its been more than two weeks now since Mat left. The convofy episode with Asim bhai left me wary of what Mat might think. If huma hadnt called him sneakily alluding to unecessary importance of our chat that circled around black currant tea bags, I would never have thought of it in a twisted way.
Twisted people brew twisted thoughts and hearing them out aloud twists one's own otherwise relatively straighter thinking. Even though I told Asim bhai to leave it, it just kept bothering him. So as a final resort he talked to Mat to delete the post on my profile. My mind kept going in circles whether Mat would be skeptical about it! I knew he would never ask me about it. Software stupidities. And then I spent my day worrying if he would talk to me at all after this? Huma made it seem so covert that I was forced to think if Mat would make any assumptions.
The night before yesterday, I writhed in pain missing Mat so much. Being wary of the days when he will finally shift to Houston, when I wont see his face even if I wanted to.I wont hear his voice. When I go to the third floor, I wont be peeking at him busy at work. I felt breathless. The walls closing in. My throat hurt bad with endless effort of fighting down tears. I lay on my belly and every inch reverberated pain. Even the tiny little joints of my fingers hurt with stress.It was like life was draining me of every ounce of energy. At that fleeting moment I wanted to be held by him devoid of any amorous emotion and unwind my mounting misery. I needed it like never before. I can confidently state that I have never cried to an extent where I had to fling away a drenched pillow. That night I took another one. I dropped a message and kept crying while talking to him! I told him how much I had missed him that day. He probably felt a difference in my expression. It was doleful! And so he pressed me for what was wrong. I wanted to scream my heart out. But I chose to lie instead and told him his usual group of friends minus him made me miss him more! Its not friends...its everything! every little menial detail. IM's neck couldn't stay in place at tea so he kept turning around for meaningless cross talk which I shot down with carefully weighed replies.All I could think was he works with MAT; MAT MAT MAT! Then J's information on Blackberries being replace with IPhones struck a chord; BB -> BBM -> Mat! Then the wretched cup of coffee reminded me "Black no sugar please!" Thats how Mat always asked me to make his cup. The wheather outside was cloudy. It was almost rainy "Barish! wah" this was a whatsapp message I got from him one september morning in 2011 when I had just stepped in the van, it was around 8:30 am. Rain, clouds always remind me of him. I was removing my calluses from my fingers and I remembered the splinters on Mat's fingers. Even on our last meeting before he left, I could feel them on his fingers. I just threw away the nail cutter in anger and dropped dead in a corner, crying helplessly. Everyday gives me newer words to write about him and newer ways to miss him; more than before.
My innocent sister just messaged me to ask me why I was depressed. I told her how dejected and lifeless it is and that I do not wish to live. She said I needed somebody and I said I didn't want anybody. The beauty of an "anybody" is that they are faceless, new and undiscovered. The options and discoveries are limiteless when it is a question of anybody. The misery of wanting a "somebody" is that one knows exactly who they want. The "somebody" has a face you remember down to the lines etched across their face and when that somebody is gone...what then? It becomes an endless winding road. Going around in circles, never reaching a destination of peace. and my somebody is leaving and I find myself powerless to any reaction.
Sometimes I wonder, If Mat were to read my candlestine confessions here how would he react? Will he be angry? Will he laugh at my naivity of reckless thought and feeling? Will he be amused at my neediness?
Twisted people brew twisted thoughts and hearing them out aloud twists one's own otherwise relatively straighter thinking. Even though I told Asim bhai to leave it, it just kept bothering him. So as a final resort he talked to Mat to delete the post on my profile. My mind kept going in circles whether Mat would be skeptical about it! I knew he would never ask me about it. Software stupidities. And then I spent my day worrying if he would talk to me at all after this? Huma made it seem so covert that I was forced to think if Mat would make any assumptions.
The night before yesterday, I writhed in pain missing Mat so much. Being wary of the days when he will finally shift to Houston, when I wont see his face even if I wanted to.I wont hear his voice. When I go to the third floor, I wont be peeking at him busy at work. I felt breathless. The walls closing in. My throat hurt bad with endless effort of fighting down tears. I lay on my belly and every inch reverberated pain. Even the tiny little joints of my fingers hurt with stress.It was like life was draining me of every ounce of energy. At that fleeting moment I wanted to be held by him devoid of any amorous emotion and unwind my mounting misery. I needed it like never before. I can confidently state that I have never cried to an extent where I had to fling away a drenched pillow. That night I took another one. I dropped a message and kept crying while talking to him! I told him how much I had missed him that day. He probably felt a difference in my expression. It was doleful! And so he pressed me for what was wrong. I wanted to scream my heart out. But I chose to lie instead and told him his usual group of friends minus him made me miss him more! Its not friends...its everything! every little menial detail. IM's neck couldn't stay in place at tea so he kept turning around for meaningless cross talk which I shot down with carefully weighed replies.All I could think was he works with MAT; MAT MAT MAT! Then J's information on Blackberries being replace with IPhones struck a chord; BB -> BBM -> Mat! Then the wretched cup of coffee reminded me "Black no sugar please!" Thats how Mat always asked me to make his cup. The wheather outside was cloudy. It was almost rainy "Barish! wah" this was a whatsapp message I got from him one september morning in 2011 when I had just stepped in the van, it was around 8:30 am. Rain, clouds always remind me of him. I was removing my calluses from my fingers and I remembered the splinters on Mat's fingers. Even on our last meeting before he left, I could feel them on his fingers. I just threw away the nail cutter in anger and dropped dead in a corner, crying helplessly. Everyday gives me newer words to write about him and newer ways to miss him; more than before.
My innocent sister just messaged me to ask me why I was depressed. I told her how dejected and lifeless it is and that I do not wish to live. She said I needed somebody and I said I didn't want anybody. The beauty of an "anybody" is that they are faceless, new and undiscovered. The options and discoveries are limiteless when it is a question of anybody. The misery of wanting a "somebody" is that one knows exactly who they want. The "somebody" has a face you remember down to the lines etched across their face and when that somebody is gone...what then? It becomes an endless winding road. Going around in circles, never reaching a destination of peace. and my somebody is leaving and I find myself powerless to any reaction.
Sometimes I wonder, If Mat were to read my candlestine confessions here how would he react? Will he be angry? Will he laugh at my naivity of reckless thought and feeling? Will he be amused at my neediness?
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