People – IV.

Some people think you represent light. Your laughter lightens up their day, they say. You somehow are always joking around, you are always full of hopes – of finding love and being happy, of chasing stars and turning dreams into reality.

Some people think you are the night. They would come to you on a full moon night but will stay away during the new moon. They think you are always sad; that you are the epitome of suffering; that you suffer too much – inside your head and outside. That you are always full of angst, anger and rants.

But your people are the ones who see that you live in the edge of darkness and the light. No, they know that there are more layers than just day and night. That you are the various shades of the sky in twilight. That you are sorted in your chaos. That you are full of life, because you’ve known death so well. That you are always laughing around because you live with sadness in your sleeve.

Some people think you represent happiness. Others think you are always sad. But your people knows that you represent ups and downs of life. And that, like life, you always move on.

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Dear you,

As I passed the almost alive almost dead Bagmati today, the tipsyness slowly leaving me, I kept on thinking about you. What would you say if you found out that I was just wandering around, drinking and going to places instead of home? Because I remember, last time I was with a friend, you told us not to wander around the strange road. The road isn’t strange today and we are on bike. Plus it’s not just girls. Of course it’s dark and we should have been heading home at this time.

I also felt free. The sort of freedom you get when you are out with your friends, not caring about the world or the consequences. When I am with you, I feel protected because you have always been a big brother to me. You have always been someone I look up to, someone who inspires me.

So when I passed the lesser used road on pitch dark time, feeling that freedom of not having to care about the world, I thought of you. I wondered if you would ever accept this kind of trip. “You’re a big girl” you might say, but wouldn’t you get worried in your heart, even a bit?

 

I don’t like this at all.

I lay on my bed closing my eyes, counting 1..2..3.. “Any seconds now,” I tell myself waiting to fall asleep. But I fail. Another day, as I fail again. To fall asleep, to write. My insomnia and writer’s stuck moment is back on track and I don’t know if I’m to be happy about being normal again or sad that I don’t have that I need to write vs I need to sleep moment anymore. It’s going to be like this for another few days to weeks, so I guess I better get hang of it.

What I wish right now to have is Caffeine. I would prefer milk tea but that’s not possible. I’m on my tea limit so I have to be okay with a cup of mango juice. I wish I was not though. I wish I could gulp down cups of tea or rather enjoy each cup with precise moments cherishing on the drink. The juice ain’t that bad but I would rather have what I wish. But I’m sure that won’t help me either given the situation.

And it gets worse you know. When you are being an insomniac and not being able to write, these ideas and stories come to your mind. The images of a girl with plaited hair and white dress walking down the damp, small , spooky gullies of Kathmandu Valley comes in front of your eyes but you can’t seem to do anything about it. You can’t get up and write because you have no idea what to write about. Nor can you go back to sleep.

And now I can’t think of stuffs to write about. I still wish to have tea though. But I will have to be back in my bed because tomorrow, I need to be an early bird. And tomorrow hopefully, words will find their way back to me.

Goodnight Folks!