Disconnected Connections

There’s so much to tell you,

I don’t know where to start.

Just start wherever.

We’ll ramble our way through.


New stories. Old stories.

Finding new stories from the old ones,

and old ones from the new.

The shared past of their lives,

seeping into the present- blurring time.

Two wandering souls,

drawing conclusions from seven years ago.

To now.

Ah those times!

Happy times?

But didn’t they cry more than ever?

Cried because of…

Cried for…

Cried with…

Only to take up every drop and evaporate it as love.

Smiles and tears.

Good and bad.

The ‘good’ that is in the bad and

the ‘bad’ that is in the good.

Life.

Happy smiles. Sad smiles.

Happy tears. Sad tears.

Happy smiles turning into nostalgic tears,

All those contained tears,

now flowing with feeble smiles.

Everything has an end?

Everything has an end.

We fool ourselves,

Looking back and forth,

Forgetting about the ‘now’.

It’s getting late.

Should they go back to their ‘lives’?

Assignments and exams waiting for them at the doorstep.

Metros rushing past- one..two..three..

until they lost count.

“We’ll take the next one.

The next, for sure!”

And yet, no one moves.

Because they are thirsty. For more.

To add to the mountain of memories.

“Hop in or we’re going to stay here forever!”

Phew!

Central Secratariat.

“Your stop! Get lost now. Bye.”

Will she turn around and smile? or wave?

Duh! Bollywood ruins entered much later.

Ours is no fairy tale.

I’ll text her, after I go back.

We must stay connected.

But how do we trust these gadgets that kicked in much later.

We’re friends since the time we called ourselves ‘BFFLS’ and took pride in it.

When the only pictures we had were the ones clicked at school with awkward faces.

Posing? Pouting? Whaa?

When a phone meant: A Phone. For four people.

When seeing, replying and updating each other happened face to face.

When being there for each other meant crossing the street,

and actually being there.

When calling each other was standing outside the door and shouting names.

And then, we grew up.

Technology happened.

Sadly, not to us.

Facebook, Gmail, WhatsApp, text messages-

none seem to be doing justice to keep us ‘connected’.

It’s okay. Maybe this is how we are.

Uncertain about when we’ll meet or talk.

Certain that we’ll only grow closer each time.

And so we diverge.

Into different paths.

Disconnect.

Connect.

The floor of the metro station,

waiting for us to come back,

eat a sanitized apple,

trains pass by- one…two…three…

Until we lose count.

Life threatens us to move on.

And yet, we choose stillness,

racing against time and speed.

‘O’ & ‘I’

I am always the ‘other’, says her friend.

‘Oh, he’s unwell! but she will take care, It’s not like he needs you.’

She needs me? Oh, okay she has her.

What about her? Alright, she has him!

But, isn’t he already hers?

Who was she? Did anyone need her?

Want. Need. There must be a difference.

She was there. Always.

She loves him and her and her and oh, him too.

They love her back. So much.

They love her back. Do they love her second?

Or maybe third?

Is there a list?

What bulshit! It’s love!

Love, love, love

No one, two, three,

If there is love, there is love.

She is nice, they say. Her smile is lovely.

And her laugh? contagious for sure.

Everyone likes her.

But do they comment? 

A honey bee. Yes. That is what she is.

Harms no one, just moves.

She can never be a constant.

But why?

Change. Ah. That is life!

One flower here, one there.

Seep in the sweet, carry it and spread.

You? You need some? She will give it to you.

Yes. It’s okay! Take it.

Make sure you share it too.

You will not?

Oh okay. You will.

With just one? Why?

You love this one?

How can you love only one?

But…

Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe she had to change.

Change. Isn’t that what she wanted?

Change. A little more.

Oh no, it’s not you anymore. A little less.

Um, stop..Stop!

Would this do?

What? He is different?

Where’s the potion? What was it again?

Change. Yes. A little more.

No, no, a little less. Perfect!

Perfect?

Who are you?

Do I know you?

You have changed!

Change yourself. Change for better.

They will understand.

Not too much, not too little. Just as much.

Oh, it’s all perfect now.

He is hers. She is his.

And her?

She tried.

She changed.

She changed back.

Something was wrong.

Can no one else see it?

Everyone is happy. Him. Her. And her too.

But, was this even him? and her? and her?

I think it’s him. But oh, he is so much like her.

And her? Well, she is so full of him.

Something is wrong.

She was wrong.

She never knew them.

Strangers on the path.

That’s what they were.

Strangers? Really? how strange!

Should she make them her friends?

Share her sweetness?

What if they don’t share it?

What if they change her?

How much of her can change, for her to still be herself?