When They Leave

I have been having a great time this weekend in Delhi. I came here to say bye-bye to my brother and sister-in-law whom I absolutely adore. Today, one night after they left, I was able to articulate what I was feeling about them leaving. I usually do not prefer giving context so that you can read it in your own voice. But, this is much closer to the heart.  

When they leave

They take their conversations with them.

They take their smell with them,

Take their voice with them,

Their laughter and their gestures;

Their affection, their expectations, their opinions and impressions.

When they leave

They take their existence with them

And you are left trying to reach for them in

The images of when they were here.

When they leave

They leave the space, the room and the pedestal

That you had given them in your heart

In a place that is rarely ever filled.

When they leave

You are left reminiscing everything that happened and

You are left wondering about everything which could have happened-

Infinite possibilities nipped in the buds.

When they leave,

They return, too.

And then, everything rushes back like fresh wind into a stale room.

When they return

Everything is a celebration.

Harken, friend!

Dear Abhilash & Sai, 

I watched a movie called 'Ee Nagaraniki Emaindi?' today. It is about a group of four friends who rediscover themselves and their cherished relationship under the most comic situations in Goa. It reminded me of the two of you- my best friends from school. There is a churning in my chest as I write these words. I hope that will paint this letter sufficiently when you are reading it. 

When I think about the three of us, I remember pizza atop the water tank, getting busted by your sister, pretending to have western showdowns, garden cricket, proper cricket, fart jokes, the never-ending rant about my "love-life", Nanking, ice cream from Country Oven... so many -objectively speaking- inconsequential things which have cemented our friendship. We have broken the law with our excitement to drive without licenses. We have ignored parental curfews to go to Creamstone in the middle of the night. We have disregarded work deadlines to chill. We have stood by each other -and not, at times- when each of us had a heartbreak. We volunteered to wingman for each other. We fought with each other for others. We fought with others for each other.

Today, we meet once in a blue moon- on birthdays, if we're lucky. Or in some happenstance situation like we did in Bangalore. Why aren't we doing such mad things, anymore? What happened to our customs and why have we abandoned them? I was in Goa a few days ago. I saw a group of 40-year olds enjoying themselves like they were 16. We're barely 23. I spent moments in Goa imagining how it would have been if you guys were there with me- the long drives, the beach, the alcohol and the gossip. We should add Goa to our list- if we have one which we remember. We do not remember when we met last, at times.

Hyderabad, for me, is scattered across many moments which I spent with you. My first steps in the city as a teenager and as an adolescent were with you. I believe we took these challenging steps in the confidence that we're here for each other. Yet, I have committed the sin of forgetting leaning on you when my life got difficult. It wasn't until you asked me why I didn't tell you that I realized what had happened. I am sorry about that. This letter is, perhaps, one of those cathartic expressions telling you that I miss the three of us deeply. I haven't done justice to this feeling. I want to write more. But, the words are stuck in a clutter of memories which I cannot choose from. 

We should spend time like how we used to and that's that.