Any dream will do

So tell me, what do you know about goodbyes? I’ll tell you what I know of them. Goodbyes till now have been either voluntary or temporary or just what I knew was around the corner. And I’ve also known a few goodbyes where I didn’t want to say goodbye. But I’ve never known a goodbye like this before. Most goodbyes have been the ones that I knew were inevitable. And while your fair argument might be that I must have known this was coming too, my response would be that along with knowing it was going to happen sooner than later, I was also trying to will it away. I’m a regular crybaby. Like Ruthless said today, these darn tears are just primed and ready to flow at any given time. Sometimes, the damn floodgates don’t even need a reason to burst open.

Mother always used to tell me that if I left everything in the hands of God, he would find a way out for me and get me what I fervently wished for. When I was young, it was mostly true, though I suspect He had less to do with it than mom or dad did. When I crossed over into adolescence, they were still there for me, trying to make every little dream of mine come true the best that they could, but I could notice that while still the majority of my wishes were granted, some were carefully ignored or suitable substitutes were provided or suchlike. Later, as I finished studies and bravely ventured out into the big, bad world, it fell on me to make my dreams come true. Sure, I pray to God and thank him for making my parents mine even now, but you know you’ll have to toughen up as you grow older because chances are you will be heartbroken more often than be beside yourself with joy – a lesson you learn unwillingly. My first hard knock was when Mother passed away when I was 18 – I’d just finished giving my 12^th exams. And I didn’t even say goodbye to her. I didn’t think she would go, but she did. Yes, the idealists will have me know that it was because I didn’t want to let her go and that because I didn’t say goodbye, she is still around. Now I don’t see any reason to refute that, but the point is that that goodbye was inevitable too. Only, I didn’t get to say it.

I’ve cried in my teachers’ arms at school just before I gave my 10th exams – even those that I hated. I’ve cried with friends and enemies at college when we were given our certificates for having made a smooth (??) transition into adulthood – we were declared eligible for higher education/career/reproduction. I’ve even felt bad when I left a few jobs. But nothing in the world has prepared me for the goodbye tomorrow – my goodbye to the most enjoyable job I’ve had, to the best bunch of people I’ve known in one place, to the best year of my life. You don’t find perfection often. But I knew it in some measure - this comes the closest to it.

Goodbyes are hard. But you know what’s harder? Not saying goodbye when you can and letting people know how much they’ve added to your life and made your world a better place.

Goodbye, my friends, dear pretty maids all in a row. I’ve had the time of my life, thanks to you. You bon homies and the bonhomie that we knew will be sorely and surely missed :o).

 
My, but we learn so slow

And heroes, they come and they go,

And leave us behind

As if we’re supposed to know why

Why do we give up our hearts to the past

And why must we grow up so fast?

New blog and all. Pretty words here, plain language there. Be polite now.

 

A paraphrased version of today evening's conversation with Hyde over coffee (I had something called 'Mocha Tease' at Barista on the front lawn of Barton Centre on M.G. Road, which he is wont to point out if I don't mention it. We shared a brownie and he ate the bigger portion! And yes, it's edited. He will point out that also, mark my words.)

*******

Scene I

He: (Over phone) Where are you?

I: In the auto. On my way. Hold on. Don't order anything.

He: Okay.

*******

Scene II

He: (20 minutes later) Ring, ring.

I: I'm still in the auto. There is a bottleneck situation here.

He: A what?

I: (Exasperated) Jam. It's not moving. Do you want me to walk it down? I wish I could. But I have pulled some muscle in my ass and I can't walk.

He: What?!

I: My gluteus maximus muscle (literally). It hurts and I'm walking with a limp, and it's making my ass wobble.

He: (Laughing) No, it's okay. Come in the auto. In the meanwhile, I'll grab a seat.

I: (All worked up) Don't!!! I'll be there soon. Don't give up your seat!!!

He: I'll grab a seat.

I: What?! You still haven't found a seat?

He: I will. Come fast. Traffic seems to be clearing here.

*******

Scene III Act A:

Barista. Looking around for Little Man Tate. He seems to be lost in the crowd and my ass is killing me. He walks up and we hug. That's one thing about us. We don't walk towards each other with outstretched arms. We don't greet each other loudly. We just walk into the hug.

He: You didn't see me.

I: Duh.

He: I got a seat for us.

I: (Upon discovering that there is a little arched bridge that we have to cross to get to it) Couldn't you have grabbed another seat? As it is, my balance on flat surfaces isn't all that great.

I: (Upon discovering that the table is rickety and shaking because of uneven legs) Okay, let's go over there.

He: Is it vacant? Yes, it is. Okay.

I: (Seated now) Aaaaah! That is such a relief.

He: What do you want?

I: Dark temptation. You?

He: Heeheeheehee.

I: I need some chocolate, man. I'm ovulating.

He: Okay, I didn't need to know that.

I: I said ovulating, not menstruating. Ovulation is when eggs are primed to receive sperm. Unfortunately, there's no sperm I like in the near vicinity.

He: Okay, I'm going to think of something else. Bike... Mountain... Ride...

I: Hahahaha! You can't! Sperm, egg, sperm, egg, sperm, egg...

He: Piston... Fuel... Oh God, I can't believe I said that!

I: Hahahahaha!

He: Spark plug...

I: You know, God is funny. He made sure everything that He created resembled something else that brought it all back to sex.

He: No, man created spark plug.

I: That's because God gave him the brains.

*******

Scene III Act B: 

Hyde goes and gets our order. We've finally decided on a Mocha Tease for me and plain mocha for him and a triangular (:P) brownie that we're going to share.

He: Don't eat all that whipped cream. You've got to stir it.

I: (After eating about 3 spoons of it and tasting the hazelnut-flavoured mocha underneath) Mmmmmmmm.

He: (After emptying a sachet of sugar into his coffee cup) This is mocha. I didn't need to add the sugar. 

I: (Thinking "Will he ever shut up?") This brownie needs ice cream. It's too dry.

He: No, it's cold. No ice cream.

I: Please get some, no.

He: No.

Girl walks by in a thin white halter top and an even thinner, flimsier bra. It's mighty cold and it shows.

I: (Thinking to myself "I'll never settle for someone who doesn't get me ice cream when I want it...") That girl's a hooker if ever I saw one.

He: How do you know?

I: Any girl wears something that exposes the contours of her assets for all the world to see, she's asking to be noticed.

He: Why? What can you see?

I: Her nipples are erect.

He: (Trying to appear as nonchalant as possible) I can't see.

I: Erect nipples are hard to miss, whatever the distance.

He: I can't see.

I: That's because you're trying not to look. (After a beat) I need to use the loo. Do you think there is a loo here?

He: Must be.

I: (Thinking "Chivalry is dead. He's not even going to go ask someone!") Do you think that Barista guy will know?

He: Ask him.

I: (To the Barista guy) Is there a restroom here?

Barista Guy: No. I don't know. I joined recently.

I: (Thinking - "Are men really this daft? Or do you think he took a leak on the grass next to our seat?") (To security guard of Barton Centre) Is there a loo here?

Security Guard: No, madam. All shops closed. No loo here.

I: (Walking back to Hyde) I need to go home.

He: You can go to Tavern. Or Blossoms Book House. Have you asked them if they have a loo? They must have one.

I: Duh. I don't go to a book shop to ask if the employees have/use a loo there!

He: My bike's parked near Tavern. We'll go there.

I: Uh, if I walk, I'm going to pee on the road. And it's going to be mighty embarrassing.  That's the only thing where you men have an advantage over women.

He: Yeah, but I can hold it in.

I: Hohoho! Pull over on the highway, unzip and ssssssssss. Women can hold it in, men can't.

He: That's because we can do it on the road. (Please note he contradicts himself here) Do you think you can hold it in till you reach home?

I:  Yeah. (Hailing an auto) I've done it lots of times before. (Hugging him) Remember I love you, even when I'm being a bitch.

He: I'll remember the second part.

I: We'll meet again next week, for a longer time.

He: Next week? Hmm. (Pause) I think we can. Yeah, I should be free. (This coming from a guy who's not had any more luck with the opposite sex than yours truly :P)

I: Bye!

He: Bye!

*******

Scene IV

He: (Later on sms)  "I saw our pointy friend after you left."

I: Hahahahaha!

 *******

On a completely unrelated note, I think I was born when I was because I had to grow up enough to leave teenybopper candy fluff behind to really appreciate good music and then discover Travis when I was going through a period of, well, change. I personally think Fran Healy's the best songwriter there is today, not to mention his oh-so-soothing voice. Leaving you with two gems of lines from the song The Cage:

 

You broke your word, now that's a lie

We had a deal that you would try

 

Sometimes, life's just too good to be true. 

These days go on.

There are tears that you cry for yourself. And then there are tears you cry for the ones you love. And there are those tears that you cry for those you haven't even met and probably will never know beyond a face in the newspaper or a name that someone mentions in passing or the distant look in someone's eyes. These tears are the kind that leave grief behind even after they're shed.

I see dust everywhere. I have this need to look at a pristine, blank wall. Preferably butter yellow or blood red. Nothing on it, no picture, no switch, no stain that a dirty hand left behind. Just blankness, single colour. I can't even begin to tell you how closed in I feel with all the adorned walls around me.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I read a phrase in a book that I loved. "Dependable as sunrise". Yep, Nora Roberts. If memory serves me right, I think she's used that in a couple other books as well. But, this year, seems to me "Season's greetings" is the most redundant phrase in usage. The seasons just can't be depended on. An inconvenient truth, anyone?

Rechristening's the order of the day. At least in my city. Bengalooru indeed. If you really must know, Bangalore's origins can be traced to "Bendakalooru" which in Kannada roughly translates to "Baked Bean Town". It's quite ironic, actually. This city is governed by a bunch of farts, anyway. I have to close my eyes en route to work every morning. Otherwise, I have morning sickness. Blech.

Walking down the so-called bridge this Sunday, I saw the clouds hovering above. Remember that pretty, pretty song from years ago?

Kaale kaale baadal jab bhi chhayenge

Yeh din pyare pyare yaad aayenge...

If memory serves me right (it doesn't often nowadays, I'll have you know), I think it was picturised on Raveena Tandon and that cutie, Vivek Mushran. An extra 'i' to his name did not have the intended effect, but hey, whatever floats your boat. 

One thing common in all of the unconnected information above? Still praying, still waiting. The hope that creeps up on you when there's no hope left.

Like I was saying, these days go on. And someday, not too distant in the near future, I'm going to look back and think of these days gone by.