A Foreign Sky

It’s 6am. A new day. Last week was awful. I couldn’t focus. Things weren’t moving fast enough and things that were meant to remain confidential, didn’t. So awful. The cat is indeed out of the bag. After 2.5 life-changing years here, the time has come to challenge myself again. Work hard. Be scared. Grow.

I count my blessings for the people I’ve met, work I’ve done and lessons I’ve learned. I will always liken this period of my life to Camelot. Prosperous. Progressive. Filled with tenderness, kindness and respect.

I was obsessing over a few small things this weekend. And I’m forcing myself, in the quiet of this morning, to let go of those obsessions. My insecurities.

Without any fear, I want to embrace and enjoy the good and the uncertain that I’ve invited into my life.

I seek courage. I seek quiet. I seek confidence. I’m opening myself to them. I want to look inward for validation and confirmation. Not externally. This is what I hope to achieve as I turn 30.

“It’s entirely conceivable that life’s splendor surrounds us all, and always in its complete fullness, accessible but veiled, beneath the surface, invisible, far away. But there it lies—not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If we call it by the right word, by the right name, then it comes. This is the essence of magic, which doesn’t create but calls.”- Kafka

Crashing from the high of last week. Things feel stuck and aren’t moving forward. Universe, I compel you. Allow what is coming my way to come my way.

I am filled with one emotion today. And that is happiness.

I love Rithesh. I love the life we have built together. And I love the people in our lives, both the old ones and the new ones. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you God.

She hadn’t met someone like him. So wholesome, so American. He reminded her of absolutely nothing and no one from her past or her present. There was no common ground between them, other than that they hung out with the same people occasionally. And that fascinated her, made her more curious of him.

He was hard to read, and sometimes awkward. Hot and cold, was how others described him. She never befriended him and was just as awkward around him. Sometimes, caught in the confidence of the moment, she would say hello to him or utter a feeble line that hardly inspired a conversation. But she avoided friendship. Out of awkwardness. Out of fear. Her tongue became rubbery and heavy every time he sparked a conversation, which was just as rare as her hellos to him. They both sensed trepidation and resorted to giving benign smiles to each other when their paths crossed or eyes met.

When he suddenly began losing weight and looking pale as a ghost, she ached to reach out to him. But she had no idea what she would say to him. She pieced together from the loud whispers of common friends the story of his suffering. And she kept him in his thoughts. A few months later, when color began to return to his cheeks, she felt happy for him. And weird. She knew more about him now than he thought she did. And it confused her. She slowly, electronically extended the her hand at friendship. He mindlessly accepted, oblivious to the deliberation and torture in her own head.

Neither of them figured prominently in each others firmaments, but he began to occupy more time in her thoughts. Her curiosity of him, was now tinged with warmth and compassion that she had begun to feel for him. She couldn’t understand what it was but she felt, as though she understood the essence of him. She understood that he was a responsible man who took his word, his actions and his commitment seriously. She understood that he had a strong conscience. That he was a good soul. She became familiar with him. She could sense his presence. And knew what his gait sounded like. She felt as though she had tapped into a frequency that radiated him and was now attuned to his comings and goings. Twice, her heart jumped out when he showed up just as she had wished he would. It freaked her out and she had no interest in finding out what it meant.

Eventually, their paths drifted. She began hanging out less and less with their common friends. Her life began taking a different shape than his and their paths hardly ever crossed again. She mourned the loss briefly. It baffled her. She missed him and at times, it made her sad. But she got on and with time, he no longer occupied her thoughts. She thought of that strangeness with fondness.

Years later though, they met again. Age had caught up to him. But he was still lean, and his eyes still held that blue light. Her face had lost its fat and one could see the hard lines on her face. But she exuded certainty.

Their eyes caught each other first. Recognition flickered in his eyes. They made their way to each other across the expanse of the room. When they stood facing each other, they fumbled. Smiled. And shook hands.
They were grown ups now. They had wives and husbands and children and mortgages. They had fame and honors.
They talked. About their present. And when the conversation dipped and an awkward silence threatened to ruin their second chance at friendship, she spoke up.
“I am sorry I never made an effort to be friends with you all those years ago.”
If he was surprised, he didn’t show. Instead he joked, “I thought it was because I was a dick”
She smiled. “Quite the contrary.”
“Then you are the dick!”
She laughed. He laughed.

They talked. And talked. They found a table and sat next to each other.
“It was weird not having you around..” He said.
She was surprised. “You missed me?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember now. It was a long time ago. It was a little empty once you left. “

“It used to make me happy to see you everyday.”

“Me too.”

“It’s a pity we never told each other that.”

“We are, now.”

She was quiet. A million thunderbolts racing through her head. She opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again. He reached for her hand under the table and held it in both his hands.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“You were never good with words,” he said.

“No, I wasn’t.”

I knew him for precisely four days. He was like no one I’ve ever met before. As though he had descended from a different world altogether. A world that wasn’t burdened with the weight of ambitions. His world was simpler. His world was about dirt bikes, surfing and Californian sunsets. He reminded me of an unbridled stallion. Wild, free and happy.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. It was the pure magic of getting to know someone so entirely different that every fiber of my being felt alive and responsive to the world around me. The tenuous and the only thread we had in common was that for some reason, our lives had decided to intersect briefly. We were both swept away in the newness of each other. Like me, he was entranced with the unfamiliar curves of my mind. My big, magnificent dreams simultaneously fascinated and scared him. My desire to want more out of life, out of people and out of the world repelled him and yet, drew him closer.
It was like stepping into someone else’s home for a cup of coffee and realizing you like it so much that you’d like to have dinner there too. And maybe spend a few days. Looking through the nooks and crannies, dusting the old record collection and sniffing the spices in the kitchen. But we both knew that if we stayed there too long, we’d begin missing our own homes and the familiarity of it. So when it was time, we were both ready to leave.
We are still friends. Facebook friends that like each other’s status sometimes. But neither of us posts too much, keeping much of our lives to ourselves. It has also been years since those four days. We don’t have a reason to stay friends but we remain on each others lists, out of respect for the memory of a relationship that almost was.
Of that brief moment in time where we existed, madly in love and hate with each other.

Millions of glittery stars are pouring out of my heart right now. In a few weeks, maybe even in a few days, I will forget exactly why. But I’m breathing deeply right now to savor this.

A friend left the company yesterday. He is an old soul. And even though we weren’t best of friends, I miss him. I teared up last night and that’s just not the kind of person I am.

I have come to deeply love the people I work with. I feel so lucky to have had found the people I did and the friends I made. It’s been almost two and a half years and does not feel like it one bit.

Today, I had a conversation with someone that simultaneously excited me and scared me. I pray that when I leave this place, I have no regrets. And that I am truly ready to leave the people behind. I know I will weep. And I already feel guilty. But. But. But.