Maybe you learned about me too fast. Of how I like my coffee all black and no sugar but how chiya needs to have a dash of milk and a tinge of sweetness. Of how I don’t have a favorite color but I want my Parka Jacket green and Skinny Jeans dark blue. Of how I am obsessed with everything check and stripe. And of how I like everything chocolate – the ice cream, the cake; the darker the chocolate is the better. Of how I seek space when given attention and how I seek attention when given space.
Like how you would mug up the course for an exam right before it, maybe you read me in a rush. Maybe you read me like a wooden lattice window or an old house in a chowk that we barely go to. Or like how I’d always tied my long jet black hair into a grandmother bun till I chopped it off. And how my glasses hides the chocolate brown eyes, that is too deep to look into for more than five minutes.
Like how you’d go through the maps before exploring new places, maybe you’d done the same with me. That you ended up memorizing each turn and twist of my life, of each hole and home too. Of how I have been beaten, bent and burnt, time and again by life and yet how I came back stronger each time. Of how I have a good support system, network of friends and families, who always have my back. Of how I want to save the world yet I am unsure about saving myself.
Maybe like how we move on from the things we’d studied for exams after the exams, the landmarks after we’d reach the destination, you too have moved on after knowing me so well, after reading me so well. After all, I am an open book and you are a good reader.