You and I

I want to trace the map of Kathmandu on the back of my hands with the stories you’ve told me. But you were never a storyteller and mapping Kathmandu on the back of anyone’s hands, no matter how big they are, is not possible at all.

I want to retrace the path we’d walked, in the three cities. The galli where you kissed me when we thought no one was watching, the chowk with a dead end which looked like a haunted place and the falcha in the middle of the pond where we wrote stories in form of poems, eating aloo-chips we bought nearby.

Then I realized as we mapped Kathmandu with the stories we’d known and the stories we were creating, I’d long forgotten how it felt like holding your hand and simply enjoy your presence. For many moments I’d found special, we were busier trying to find a new opening to the galli we’d just walked. Or find the darkest galli there is or the chowk with the most beautiful windows.

I wish I could write songs instead of this piece. At least I could then trace our story, step by step, chapter by chapter, song by song. And we could finally see the pattern. Of how we went on from being a head over heels lovers to unrecognizable strangers. Now, we, or rather I can just read fragments of story formed in my head making me suddenly realize, I don’t even know what you feel.

So I want to trace the maps of Kathmandu and retrace the path we’d walked in the three cities. I want to rewind everything so that this time, it’s your narrative. It’s your monologue. It’s your story. Will you let me?



Dear you,

I was thinking about my past and how my life has changed drastically in less than five years. Before  my heart was broken, when I used to keep all my eggs in one basket – in B’s friendship. He was my almost best friend and a huge crush. If you were to ask me whether I loved him at that time, I would close my eyes and say yes. If you ask me the same right now, I would say I don’t know. For I don’t know what love is anymore. But this was guy I admired. He was the  one I opened to – talked about my dreams of travelling and telling stories, talked about Bhaktapurko Baa and talked about life in general. We would have lots of discussion about theories and philosophy and science and incarnation and so on. I had other friends, but they didn’t know half the things going in my head. And I would never tell. I remember him telling me that although deep inside we all are screwed up, we have to put the mask when we go out – of normality. I never believed that. Putting mask means not accepting yourself I would tell him. But still I never talked about my fears and my demons to other friends. Not to my girls in college, maybe a little to now-long-lost friend. Not a hint to the rest of the world.

And then he broke my heart. And I found myself plunging into the black hole. I was in Narayanghat, 159.3 km far from home, far from mom. And I was sick at that time. And then heart-broken. My demons started to come out, the demons I’d always nourished but kept hidden inside me. My mood swings became frequent and even violent. I felt like this was the end, that I had fallen into the darkest tunnel and wouldn’t come out no matter what. I even talked to one of my teachers about this who suggested me to find a way. But what way there could be. The guy I trusted with all the trust I could birth, the one who told me he would never leave, left without a word.

But then sun did shine slowly. I realized the girls (I am including Raja here because he is always part of my gang) were much open to my other side than I thought they would be. They loved me nevertheless, despite my mood swings and my constant sulking. And then Baa passed away. And I was on the verge of going to the dark path again but I decided to stop myself. If I’d learnt anything during that heart-broken period, it was not to be alone. So I asked J. to keep me company. He was almost a broken soul at that time, yet he gave the attention and care I needed.

The other thing that I also learnt was to be more vulnerable and to be more honest with myself. If my heart was with my almost best friend, at the time he broke my heart, it is now with people around me. That a huge chunk is with mom and you but the smaller chunks are with my friends. So even if something happens to one of those chunks (I hope not), the other chunks will still make me feel loved and give me hope no matter what.
And this is what I wanted to tell you today. That we feel lonely because we are afraid to open up to people – show them our flaws and strength, talk to them about our deepest fears and darkest secrets. We feel lonely because we don’t talk to many people about our biggest dreams or scariest thoughts. We say we want to talk about the universe and atoms but we don’t. Of course you can only talk to few selective people about the universe and atoms. But these few would become more if you give chances to others like I have done with my people. And of course this is a mutual thing than just one-sided.

So when J told me that y best friend thought I had so much of people who loved me and you agreed? Well I agree to. But they are with me because I let them be. Because I let them in. Because I opened myself to them, showed my flaws, complained, rant, talked about my dreams. And I also listened to them. Their plans. Their worries. Their stories.

So think about this. If you never want to be alone, then open yourself to more people and be more vulnerable. Of course you might end up with someone who will do you more harm than good but without taking risks, how would you know? And without the human touch, how would you get out of the mess your head creates every night?