My Dear - 44
To Friend
Do you remember the day when you and I planted some seeds in a little flower pot? I kept checking every 5 minutes to see if they had sprouted. And you said, 'not yet. I'll tell you when they are ready'. I was amazed at your ability to predict plant growth. I looked at you with renewed awe. You told me all about the mysteries of human life. You even told me how babies are made.
Do you remember that time when you and I were fascinated with death? We saw people wailing at my grandfather's dead body and we promised that we would do the same when the other person died. And we fought over who would die first. Do you still recall those days and tell your children about it? When did it all stop?
I ran into you the other day at a wedding. You did not recognise me. I had to introduce myself and you eyes widened in surprise. Have I really changed that much? We stood about awkwardly not knowing where to begin. I wanted to tell you all about my life now. And find out all about yours. But instead I heard myself telling you how hot it was and how nice it was to meet you again. We exchanged numbers and promised to stay in touch. I live in a different country now and I understand your circumstances are some what difficult. I don't expect to hear from you. But I wish I had told you that I now know how babies are made. And that is not by placing an aubergine under the armpit.
Do you remember the day when you and I planted some seeds in a little flower pot? I kept checking every 5 minutes to see if they had sprouted. And you said, 'not yet. I'll tell you when they are ready'. I was amazed at your ability to predict plant growth. I looked at you with renewed awe. You told me all about the mysteries of human life. You even told me how babies are made.
Do you remember that time when you and I were fascinated with death? We saw people wailing at my grandfather's dead body and we promised that we would do the same when the other person died. And we fought over who would die first. Do you still recall those days and tell your children about it? When did it all stop?
I ran into you the other day at a wedding. You did not recognise me. I had to introduce myself and you eyes widened in surprise. Have I really changed that much? We stood about awkwardly not knowing where to begin. I wanted to tell you all about my life now. And find out all about yours. But instead I heard myself telling you how hot it was and how nice it was to meet you again. We exchanged numbers and promised to stay in touch. I live in a different country now and I understand your circumstances are some what difficult. I don't expect to hear from you. But I wish I had told you that I now know how babies are made. And that is not by placing an aubergine under the armpit.
posted by ammani at 8:24 AM
8 Comments:
aaaawwwww
But what are aubergines in armpits good for? Is it a hangover cure? A deodorant? does it ward off the evil eye? Hmm?
but the 'friend' is not a friend anymore. the pangs of regrets are apparent, because of 'what might have been' did not happen. there is a sorrow at a lost opportunity here. an effort to rekindle a flame that once blazed, then withered and finally died! not to worry - the container is empty and the wick burnt out. go and seek forth newer plants in greener pastures. :) :) cheers :)
well written.keep it up!
i preceive or so i imagine that i find some streaking சோகம்.
is it there or am i imagining too much - i dont know!
that was lovely...here i am imagining two ppl who grew up together (kinda devdas n paro..)
stumbled upon these
brilliant..as usual
:)) well-written and brilliantly concluded.
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