Friends... lets just say I once had a friend whom I trusted more than anyone else. More than the then-boyfriend at times maybe. Maybe not. But that is beyond the point.

The case in point is that if this friend, whom you would have followed with your eyes closed or open to hell or maybe even beyond hurts you and lies to you, what do you do? And then if that friend asks you is you are still mad at them when frankly you do not even know how to deal with it, what do you do? How do you deal with something or someone you do not want to deal with. After you have boxed away the memories how do you handle it when they are opened and spread across the brain and heart and emotions and all the mushy gooey part of you? When the warm fuzzies you would get at the mention of that person has now turned into a shrug at the past? How do you handle the person whose marriage was the only reason for a trip is somehow lost to you and lost in a manner that you do not know how to fix it?

Friends meant a lot to me. Relationships too. But I can not deal with them right now. I am drifting and I do not care. I like this distance. For some reason, I do. A little, not a lot.

How about it when the friend you considered family hurts you? But then that is what families do - hurt each other and then forgive. But you can not for some God-damned reason forgive this one special person. Coz you thought of them as infallible, as your buddy who would never lie to you and who would always be there for you. ALWAYS. But now, you don't know how to think of them? How does it work now? When you know they are not infallible and they are human too after all. How do you deal with the fact that they will lie when they think it is right, so what if it is wrong?

How do friends who break you feel about it?

The mail... it forced me to write this. To empty it out.

If I look at it... it is all useless. Years have gone by. But to this day, I feel the emptiness and the hollowness that makes no sense. All I can think is Ma, why did you have to die? And what do I do now?

It is very selfish. She must be out of her pain. But is she really alright when she sees her family so confused? She held us together and all of a sudden, we were all floundering. And I still can not converse with Papa the way I did with her. Call it what ever you want. Being women? Spending time together? We rarely saw eye to eye on so many things. I never understood her choice of sari colours. But knew that she wore synthetic saris so that I, her daughter, could buy an ice cream. I did not understand her love for baingan, but am yet to eat anything more filling than her food. Inspite of all our differences, she understood me. She just did. Like my need to be the best. Why? She knew that. I never had to say a word. She knew my eyes. These are my father's eyes. My smile is hers. But she knew these eyes. Nothing could be hidden. Ever.

She would never open my almirah. But she knew what would look good on me. She was against me having bangs. But I did it. She was used to cut tomatoes for me. Sometimes I think my love for tomatoes came from the fact that she cut them for me. And when she was not allowed to eat them... my love faded a little too. They do not taste the same. I would steal her saris and make salwar suits. Which I would never wear. she could have worn that sari more than that suit that I finally gave away on my last India trip. But now, seeing her saris all neatly packed and never to be worn... I run my hands through them and want to feel her. Want to smell her. But the dry clean took that away.

The laddoos she had made to fatten me. I hid those for Papa n Bhai after she died. I remember making dal fry for Papa and Bhai the night she died coz she had made me promise that I would not let her home... her house... her belongings fall apart. She had made me promise to not give anything away to the relatives who would lay claim to it. I remember locking all the almirahs. It was as if I had to protect everything. Is it not all so useless? The very things I was protecting... they are no longer her. No longer home anymore. Moving out took away the small memories. Renovation and others moving in... it took even the right to be able to sit and reminisce.

I need counsel. I have none. There are professional questions. Personal life shot to hell. No one to ask is this right? She did not force any answer on me. But she heard me out and told me what she thought of it. Very subtly change what I thought of it. But never force.

I remember her... frail and thin. And crying over how much weight I had lost to jaundice. i remember the blood flowing through the dialysis machine and trying to wonder if it was redder than the last time. Haemoglobin count increased it would have meant. I remember trying not to cry everytime I had to take her to the hospital. I remember dropping her off and then parking the scooty. Giving her the rationed amount of water. And looking at the swollen left hand. I wished someone would hold me then... Till this day, I wish someone would hold me.

Her side of the bed. Her chair on the dining table. Her favourite bedsheet. Her touch. I miss her touch. A lot. So much... Soft and gentle and so motherly...

Papa and Bhai are the ones who feel the same. Or do they? She meant different things to them. She was everything to Papa. And Bhai, he was always her baby. I was the pseudo rebel who always stayed close to home base because she needed to be touched. I was never questioned, because I was always trusted. So I never felt the need to go all out. I got to know her, to really be with her only after she was forced to quit. Till then she was a working mother. After that, she was mother. It was good, really good. Being able to come home and seeing her there. It was so good. Kissing her goodbye. Everyday. For the first time... it was so so so good. I have never seen myself as a mother. Because I am not sure if I will ever be able to love like one. Like she did. She fought for me. She was my mother. And being a mother is no easy job. I saw it tearing her apart when she could not cook. Not because she was hungry, but because I would have to cook after college. Will I ever be able to rise above being only Purva and be a mother? Will I ever be able to curb my hunger as I tend to my kids' hunger? No fucking ideas. And that is why I am never able to see myself as a mother. But I know I want to be one. One day, be able to give all the love she gave me to her grandkids.

It is such a fickle thing. Memory. One of papa's favourite words. Fickle. He will use it so often. Hers, it was hey ma... They say, when in pain, you remember only your mother. Maybe it is true. But then, is it why she would call out for her mother so often? Even though she was with her. Very much so. Having seen her eyes clouded with pain. It would physically hurt me. I remember how her limbs would hurt. How I would sit and press her feet and try to study at the same time.

Her illness took a lot away from her. It also made her bitter for a while. She would hate me being in the same room. Criticize me. Shout at me. At those times, I would be bewildered and confused. I remember how she told me that I was happy only with him. Which was not true. I was not happy. But atleast, I could cry without the fear that it would hurt everyone else, specially her.

Why am I writing this all? I have no bloody ideas. All I know is that all of a sudden, it was as if all this had to come out and now. Else, it would choke me. I love you a lot Papa. I am sorry for not being able to be the perfect daughter. Or being the daughter I was earlier. I just do not have her next to me anymore Papa. I am learning, the same way as you are. And I am not good at anything when the reason for my being me is not here. I loved her on a whole different level. And she "got" me. And you. And we are both still learning each other.

Hope- it is my best friend and my worst enemy. But I still won't let it go :)

The hills are turning green again Papa. It has been raining. The hills are turning green again. We will be all alright. I know it. i just know it. I doubt it too at times. But I know it... I just do. The hills.. they are turning green again.

Spent an hour and a half in the morning talking with YB. And it was an amazing time. Lets see. What did we talk about? MR's upcoming wedding ofcourse. It was "the" topic of the day. About how we reacted when we heard the news. Pretty much similar. What???? Hold on... No no no.... Ummmm... Really? YOU ARE GETTING MARRIED???? LOL. Am looking forward to meeting her. It will be the first time after 2K4 May. She is moving back to India for good next month. Plans to meet up and plans for the new year's eve were made. Obviously with complete disregard for anything real and practical. It should be fun to see what actually works out.

Obviously we gossiped. Two girls put together and no conversation? Ain't happening. But what was most interesting was how we giggled. Ummm... yeah. Actually giggled. Like sixteen year old girls who were sharing a secret and a chocolate, we giggled. For no reason what so ever. It was weird, coz I do not do it generally. But it felt really really good. Like really good. Giggling ourselves silly. She at work and me in my bed. Two girls connected by four years of togetherness. Its amazing how we have re-connected. With classmates who we barely talked to. With the friends we were always close to. It is almost as if we were right there. Next to each other. Discuss fears and strengths. Plan random trips. We spent a long time making fun of people. Being mean in each other's company. And talk evil :D

And the conversation just proved how small this world really is. She likes a friend of a friend. And that ass hurt her :(

Meeting her on year end will be awesome. Spending the new years eve with her and MR and PH and hopefully PG will be the icing on the cake. And MR's marriage on Jan 2. Sounds like a good start to the year 2008. With months still to go before the end of 2007, the excitement it already building up. Me, I get excited at the smallest thing. This is big. Meeting most of them after age.

Looking forward to it.

YS and SS are expecting a kid. Congratulations guys! Me going to be a bua!

Another kid to pamper. Happy happy happy :)

Talking with MR gives me such a high. He is the eternal well of optimism and balances my obsessive negativity too well. In fact, he actually makes me smile and makes me look at the positive side of things.

It has always been like this. He is the biased outsider. Biased coz me is his li'l sister. And he is the elder brother. So what if he was born 83 and me in 82 :D Outsider coz his brain does not function like mine. And let's face it. When it is about me, anyone else other than me and the parties involved are the outsiders.

I met MR in July 2K. It has been a good seven years since. And we have seen each other through a lot of things. So many of my happy memories include MR and his family. He has been there for me through some of my darkest hours.

We started our MCA at IIPS together in the fall of 2K. He used to sit with AS, a friend from high school. Now, let me give you the context of the first conversation we ever had. There was a plan to go watch some movie. If I remember correctly, it was Raaz. Some sorry ass spooky movie. Now, I am a chicken and so obviously I did not go. And as per MR, our first conversation went something like this:

    Me: M, you are not going to the movie?
    M: No, you know I am still 17 and the movie got an A certificate.
    Me: Oh, come on. Don't tell me you are not an adult mentally already.

And MR told me thaht his reaction was "Oooh.. I love the girls here. Fiesty!" Too bad, not all were like that. Even I would have enjoyed my time way more there then.

Since that day, MR and I have been the best buddies. I knew what he would be doing. I knew who he liked and teased him to death about it. I liked to sit and talk with him. I remember all those long hours at his place. The Ex and I would go to his place in the afternoon when Aunty and Uncle would be at work. We would raid the pantry, finish off all the Brittania Bourbouns and eat banana chips till we could not possibly eat any more. Which was lets see.... never. We would watch crappy movies. Sometimes even movies with crappy prints. And still have fun.

One of the most amazing memories - Icecream!!!! We would buy a one litre brick of ice cream. And spoon it all off in seconds. Obviously the guys would finish it off and I would get some spoonfuls here and there. But man! was that fun!!!!! I remember how one evening we wanted to make sundaes. But there was no chocolate syrup available. Now MR lived in the CAT colony and that was in a corner of Indore and to get to the next closest shop, we would have had to drive for a good couple of kilometers. So we just buy a lot of Chokies. Those were those packets of chocolates you could suck on. Not sure about the name. But anyway, we buy like all the sachets on sale at that shop. Buy ice cream and head home. We have our "sundaes" with the enthusiasm that only very close friends bring. I have the picture of that evening. I will go and scan it and attach it. Oh God! The times we have had.Working on the graduation project together. Talking late in to the night.

Once MR was supposed to pick me up from my place for an early morning conference at IMS? Not sure where. Now, I was wearing a salwar-suit. And I am not very comfortable with handling a dupatta. So here I am. Sitting with both legs on one side of the bike. Trying to balance myself and a dupatta and a purse! And along comes a speed breaker. Not just any speed breaker. But a monster. And MR dearest can't see it. His bike jumps over it and I am in air!!! For a good 5 seconds or so. I was like this is it. My butt dies today. Then I land back on his bike and give him the screaming of his life. It was scary. But obviously now, we all laugh about it. It was freaking hilarious!!!

MR was there when we went to Dharamshala. I remember his b'day celebration. The guy was too thick to know we were actually planning a surprise cake for him. We ordered the cake the morning we reached Delhi. And the night we were leaving Delhi, MR and I went ahead to the train while the Ex went and got the cake in a giant cardboard box. We told MR that it was stuff for a friend. Now at 11.45, two cops come and start asking us what is there in the cardboard box. Awesome! We had to tell them. Still, MR is clueless. It is only when we open the box and actually show them the cake that he is like Oh Shit!!! You guys are so nice!!!! Yeah, it is you. You are important MR and it was just a cake.

Now, when we are on different continents, we are closer than ever. I call him every day. Almost. Else, we chat. I discuss everything with him. What he says is important to me. He gives me hope when there is none. He came to pick me up at the airport when I went to India in May. Every time it rains, I miss how we would bunk classes and go for a drive on the bypass. Bhutta, baarish and the gang. It was one of the most simple things to do, yet it was such amazing fun. Going to Rala Mandal. it is like a ritual. Anytime MR and me are in Indore, we take a hike to Rala Mandal. Armed with water and food and stories and bitching about everything under the sun. We sit there at the top. Talk and talk and talk and talk. It is like one of those things that defines being with MR.

We are close. We have extreme amount of dirt on each other. Understand each other really well and get along so darn well. We voice our differences and have the right to approve of each other's girl friend/boy friend. Yeah, it is scary how much we can lord over each other.

I am glad I have you for a friend. Hell, you are my brother. As much a brother as Bhai is. You are M Bhai in case you did not know. Its rakhi time again. I wish I were there in person. Its been three years since I actually tied a rakhi on your wrist. And even then, it was not on rakhi day itself. Some rakhi, we will actually be there together :)

I am really lucky to have so many close friends. And I am really lucky to friends with you. And you know what is even more amazing? We actually like each other without being forced into it. It is not a relation. So we are not like some long lost aunt's son and daughter respectively. Obviously, I am disregarding the six degrees of separation. We have overcome a year of mus understanding and an year of not talking to you becoming the person whose advice I trust and seek. Miss you! Glad to be friends with you. :)

I miss you tonnes. Sometimes I wish that I were able to talk to you. Wishing I could share my thoughts and my troubles. Sometimes I wish that I were able to think about you so clearly that I can see you and almost feel you. Sometimes I wish that you had not been cremated, and that you were buried somewhere. So that I would still have a physical reminder of you. Sometimes I wish that all your saris still smelt of you. The softness of your touch would somehow be reflected in those saris.

Sometimes I wish that I still remembered your exact words. Or how you said them. I know them. I see your face, but something is amiss. I wish I knew what it is. So that I will fix it. I think it is you who is missing. Dear Ma, I remember how I would lie with my head in your lap and somehow life would seem easier and bearable.

Dear Ma, I still remember how sometimes you would feed me. Make small bites and give them to me. Cut tomatoes for me and wait for me. Its been 3 years since anyone really cared for me. The way you did. And I somehow miss it. Maybe you spoilt me rotten :) Or maybe I expect too much from others. No one can fill your place, but somehow I wish someone atleast tried. A little bit.

I remember you told me that if you ever died, my life would change forever. I hated you for talking about your death. But I guess you knew that it was coming. You were so brave always. I wish that I can be slightly braver too. That some of your courage and your love for life and the spontaneity is in me too.

Mumma, do you remember how we would sit and talk. For hours on end. You would massage my temple. Or just run your hands over my eyes. That was the most relaxing thing. I would sometimes ask the Ex to do that. It helped. But there was something about your touch. Maybe it was your love. Maybe it was the 22 years we were together. Maybe it is just the fact that you were my mother.

Ma, I have tried to find you in so many ways. I have even tried to forget you sometimes. Or get mad at you for leaving me alone. I wonder sometimes if I were a good daughter to you. And I never come up with yes, you were. It is always you were so bad!!! I wish that I could have made you happier. AB says that this is how kids behave with parents. I guess. I am not sure. I just wish that sometimes when you thought of me, you could smile and love me without any regrets. Ma, I love you so much more with every day. You are no longer with me. But I love you all the same. More coz I know I have a bit of you in me. I love myself. Am proud of who I am. Of the fact that I am my own person and not dependent on anyone. Of the fact that I can stand my own ground and that I have learned a lot from you. I am a smart and intelligent young woman. Know my mind and say it. I am told I smile like you. I am told that I look like you a lot. But I am me. And I like that. Being myself. But that you shaped the person that I am and whacked me when I was wrong and guided me and praised me when I was right played a big part in making this person who she is. For that, I am really thankful Ma. You taught me humility, you taught me how to laugh. How to be strong and how to accept your mistakes. You taught me not to lie, though I still lie sometimes. You taught me courage and gave me strength. Confidence and morale. So much...I hope I can someday shape my kids personality into something you would have been proud of.

Mummy, I miss the food that you cooked. The simplicity of that food and the love that went into it. Even when you would grumble, the food would taste awesome. Even when you were sick, you made sure that there was always food on the table. I really do not know how you did that. Even when you could not cook, you made sure that the cook came in and when she did not, you would make sure that there was atleast dal-chawal. I really appreciate your strength. I hope that when I have kids, I am able to love them as unconditionally as you did.

Dear Ma, I am missing you a lot. A lot. I just wish that you would guide me again tonight. I am feeling tired of fighting Ma. Once again, I need some help. Please pick me up and shake me.

I hope you are happy and know that Papa and Bhai love you and miss you. Bhai is getting his Masters Ma and can you believe it, our little baby has found the love of his life and we have talked to her family and they are all set to get married when the time is right. Do you know Papa has stood strong and that he loves you so much and your kids so much more that he refuses to marry again saying that for him, you were the one and he does not want anyone to take your place. That he does not want to marry again coz he does not know how the wife would treat us, his kids. You two taught us kids family Ma. And you taught us what love and support really means.

Amma, I wish you were with me. But I hope that where ever you are, you know that this stupid girl loves you and thinks of you everyday. And that you can look at me and tell those around you, that is my little girl. Look, ain't she something?

Love you Ma
Your daughter

I pinged VR. And he replied Yeah. And it got to me. I have been wanting to talk to him for a long time now. I miss our conversations. But he is always busy.

And I said that I did not want to talk to him. And he said okay and I said thanks and bye. And he said anytime.

It still hurts. And it brought tears.

Well, I guess nuptials really do change a person. :(

Since yesterday, I have been extremely upset. Just about everything is pissing me off. And everything out there is against me.

I have been trying to smile, but I feel like breaking something instead.

I have been missing Ma a lot. I miss her so much that I could not sleep last night. And I ended up crying myself to a troubled sleep. And wake up to a mumble jumble of scary dreams. More like what did I just see? That was scary. And then it was like wait, here comes another.

I just wish that this phase goes away soon. I really do not want to be sad. I want to go on with my life. But all of a sudden I see all the changes in my life. I see my old room. And how it has someone else living in it now and how even the light switches are not where they were. I could walk in there with closed eyes and move around with ease. I would stub my toe often, but then I am a klutz. I will stumble even in broad daylight on a straight flat ground. I miss the stairs I would sit on with Ma and have the best conversations. Heartfelt. With my head in her lap. And how it seemed at that time like all the issues in life would work out all on their own.

I look back at family dinners and how there would be all the chaos of the family there. Closeness, anger, happiness, I-will-kill-you looks to a shared secret. How Bhai and I would fight over the food we loved and how we would swallow what we did not like without really tasting it. I miss those simple dinners of dal-chawal that were so filling. Coz there was so much love and there was so much comfort there. Home is where heart is they say. Add to it home is where smiles are. And even the tears... but someone there to calm you and hold you and give you a hug.

I just do not know what it is that has come over me all of a sudden. But it is as if I have been hit by a wave of nostalgia and I can not shake it off. There are tears that I just can not stop. And I hate crying. It makes me weak. Its a new day and a new morning but the pain from yesterday has still not gone.

Well, got to get to work. Hope that will take my mind off this.

A lot... Wish you were here.

Love you forever.

Friendship is a weird feeling. And friends are a weird breed. You make friends randomly. You do not go searching for them. Or may be you do.

As for me, all of my friendships have been developed by chance. Yes, there has been effort that has been put in. From both me and my friends. But then, the initial introduction was never like.. oh s/he is a cool person. I want to be friends with him/her. More like we just clicked. When I try and get to know a person because s/he is interesting, it does not turn into a close friendship. I guess I realize that once I know that person and that interesting-ness runs out, I am bored. Oh, I have tried to know people I find interesting. But then they have almost always fizzled out of my life.

But my close friends, it has been something of a serendipity. Luck maybe. But not an active search , like for a mentor or for an advisor. It has been more like oh, we talk. And we click. We talk some more and we connect. And we talk more and we connect. And we talk and all of a sudden I am sharing. And I am unstoppable.

And I look at my friendships. I can make friends who will stay at the acquaintance level forever. It is easy. But people who are close to me... Few, but enough to share my life's most important thoughts with them. Share what is eating me alive. Share what I can not express and what I can not explain, yet they understand. Not really, that place was only my Ma's. No one has replaced her yet. But it is still easier.

I miss a confidante who will not judge me. Not at that instance. God knows, I need counseling. I need someone to whack some sense into me. But when I am ranting, shut up and listen. When I am crying, do not tell me to stop crying. Give me my five minutes and then tell me to shut up and if I do not listen, then just let me be. My brain kind of freezes for no reason sometimes. Like I will not be able to tell what 2+2 makes without actaully hearing that twice. Or I will not know who is saying what. At that moment, please remind me that I need to breathe. And that I am not that dumb. I mean, honestly, do that please.

Let me hug you if you feel comfortable with it. Else, let me know what are the boundaries. I will accept and respect them. Let me know how stupid I am, but please do not attempt to change everything that I am. That will stifle me.

I am bored of writing right now. Maybe more some other time.