Of starry nights and summer skies

Starry skies croppedAnd this too is precious. Friends dozing off at your place, after a day of eating too much and walking way too much. There’s a quiet humdrumness in the air, the sort that comes when you’re comfortable enough to sleep in someone’s presence.

We have met so many times since parting; in different cities, over different seasons. We are different people each time, and yet in fifteen minutes we find our common ground. Each time we add to those stories, “Remember the time we ate golas in Juhu Chowpatty?” “Remember when Cinthya nearly missed the train because her watch stopped running?” “Remember when we clicked pictures on the road in Kolkata, and Subu got mad at everyone for being such kids?” Each time we meet, the stories grow, till there’s a skyscraper in the sky. That skyscraper is my rockstone. I know that when I am feeling down, I only need to look to the horizon to remember you’ve got my back.

We don’t talk as often as we used to. Our grand seven-person conference calls no longer work, for one thing, someone’s always missing. And then life and responsibilities have changed us all. But when we do talk, there is so much to say! So much to reminisce about. Then we go back to the times we lived under one roof, when a parcel from home meant everyone trooping into the room to attack the “goods”, when it took hours to get ready for a birthday treat (and click pictures, of course) and fifteen minutes to polish off the food once we got there. Those summer nights, when we would lie on the terrace, talking about anything and everything, waiting for a shooting star to wish upon. I had never seen so many shooting stars before, nor since. Of course, none of us actually believed that it worked. But sometimes, even a little sign helped, and a shooting star was a pretty nice one.

We made extravagant plans when we were in college. The world seemed so full of possibilities then! We shared our dreams, our hopes and our heartbreaks. We packed picnic baskets for trips to the tea garden, and to our secret knoll behind the lake, where we would watch fireflies and play “three good things and three bad things about you”. It was a mock serious game, but one played with utter seriousness: the goal being to sort out things as we went, never holding grudges. And to appreciate one another’s good deeds, of course. It worked some times, didn’t other times. (It definitely didn’t the last time!) But it was with you guys that I first made the commitment to never hold a grudge. Time tells you which friendships are worth keeping. Nine years after we met, I know this one definitely is.

Love you guys.

Starry skies 1

Photo: static416, Flickr, Creative Commons License

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Cinthya

Crazy. Boring. Unpredictable.

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