Corridors of Ankita's Mind

It’s well past dusk but the wind is still balmy, carrying it with a whisper of summer nights and reminding me of those glorious Goan nights. I find that it’s far easier to hate you than forget you. I pride myself on keeping my feelings completely cloaked, never even bestowing a second look on you, pretending that it doesn’t hurt when you stop talking to me without warning. Do you have any idea how much I care? How much it warms my heart to see you smile genuinely or share a part of your life with me? I know I can never be with you. This is an impossible love and I have made peace with the fact long ago. I’ve tried so hard to be friends with you then why is it so difficult for you to do the same? Why can’t you see that I’m always on your side? That I find you lovable despite your faults? I know it’ll hurt when my best friends get invited to your wedding and I don’t. I never wanted it to be that way. I wanted to be able to feel happy for you. Won’t you let me feel joy for yours? And oh dear, why does my tongue freeze up when I see you? You’ve hurt me quite a bit in the past. Yet I dared to take a step towards you and you pushed me right back. And I stand alone here while you spend balmy summer nights with your betrothed – your soul mate. While I lie to my best friends. To everyone except myself. My own pathetic, besotted self.

Call it narcissism or self-obsession but poring over old, pretty pictures of oneself is the best way to recover from a hit to the self-esteem. Along with the images come sweet memories and it’s like balm to wounded pride. So I’ve realised that I have around five or six favourite pictures of myself and honestly, if I could, I’d make a calendar with one adorning each month. I’m under no illusion about my looks and I’m definitely not what you’d call vain. But the irrefutable truth is that what is visible to the naked eye is the outward appearance and a good self-image goes hand in hand with exterior beauty. And most people can be beautiful with a little effort. Trust me, the effort is worth it.

So what kind of guy is better in the long run – the flattery guy or the reality check guy? I think either way, it’s not what you say but how you say it. Sadly, most people could do with a lifetime’s training on putting things well. Point made, soul healed. Now all that is left is to end the day (night) with a deliciously paranormal episode of Fringe. Good night!

9 am and the white crescent of the moon still adorned the light blue sky. It was as though the moon couldn't bear to say goodbye to its beloved - the sun as they shared the last vestiges of a love that would have to be forgotten until dusk. I was on my customary morning walk, preceded by a strong coffee that jerked my eyes wide open and sent my senses singing. As my block neared, I wished I could walk forward to the lone corners with invisible notice boards that read 'For smokers only'. I understood one of the charms of smoking then - it helps you enjoy your solitude better and for a voluntary loner like me, that's akin to heaven. For a moment then, I wished I could enjoy the morning with a cigarette, free to lurk in any corner I liked. But then the thought vanished. I do like my wrinkle-free skin and unstained lips, you know.

Cheeks stung by the cold evening air, eyes bloodshot and an exhilaration zipping through my body - that's how I returned to my room today after an awesomely wintry walk in the cricket ground of my campus. Ten rounds was the goal I set myself and my feet covered them effortlessly, egged on by the peppy music in my ears. Lights from the neighbouring construction work lit up my path as I plowed on through the wet grass. Once the light was gone, I was catapulted into near complete darkness but I walked on and I could have been walking through nothingness. Then a passing car would cast welcome shadows on the grass, granting me vision once again. The freezing wind whipping my hair back rendered my nose and lips numb and I felt like I was breathing ice. As my feet moved rhythmically and the music whispered sweetly into my ears, images and thoughts flashed through my mind and I realised that motion can be very conducive to introspection, when solitary. I was as solitary as could be - all alone on the cricket ground with only the grass for company. Water splashed my legs as I stomped through some particularly wet patches but I was oblivious to the cold by then. The room felt toasty warm when I returned. Sometimes a contrast is all you need to appreciate the beauty of what you have.

I may have watched and liked Paris, Je t'aime but it's Skype I truly love! I'm wondering if I should be blogging about this any more but I will seriously die of happiness if I don't pour my heart out somewhere. Do you know how awesome it is when you see the person you've been yearning to see? And it's actually only the third time in life you're seeing them? God, I could feast my eyes on him for ever and ever. I need time to memorise every detail of his face so I can dream perfect dreams and cherish flawless memories. All the pain and sadness in the crevices of my heart vanished and a fluffy, pink happiness took its place much to my delight. It's strangely difficult to describe the floating-in-candy-clouds feeling I've been feeling.

I asked for some perspective and boy, did I get it. So I realise that it was all nothing but infatuation and that's all it'll ever be without physical proximity and all the nurture that a relationship needs in order to flower. I'm sure that my posts would have been quite the same if I had blogged as avidly the last time I fell in 'love'. It's so easy to believe in love when you're in the throes of passion. And even easier to question it's existence once you've wiped the haze away. Love, I think, is a fire that has to be stoked continuously. A little neglect and the fire can extinguish completely in seconds. Or may be that's passion. Who knows if I've even experienced love to know it?