Last Week

The pages of words and numbers and odd symbols in front of me don't always make sense. Nevertheless, they're engaging. I like having something to do. Moreover, it keeps my mental faculties from brooding over things that will probably never be; events that, in all likelihood, will never come to pass.

***

We talk and talk about trust, and many other things, besides. Your trust and my trust and his trust and her trust and how I do not trust people easily. I don't trust any of them, I shoot back. Some part of me wonders why. I'm glad I can trust her. And her. And so many of them. And him, of course.

I've always hated how I seem to have walls around me, walls that are hard to breach, if not impossible to breach altogether. Yesterday, I realized that it probably works to my advantage.

***

I did not get hurt. Or emotionally blackmailed. Or played with. Or any of the horrible things they've been through. I'm glad.

Finally, I know I've made the right choice. I don't care if the things that my over-active imagination envisions never happen. I know I'm safe, and perfectly happy.

Baarish and Life

The first little drizzles of the season have arrived, bringing with them the characteristic grey shadows that cloak our little world. I've always loved wet weather, although my reasons for being so fond of the rain are ever-changing.

Rain in Bombay spelled the end of the unbearably hot and sticky summer months, so everyone welcomed the torrents of water that would fall from the skies every June. The rain would also turn the city's streets into waist-deep streams, and one would have to wade through them, hoping fervently that nothing questionable lurked in their murky depths. As children, we loved it. But as we grew older, it turned into a much-dreaded exercise, and by the end of it, we would be tired and chilled to the bone. There ended the charm of the monsoon rains, as far as Bombay was concerned. Someone who'd lived in the city long enough would appreciate the inexplicable beauty the flooded streets possessed when it rained. I happened to be one of them.

But it's so different here. The rain washes away months of dust and soothes frayed nerves caused by the oppressive summer heat. Both heaven and earth wear a look of such freshness, as if the water has sent new life coursing through their vast expanses. Everything around me is so vibrant, the colours are deep and speak of newfound energy, and the grey shadows cast by the overbearing clouds are a welcome shield from the harsh sun; not harbingers of gloom, as many people would say. The world around me, and every living creatue in it, seems alive, all of a sudden.

And I can almost feel them calling out to me, to join their joyous exultation, to be a part of Life itself. An enormous circle devoid of both beginning and end.

A few things I'd like to yell at myself for.

Get all the facts right before you blame people for things they haven't even done.

Don't read between the lines all the time, for goodness' sake. And when you do, you don't need to get worked up.

Can't you send him to the back of your head for one day? Is it really necessary to give him so much of your attention?

You've always loved yourself for not being judgemental, but when you develop an irrational dislike for someone  and you know it's here to stay, no matter what other people say; aren't you being a hypocrite?

He hasn't done anything wrong. Do you really have to be so mean to him?

Isn't it a little stupid that you care about him so much, but he's blissfully unaware of this?

You're being silly. You've disappointed me.