Category: Stories

Dearly Departed

Dearly Departed,

It’s been 4 months and 10 days since you’ve been gone, but I still can’t believe it. I had known you since we were both 10, and today at 21, I sit here and  wonder where did you decide it went so wrong that it wasn’t worth it anymore. We grew up together, changed cities together, you were one of my best friends, until one day you were no more. In the time since that fateful day, I’ve gone through an array of emotions, but I still feel I’m stuck at stage one of grief – Denial.

Denial that you’re gone, that you called it quits and left us all behind, that none of us could save you. Denial that you left no reason and no answers to all our questions, the hows and the whys. Everywhere I turn, I still see you. You come to me in bits and pieces, every time I’m alone and sometimes even when I’m in crowds. I still look up your name on social media and  go through our old photos, I miss you when I read a new book or watch an interesting show, I want to message you bad puns and over the top sexual jokes. I grew up with you, and now I’m growing up alone. We bonded over books, and I still can’t look at any Agatha Christie novel without thinking of you.

Sometimes I’m so mad at you, sometimes I’m so hurt. But the pain, it just doesn’t go away. You managed to instill a fear in me of the future; With yourself you also managed to kill my childlike innocence to believe in the best. You instilled a fear of dark in me, of the unknown. You’re the cause for my red rimmed eyes every night, when I cry myself to sleep while my head spins stories around you. We tried to find a reason in every message you had ever sent, every word you had ever spoken until there was nothing left to decode.

My fear also runs to odd places when the demons in my head start to roar. You and I often spoke about how similar you and I are. Once upon a time it was a beautiful thing to find another person who’s so similar to you, that I could share my problems with. Today, it had become my greatest nightmare. I sit and wonder will I also end up doing what you did. Worse, sometimes I’m tempted to join you just so we can discuss this too.

Today, I look in the mirror and my puffy eyes and frown taunt me and call me weak. But I like to live, a lot. So today, after 4 months and 10 days, I refuse to wait everyday for a letter that’ll never come.

But dear friend, I still miss you. And I love you.

Yours Truly,

A friend you left behind.



Little Lies – 1

Does it remind you of us? He asks.

I look up and stare, my heart beating an uneven staccato. I prayed that my eyes didn’t give my truth away. I mulled it over, his question. Did it remind me of him, all the pieces of love floating around in this world? When I saw two hands held together, when lips fuse with each other with the promise of more, when two bodies come together on the screen. Did I think of him anymore? It felt like ages had passed between him and me, the months spanning seasons. But I couldn’t tell him truth, because my secrets should always remain that, secrets.

So I look up and lie ‘Sometimes they do.’

But my eyes, they still shy away. Because the only thing love reminds me of is you.


It’s not that easy, moving from one place to another. Sometimes along with picking up all your clothes and shoes, you also have to pack parts of your soul. With every knick-knack I put in my bag, I also put all the memories and laughter attached to it. The black top is symbolic of the time when I got drunk the first time around and freaked everybody out, while the blackened wall represents a time with the lighter gone bad. Those coffee mugs are from when my roommate and I used to sip green teas every day, a ritual so embedded in me that I continued it with my brother too.

Every item in this room that I’m now leaving forever has been accumulated over three years; it holds countless laughter, jokes, fights and what not. If objects could speak, they would all tell you the tale of wide eyed kids who left home in search of something new, something better, and something bigger. They would tell you of all the struggles and triumphs, secret tears and shared happiness. But most of all they’ll tell you the tale of friendship and love; of how a place isn’t a home without the people in it.

So today as I pack my bag to return back home, I know one thing for sure. I had managed to more than just live in another city; I had managed to build a home.

Maybe I should let go

Maybe it was just past time when I had to let go.

I had held on to it for so long. My breath was cold, the frost had turned my lips blue. From winter to summer, I had waited for you. I used to shiver in cold jackets that smelled of you, just to feel closer. Now I wear threadbare shorts and pluck at the end, waiting for this feeling to end. Every time I’m around you, a part of me goes into hyper alert mode, following every gesture and every blink. Your words make my heart skip a beat. The after feeling of remorse, shame and defeat takes over, when you turn away from me again.

It’s over, I know. Maybe I should also let go.

Across the Cafe 

He looked over the rim of his coffee cup to the table in the corner. A lone figure sat on the table, books spread all around her, her hand moving fluidly across the pages. Her coat, her bag, her umbrella was all thrown carelessly against the leg of the table, just waiting to trip an innocent bystander. She kept pushing her hair out of her face for several minutes until finally she gave up and tied them up on her head. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t stop. It was as if she was the centre of his universe, the bespectacled beauty with no patience and extreme agitation. From this far he could see she was studying physics. He wondered if she went to the sameUniversity as his, he wondered oifhe had the courage to go up and talk to her…..

She knew he was staring, had been for quite a while. The cute boy on table 7, with a cup of coffee a book in his hand… Lord of the Rings. She giggled as she realised he was a certifiable nerd. She’d noticed him when she walked inside, messy brown hair and pale skin, and his fingers. Long lean and beautiful fingers. He had this aura around him, a calmness that felt like it centred her. He’d first started throwing surreptitious glances towards her, before turning to full on staring. She could feel herself growing hot and red in her cheeks and losing her concentration, writing the same thing over and over again. She wished he would come up and talk to her. She waited and waited, but nobody came. Irritated and impatient, she decided to take the matters in her own hand. 
As stealthily as possible, she shifted in her seat to look at him, but alas, his seat was empty. She couldn’t see him anywhere. Dejected, she banged her head on her table, when she realised somebody was was standing in front of her. 
Giddily, she looked up and there he was, a coffee in one hand and his book in the other. 
‘May I?’ He asked.
She smiled and said ‘Yes’.