Why is it that we can write, mostly, with fondness about our pasts? Why are relationships defined and framed in names and roles? I'm 22. And I have been in love twice. But I've loved many men. When I talk to an ex, (although the break-up was messy, we have both gracefully matured and are now friends who care for each other's well-being) we wonder where those days disappeared. We don't stray near that territory often - but when we do...it is a joyful, mystical ride for me. Is it because we share a past? a connection to where we come from? or just some happy memories?
The last time I was in India, I cleared many skeletons from my closet. When I was 15, I had committed the worst mistake a gangly, boyish teenager can commit-- I had fallen in love with my best friend. Ofcourse, it played out in the typical Kuch Kuch Hota Hai fashion (only the movie hadn't released then and when the movie did come out- I cried in the theater and inwardly thanked Karan Johar for making that movie. I hoped that my best friend would watch and realize what he didn't know.)
We were so close. So incredibly close. Everything that happened to me, replayed all over again when I narrated to him at the end of the day. And everything he experienced, thought, felt, knew--came to me like a little bird returning to its nest every night. We were comfort for each other.
We fell apart...though. I found new people, I found a handsome boy who liked me...and I outgrew my windshield-like spectacles and impish hair. My best friend did love me, he always had....only it was too late when he realized it. We didn't speak/meet for a couple of years after that. This time I got in touch with him when I went home.
It was a little awkward. I didn't know how to act around him, with him. At one point, he used to be my best friend-- he used to be mine. And that was the only way I had known him. On my birthday, I insisted that he hang out with my friends and get to know them....that night, I apologized to him. I still don't know why I said sorry and for what. But I think he deserved it.
I had hoped that we would become the old best friends again. But those slots weren't open anymore. His was taken and so was mine.
When I was in fourth grade, I watched the promos for Aladin on TV. A mish-mash of stills and images from the movie moving rapidly to the sounds of "A whole new world." I still remember being enthralled at the swish in the clouds and the carpet flying over majestic minarets. The sights, sounds, colors and magic of that one single song held me captivated for life. Since then, I waited for my prince The summer of 9th grade, I told my best friend that I'd tell him the day I met my prince. Seven summers later, I told him about R and he was genuinely happy for me.
This time when we said goodbye, we knew it was the begining of a new friendship.
The last time I was in India, I cleared many skeletons from my closet. When I was 15, I had committed the worst mistake a gangly, boyish teenager can commit-- I had fallen in love with my best friend. Ofcourse, it played out in the typical Kuch Kuch Hota Hai fashion (only the movie hadn't released then and when the movie did come out- I cried in the theater and inwardly thanked Karan Johar for making that movie. I hoped that my best friend would watch and realize what he didn't know.)
We were so close. So incredibly close. Everything that happened to me, replayed all over again when I narrated to him at the end of the day. And everything he experienced, thought, felt, knew--came to me like a little bird returning to its nest every night. We were comfort for each other.
We fell apart...though. I found new people, I found a handsome boy who liked me...and I outgrew my windshield-like spectacles and impish hair. My best friend did love me, he always had....only it was too late when he realized it. We didn't speak/meet for a couple of years after that. This time I got in touch with him when I went home.
It was a little awkward. I didn't know how to act around him, with him. At one point, he used to be my best friend-- he used to be mine. And that was the only way I had known him. On my birthday, I insisted that he hang out with my friends and get to know them....that night, I apologized to him. I still don't know why I said sorry and for what. But I think he deserved it.
I had hoped that we would become the old best friends again. But those slots weren't open anymore. His was taken and so was mine.
When I was in fourth grade, I watched the promos for Aladin on TV. A mish-mash of stills and images from the movie moving rapidly to the sounds of "A whole new world." I still remember being enthralled at the swish in the clouds and the carpet flying over majestic minarets. The sights, sounds, colors and magic of that one single song held me captivated for life. Since then, I waited for my prince The summer of 9th grade, I told my best friend that I'd tell him the day I met my prince. Seven summers later, I told him about R and he was genuinely happy for me.
This time when we said goodbye, we knew it was the begining of a new friendship.
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