An Immortal Everyday Misery

When I will count those moments which have occurred recently - among them the ones which were entirely unplanned and unexpected - this incident will indeed rank among the higher ones.

11-12-2014, a unusually usual morning for me. Mom wished me Good luck for the day, as she left for her office. Brother and Dad wished me the same too, and I get set for the 10 kilometer journey to my office, like I'd been doing for the last approx 150 days now. I could feel the cold in the bones of my fingers as I rode on, and was pleasantly surprised to see the roads not as packed as they usually are at ~9:30AM. The highway was crossed with unexpected ease and there I was in Noida waiting to complete the remaining 60% of my drive. It wasn't too soon that the storm hit me hard. Like a million dead vehicles clogging the veins of this metropolitan, the roads were nowhere visible. Amidst the cuboidal blocks were minute struggles of motorbikes, cycles and pedestrians grabbing every chance to sliding though the gaps. Though the journey was still enormous like the Pacific to be covered in a lake motorboat. I did think different and broke the law. The right of this road had but a few vehicles, and so I turned about, reached the gap in divider, and shifted to the wrong side till I was close to the junction of action. Few traffic police personnel seem to be struggling with routing the vehicles, while everyone wanted to be the first one to cross. I loved the fact that being on a bike you could somehow swim through the rocks of obstruction, and so I was soon a kilometer ahead of where I could have been if I was in a car. Little did I know that the junction ahead was going to be a reason for a constant reflection for sometime today.

A huge bus standing strong blocking the road I had to follow. And beside it was a jungle of cars and auto-rickshaws, resulting in a blockage that seemed almost impossible to dodge. But then there was a limit to this stack of patience I had, and so I started to hunt for opportunities of slipping through the crevices. Turned here and tilted there, I was soon close to a gap that wanted my gut to decide whether to take the leap. And then I just did. Slowly moving ahead I knew something was about to snap as the gap was a few millimeters short of my bike width, which was increased a bit due to metal protectors on the sides of my front tire.

Then the sound came, and I bit my tongue. The rear of a car on my right had a small scratch and the one on my left had a snapping noise as it's number-plate catapulted a bit but nothing was broken. I looked at my right, expecting a scorn in the rear-view mirror. But like a blast at the back of my head, I heard a particularly eloquent abuse hurled at me from an elderly not so gentleman in the car on my left. This was unexpected. But what was even more unexpected was that he walked to the rear of his car and took a wooden lathi out. I thought to myself - Wow this dude is up to some serious beating business here. At such times, the brain has almost no time to speculate and take a side. So I stood strong (had no space to move anyway!) and waited for the epicenter of this storm to hit. He walked up close and an array of unstoppable verbal filth erupted from his elderly pockmarked mouth. I looked at the bloodshot in his eyes and suddenly felt pity. The humility with which I talked to him would surprise me later on when I give this incident some further deeper thought. I remember myself acting not like I usually do. When the old man was the on the brink of exploding the nerve on his forehead, I smiled faintly and placing my palm on his chest asked him to relax, lest he get himself unwell.

A particularly junior traffic policeman came close and asked the older man to calm down. Though he himself stayed away from the range of his lathi. It was miraculous how such a natural and simple gesture as showing him support resulted in easing down his catastrophic blast. He walked back to his car and waited for the traffic to loosen. He did honk a few times before silently leaving.
For me, it was easy to call him an asshole and move on. But somehow my brain stuck a different cord. This old man, who had just abused me in the most outrageous of ways, was nothing but the face of a common Indian. He's probably wasted so much time stuck in traffic jams that it could be accommodated in a happier mini-life. Every day of these 150 ones while I've been driving from home to office, I noticed vehicles, roads and traffic instructions. But never did I notice the people. I never actually looked at their faces, while I exchanged abuses more than once every couple of days. It was today I realized that life is tough. It's short. And when you spend a chunk of it honking and waiting for hours in unending queues, it's but natural to be painfully dry and pissed off. But then who's to blame? I guess all of us. It's all of us who set certain rules, and then break them. The logic ultimately brings you to the decision - me or us? You can skip a red light and probably reach a few minutes earlier. But imagine when you interpolate this trend to a country of a billion people. From a logical standpoint, when you look at the larger picture, it's a blunder big time. But when done at the individual level, the long term impact isn't visible.

Being an Indian, I have learnt how even earning stomach-full is an everyday struggle for a jaw-dropping huge proportion of people. Can we solve it by coming closer in spirit, holding hands and walking together? Probably. Will we actually do it? I have no clue. I don't think anyone has. Not even the unknown old gentleman who's left a print on the sands of time for me.

A Snapshot of My Times - 3.1 (5th December 2014)

Adobe - Festival of Lights

It was a few months since June (when I moved to Adobe Systems, Noida), and a silent pinch inside my mind reminded me of this ghost of monotony that was soon going to envelop my everyday memory and leave nothing to be remembered.

Festival of Lights is the name given to Diwali celebrations at Adobe. There were different competitions and a round of Tambola at the end. Events were spread out evenly and consisted mostly of activities I had never experienced before. The first time I saw their notification email, it was like a view of an Oasis far away, and me being the desert traveller smiled.

Rangoli and Mehndi on Day 1, and Graffiti, Tambola and Best Dressed Male/Female competition and Photoshoot on Day 2. The first challenge was to get into teams. I ditched a group of my friends for Rangoli and joined a few seniors who had certain prior experience as the 2nd runners up of last year. For Mehndi it was almost a give-up until my friend from HR helped me get a volunteer. Something that remained common above was my NOT mentioning that it's going to be my first such experience in any of these. Marketing myself by showing my ancient sketches was pretty much sufficient :D All set, I was optimistic at least about not screwing up too much.

I was right, partially.

Parallelizing Planning & Execution

To call my experience of Rangoli amazing would be a dire underestimation. It was like asking a Guitarist to play Violin. With movements like rubbing my charcoal on a canvas, it was like natural instinct in play all throughout, and yes we rocked big time.

The 'Om-Ganeshaya-Namah' Project

I made friends. Ordinary people who suddenly became special for me. It was a natural connect, which translated into beautiful memories. We won the third. And I have no clue where I spent my 1000 bucks cash prize.

Tanvi, Utkarsh, Somya, Me, Chani

If Rangoli was the 'Good', mehndi was the 'Ugly'. My homework was extensive. A day before the event, all my traditional friends were busy searching the perfect mehndi design for me to use in the competition the next day. I did overestimate my fine art skills and thought any design was possible. The shortlisting was done and I suggested two choices to Kanchan, the volunteer. An Arabic mehndi pattern was selected, and the competition began. It was past the first few minutes that I realized it's not a child's play - that the Guitar-Violin logic doesn't hold true anymore, and even keeping the hand stable and letting an optimum flow of mehndi needed careful calibration and patience. Kanchan did have skyrocketing expectations thanks to the pattern I was supposed to emboss. Halfway through, I just wanted it to end. It did end, and I felt it wasn't too bad, but her eyes were partly murderous partly on the verge of bursting with tears. Not the best experience, especially when she's mentioned never forgiving and forgetting my 'Spider-Mehndi' :D

Model Credits: 'Khadoos' Kanchan

Graffiti was just random. There was no team, and the one that official existed had all but one members backed out. It was Somya who said 'What the heck' and we went to the 3rd floor balcony where the event was to happen. People with dangerously creative expressions seem to gape on blank canvases, and there we were asking random people to include us in their team. The bakras were finally found and we were all set with freshly collected team members, and having extremely no idea about what to draw. The obvious - keeping 'Adobe' as the theme, we thought of graffiti of characters as seen in fancy Hollywood movies. But Sir, sometimes that Ant hill is a mountain, and so here we were spraying the hell over this innocent white canvas, till it was so ugly a kid with a sensitive belly would have vomited. But then as good coders, we had to hack this into something that just clicked. So the graffiti was entirely overwritten' with black, and the ugly background was beautifully cast into the Adobe symbol. This was an achievement beyond measure, though the judges will never know, as no one in the team has any clue about who gave our Graffiti viva during judgement. Regardless, a taste of Graffiti, with a hint of a lesson - it's okay to be completely crazy, you won't essentially screw everything up. (Just remembered that I don't even know the team members' names!)

Somebody tell me what the f*ck have I done!

Getting into Serious Business!

The League of Unknown Participants

Searching frantically for the best possible Kurta-Pyajamas belonging to anyone in the family, in order to win the Best Dressed Male award, was an unbelievably embarrassing effort in vain. I was soon informed that the award is delivered as per the number of accessories. So you were supposed to look more like a Raamlela Character rather than being gracefully dressed in ethnic wear. So the USP of the day would primarily be posing like struggling Bollywood actors and getting clicked a billion times. The ladies, much in line with expectations, looked like their evolved avatars, hopefully past hours of hard work and labor in self-decoration and mending. The men looked like they took a bath early morning.

The 'Spot-Me!' Challenge picture

Happy days

The Photo-bomb Conspiracy

Revenge! Vengeance! 

Looking back.... :)

Division Speech Evaluation Failure

My mind split into two and debated about whether I should record this not so pleasant memory, but then there were certain hidden pieces of subtle reflection which would have perished with the memory.

A week of Viral infection, lying on the Sofa watching Television till the eye socket pained, sleeping on the coarse sofa itself, swallowing unbelievable quantities of medicine, and cycle repeat. Now that the background for my major excuse is set, let me take to you that morning when my Division level Speech Evaluation Competition was due. I must mention that this follows the emotional mention of my Area level victory, and so obviously the stakes were higher this time. To give up or not was the question, and it was a single fraction of a nanosecond when I said - F*ck this shit, let me go for it.

Covering myself with a painfully large number of clothes, I set off for the route on my bike. It was closer than the Area level venue but still took some bit of searching. My main concentration was not to lose consciousness while I'm on the wheels. Staying alive is (obviously) more important than delivering my Division level speech. On reaching the venue, I mustered a reservoir of strength to speak aloud my name for participation. I knew it was late already, but didn't expect any disturbances as the Area level event has started ages after the stated time. But what was to follow punctured a hole in whatever strength I had been reaping. I was officially replaced by the first runner's up of the Area level event as my Club president had informed a night earlier that 'Karan might  not come tomorrow as he's unwell.' This particular gentleman (let's call him Person X) would be jubilant to hear this news, and so there he stood. I was humble and expected the same from him, but then I noticed the darker web behind the scenes. One of the Officers being this X's close friend didn't lose a chance to kick me out of the event and claim the participation for his dear loving friend. I sensed danger and like Spider sense I knew that if I were to deliver what I was supposed to, I would have to fight for it I didn't though, as higher authority was called and they brought forth the rule book which was to resolve this conflict. When the confusion prevailed, the most senior gentleman was inquired, and without a moment's doubt he spoke in the favour of original participants confirmation, i.e. me. What happens next will break your emotional dam. X cried. Tears in his eyes, his voice cracking like I'd stolen his house, his daughter and robbed him of the treasure of his life. To be honest, it was that moment I thought it giving it to him, but what floated in the back of my mind was the dirty politics X and his Officer friend had played. And so it was another F*ck-This-Shit moment and I was in the Conference hall.

I replaced his position, which was the last among about 7-8 people. This was worst case scenario for me, as I'd not know the competition till the results are out. Looking at their faces, I knew this was it, and that I should push as hard as I can, and then leave it to fate. When the demo speech was delivered, a part of my active processing brain made notes and when I went on stage I knew deep inside this was it and I would be crushed under my own expectations. The speech began well, and I saw the senior-most officer smile, but all what followed was void of each and every component of my otherwise USP - confidence, energy, clarity and definition of content flow, and most of all substantial evaluation points. I spoke a bit too much during participant interviews, and quickly got down of stage on spotting a couple of murderous eyes for overshooting the time limit for empathetic listening to random bullshit.

The climax comes, and I didn't even win the third prize. X atleast got a hug, special mention in the audience and a badge to boast of his leadership skills. Like an elderly gentleman returning to his old age home, I slowly got up with my Jeans bag and walked upstairs to leave. I spotted the lady who was one important reason for me still sitting there. I walked past her. I was difficult to look into her eyes with the Sorry-I-Screwed-Up-Expression. Then almost at the exit, I turned back. Thanking her, we shook hands. Her robotic gesture about 'Good job there' was followed by a warning to my club for better organization. I guess it was good to close chapters and leave.

Thank you Papa Mum and Bhai for not making my self-esteem sink even deeper. When I told them I screwed it up, it was cute to see Mum mint the obvious logic and try to make me feel comfortable in my own skin. Papa and Bhai followed and I suddenly felt that achievement isn't essentially the only path to happiness. Sometimes we should experience this non-glittery-shimmery aspect of happiness when you're just content the way you are, and a hug is infinitely more touching than a facebook dp with a trophy.

Toastmasters Area B2 - Speech Evaluation

11th October 2014
Just before I slept last night, something inside my mind told me that this Saturday deserved more acknowledgement than I had given it. The event was Toastmasters Area Level B2 Speech Evaluation Contest (each area comprises of ~6 clubs), the venue being Interra IT, SEZ Phase 2 Noida. Among my preparations were - carefully saving the map to the location, and watching 3-4 winner videos (some were ancient - dating back 5 years).
I woke up to some disturbance the next morning. 5AM it was I felt drugged. The voice inside my head said 'Go to sleep, man!' but I knew I had to leave home about 2 hour before the event begins as I wasn't well-aware of the area of the route. I stole a few intervals of sleep, then dragged myself out of my bed, opened my wardrobe, fished for my year old college-placement-times shirt and trousers bought when I was in Morgan Stanley, Mumbai (and had to wear formals to office),

Google told me I'd take 26 minutes to reach the destination, but I left 90 minutes early. I was much-expectedly lost on the way, and in the middle of Bharola Village, had to call the Area Governor, who's number I had thankfully saved. His wife picked up and sounded partially asleep, while I was in the middle of nowhere shooting questions about the address, landmark and directions. I was amused to know they were still asleep, and hence my gut told me that they'll begin the event late, and also that my striving-for-punctuality has backfired again. I reached 30 minutes before the event was supposed to begin. As I was parking my bike outside Interra, I met Neeraj Gupta, the Big guy in Toastmasters from Adobe. It was a pleasant surprise. I had heard his name numerous times before, but seeing him there, I realized this event was going to be serious business (possibly involving some Biggies). He accompanied me downstairs to the hall, and we shared about our teams and positions. As soon as we entered the premises, the volunteers rushed to welcome him (and a small welcome for me as well). We signed, I was asked to pay 100 bucks as registration fees (which was a surprise) and asked with a smile to wait in the meeting area. This was going to be a moment of shock for me. 30 minutes to event and not a single participant seemed to have arrived. It was all volunteers and empty chairs waiting for participants. I knew for sure now that I was too early. Although the email specifically said 9AM, I'm sure no one there had taken an oath similar to mine, for being on time.
I grabbed a few snacks and had sat down brainstorming on possible exciting options for passing time, when I met two gentlemen and out of a social-desperation, struck a dialogue. They were much elder to me, and were associated with Toastmasters for pretty long. I'd mention Srinivasan here, who accompanied me as a friend (and didn't make me feel he's about 15 years older to me) all throughout. A Tamilian by origin, he had found both job and love here in Delhi, and so was an almost Delhite by now. Something in him reminded me of Namesh, my friend from HYPY, and so we bonded quite well.
10.30AM, 1.5 hours after the scheduled beginning, the event starts. Two Areas were supposed to have their respective competitions - Area B3 first and B2 second. Each Area had participants for two events - Humorous Speech and Speech Evaluation Contest. In a nutshell, I had to wait for a minimum of 9 speeches and maximum of 11 speeches for my turn. Area B3 had decent performances, and I had an evil spark of confidence when I realised that unless I totally screw it up, it was not difficult to beat that level. I took notes for the Sample speaker for B3, did a quick personal practice, framed certain reusable punchlines and went to the washroom for a good 7 times in 3 hours. Yes, I was nervous. But something inside me felt good in that moment of weakness in the knees and shaking of the hands. I knew this was to be accepted, fought against and conquered. And that there was no other option. I remembered screwing up a debate during my school time, and asked myself why couldn't I just go out there and put the stage on fire with a brilliant piece. Time flew away, and it was our turn now - Area B2. The first humorous speech was Srinivasan's, and he rocked the audience into volumes of laughter and cheer. His topic 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness' was aptly supposed with an extremely humorous example of his wife. The bars were raised, and everyone felt he'd be the chosen one. The speaker who went second did an amazing job and almost matched Srinivasan's level. The competition had just become cut-throat. Another trip to the washroom and I missed Speaker 3's speech. Peeping from outside the hall glass, I inferred the audience was rolling with laughter. This speaker resembled a distorted version of a friend of mine back in Mumbai - Sumit Kotasthane, who is a naturally spontaneous comedian himself. Next was my awaited event, and I was chosen to be the second participant to go (as per a draw). Now based on experience, I've seen people who go second have an advantage over others, especially over the one who goes first. So this made me a bit confident, though I could now have no clue about how the first performance meant, which meant no clue of the results before they would be announced.
It was announced for the Test speaker to begin with his speech. 'Gaurav' I quickly noted down the name. My copy had dedicated sections for rough notes and a sheet for writing those notes in fair. I remember ruthlessly scribbling while my ears were constantly plugged in to his voice - the quality, modulation, content, and occasionally I would look up to notice movement, body language, usage of the stage, and expressions. I noted down how he began, set the theoretical foundation, gave data of both qualitative and quantitative nature, used pauses to emphasize, and went about in a coordinated, organized manner. From watching those sample videos, I already knew that the evaluation itself needs to be like a story. That I needed to make it special, so had preplanned a small bonus - to reuse two insanely comic punches from two Humorous speeches which were given (and I knew well that the audience will recall the punches which will push my speech to a level above, effortlessly). That worked out well. I used the Spartan king Leonidas for enacting how to give an argumentative blow, then hold yourself back for the audience to absorb the impact. Relativity held true and time flew by amazingly fast. The red card was shown (which means I have crossed the upper limit and into the grace period now) and it was then my mind asked me to conclude and shut the hell up. The conclusion was fast, so only those who paid attention had the laugh, but this helped me judge that I was successfully able to atleast preserve the attention of some people out there. As I walked back to my seat, my mind quickly told me what went right and what went wrong. I had completely forgotten to wish the Contest Chair and had begun straight off; in order to cover all points, I had been a bit too fast; not maintain requisite eye contact with the audience; and at the end of it, instead of 'Good job Gaurav', I said 'Good job guys' :P The last one was excruciatingly embarrassing, but I was glad it was over. Though passing time now was a pain.
The judges seemed to take ages for evaluating results. Meanwhile we had interviews of the participants, as customary, and I was asked the story behind what I had mentioned about what inspires me. 'Humility in Perfection' was what I had written. I mentioned Bruce Lee, and this principle being something I'm trying to inculcate in myself. We had a small speech from the Guest, Reet Arora, who spoke on 'Leadership lessons from a Panipuri wala'. Her speech wasn't that content-heavy but the delivery was impeccable. Meanwhile my heart was thumping wild, and my mind was pretty much boiling inside a pressure cooker. It is this moment, a strange voice inside me spoke up and that relaxed me beyond any measure. I opened my copy and wrote down what that voice had said...

I was suddenly transported to a different world. A more peaceful one, where it was okay to fail, but important to learn out of it. I could not wait in peace for the results. Though my brain did not stop crunching probabilistic numerical logic and told me 'Just pray you atleast get the first runner's up trophy :P'. The results were there. Area B3 came first. We cheered for the winners. Though everyone seemed to be waiting for Area B2 results, and so the anxiety in the air increased exponentially. Speech Evaluation results were declared first, and the Runner's up was given to the Sumit-look-alike co-participant. I had expected my name, but now it was clear that either the next name is miraculously going to be mine, or I got disqualified due to speaking over-time, and the judges decided to award the more mature looking lady coming from Statistical Mathematical background for the first position. The announcer consumed a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. I heard some people call out my name in the background. It was the slow motion scene before the blast in an action movie. And the moment arrived sooner than expected and hit harder than I had thought.
Well, simply said, I won.

Walking up to the stage, with a cheering crowd behind, it was difficult to hide my smile that had conquered all available inches on my face. I don't know how many times I thanked the dude who handed me a small Winning trophy and a certificate. I didn't wait long enough for a picture. Hadn't given my cellphone to anyone. I didn't care about the picture actually. The feeling that moment was really nice. It was waking up at 5, driving 15 kms on a dusty road to an unknown place, getting bored as hell, torturous moments of anxiety, hunger and cruel competition paying off. 'Seems you did a good job bro' I told to myself and went back to sit at my seat trying to conceal the blast of happiness inside with a supposedly humble expression on my face.
Unfortunately, Srinivasan didn't win. I felt sad as he was the one who had raised the standards so high. Also, he was the closest I had to a 'friend' there in the crowd of a horde of unknown faces. He tried hard but could not hide that pain. I told him he was a Winner for me, but it was all in vain. He left shortly, just after congratulating the winners and giving me his contact number. Some people came to congratulate me and introduced themselves (finally noticing that I existed!). Others still seemed busy with their own gang. Gaurav (the Test speaker) whom I happened to know a bit well as we chatted during the snacks break, wished me like old college times (Shouting 'Bhai you did it' and hugging like we've just won World War 3). It was a good feeling. Neeraj walked up to me really happy with the fact that Adobe had won. He asked me to catch up in office. I left the premises shortly.
On my way back, I knew which direction to go. But regardless I got lost again. Though this time, it really didn't matter. All what I could think about was how my Mom and Dad would be when I do enact my copyrighted drama about losing badly, just before they discover the trophy and certificate. It made me smile. Warm feeling, it was, to think about making my parents feel proud something I've done. I drove on, about 10 kilometers off route now, but managed to reach a place I could recognize and so, corrected my direction. I drove on at 60 kilometers per hour, the wind softly brushing past my face, and it the peace I felt was one of getting back from a war.
Back at home, my drama didn't work out that well (I've done it so many times, it doesn't work anymore), but they were ecstatic. I felt like a kid again when they hugged me and said 'Kamaal karta hai yaar tu toh' :P

A lot of photographs later, I changed my clothes. The peaking 'high' of victory was wearing off amazingly fast. And it was then I decided to write about before the moment was forgotten among a billion others. At times in life, it's good to wait and appreciate the smaller happiness' that life has to offer, and appreciate the fight that goes behind achieving it. It's cute to be embarrassed at how jumpy you are when something works out. It makes me believe in forgetting about the cloak of etiquette. I'd rather be jumpy, immature and idiotically happy instead :D
Yay!

Happy Karva chauth

For the memories.

12-10-2014

Different Nations. Different Faces of REALITY.

http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/pakistan-violates-ceasefire-for-10th-time-in-one-month/article6473085.ece

http://www.dawn.com/news/1136404/indian-troops-resort-to-unprovoked-firing-at-loc-ispr

Kabalarians.com Baba ka Gyan

• Your name of Karan gives you a highly sensitive, idealistic, and intuitive nature.

Yay. I hope that implies something good.

• You could be expressive and creative in the arts, music, or drama. 

Right. Makes 'perfect sense' to be a Computer Engineer working with a Multinational.

• Since you are not inclined to give due consideration to practical and business matters, you could miss out on reaching a level of financial success appropriate for your efforts and abilities. 

Fuck I don't wanna die poor!

• You feel and sense much that you do not fully understand, and you can be deeply influenced through the thoughts of others without realizing just how you are being affected. 

Yeah, thanks for officially called me a emo-wierdo.

• Others are inclined to take advantage of your generosity and friendliness and then, when there is a lack of reciprocation, you can feel despondent and disillusioned. 

Reciprocation! Girls, please read this again.

• Moods are a problem as you can be highly inspired one minute, and the next become quite irritated and annoyed over some ill-timed remark or lack of consideration on the part of someone close to you. 

Sanyaas in the Himalayas is the only way out now.

• You could suffer through nervous breakdowns, as well as disturbing thoughts, which could affect your concentration and memory. 

Can. You. Stop. Freaking. Me. Out. For. God's. Sake.

• Also, disorders in the fluid functions could arise.
  

Okay. Enough of this bullshit.

• Although the name Karan creates the urge to understand others, we emphasize that it causes an emotional intensity that is hard to control. 

That's still insulting.

• This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the fluid and nervous system.

So bottom-line, I'm an emotional freak with 'fluid' disorders and potential nervous breakdowns. You made my day man.

http://www.kabalarians.com/Male/Karan.htm

^What the fuck was I thinking?

Rachel

She was late by 25 minutes. This was unexpected. So I smiled at myself for being wrong about her. The last time I saw her three months back, she was the 'Mother India' concept personified for me. Ironically it was equally good and bad to know I was wrong.

She'd understand the Mother-India pun if she ever reads this.

Connaught Place has been an amazing place for first (and last) meetings. You both'd be like two souls lost amidst a thousand more, trying to steal a moment or two of existential solace. And so we walked on, equally clueless about where to encapsulate the few billion microseconds of togetherness to follow.

Cafe Coffee Day it was. Tropical Iceberg, Choco Frappe and White Pasta it was. She was wrong again when she said we'd find peace. I wont't tell her this though.

Struggle in the tune of the music in a whirlpool of loud murmur pained my throat. But we talked. I pretended to be busy relishing the pasta as she looked around, and I looked at her, stealing more glances than I should have, and thought about how she existed in pieces of contradictory dipoles - the alpha of mystic philosophy and the omega of ruthless materialism.

I have no clue if she even listened to what erupted off an inexplicable spontaneity of memories of college times - of the story in flesh and blood of a struggle for IIT (BHU) conversion, of finding unexpected first love and endeavouring its preservation amidst difficult times. About faith and the art of war with one's own internal motivation and translated action.

And so I stopped talking. For she was a poem of an incomprehensible figurative art. And my words were dwarfed by the secret monologue of my internal mind...

She'd be like childhood horror stories - the more I read the more lost I'd be. And she'd be long gone before I move past the fundamental premise of the consciousness she is. 

So I let go of the rein snatched from hands of time, and looked at the digital hours and minutes in the supine of my mobile phone screen, simulating our Goodbye as imaginary seconds ticked in incremental silence. It was her resplendence to bent the curve of time and space which stayed behind as she left as an incomplete prose with a perfect expression in the back of your mind, but no material ink to cast a scintillating mysticism of perspective in a framework of comprehensible emotion.

A conspiracy of capturing concluding microseconds before Goodbye rendered me much akin an unprepossessing drug abused. Cocaine overdose I'd say.