Floating On Ink

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 11:49 PM


Where are you, savant - oh learned one?
Where to did your shadow scurry?
A sapient you were,
Are you still? 
Did you reach the shore?
Why, I've been left at the sea.

The raft broke as you left,
And the logs untied, one by one
Until a few were left underneath me.
But they too swam away, with gentle poise.
I grabbed one; stuck to it like glue.

Then the water did us apart...
And since I've been floating, 
Floating on ink;
There is nothing inside of me anymore.
The logs on which I rested, they shrunk;
The oars rest at the bottom of the sea.
And yet, I swim.

I should've trusted you, held your hand 
When you said you would ferry me 
To the other side...
But now you're gone and I'm still floating,
Floating on ink.

What did I do to deserve this?
These waters, they move but are stagnant;
They rock, they sway,
But the shore still remains much far away.
What did I do to deserve these meaningless waters?

The logs start sinking,
Slowly, passively;
As if at the end of the sea,
A different life awaits them.
I see your face too, ye old sage;
You wave to me as you disappear with them.

And as I scour the horizon,
I fail to find any;
There is no shore at sight,
The dark blue waters stretch indefinitely.

And what am I to do in these dark blue waters?
I shuffle my hands, paddle.

And I wonder what lies there, 
On the shore?
What lies at the bottom of sea?


There Was A Bird

| Posted in , | Posted on 10:59 PM


There was a bird, I saw
On the windowsill the other day.
It was blue, I remember, the lightest possible shade;
Its beak black as night, and eyes full, righteous and unbiased.
A darker hue ran along the girth of its small back,
Wide at first, then at the tail collapsing;
Its feathers were wet from the rain outside.

Dreamily I looked on,
At its silvery silhouette, its petite largeness
Its clear, cloudy eyes.

For a second, it stood still
Then the next it shook, with graceful vigour,
And little droplets of water fell on the pale marble floor.

It looked staight into my eyes a moment after,
With its eyes full, righteous and unbiased.
And then swiftly off the windowsill, it flew away.

And I watched it fly away, from the corner of my eye.
I saw its lustrous wings in flight;
Its silver silhouette as it became obsolete,
Wondering where it went.

And in a while, came another bird,
It too sat down on the windowsill.

And Dreamily, I looked on,
At the edge of its beak sharp as a knife,
Its solemn eyes dotted with yellow;
The magnificent red on its feathers fondling with a gravely back.



| Posted in , , , , , , , | Posted on 10:26 PM


Let's not hold on to ourselves.

Let's break away and taste the sun with our bare hands;
Break free of each other and flash a smile to Death as it passes by.

Let's live and regret, and cry.
If stars die, why shouldn't we?
The stars that dot the evening clouds on the periphery,
Like pearly white earrings -
If they too dwarf into oblivion,
Why do we have to stay?

Let's not live to see another moment;
Breathe to take another breath.

In the lightest hues of blue, red and green,
Let's become one with the stars.

Under the segueing skies, let's fade away.


We've Only Just Begun

| Posted in | Posted on 8:51 PM


We've only just begun;
A prelude to the morning sun,
And we will end before the break of day.

But oh - why so soon?

We've only just begun;
The fumbling steps of a child,
And still, we will end before we run.

But oh - why so soon?

We walked with bashful steps,
The pointless meanders, to contented hearts.
Together, we saw the day break.

Entwined between the gaps of our fingers,
Slipped away the sands of time -
Together, we swung close; swum afar.

And you stayed,
Till the primroses grew and the violins played,
And the hourglass had to turn.

And you had to leave, you said
Without reason; I nodded my head
And watched you disappear from my sight,
Your shadow looming over my head.

And as you walked, you turned, 
Just once.

But we've only just begun, hon;
And we will never end.


Fix Me Another Drink

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 9:25 PM


Fix me another drink,
Another liquid sedative

I cannot worry about life anymore,
Or where it is going...

Fix me another drink,
Another liquid sedative

There's so much to cry about,
And that's when I come to you...

You divine piece of being,
You soothe and you pacify;
Your love warms me inside,
And I melt like butter on corn

You, you divine piece of being,
You elate and you heal;
At times, just a look is enough
To resurrect; bring me back to life

You're the reason life's easier by a tenfold

I'm thirsty now,
So Ma, won't you fix me another drink,
Of my favorite malted milk?


Sing To Me

| Posted in , , , , , , , , , , | Posted on 11:37 AM


Sing to me, the songs of yesterday, 
The harmony of times gone away; years sailed, 
Of memories made, and happiness felt, 
And a sense of goodness that prevailed. 

When we looked out the window, 
The seconds ticked, and butterflies sat on our fingers. 
And now that we've left, 
The seconds still tick, but the butterflies have died. 

It rained once, 
By the serenading river, as we stood and watched. 
But now that we've left, 
The river still runs, but the drops of rain have dried. 

And on the horizon, 
The golden sun sets as we look on, 
From so far away... 

And your voice - 
It still rings in my ears, 
And I won't mind, if you sing to me again... 

Sing to me, the songs of yesterday 
The melodies of candle-lights and mountaintops 
Of serious vanity; an oxymoron called love, 
And of things we'd never wanted to stop. 

Sing to me, the songs of yesterday, 
The melancholy tunes of seasons passed, 
Of memories made, and happiness felt, 
And of things that would never last. 


Lustful Acquisition

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 8:59 PM


You know you want it.
Go ahead.
Scratch me, feel me, bite me;
I'm all yours if only for a while.

Strip me naked with your eyes.
Grope, pinch, gnaw,
Dig in your teeth;
Make me feel as good as you want to.

Ride me.
Slow, fast, slow.
Easy. Hard;
Breathe me in.

Abuse me with your touch.
Violate me with your actions;
Make me your bitch -
I'm a lustful acquisition of yours;
Treat me well, if only for a while.


50th Poem! Woohoo!


| Posted in , , , | Posted on 11:57 PM


He does not fold his arms in prayer,
Bow his head down in respect;
He does not feel the warmth of the blessed fire,
Drink the holy water with perched lips

And why does he not?
Does he have no faith?
Wherein does his faith lie, then?

Does he believe in luck, chance - 
All that unnecessary hullabaloo?
Or does he believe in destiny,
The questionable force of life?
Or does he believe in charms, magic;
The sacrilege that is voodoo?
Or worse yet - himself?

And to all that he meets,
He remains faithless...


Currently Doing The Rounds In My Head

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 11:32 PM


  It's been fun here. Relatively less pressure. Everything's chilled (that means relatively low temperature too!)
  So yeah, I've been listening to - and playing - a lot of new stuff lately. New as in, new to my ears, not to the world; I love old school music. And old school musicians, too. A few of the songs posted here, I'd already heard a year or two back - but that doesn't mean I don't love it now; if anything the liking has increased. :)
  Some of it I've embedded here; I want you people to listen to this music and be jizzed out of your mind. And trust me, I'm serious enough when I'm saying this.

George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone

It's got the whole awesome bluesy groove kind of thing. And there's heavy use of a slider too, so that makes it even awesomer. This song was used for the Star World promos for Two And A Half Men Season 7 - so you might just recognize the riff. :)

ZZ Top - Sharp Dressed Man

Old school ZZ Top AWESOMENESS!!! The intro riff is awesome as anything, as is the bass playing and the drumming. MindJizz!

Eric Johnson - Manhattan

One of G3's most featured guitarists at his instrumental best. The licks are so crazy in this one; in fact the chords are too. Awesomeness!

Santana - Smooth

This song features Rob Thomas, and a whole lot of jazz influenced progressions and reggae beats and everything. The intro lick is, well, smooooooth. Check this one out for sure!

Tool - Lateralus

Ah, one of those songs that makes you doubt your counting skills. Try and count this one out, will you? Starts in 5/8 and goes into 9/8-8/8-7/8 during the distorted riff, chances the time multiple times too before finally locking on to 12/8 for the outro of the song, which, by chance happens to be the awesomest riff I've heard in a while. This song also incorporates the Fibonacci Series - take a look at the video, will you? It's only 9:24. :)

Soundgarden - Rusty Cage

The first time I heard this song, I was probably in, what, the 2nd or 3rd grade? I heard this while playing Road Rash, and this song is, oddly enough, rather nostalgic. But fuck it, I don't care, I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG! This is EPIC! This has got to be the first real SONG that I LOVED without even knowing! How sad is that? :/ Cornell's vocals are awesome, so is Thayil's guitar playing. The bassist and drummer are awesome too but I can't recall their names. >.<
 And oh, this song changes counts too. Try counting the last 2 minutes of the song. :)


 So yeah, that'll be it for a while now. I'll come back tomorrow with another poem, maybe. But I'm going to get my report card. Oh yes, it's going to be awesome! *no sarcasm intended*

 Till I've got more things to share,

 Adios, amigos. 

He Will Wait [Fiction 55]

| Posted in , , | Posted on 11:39 PM


He will wait.

For your antics, expressions.
For your irritable nature, your shifty eyes;
That mole on the small of your back.

He will wait for you like he would for the first monsoon shower, amid the midsummer heat.

And you must come, darling,
For even though he doesn't know,
He will wait forever.


16th Fiction 55

She Understands...

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 11:23 PM


She understands.
She thinks, she grasps, she lets go.
Yet, she understands.
The things she sees, feels;
The pain, the angst, the hurt - 
She pours them on a palette and paints with them
On her words,
The face, the eyes, the mask of a being she only wants to exist.
And then she filters, layer by layer, through the reality,
The conscience; the unbearable humanity of it all

And yet, she feels,
Underneath the very folds of herself.
It pricks, at times;
Stings like anything.

And she observes,
Analyzes, knows
That all this will pass - 
The anxiety, the rage, the infatuations
That rattle her bones at night.
And she resigns
To a peaceful slumber she doesn't want to be woken up from.

And yet, she cannot feel love.
She can only gaze at it, wonder;
Ruminate as it leaves her be,
Alone, isolated, cold.

And she thinks, grasps, lets go.
She understands.


Cold December Morning

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 11:40 PM


It's another cold December morning.
The sunlight peeps in through the window,
And prepares to greet me, even though
It knows it is hardly welcome.
Thankfully, there is still some time
Before the lonesome darkness is gone.

I've closed my eyes again;
Sometimes, staring at the ceiling fan just
Doesn't help your motivation levels at all.

I'm off to dreamland again.
Partial, disturbed sleep takes me there.

Happier times; happier faces.
But it's dreamland,
So everything's censored to my mind's comfort.
The sadder parts are gone.

Good, bad, ugly.
Happy, sad, and unbothered.
And it's dreamland.
So only the best parts are remembered;
There are no bad qualities.

All sorts.
Every kind imaginable.
And it's dreamland.
But that changes nothing;
Everything is the same,
However sweet, stingy or saddening;
The bridge between the real and the unreal.

And sunlight bursts in, and my eyes open.
I'm back from dreamland,
And the ceiling fan greets me with a blank stare.


I'd written this sometime last year, presumably on a 'cold December morning'.
I didn't like it enough when I wrote it though, still don't; but I figured, 'Eh, what the hell?'

A Misguiding's Tale

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 8:46 PM


I took you by the hand and walked with you
Across mountains, seas, heavens
As time flew us by;
Seconds, minutes, hours

A silent void would persist in the pits of our bellies;
The winds would guide us from cloud to cloud,
A series of short, stout little jumps

And the hours turned to days, weeks.
The weeks turned into years.
Yet we walked on, tirelessly.

And on the crossing between two clouds,
Our eyes met, our fingers touched;
An unexpected rendezvous of our souls
Then the clouds burst, and it rained...

And gently yet, I drifted away
With the winds that had brought us together,
Departing with merely the memory of a touch;
For at the crack of dawn, the winds were gone,
And so was I...

I'm sorry I led you on to the winds;
They refuse to guide you anymore...
You are on your own now


When you're a poet (or claim to be one), there are certain things you must write. They needn't always make sense; but you do it anyway, for no rhyme or reason.
This was one of those things.

Singsong Blues

| Posted in , , , , , , , | Posted on 7:23 PM


I wrote this in the tenth grade, a year back. I think I'll make it into a song too. It's just weird because it doesn't have a chorus; not to worry I'll put in guitar solos. Have fun reading. :)

Am I in love?
Or am I just confused...
Do I really care about her
Or are my screws loose?

Her eyes tell me she loves me
But her words beg to differ
And I do not know what to take
Or even what to infer...

She's crazy enough to talk of hate
And feelings, and the wild skies
But even though she looks so true
She sure is shrouded with lies

She thinks too much, as does she speak;
As abstract as a splatter of ink
She'll tell you to go screw yourself
And follow it up with a wink
(guitar solo)

She's filled with candor
And boy, is she plenty candid
And goddamned as hell, some skill she's got
Her words are pretty splendid

It's not that she's alone
She just likes introspection
And whether or not she's a great soul
Can't be seen in her reflection

But in her heart, she knows...
She's in need of someone else too
And even if he's standing right next to her
She'll just be feeling blue

And we'll be singing the singsong blues!
The singsong blues!
Till our voices are worn,
And strings are torn
And lives are forgotten...
(outro - guitar solo)

Tenth grade wasn't so bad then after all, was it? 3:)

P.S. The blogging rampage has officially begun. 

Goodbye Blue Sky

| Posted in , , , , , , , , , | Posted on 1:47 PM


  So apparently, I'm back for a while.
  Life's been sucky. I mean, yeah, beginning of eleventh grade + science; what else do you expect? :/
  Anyway, I passed the first term. Yay! 55.2% in all. The weird bit is, I scored EXACTLY 44 on 100 in each of Physics, Chemistry and Maths. Thank you for saving me, English. I was eternally indebted to you as it were, anyway.
  The skies around me just turned a darker shade. Goodbye Blue Sky. Hello Cruel World. 
  If you're a Floyd fan, you'd understand the references made in the line just above this one, but don't beat yourself if you don't. :)
  I'm learning a lot about people, how they work, how they function and whatnot. I'm not referring to the usual 'people' here. The average folk I know of, it's just the unconditionally incomprehensible ones that I'm learning about now, thanks to one of my better friends, and one of those rare people that actually deserve respect.
  Some people don't reply to my texts. Some people don't call me or talk to me. Some people teach me about confronting people and shy away when their turn comes. Some people I still love for no plausible reason. And some people just need to make true friends, or make their existing friends feel like they're pals; not everyone's a mind reader.
  And I'm a cheesy bitch.
  I found the Matrix 5-subject notebook I wrote in in the ninth grade. A bunch of poems I still haven't posted lie there to be unearthed. Awesomeness.
 This is to officially announce I'll try as hard as I can to go on a blogging rampage. 
  And, oh!
  Check these out:

  Beauty pageant contestants answers to "should math be taught in school?'

 (I don't seem to be able to embed this into a video. It's pretty awesome though, you should TOTALLY watch it.)

  And then there's of course, Floyd. I've been listening to tons more bands lately, but it's just that, this video and this song... there's just something there that sticks. I don't know what it is, and I'll possibly never find out, but fuck it. To me, music's always welcome. 
  David Gilmour - Echoes (Part 1) - Remember that Night.

  (You'll know how fucking crazy this song is by the response of the audience when Richard Wright hits the first note.)

 Bubbye, then.
 'Til we meet next (hopefully for a blogging rampage).


Endless Linger

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 12:22 AM


Fleeting away,
Higher and higher,
Cloud to cloud;
Just one more look of inebriation.

Floating around,
Further, beyond,
High off the ground;
Drowned in pleas of desperation

You look at me, weary;
With puffy cheeks
And heavy, stone-like eyes...

I call to you,
But my voice subsides
In a million hides in your skin...

And I will slip away, sail afar,
Far from the seething reaches of your voice

And I won't be lingering...

In your hands, in your hair,
In your hard, heavy voice
I will no longer be there

From your heart, from your mind,
From the tips of your fingers,
I will be gone

I will steal away, vamoose
Recede like the wind

And all you'll feel is a breeze.

Breathe [Fiction 55]

| Posted in , , | Posted on 11:47 PM


Open. Close.
Open. Close.

You bat your eyelids.
Once. Twice. Once, again.


Your eyes lie awake, alert;
Your heart hammers inside you.


One deep breath inside.
A whirlpool of thoughts, washed away.

Your mind awakens;
Eyes at rest.

Your heart beats steadily now. 



15th Fiction 55

Literature Student

| Posted in | Posted on 11:35 PM


  Science is not my cup of coffee. I'm saying that because I prefer tea anyway. Yes, I know I'm weird because I don't like coffee. But I shan't rant about science - one of the more avid readers of my blog threatened to stop reading it if I ever went about doing that again, so I 'shan't' - which also happens to be a reference to said avid blog reader.
  So yeah, everything's good. Not so good, but yeah, not so bad either. I'm fucking sick of listening to 'Eleventh's tough, eleventh's tough' and whatnot - I've spent almost half a year in eleventh, don't you think I'd have caught the drift?
  My physics teacher thinks I'm not the VMC kind of guy(and that I'm more creative, just so you know), my mum thinks I shouldn't have taken science up in the first, and my library teacher thinks I look like a literature student. And I am absolutely unsure of whether to take all of these comments in a good way or a bad way - because they could either be praising me or underestimating me by saying that. Whatever be the case, I'm pretty sure I don't really care who or what I resemble, I just know I'm fucking weird and I'd like to keep it at that.
  Anywho, did I mention that I won the first prize for Audio Editing in the recently hosted Computer Symposium called Code Wars at DPS, Vasant Kunj? I didn't, did I? So yeah, I won the first prize for Audio Editing. We were given all the sound files from a game called Pocket Tanks (yes, I've played it. Yes, it's freaking awesome) and we had to make a song using them. I made about a 36 second long sound clip in about 2 hours and very surprisingly, won. So, yeah, good enough for me. I'm going to be looking forward to kick more ass later. Oh hell, yeah! ^_^
  It saddens me, the fact that I haven't blogged in very long - but worry not, my beloved readers! The short story series with Remya is going great and we shall serve you people with a good deal of awesomeness VERY soon. And you guys are going to - and you can mark my words here - freaking love it! It'll be awesome. Very awesome. That's all I can reveal at the moment.
  Oh. Did I also mention the fact that I co-wrote a song with her? I didn't, did I? So yeah, I co-wrote a song with her. It's called Rain On A Sunny Day. We'll put up a video as soon as the exams are done. And boy can't I wait!
  Sigh. I've got to go study now - and do more things that would be of no relevance in my life later on.

  Ciao, folks.

  P.S. HOLY FUCKING COW SHIT I JUST FELT THE FUCKING GROUND TREMBLE UNDER MY FEET! AAAAAGH! You'll read about the earthquake in the newspapers tomorrow. 3:O


| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 10:55 PM


  Pink Floyd.
  You godsend. Just when I needed you the most.

  I wanted awesomeness in my ears. I wanted Pink Floyd. I needed Pink Floyd. But I didn't have internet.
  And so I found a DVD with all of PInk Floyd's songs in my CD cabinet, and I'd had it with me ever since October 2009. And till yesterday I hadn't run it, once.
 I believe in destiny, yes.
  So, yes. Life's been okay. I've been trying to study like an ass, and for the most part I'm succeeding; only at the 'ass' bit. It's fun, though. I don't hate it so much now. It's growing onto me.
 My internet isn't back yet. That bit is not growing onto me at all.
 Another thing that's growing onto me is Pink Floyd. And I really mean it; I listen to their 25 minute songs in one go without pausing them even once, and at one go. It's fun. It's fuuuu-uh-uuuuhn. Echoes, A Saucerful of Secrets, Atom Heart Mother, Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts I,II,III,IV,V and VI,VII,VIII,IX). And these are just the long ones. The last song mentioned is the trippiest song I've heard in a while; it trips me up every time I listen to it. Every. Single. Time.
 I'm planning on posting a lot of drafted stuff. I will, though, very soon.
 I've been talking to this friend of mine. And she's awesome. Bloody awesome. She'll make me awesome, too. And the very first step to attaining complete awesomeness, as suggested by her, is to 'stop hanging out with blondes random people, and start reading more novels.'
 Oh yuss. Shall do.
 On the reading list now: A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini. I'm absolutely certain it'll kick some major butt. So yeh - I shall go, and read it now.
 But I need to finish my Physics practical file first. Dangit. (>_<)

 Au revoir,
 Les peuples

 PS - I have no idea whether that is correct french or not.


| Posted in , , , | Posted on 9:38 PM


We shall all die horrible deaths.
Our bodies will lie bare on the ground,
The earth mingling with our skin,
The soil wet with our sweat,
The dust trotting into our hair,
Our blood drying quick under the dry, harsh sun...

We shall be ignored
Like rabid dogs,
Screaming incessantly; vehemently
Our sacrifices shall be forgotten,
Our scars unhealed,
Our agony unheard,
Our blood unnoticed,
Our valour overlooked...

But we shall die,
Knowing fully well,
That we had not fought in vain.


Inconvenience Regretted

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 9:14 PM


 My internet hasn't been working for the majority of the past week, since the 12th. This just bloody sucks. I had three freaking holidays after that, and I didn't have internet; that's like having cake batter and no oven to cook. Sigh. Sadness. Inconvenience regretted. Anyway, I've been feeling better about myself lately. I won't go into details, but let's just say the VMC Safdarjung Centre is pretty life changing, and I mean it as literally as I possibly can. And yes, it doesn't have anything to do with girls. Nothing. At. All.
 Moving on, this week hasn't sucked as bad as all the other weeks before this; but then again, it's just another week. School's going pretty awesome. And, I've just had my very first experience of a guitar class, and not as a student. Awesome.
 Music's awesome, too. I've been playing guitar and writing songs and whatnot. It's always fun, doing all this. I'm pretty sure I'd love to do this for the rest of my life. I'm not implying in any way that the stage is my place to be, I'm just saying I friggin' love music.
 Writing's going well, too. I wrote this poem a few days back that I couldn't post because of the lousy internet. I shall be posting it today. And my internet's still not back yet, though. I'm using my dad's laptop, only because I've come back from 4 hours of classes and have 4 hours of classes tomorrow and 3 hours the day after.
 I'm getting closer to the seniors of this year, man. I don't know what I'll do when they're gone. It'll be sad. Really sad.
 I'd love to ramble more and more, about anything and everything, but I can't; I have a bunch of short stories to write and dozens of worksheets to finish, and of course the former is given more priority.
 I wish I knew what it was like to love. Not love music, or writing - because I do, and it freaking feels great - but a person. I wish I knew for certain it was love, and nothing else but love. Love isn't a function well defined is it?
 But that doesn't matter. I'm already acquainted to a different sort of love. And that love doesn't waiver, so I'm cool.
 Peace out, yo!
 |m| (-_-) |m|

An Unworthy Consolation

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 10:48 PM


It is said that soulmates are the split of one heart. In a world of 7 billion population, you can expect 7 soulmates, 7 split hearts.
Blogger Remya Raj
and I took the concept of split hearts and put them into 6 different stories with the 7th one being a common link between all of them. Three of them will be written by her and the other three by me. The 7th one will be a joint effort. I hope you guys enjoy it. We explore the concept and present you with An Unworthy Consolation - the second installment to Soulmates or Lovers, written by me. The first installment is published here.

An Unworthy Consolation

   I took a step inward. And then he was standing there alone, with a keyboard hanging from his right shoulder.
He looked at me, as if to ask why I’d moved away – his mouth on the verge of interrogating me, his eyes having already begun.
‘I’m sorry, man,’ I said to him, with the slightest hint of concern in my tone; like I was consoling both him and myself. ‘It’s the sinus. It’ll kick in again.’ He looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet, as the raindrops fell generously all over him – his jet black hair, his cheeks, his face – and on my keyboard that lay ensconced tightly in his arms.
I didn’t like the disappointed look on his face; it was akin to the look little puppies have when they’re sad. I never had a heart that was easy to melt, but that look of his always did the trick. Always. 
‘So,’ I began again, with more energy, hoping to lighten to mood. ‘Walk with me to my bus, willye?’
‘Sure,’ he replied, with a confident smile. He bowed down in front of me and rolled his hand twice, inviting me to begin walking. I was a bitch, yes – but such small acts never went unnoticed by me.
I giggled randomly and started walking next to him, as we strode towards my bus. I saw him look at me and then look down again, as the faintest sign of a blush appeared on his face. I could tell, the glimmer of happiness was back in his eyes. I was happy then; this was the side of me he knew – the crazy, bitchy, random side of me. And I wanted him to know just that.

As we walked to the bus, we talked about the usual stuff – studies, music, getting drunk out of our minds – and about how he’d never get to marry me because he wasn’t a Bengali like I was.
‘Ouch,’ he said. ‘Breaks my heart every time you say it.’ He never knew I could sense the truth behind the hurt that he feigned. I was so glad he didn’t.
‘You toh shut up,’ I said to him. ‘You have at least a dozen chicks waiting to get a taste of that Pahaadi tongue of yours!’
Arrey, but I don’t like any of them!’ And he blushed, again.
‘Shut up, you womanizing whore. You like all of them!’
Arrey, nahi…’ I could see how disapproving he was of what I was saying; his every stammer pointed towards only one direction.
‘See? You can’t even decide who you like. All you men are the same. Bloody assholes.’
Accha? So if I tell you now that I like you, what’ll you say?’ This conversation had taken place many a times, but never had it taken this course.
‘I’ll tell you to stop watching porn.’ He smacked his forehead with his palm, and nodded disapprovingly. I knew how to take care of this.
‘You women, who never believe…’
‘Of course we don’t believe losers like you.’ I didn’t want to be this harsh, but it was the only way. I continued, regardless. ‘Besides, you’re much too young! Much too young, bete!’
‘What? It’s just 2 years!’
‘For now, it is. If we ever have kids, they’ll call me ‘grandma’ instead of ‘mom’. See? That’s when it’ll get all weird!’ He laughed out loud then, but somewhere in his eyes, he was solemn.
‘What a crazy bitch you are.’ He handed my keyboard to me, without having fully recovered from the effect of laughing too much.
‘Save the lines for someone you’ll actually get into bed with.’ He laughed again, as I hopped onto the bus.
‘So… I’ll see you tomorrow, then?’
‘Yes! You’re totally awesome for carrying my keyboard till here! You rock!’
‘Sure. Anytime. Bub-bye, chick!’ He waved goodbye to me.
‘Bye-bye, Bitchyface!’ I waved back.

As he turned his face away, I could see what I hoped had never been. It was right there, in his eyes. I wish he could see in my eyes, even a fraction of what I saw in his. Truth is, I kind of had a thing for him too; but it wasn’t the kind that you could see in someone’s eyes. It was much too trivial, too shallow; and it had nothing to do with age. I was fickle, erratic, unsteady, while he was everything I was not – calm, composed, docile. He was just too bloody good with the keys, and I would never learn to trust myself with feeling unconditionally for him; nor would I ever forgive myself for breaking his heart, if it ever came to that.
I breathed a heavy sigh as I saw him walk away. I cared too much about him to hurt him like that; I didn’t deserve even to break his heart. I loved him, maybe – yes, maybe. But one thing was absolutely certain: he was just too bloody good with the keys. 
I placed the keyboard on my seat and stared out of the window.