apart your blissfully protective wall of indifference-
The storming life,
The warrior love,
valiantly destroying your ignorant existence,
Your living death.

***

I am an Alien

Beautiful places, beautiful people, beautiful pictures
And I am not a part of it
Despite being a part of it
My existence – dusted at some neglected corner
not meant to be discovered,
I stand silent, trying to admire, trying to convince
that I am in love with what lays before me
An ineffective camouflage for how really detached I feel
In my head, I am already miles away
Though I stand right here
In my head, I am already mourning the separation
Though I haven’t felt a single ounce of love for your company
In my head, I am crying over an alternate future
Though I can’t even admire the present.
Beautiful pictures, beautiful places, beautiful you!
Would you call me insensitive?
Is my heart really a stone?
Never overwhelmed or underwhelmed
I am just whelmed
Not too happy, not too hurt, not too furious
I anticipate a storm inside
But there’s no destruction
There’s no scope for creation
For a poet –
I am surprisingly devoid of turbulences
Maybe I am being too harsh
Maybe I am being too vain
All this meaningless rant –
Beautiful pictures, beautiful places, beautiful people!
And I am not a part of it
Despite being a part of it.
I am an alien and I couldn’t be more ordinary.

*

Somewhere in the Universe

“You have nothing to say to me?” you asked, sounding a bit surprised.

I looked at you and my head jolted me with a series of flashbacks of numerous diary entries, self-conversations and monologues.

It’s not like I have nothing to say to you. Perhaps I have a million things to say to you. But I can’t say anything. You can’t say anything, despite being a writer?  Writers are the ones who struggle the most for the right words! Of course I don’t have words to say it! But are there really any confessions or accusations I would like to make? No. I am a blank chit, devoid of emotions. I am not generally like this. You know how I am! I am brimming with all kinds of emotions most of the time. Sometimes, it’s so overwhelming that it gets quite out of control. I have pictured this conversation so many times in my head and every time in every single scenario, I had no words to say to you. Why? You might ask. It’s not like I have not been hurt by you. Maybe I am still in denial and I am not willing to truly accept it. Maybe I am not that hurt and I want myself to be hurt just to know what heart-break tastes like. I have no definite answer for that. But you give me nothing but indifference and all these fictitious conversations in my head. Each day I am colder and more aloof. However, I still remember – You. I don’t know how I do that. I am sure you never intended this. Well, of course, you never intended this! But to be honest, your intentions don’t matter anyway. I know what I meant to you – Nothing! And there is nothing wrong with that. When I think about you, I never consider my own judgment or perception or my own state of mind/heart; I become you or whoever I think you are. And from your point of view, my meaninglessness in your life makes perfect sense. That’s why maybe I don’t have anything held against you. If am zero for you, well, I am a zero. I don’t mind being like that. It’s refreshing in a way. Obviously if I had any choice, I would definitely like to change that. But I can’t do that. It’s your life. You are the protagonist. Protagonists have their own characteristics; they don’t follow a writer’s rule! They make their own rules! I have nothing to say to you because you still mean so much to me and I can’t really confess that without you being offended. Offending you would be a delight but I have no energy for that neither the will. Maybe what you’d feel is not offence but guilt and then you’d ask for my forgiveness. How can I forgive you if I don’t even have an answer for whether at all I had ever been hurt? I have nothing to say to you because in my head I have said it all. There are things that I remember. There are things that I have forgotten. There are things that I am grateful for. There are things that I am sorry for. In my life you would always have a value despite my failure in gaining the same in yours. It’s not a shame. It’s a tragic beauty. But I can’t say it, at least not in a way that makes sense to you or even to me.

“No” I nodded as I nervously glanced down at my wrist watch and eagerly waited for time to pass by. You glanced at your watch too. “Is there anything you would like to say?” I asked trying to ease the awkwardness. I received a familiar nod from you. We both looked at each other with artificial smiles pasted on our faces and secretly acknowledged that this was indeed the last time we were (not) enjoying each other’s company. And yet, I saw the fireworks in the background at our last good bye as if conveying that even our last miscommunication and small insignificant mis-story had the capability to create a minuscule impact somewhere in the universe.

***