There are no empty days. There are no days so idle- dreams are only half begun. There are days, and dreams interlaced: the beautiful despair of a dream mid-way..hoga ya nahi hoga? You wind the clock again, and again- and you believe the dream is done. The dream is here. The dream is now.
I meet a girl in a hotel room, we were once in a house in Sushant Lok making merry over adrak chai and pasta. I no longer make pasta, and she can no longer make me adrak chai. But, like in all good friendships: circumstances are the only thing that change.
I watch a movie: Lincoln. I am inspired by the greatness of this man, the dream, the desire. Good things have got to happen, and there is no certain choice.
I curl into a pillow, and sleep to gentle night music on Vh1. I wake up to pancakes drowned in maple syrup, served in silence. I am beginning to enjoy my own company: there is no better heaven.
I win a little something at work, and I pause:
In the end, it has been one year since you asked, and then you didn’t. As the saying goes, he who walks has everything to forget, and he who stays, has everything to remember. So I remember this day, without resentment, and without anger, and mostly at the person it has made me, and laughingly at the person it has made you.
You get what you give, and this I am allowed.