Getting up late. Lazy tea with newspaper. Long cardio at the gym. Social afternoon with friends. It was just another Sunday, and i was happily breezing through it. Almost in cruise control mode. I knew 'what next'. And i like my days and life like that. At least most of the times.
So there I was in an electronics mall. There is mall for everything these days. (Shimla always has had a Mall road isn't it? how weird?) Its true. I'm a self confessed part lunatic. I just gave you a quick deco. So where was I, yeah.... in front of the PS3 playing some game, coz my friend was shopping for a laptop and I was happily whiling away till 'next'. I felt a tug and threw a glance sideways, to find a 4 year holding the last few buttons of his shirt in a michael jackson kinda posture. "But... hang on... hold it (not that) can i finish this game please..." He ran away in his MJ avatar and i guiltily followed with a face longer than a horse. My able friend had already taken MJ to the Men's and i was left to admire the freshly arrived Macs.
Macs are yummy, and they look extra glossy in these places. Obviously i was tempted into moving the mouse, pressing a few keys. I pressed g m a i l . c o m + ctrl enter. (2015 now) And there it was, a message in my inbox. A mail from an old friend. A mail from a friend. But friends don't email each other do they. And the oddity of it struck as a surprise, both pleasant and tentative at the same time.
I read it twice, and then twice more. 2 cups of shock mixed with 500gms of disbelief, smeared all over my inbox. It stank and it was ugly. We'd been friends for long. Way too long. Distant and platonic. I know platonic is difficult to digest, but the distance of a few thousand kms and her being a gf and then being married to the same guy should cut it. Guess what. It didn't.
When a relationship is stale, the blame game looks at targets like you were in a paint-ball arena. Anyone and anything gets hit. Here I was standing in front of a giant apple monitor, reading that email in big text and still trying to grasp its ends. A bolt out of the blue reading "we can't be friends..." . No because. No explanation. Use your imagination. Like I had to. Just that, for you it is not as shocking as it was for me. I stood there for a few minutes with a thousand thoughts in my head, it did seem like a longgg time. The sun did not go down as quickly as they show in music videos. My fingers reached for the keyboard, only just below where my chin was at, at this point.
"You know best.
regards."
So there I was in an electronics mall. There is mall for everything these days. (Shimla always has had a Mall road isn't it? how weird?) Its true. I'm a self confessed part lunatic. I just gave you a quick deco. So where was I, yeah.... in front of the PS3 playing some game, coz my friend was shopping for a laptop and I was happily whiling away till 'next'. I felt a tug and threw a glance sideways, to find a 4 year holding the last few buttons of his shirt in a michael jackson kinda posture. "But... hang on... hold it (not that) can i finish this game please..." He ran away in his MJ avatar and i guiltily followed with a face longer than a horse. My able friend had already taken MJ to the Men's and i was left to admire the freshly arrived Macs.
Macs are yummy, and they look extra glossy in these places. Obviously i was tempted into moving the mouse, pressing a few keys. I pressed g m a i l . c o m + ctrl enter. (2015 now) And there it was, a message in my inbox. A mail from an old friend. A mail from a friend. But friends don't email each other do they. And the oddity of it struck as a surprise, both pleasant and tentative at the same time.
I read it twice, and then twice more. 2 cups of shock mixed with 500gms of disbelief, smeared all over my inbox. It stank and it was ugly. We'd been friends for long. Way too long. Distant and platonic. I know platonic is difficult to digest, but the distance of a few thousand kms and her being a gf and then being married to the same guy should cut it. Guess what. It didn't.
When a relationship is stale, the blame game looks at targets like you were in a paint-ball arena. Anyone and anything gets hit. Here I was standing in front of a giant apple monitor, reading that email in big text and still trying to grasp its ends. A bolt out of the blue reading "we can't be friends..." . No because. No explanation. Use your imagination. Like I had to. Just that, for you it is not as shocking as it was for me. I stood there for a few minutes with a thousand thoughts in my head, it did seem like a longgg time. The sun did not go down as quickly as they show in music videos. My fingers reached for the keyboard, only just below where my chin was at, at this point.
"You know best.
regards."
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