My Christmas wish.

This Christmas, I wish to smile more than I usually do. I wish to smile real smiles and not fake ones anymore. And if in case I don’t want to smile at all, at someone or anyone, I wish with all my heart that I don’t try too hard or force myself to. This Christmas, I wish I don’t try and understand every single soul I meet, don’t try to look at things from “their” point of view and step into “their" shoes. This Christmas I wish my anger lasts longer and I learn to hate people for more than half an hour. I wish that I don’t yearn to be good or try to be nice. I wish I learn that not all things around are bright and beautiful and that there are blacks and greys and will always remain. This Christmas, I wish that all those people who deserve a piece of my mind get it as and when they need to. I wish they get to see the bad side of me and regret like never that they met me. I wish I listen not to my head but more to my heart and I do all that it asks me to. This Christmas, I wish I learn to hurt, to ignore and most importantly to swear. I wish to learn not to regret, not think twice or even once after I speak my mind. This Christmas, I wish to be me. And not just somebody who some others want me to be.

Merry Christmas to me.

Signs.

I wish, to walk away.

I wish, I’d never want to look back.

Of all the wrongs and stupid truths

There’s never a reason to hold me back

Yet to feel funnily right

Guilty of love. Happy to be.

There’s never an urge to think otherwise.

Sheepish smiles continue to haunt.

Thoughts remain, they refuse to change.

The pause.

Just when you thought that the rains were over and the bright sunny days were back, you find yourself blanketed by dull grey clouds once again. So dull that you strain to keep yours eyes open. So grey that you stop believing in black or white. No matter how hard you try, all you see is a thick layer of fog all the way ahead. Giving you, not even the slightest hint of what awaits you. You strain harder and your eyes start hurting. And then somewhere, between the moment of grief and the moment of optimism, you step into a dark whirlpool of random images. Thoughts, to be precise. And before you even know, you find yourself tumbling across. From one image to another. The past. The present. The future. And then you find yourself frowning when you see the past. With images so clear, that you almost fail to believe that it happened. Because the past never seemed so vivid when it was the present. Or perhaps because you never thought that it would lead you to the future you’re in now. You try opening your eyes in between in an attempt to step out of it, but something sucks you back in. Deeper down and you almost find yourself falling. This time, you’re tickled, poked and rammed amidst a stampede of questions. You find the answer to one, but soon the next one crops up, you solve that and another boos you from behind. Left, right, centre. Madness. Then there’s a lullaby. A musical that drags you even further down. Here you have some others waiting for you. Guilt. Wrath. Possessiveness. All the bad guys. And they host a party. To celebrate your arrival. They know you’ll stay there for long. Maybe for good. You settle down, in a corner. You give in hoping for the fog to clear, the questions to fade and the bad guys to shrink. And then you feel the curves of your lips widen a bit. You cuddle and breathe out a sigh, as you watch a dream tiptoe from the corner of your eye.

My bedtime story.

Once upon a time there lived a little girl named Sara. She lived on the hill, in a room full of stars. But she cried almost everyday because she was in love with the moon. Though the stars shined bright and played along with her, she still missed the moon, to be with whom she wished upon every star.

So one day, Sara decided to write a letter to the moon. She started by saying,

My dear moon,

I see you from my window everyday

And wonder as I do

Do you want to come down and play?

Do you love me the way I do?

As she wrote the letter, she looked outside the window. To see if the moon was listening to all that she had to say.

I love you so much my dear moon

I love you with all my heart

I wish there was a way I could make you mine

And never had to part

Just then, Sara thought she saw the moon smile. She wiped away her tears and continued writing, now with a smile.

People say I’m funny and weird

They think I’m being too silly

But what can I do if I love you so?

So what if I’m a lil crazy?

Dear moon, I know you’re too far

Farther than the dreams I see

But I can’t seem to stop loving you

And wishing you were with me.

Sara put down her pen and looked outside as the moon shined. And then, as if they spoke, and the moon had something to say, Sara wrote a few more lines. And closed her book after she did.

I may perhaps never reach you

Or never be able to play with you

But I’m sure I’ll never have to miss you

Coz no matter where I go I know where to find you.

:)

Happily ever after.

What could get better than this? You and your first-grade buddies, sitting together on the park bench in school, 15 years later.

I’d say, nothing.

5^th September was special. And I can’t seem to stop smiling, as I write about it. It was not just a walk down memory lane, but re-living each and every moment we could remember. And it almost felt like we were there, behind our desks, passing comments on the teacher in front, exchanging notes, re-writing assignments, forging dad’s signature, rehearsing dance moves, singing out of tune – without a pinch of shame.

God! Am I in love with you guys!

I used to be the “singer”. Ahem. And no, it wasn’t one of those, Oh-God-sari- do-you-still-sing moments. But a oh-remember-how-funny-it-was-to-hear-her sing-that-song moment. Lol. Yeah, that was something else that made the whole evening “different” There was not once that there was a long silence, when we looked at each other, took a deep breath and went, “those were the days”. We were back in time, remember? So we did what we’ve always been doing in class and outside. Pulling each other’s legs, finding faults, blaming someone for being smarter, laughing at how girls from other schools were always more beautiful than our own (and yes, that included me), basketball court stories, exam hall goof ups, everything that brought out the worst in us. Not one single moment of feeling good. But a whole evening of being ourselves.

Two of the guys brought their wives. Praveen and Debie. And it was so funny to see them join us in teasing their husband with their old girlfriends (lines, in the typical mallu slang). Sangeetha, Praveen’s wife couldn’t stop laughing when we told her how he used to swing on the bars in the park, to impress a certain someone. Rintu – Mrs. Debie, on the other hand, was curious. She wanted to know what else her husband was upto other than tearing pages of library books, that carried women in their bare minimums. Stany, the smart ass he’s always been, didn’t bring his wife Manju. He knew one thing for sure, that that would be the last day of his “and they lived happily ever after” story. Haha! And he was soo right! Rajesh is engaged to Sandra. She will be joining us in our next get-together. We’ll make sure she does. No matter what big idea the man has in his mind! ;)

I’ll be posting pictures soon. And I’ll keep saying this to myself, very often, from now on. I’ve had the best school days ever. And the most adorable fellahs as my friends. There’s nothing that can take them away from me. Nothing that’ll replace those wonderful days. Love you guys so much.

Can’t wait for October 2, already. ;)