You’re somewhere in the air right now, flipping pages of a Salmaan Rushdie or an Amitav Ghosh maybe.
You’re holding the book tight, very tight. You don’t want to think of her. You feel sick in the head and heart. She might be the one girl you love the most but she messes up your head every time. She misapprehends your priorities and the necessity to attend them. She’ll never ever try and understand you. She believes Rushdie is convoluted, and Ghosh is intricate, you find them much simpler compared to her.
You look around. Almost everybody around you is either fast asleep and snoring or muzzy with sleep. You order for a cup of coffee. They don’t have your favourite Tea with drops of lemon in it, they only have liquor and coffee to offer. Your sister, sited next to you is dead asleep. Her blanket all messed up. Your lips stretch and you smile. Yes, that smile is just for her, after all she is the only reason why you are leaving your home and every beloved behind. You whisper in your mind, “I wish you all the peace in the world for your sound sleep my dear, all your life”.
You close your eyes. Your destination is your new job that you would have to hunt for, and a whole new city which is in a separate continent all over. You are excited as well as puzzled. Your mind is nothing but a muddled pile of thoughts. This is the way your mind works- initially you are all so overwhelmed and then it always ends in the most disappointing way. You have this thing common with your beloved, probably that is the reason why you can’t stop thinking about her. No, you don’t want to think of her. She disowned you without any reason. You tried explaining her, but she rarely listened. She has more people to her life, you have yours. You can never wrap your head around the idea of love. You have your career to build, responsibilities to hold and people to prove your worth to.
Your coffee is here. If it were tea, it would have made you happier. You look out at the window. Its all so dark outside. Coffee is always so bitter, you wonder how its her favourite. You know reading does not help. You have hours to kill. You switch on to coldplay. You think of her again. She was really angry, the last time you met her. You might not see her again before this year is over, you might not be able to return home before that, once you get a job. The kohl in her eyes – how it melts in the corner of her eyes every time and make it look like dark circles, the way she stares, her laughter. You will no longer be a part of her silly fights, hysterical laughter, huge complaints, never-ending questions, and all the drama she does. Yes, you might never see her again if she meant every word she said before you parted. Your mind is in distress, the book, this journey, the thoughts in your head, you don’t want to think of her. You open your book and pretend to read.
You hear an announcement. That you are nearing some destination. It’s not your destination though, but its approaching some city. You look out at the sky. Its all lit up. You take your cellphone out of your pocket, restless to switch it on. Neither coldplay nor the book, nothing helps. You have hours to kill and ecstasy has made sleep impossible.
Miles away, she wakes up to a text, “So, you really think forgetting me is an option with you?”