Hi there old friend,
I don't think I've thought about you for the longest time. My fault as always. I guess I'm just terrible at keeping in touch. I just heard your favourite song on the radio, Marley's opus Redemption Song. Made me realize the last time I heard that song was on our trip to Goa. You, me and Shah. Three kings. My fondest memories of us are all from that trip. Braiding our hair and braiding our beards. Driving around in a beat up Maruti Alto tripping on the psychedelic road dividers at 2 am, driving from Panaji to Baga, the same old CD stuck in the player, Redemption Song playing on loop. Day drinking before breakfast and partying long after saner men would have slept on in order to watch the sun rise over the golden beach sands. Missing the damn train back to Manipal by the skin of our teeth and running along the platform after it, laughing and watching it outrun us. You and Shah were the two voices of reason when I was constantly battling Suzanne – a powerful swig from my cocktail, a hurried conference of battle strategies, and the following hour of phone-pressed-to-my-ear fighting and flirting. Our trip later to Gokarna's Om beach, sleeping out in the open on sandy beaches with so much alcohol and other stuff to fuel our intellectual conversations.
Hearing Redemption Song brought back so many emotions. Fond nostalgia for a time when we would just walk into each others' rooms and chat for hours, listen to music, or talk about random crap – sometimes sober, sometimes less so. Deetee our hallowed joint. Happy memories of so many trips, troubled times, talks late into the night, triumphs over our silly college tribulations, teasing each other over loves and losses – that time you asked Shruti out for Valentines day and the disastrous and hilarious ending to that story. So much laughter remembering your famous lazy shuffle and the mysterious antigravity you used to hold up your jeans. So much anger that you did this to us. For vanishing from our lives and keeping everything that hurt you to yourself instead of letting us be a part of it. For keeping us far away even when we tried not to be. So much guilt for not trying to coax you out of your dark self hard enough. So much guilt for not trying to hold you close like best friends should. So much anger at myself for being so cold and emotionless when I heard about the end, unable to miss you and call you up. Anger at you for changing numbers and never letting us know till it was too late and you had moved away. ANGER AT YOU FOR MOVING AWAY. Why did you run away? What did we do to push you away? Was it something we did? Something we didn't do? Anger at myself for shouting, talking, interrogating a dead man in my head. Anger at myself for not visiting your parents and your brother in Agra when I could have, because I didn't want to tell them how far apart we'd drifted and leave them feeling worse. Sadness at the gaping hole your loss left behind. I couldn't feel it at the time because my heart had been frozen solid, numb and carrying on ghostlike through the world unfeeling. Just like I couldn't feel it when my grandparents passed away. But I seem to have been thawed out of that cold vacuum void by someone I met recently. Now I can feel again like I used to, and the memories won't stop flooding my mind, leaking out like these tears I'm casually wiping away at a Starbucks, sitting by the window. The numbness has been replaced by something hot and painful. Why did you leave old friend?
I can hear you chuckle and offer me some sage advice related to chilling out and not taking myself and life at large so seriously from your eternally comfortable position sprawled out on your bed. You're absolutely right as always, the world is crazy and messy and completely unworthy of being stressed about. It's also so amazingly beautiful. I told you I met someone. She makes me feel human again. Unfrozen. Alive and in the moment. I can be completely relaxed and alone together with her. I think you'd love her. I wish you could meet her. I wish I could meet you.
Sometimes I feel like the best thing would be to forget you – I guess our minds always want to protect us from messy emotions – but then I think of how you were my first and best friend in Manipal, how much we've meant to each other over the years, and I just know that someday we'll be sipping cocktails and chugging beers on a beach in our slippers again somewhere. Hope your own personal beach and endless supply of the heavens' best Idukki Gold or Malana Cream keeps you happy till then. I miss you more than I can convey with my simple words my brother. See you someday, somewhere, in some dimension.
I don't think I've thought about you for the longest time. My fault as always. I guess I'm just terrible at keeping in touch. I just heard your favourite song on the radio, Marley's opus Redemption Song. Made me realize the last time I heard that song was on our trip to Goa. You, me and Shah. Three kings. My fondest memories of us are all from that trip. Braiding our hair and braiding our beards. Driving around in a beat up Maruti Alto tripping on the psychedelic road dividers at 2 am, driving from Panaji to Baga, the same old CD stuck in the player, Redemption Song playing on loop. Day drinking before breakfast and partying long after saner men would have slept on in order to watch the sun rise over the golden beach sands. Missing the damn train back to Manipal by the skin of our teeth and running along the platform after it, laughing and watching it outrun us. You and Shah were the two voices of reason when I was constantly battling Suzanne – a powerful swig from my cocktail, a hurried conference of battle strategies, and the following hour of phone-pressed-to-my-ear fighting and flirting. Our trip later to Gokarna's Om beach, sleeping out in the open on sandy beaches with so much alcohol and other stuff to fuel our intellectual conversations.
Hearing Redemption Song brought back so many emotions. Fond nostalgia for a time when we would just walk into each others' rooms and chat for hours, listen to music, or talk about random crap – sometimes sober, sometimes less so. Deetee our hallowed joint. Happy memories of so many trips, troubled times, talks late into the night, triumphs over our silly college tribulations, teasing each other over loves and losses – that time you asked Shruti out for Valentines day and the disastrous and hilarious ending to that story. So much laughter remembering your famous lazy shuffle and the mysterious antigravity you used to hold up your jeans. So much anger that you did this to us. For vanishing from our lives and keeping everything that hurt you to yourself instead of letting us be a part of it. For keeping us far away even when we tried not to be. So much guilt for not trying to coax you out of your dark self hard enough. So much guilt for not trying to hold you close like best friends should. So much anger at myself for being so cold and emotionless when I heard about the end, unable to miss you and call you up. Anger at you for changing numbers and never letting us know till it was too late and you had moved away. ANGER AT YOU FOR MOVING AWAY. Why did you run away? What did we do to push you away? Was it something we did? Something we didn't do? Anger at myself for shouting, talking, interrogating a dead man in my head. Anger at myself for not visiting your parents and your brother in Agra when I could have, because I didn't want to tell them how far apart we'd drifted and leave them feeling worse. Sadness at the gaping hole your loss left behind. I couldn't feel it at the time because my heart had been frozen solid, numb and carrying on ghostlike through the world unfeeling. Just like I couldn't feel it when my grandparents passed away. But I seem to have been thawed out of that cold vacuum void by someone I met recently. Now I can feel again like I used to, and the memories won't stop flooding my mind, leaking out like these tears I'm casually wiping away at a Starbucks, sitting by the window. The numbness has been replaced by something hot and painful. Why did you leave old friend?
I can hear you chuckle and offer me some sage advice related to chilling out and not taking myself and life at large so seriously from your eternally comfortable position sprawled out on your bed. You're absolutely right as always, the world is crazy and messy and completely unworthy of being stressed about. It's also so amazingly beautiful. I told you I met someone. She makes me feel human again. Unfrozen. Alive and in the moment. I can be completely relaxed and alone together with her. I think you'd love her. I wish you could meet her. I wish I could meet you.
Sometimes I feel like the best thing would be to forget you – I guess our minds always want to protect us from messy emotions – but then I think of how you were my first and best friend in Manipal, how much we've meant to each other over the years, and I just know that someday we'll be sipping cocktails and chugging beers on a beach in our slippers again somewhere. Hope your own personal beach and endless supply of the heavens' best Idukki Gold or Malana Cream keeps you happy till then. I miss you more than I can convey with my simple words my brother. See you someday, somewhere, in some dimension.
"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds." - Redemption Song
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