I had almost forgotten that ticklish feel i got from a call of his. He has sublimed from my memory as the smoke from burning camphor, but like the camphor he has sublimed leaving behind a strong sweet smell. His face though lightly formed in hazy shape over the rising smoke.
And in the past few months, I had done all I could to keep me busy, so busy that an hour extra sleep is a luxury, a day out is a luxury. I have tricked my mind to believe that all it could afford was work. Some more work.Unless one Friday morning, I wake up soaked in sweat, contempleting and recalling a dream or a nightmare, collecting pieces of it and putting in place. Only to realise, he’s still alive in me. Very much alive. To my utmost discomfort I had done in a parallel universe beyond my control, what I have refrained from doing in my waking life. I’d called him, not once but again and again. While he refused to pick up. I’d cried and begged him to come back to my life. I’d told him over a phonecall (that he finally picked)”My sweet friend…. I miss you so much……… come back…. please”
He’s made an excuse even there… told me he was “busy”, asked me to “go get a life”…….
Probably that’s what he’d tell me if i decide to call(in real). Probably its not my ego that stops me from that call. Because do I already know the conversation? Because there is nothing to say anymore? No words, no tears?
Are all friendships subject to an expiry? Do all people stay with us as long as its convinient?How about forever? I believed in relationships that last beyond barriers of wall, of cities and continents seas and forests? But I have lost you, over a neighbourhood…..
But the day started and it was a busy one so I had to leave him, a dear friend and his memories stacked in a dream, i refuse to call a nightmare