I wanted to write to you – still do – but time is a friend you are lucky not to have. Though, I do am lucky as hell to have my college friends. They have been handholding me through the college life that I never had to know things I didn’t want to know. I have been a carefree child and have morphed into a careless adult. Adult? Seems odd and ‘big’. I like the idea of independence and preach about it a lot, even when I can’t feed my poor heart a dollop of blood for more than one day. So, yeah guys, I love you and I just want you to help me a little less so that I can stand on my feet a little more. But don’t turn away when I call you to ask the syllabus for the exam we are going to sit in tomorrow and whose photocopy you have already provided me but I was too busy to care where I was keeping it. I am sure it was in my folder of important things but it is not there now. That doesn’t mean it is not important, it just means that I actually cared for it enough to pull it out.
So. You might also be wondering what gets into me. One day I am writing to you. The next four day I am not. Suddenly I say hi to you online publicly and the next day privately in Word and just when you were figuring the ins and outs of the webby wide world, I am stabbing you with pen in one hand and my eco-friendly papier-mâché diary in the other. What you call stupidity on your end is what I call fear. I write to you in so many myriad ways because I want to talk to you so much. I want people to see me wooing you and here I am. But then sometimes I want to gossip with you and I sit in the corner and scribble back my reads. No, I don’t use my black ink there, there are snoopers abound who will sneak behind my back when I would be sleeping and then they would know the horrible, horrible things I have done in the short life that I have lived and though they are not actually horrible, my dear, they are just not what one is supposed to say. People live in masks. I would like to tear them down from others but not show them my own ugly, selfish, coward face where insecurities breed and hate hounds. If I keep it out in the air for more, they would even see the pools of tears and broken shards coloured in a deep red that nobody is able to wash away. I am not ashamed to show them myself, I just don’t know how I would live after the deadly revelation. I have imagined what it would feel like and it feels empty like a hall, where a magic was conjured moments ago better kept bottled and now audience is whisking away hiding their sympathies but not concealing their hate and smugness. If I do tell them what I wish for, I would be the magician who is now standing against empty seats and empty stomach, not yet out of the smokes of his life.
And yes, I really like hyperbole. My life hasn’t really been a roller-coaster. I have always been a good boy who doesn’t smoke nor drinks. Whom everyone who matters has accepted as gay, thank Dear God who probably doesn’t exist. And I have got good grades, got into a respectable college and would get a job I like, if I press for more. So yes, my life really is wonderful and apart from some minor details, it really is out in the open and none of it resembles the empty hall and the broken magician I painted. Though would it remain so after all the years of my life have passed before my eyes? Would I have done the brave things I boast to do later in my life? I would want to sit in a time travel machine and go zoom-zoom into the future to meet myself. For the heck of it.
I have consumed my share of poetic mumbo-jumbo. Back in the world. For the time ever, right in my lifetime, the moment I always dreamed of and for which I had long planned to travel to forlorn cities of the world, I would be seeing Norah Jones! Yes, my lovely Diary, Norah middle-name Jones is coming to India… Woo-hoo! Whistles and gun-salutes.
In all honesty, I don’t like typing out to you. It doesn’t seem personal and unless I am in the midst of a big emotional drama, I am prone to take breaks and check out my Facebook or see another news headline or browse my favourite columns. So, I am going away. I would return in the middle of the last century somewhere, again. But I’ll do for sure. Till then, bye-bye!