Taking stock

Ever so often you find yourself in a familiar place, with familiar faces, talking about things you know so well, and yet, everything seems different. The world stops, the drinks stop flowing, the words cease and you take in that scene, that familiarity, that you want to hold onto so badly. I know the blog says Megalomania in the title but I'm acutely aware of my mortality. I make it a point that those who matter know exactly what I feel about them. I often say, "My friends are my greatest investments"; I sure do feel rich right now.

Its not the euphoria after path-breaking achievements, its not the darkness in failures, that you remember. You recall the moments you thought you never would, the moments that you never thought deserved a place in the "Best of..." reel of your life. So, once again I'm looking across the table at people I never chose, those I didn't fully understand; these are the people that matter most, I hold them closest. You know that feeling of loss which you never really understood? I feel that now; except I'm not losing anything at all. You look back and miss that you never knew you shared. That barefoot walk on rocky beaches, the bad movies that chewed your brain, those high-fives that hurt so much, a broken sink, so many broken glasses, and creative drunken stories. You've left me with memories that'll take a lifetime to recall & rejoice. 

My friends, my family, I've taken stock of life. I sure do feel rich right now.

Gaze

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They met like everyone does, without any control of where and when, but what matters is that they did. He recalls that first day, a kind face amid an unfamiliar crowd. Tried to meet her gaze, in an obvious way yet trying to be subtle; very James Bond-ish. She just swept her hair and turned away. They did finally speak. Difficult not to, when you're locked in a room together for days with a dearth of good-looking, interesting people. He got friendly and ever so often, in conversations that were treading on unfamiliar ground, she swept her hair and looked the other way. 

He didn't like her avoiding his gaze. He strayed to other women, sheepishly blurting out his infatuations, she just nodded and stared into his eyes; beautiful brown eyes that finally broke away from his. Maybe she found the world more interesting to look at than his face. He tried to meet her often, but the conversations weren't the same. How could they be? Time flew past, but not time used well. He didn't wonder or weigh what he missed out on, blissfully unaware. 

Good days have a habit of creeping up on you when you least expect them, or prepare for them. Once again, he found himself moving through an unfamiliar crowd, which suddenly, effortlessly blurred away to reveal those gleaming brown eyes. Pleasantries weren't all that were exchanged; That look, of unsure yearning. This time he made sure they met again. Felt like a fresh start, getting to know each other all over again. Memories of good conversations seldom contain the subjects of conversations themselves. All they recall now is long walks, beaches and sunsets. They weren't one for cliches, but what're good relationships without them? 

The story played itself out all over again. They got to know each other again. He felt closer than ever before, treading carefully on thin ice. He dropped subtle hints, all she did was swiftly look away, her hair moving in majestic arcs. He thought and wondered of what could be, if only she'd meet his gaze. He took that plunge, asked her to be with him. She smiled, stared into his eyes, like she never had before. It seemed like he saw her for the very first time; so open, unguarded, receptive, almost naked. Those big brown eyes. 

Their relationship was stuck in a loop, starting another cycle again. Like an aged bottle of wine lying in a cellar, that's still new on uncorking it. They got to know another side of themselves. He felt like nothing could pull them apart. He took another plunge. Asked her why she always swept her hair and looked away. She smiled, then blushed; her eyes darting between him and the ground. She sheepishly mumbled, "I didn't want you to know how I actually felt. Sometimes I tried to hide a smile, and seldom that look when you hurt me. Didn't make things too difficult for you now, did I?". With that, she flashed a mischievous grin, grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him close and kissed him. "Except now, I don't have to hide my feelings anymore". This time, it wasn't her who looked away to hide a scarlet face. 

Someday

Living an enviable life is all about finding memories in moments, 
that you wouldn't otherwise remember

This is our twilight. Everyone's moving around in eloquent, beautiful circles, not knowing what lies ahead. Everyone's looking for their way out. We've been here before, albeit symbolically. That day wasn't definitive, graduation. Of course there were tears, smiles, warm hugs and cold relationships which finally thawed. Unbelievable how one abstract idea of finality can bring such an upheaval of buried sentiments! But now, everyone's finishing off this chapter at different rates. Life's like a child let loose in a playground, plucking leaves and flowers playfully, randomly; one by one, we'll all move away. 

We'll meet again some day, beyond this twilight, when separation has finally set in. You'll still be you and I'll still be me; and I hope we'll be ourselves again. We'll look back at the times we laughed hard, sitting uncomfortably in the most obscure places, not remembering what the jokes were about; Reminisce of the times we felt lower than we ever imagined we ever could; Wear smug looks thinking back of when we pulled through. We'll meet without wondering where time has flown, or where we've been. We've always been around. I'll tell you of the times I walked down those corridors again, a familiar scent in the air, but something seemed amiss; how I sat again in those chairs, on those stools, sidewalks and stairs; how I wished for those familiar faces around. We'll talk about the music we shared, where we heard it all first, how we so effortlessly changed the tune and words, yet the song still remained the same. The coffee may not be that sordid excuse for burnt milk from the canteen, but the company will still be the same. We'll still share laughs, without ever thinking twice of what the punchline actually is. There'll still be gossip, although not as bold, but then we were always creative.

Our memories are like a song that's stuck in our head for ages which finally recedes, until you can hardly remember any notes at all; until someone sings you a line and it all comes flowing back. Our company will be that catalyst for nostalgia. How we'll long for that comfort of constancy, riding a wave, knowing we're all surging ahead together. That feeling of loss, it crept upon unchecked, unnoticed, like a river swelling behind a dam, until something gave way. Somehow though, things will remain the same. We'll be so much more than ourselves then, value what we took for granted. Of course there will be tears, warm hugs and cold relationships that finally thaw. One abstract idea of mutual belonging will unearth all we hadn't felt for so long. 

We'll be so much more than just wrinkles, responsibilities, families, experiences, successes or regrets. We'll be us again, someday, sharing obscure memories we don't recall with anyone else.

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