Notes from a living room: 5

It’s only a few days to September, and as I found out walking back from the Southern Avenues, the Chhatim flowers have started blooming. A sweet smell, reminds me of so many things from the past. It reminds me of my ancient place, my ancient home. There is one of the very oldest memories to smile about attached to it when I am alone. There was a chhatim tree somewhere between our ancient home and the Town library. And the first time I came across the smell of the flowers is on the way back from a marriage ceremony. After that, every time I asked the source of the smell to my mother saying that it can be found only when you are on the way back from a marriage ceremony. I was mere a child then and my simpleness makes me smile every time I remind about it.

I am inclined to write about a friend, my friendship with him and a few words he said the other day. He was one of the oldest to know about my affection for Pallabi, he himself was from the same school which she used to go. We have shared or rather I should say there was a time when we used to share light moments about love and other things. He was the same person who told his story of ‘Varsha’ which I turned into a short story named ‘A love forgotten’. But then suddenly there wasn’t any news, we would see him in college and he would just walk past us. And a few months ago I realised he was in love. It was a girl from different college. I smiled in my loneliness and wished him luck, for he was a friend, and a true person at heart.

Well anyway, I wrote him yesterday that someday I would like to know more about them, he and his girlfriend, and how they met, or how their bond has grown. He advised me something like, ‘one day you’ll know yourself, and it’s worth the wait.’ I got amazed, read the line a few times and tried to find out the meaning. Another friend of mine fell in love with a girl a few months ago and that thing had also shaken my mind. People are out there who are experiencing it. People with whom once I walked, talked, laughed about love and other things in public. And now those people are coming out of their shell to post long status messages in social sites about how beautiful love is. It seems everything has gone perfect for them in their lives, at the very right time. One that is left is the one writing it all. Tears run down my eyes. I can’t figure it out whether it’s out of my misery, or out of their happiness.


P.S: I almost forget to mention this, but it’s been a few weeks that I notice the intuition line growing on my right palm.


-27th August '11