17/11/07an old incomplete draft. I wrote this when we came back from Hampi- Shilo, Hari and me. It wasn't published because we decided to post our pictures and drawings together on a blog we called chamflypottamus. Its unfortunate no one will ever see it. It killed itself, probably sinking in the bathtub much like our friendship after O.D.ing. Only the people closest can hurt. It only matters because they are close and you expect so much more from them. One day you wake up having figured out you might have been moody and could have behaved better, they could have been moody etc. You send a text. But its too late. Things die. All I felt was a little less loved, a little less than before. A little left out, a little more than before for nothing I thought I did. Nothing that would make me deserve this. Well, I'm not as good as I thought I was.
10:21 AM
I've been getting more and more pissed with people and the good side sends me away from them. I've been to Hampi the weekend before Diwali and to Channarayapattna at Diwali.
Hampi was just bliss for the first couple of days. We were 3 of us soaking it all in. The first time you go there you can't talk. Nothing is good enough, or necessary to be said. You just stare around and stuff your face with Nutella Pancakes. (I'm should be getting some money from this company considering I'm promoting them so often on my blog.)No, you won't need music. Hampi is not quiet. There were too many strange insect calls for me to be sane. We stayed at this shabby place with round huts only because they had two hammocks right outside the door. I spent a lot of time swinging and stoning and talking.
I made a strange connection. You know you keep thinking back at home I had friends like this and here in this city all my friends are different in a way that is not always comfortable. So I met Shilo of the blog. And Shilo and me picked butterfly wings, feathers, tried to draw in this lazy lazy place and at night in bed we were freaking each other out. Shilo and me thought the bed was swinging. But thats not all. She would say the bed is swinging sideways and I would agree. When I said the bed is swinging really violently front and back and she couldn't believe that was true. I share a peaceful coexistence with her. We can sit in the same space and not have to talk and in a good way.
I've realized I'm quiet easily irritated or stoned. There were many times I just wanted to chill and not move. Its the place. We walked around a bit. I figured how to ride a bike. Actually Shilo courageously volunteered but after she rode into the bushes while turning she decided to hand that over to me. Now my ego ,bloating, is proud to admit I'm a natural with these things. I've been riding a cycle I was 4. A lot of my happy Hampi memories are squint eyed bikes rides with the sun in full bloom.
Then we discovered the riverside. Oh! I don't know how God created the world but he did a good job here. The Hampi landscape is half strange half pretty. Rocks, river, bushes, smaller, rocks, pebbles, hills. Its not our idea of desktop wallpaper beauty and thats precisely why you love it. The time spent at the river is not stored in pictures in my head but in a more global sense, with feelings, smell
Its been a day or two spent in thought with people I've left somewhere back in the calender. The pages continue to turn and they stay only a step or two behind in memory. I had another one of those strange dreams, this one was about my ex. He met me somewhere, somehow (backstage after performing may be) and instead of behaving like its another person I don't know I recognised him, registered his presence with all the history and shook his hand to say thank you. He smiled awkwardly at first unknowing what to do, then allknowingly as if in a flash all was undone. We unwalked back into the green lanes of Khar, met his very much aged mother with her unchanged smile. We shared bright yellow glowing smiles that can make you ache and the feeling of coming back home after very long. The Ex and me sat in the room at the end of the house looking at each other like we've never seen us before and just before he began to speak (with a smile) I kissed him.
And they lived happily ever after. At least in the dream.
I've collected a backlog of unlove, of people not quite forgotten, or dealt with, not spoken to and I don't know what to say, how to begin and where to end. I'm carrying it with me every night into bed.
