Back from the detour.,
There was a guy Rahul Sharma, as a matter of fact still is, but then that is what makes the best part of this story. He belonged to a separated family, was one of the guys who'd very easily score on women, had a legacy to inherit that'd put a major lot to shame, and had an almost pretty-perfect life that most of us can only dream of. He was a good friend once upon a time. School finished, and also with it innumerable associations kept and moreso kempt, for reasons not that well motivated.
There also was a girl, Harneeta Sandhu, for the more chic' part of the carriage, and well the part most won't ever be granted to experience, she'd look at you and smirk in a way that'd disgust you of what you are or probably what you look like. Not a looker herself, by any rate that is, and yet she'd have a total haughty sense of primacy that'd only accomplish being very convincing. By the end of school, we lost her too.
They'd say she'd turned promiscuous, some women even used the term slut, but then I only assumed tha' anyone who changes, and even moreso changes overnight, never thrives sans a dozen onlookers with hearts of guilt ridden envy. She'd walk around weird I'd heard, whenever I'd try getting through to her others claimed that they weren't too sure I'd wanted tha' for she'd changed, and not for good. I wanted a first hand experience. Afterall, she's the girl who gifted me with The Open Door and I wasn't giving up on her this soon.
Rahul Sharma petered out without a sign, with an almost everyone feigning still being in contact with him, or with debates on whether he still was in town or had now moved to Delhi. They said he'd become a regular with alchohol., and I assumed the only reason for his never turning up was probably the shame he now took in having a conversation with people who knew him like noone did, now that he wasn't as perfect as he once was.
Such were the upshots that providence has in store for those that'd once tasted popularity in middle school as none ever did.
I met Harneeta Sandhu about two months back. It was my third sem, the sem I don't think I remember that fondly, when I'd bunk almost every class and skip away to the eating joints in 35 with Thamman the first opportunity I got. It was early morning then, earlier than regular; we'd missed the 10 o' clock lesson to fetch us some breakfast. I ran into her at Mc. Donalds, and she looked the same, she walked the same, and I discovered some time later, that she talked no different either.
For more than quarter of an hour we played who's-gonna-advance-first game, by the end of which and knowing her pretty well, I gave up and made a move. She said she didn't recognise me, to which I smiled the smile that shouted that I belonged to the same fraternity as she, and that I wasn't gonna take much cheek further. Without any help from me she came up with my name instantly, and we had a decent chat, exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact. Ofcourse, he havn't taked ever since.
Two days back, while out for squash with Manu at Gymkhana Club, I saw Rahul Sharma. He's got huge strange brown hair now, an eyebrow that has multiple cuts , and rest pretty much the same. We saw each other, exchanged smiles, and did what we've been taught to do best - get on ahead with our own lives. KumKum later swore at me for not having had a conversation, but not having a conversation was the whole point afterall, and thats something so-so subtle by the very nature of its happening, that many wont obviously understand.
People at the end of it I realise, have stayed as cool as they were, most of them. They havn't turned into weird affable polite optimistic arseholes only because a majority around them might exhibit such dull characteristics. I'm not too sure about myself though. That night I realised that I've been making such preposterous attempts at trying to project myself as cute and harmless to a majority of the people only to escape the insensitive prick tag. I've been talking to such peculiar uncool women and worse taking them in in a way they possibly cant ever appreciate, but more importantly dont deserve. I really don't understand what had gotten into me that would make a small part in me want to belong to the larger throng even if it implied renunciating every degree of coolness there ever is. I'd almost gone on a decency acquiring trip, and it scares me today of what could possibly have come out of it.
What if I'd actually tried calling Harneeta later, half a dozen months more into PEC and that's more than just a possibility.,
There also was a girl, Harneeta Sandhu, for the more chic' part of the carriage, and well the part most won't ever be granted to experience, she'd look at you and smirk in a way that'd disgust you of what you are or probably what you look like. Not a looker herself, by any rate that is, and yet she'd have a total haughty sense of primacy that'd only accomplish being very convincing. By the end of school, we lost her too.
They'd say she'd turned promiscuous, some women even used the term slut, but then I only assumed tha' anyone who changes, and even moreso changes overnight, never thrives sans a dozen onlookers with hearts of guilt ridden envy. She'd walk around weird I'd heard, whenever I'd try getting through to her others claimed that they weren't too sure I'd wanted tha' for she'd changed, and not for good. I wanted a first hand experience. Afterall, she's the girl who gifted me with The Open Door and I wasn't giving up on her this soon.
Rahul Sharma petered out without a sign, with an almost everyone feigning still being in contact with him, or with debates on whether he still was in town or had now moved to Delhi. They said he'd become a regular with alchohol., and I assumed the only reason for his never turning up was probably the shame he now took in having a conversation with people who knew him like noone did, now that he wasn't as perfect as he once was.
Such were the upshots that providence has in store for those that'd once tasted popularity in middle school as none ever did.
I met Harneeta Sandhu about two months back. It was my third sem, the sem I don't think I remember that fondly, when I'd bunk almost every class and skip away to the eating joints in 35 with Thamman the first opportunity I got. It was early morning then, earlier than regular; we'd missed the 10 o' clock lesson to fetch us some breakfast. I ran into her at Mc. Donalds, and she looked the same, she walked the same, and I discovered some time later, that she talked no different either.
For more than quarter of an hour we played who's-gonna-advance-first game, by the end of which and knowing her pretty well, I gave up and made a move. She said she didn't recognise me, to which I smiled the smile that shouted that I belonged to the same fraternity as she, and that I wasn't gonna take much cheek further. Without any help from me she came up with my name instantly, and we had a decent chat, exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact. Ofcourse, he havn't taked ever since.
Two days back, while out for squash with Manu at Gymkhana Club, I saw Rahul Sharma. He's got huge strange brown hair now, an eyebrow that has multiple cuts , and rest pretty much the same. We saw each other, exchanged smiles, and did what we've been taught to do best - get on ahead with our own lives. KumKum later swore at me for not having had a conversation, but not having a conversation was the whole point afterall, and thats something so-so subtle by the very nature of its happening, that many wont obviously understand.
People at the end of it I realise, have stayed as cool as they were, most of them. They havn't turned into weird affable polite optimistic arseholes only because a majority around them might exhibit such dull characteristics. I'm not too sure about myself though. That night I realised that I've been making such preposterous attempts at trying to project myself as cute and harmless to a majority of the people only to escape the insensitive prick tag. I've been talking to such peculiar uncool women and worse taking them in in a way they possibly cant ever appreciate, but more importantly dont deserve. I really don't understand what had gotten into me that would make a small part in me want to belong to the larger throng even if it implied renunciating every degree of coolness there ever is. I'd almost gone on a decency acquiring trip, and it scares me today of what could possibly have come out of it.
What if I'd actually tried calling Harneeta later, half a dozen months more into PEC and that's more than just a possibility.,
posted by the turncoat at
10:47 PM
1 Comments:
"I black fella;
When I born, I black
When I grow up, I black
When I go in Sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black
You white fella;
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you gray
And you have the cheek to call me colored?"
connections.
and serendipity.
i could write a book about these two.
PS. the comment is really the part between the quotes.
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