So when I was making tea the other day, oh wait.
I like tea.
I drink an awful lot of tea every day. My mom thinks it's an addiction, and I might die of cancer one day. Though what I can't tell her is that, if it wasn't for Chai I would've taken my own life a long time ago. Chuckles.
So I was making tea and it's nice and warm outside. You know the 4 'O clock light warmness. The sky slowly turning orange-red gradient. Soon it'll be Violet when looked through my bathroom window. It's a cool view, so I sometimes stand there for a while even after I'd done with the peeing. Especially if my neighbor is cooking, the smoke would be all upon the sky, and orange and violet beams gliding through it give a cool view.
Where was I?
So I was making tea, and all these snippets of memories come back running to me. And the funny thing was that these are memories of events that have never happened, you know. But it felt like events that I'd already experienced, so it was more like a deja vu.
So after a few hours of spiraling and brief conversations with my subconscious, I reached this conclusion.
Parallel world. Is there a movie about this? Maybe I have already seen it, and that's why I'm thinking like this.
So parallel world, an infinite number of worlds similar to ours. That means an infinite number of Keanu Reeves and infinite Modis and yeah, also infinite selves.
So infinite number of worlds.
So like maybe in another world, I'm not socially awkward nor I have this constant longing to escape reality. Or maybe I don't fear sleep paralysis and thus don't keep myself from falling asleep. Where I don't just sit thinking about doing stuff instead of just doing it.
Yes, one of those worlds.
So I think the memories were a letter from that worlds me.
Although some parts of the letter were faded and not readable, I was able to reconstruct it with a little bit of fantasy and snippets from my own memories.
It's a cafe.
From the exterior, it looks like an antiquated classroom building. It seems like a parched large piece of land and a canal are flowing along its side such that the cafe's side is facing it.
The part that seems like a front yard is so big and has irregular red brick pavings here and there. Seems like the owners didn't bother to change it and left it as for the archaic touch.
Small wooden platforms have been turned into tables and people are sitting on small white chairs in groups of 2 or 3. I count less than 20 people overall.
It's a nice and obsolete spot.
The waiter comes by in his cool leather aprons and black turban and pours us another round of Hyderabadi tea.
It's a dark gray sky but we all know it's not gonna rain today. If I was Theodore Finch, I would call it a perfect day.
We're seated under a large tree that seems like a banyan tree that's way over her prime. Still provides the shade though.
And we're just sitting there. What are we talking about?
Memories, School, College, Football, Movies, culture, people.
I can't remember how long have we been sitting there. we seem to jump from one topic to another.
We don't care. We are young. We are 20 and we're alive. Living what it's worth, while we still can.
The only people in the world I could sit with whom my mind won't go wandering to dark places.
And I think in each one of those worlds, I would have you, people. And that makes life worth living for.
A grin appears on the right corner of my mouth.
**
A deserted beach
It seems like late evening. The sky looks as if it's going to rain any minute now, and then again it won't.
I think the sky's palette alone is enough to make one wonder that there has to be someone behind all this. Funny, right?
I'm staring into the old couple standing on the top rail of the light-house at the end of the beach. They're taking a selfie. I chuckle and realize you've been watching me. I keep looking away.
We’re staring at that big ball of fire slowly, slowly dipping into the ocean. We’re in perfect silence. Just the sound of waves occasionally coming back, like bringing back all the good memories, ie; conversations I had with you. And I look at you. The strip of side bangs falling on your right eye. Well, that makes you look kinda mysterious too. LOL. And I’m smiling, a smile that puts that drop of tear at the edge of my right eye back in its place. And I wonder, Oh what good deed did I do, that I was this fortunate to meet you, that too at the right time in our lives. Waves touch our feet. You turn your face towards me, reminding me of that Northie kid, whom you thought always saw right through your soul when he looked at you.
My heart feels light.
I think about all the letters you've written to me.
The first one where you were afraid you might break my heart.
The one about all the conversations.
The one on the yellow paper.
And all the other ones.
My heart feels light. Is love light? I ask you.
You grin and close your eyes.
You're fading away with the wave, the grin still on your lips. I try to hold you back.
I'm left alone.
The old couple is still up there.
I pinch myself to make sure I'm not fantasizing about one of those romantic coming-of-age movies I've seen.
The dream fades away along with the next retreating wave.
I snap back as I realize the water has been overboiled.
A faint smile appears as I carefully drop a pinch of crushed cardamom powder into the cup. I sneak back into my room.
I pick out my journal from under the bed and starts writing,
"So when I was making tea...
Hmm, I like the word 'grin'.
Sayonara.
***
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