Kafkasque

I am coming to terms with the reality, with the fact that I'm mediocre that I am not special in anyway I wish to be.

I am just another guy with the same limited set of skills that most have and will lead an uneventful, ordinary life, if lucky I'll get a job which are hard to come by, doing something which can be done by millions of guys who have the same degree as me and are equally or more skilled, and maybe in future, robots Will be used for what I would do.

I realise that I'm just playing different characters, at home I am " the son" , maybe if we tweak my parents minds to accept a well earning, grateful, well behaved and educated robot as their son , they won't even notice any difference, in other places I am "the friend"  but, who are we kidding here?

everything and everyone is replaceable even friendship, even love, there too it's rather easy to let go off me , it's tough to let go of the idea of me but not me, so the question here is what to do when you find yourself in a position like me, the answer is simple and it comes in various sizes from .22 to 1 and ironically they are all measured in caliber funny how that sounds so much like calibre, and you will see that a lot of people would volunteer to help you, give you reasons to live, say that you matter to them, but no don't give in to this honey trap, again it's their love for the idea of you not for you, they'll look for a light at the end of the tunnel, the tunnel of your soul but that's the extent to which even the most benevolent go, to the range their eyes permit them to look, they don't love you enough to risk getting lost in the dark finding the light that may or may not be hidden.

you'll hear things about change, about the prospect of letting go, they'll preach travel and spirituality, basically anything to keep your mind off the fact that you are what you are and maybe it's good, but they'll never stop expecting you to improve
You'll always be rated, graded, you'll be told of many things which you can be!

But, is it worth it?

You can deceive them easily, pose as a optimistic person, smile and say you would never give up and see how it works, but deep inside you will know what you are, who you are

So my question is do you have the courage to do the needful? , to be a martyr of your sanity, we live in a world where being opaque and insensitive is a virtue, where brilliance is accepted and mediocrity is celebrated, where you'll be taught the concepts of entropy and nonchalance  will render you a charisma, you will be implored to be vulnerable, but the moment you do that you will be helped, counseled and fed notions of how it's a dog eat dog world, of how only the fittest survive, the world will teach you how wrong it is to kill and still cheer for the gladiator drenched in blood, you'll see how the sum of your life is spent doing things which serve no one but you and yours

So I again implore you to answer the question I asked, to resolve this dilemma I have
It's either I live long enough to be cured and be one of them, the kind who sleep content and in peace with the fact that everything is temporary and replaceable, even you, or do I die!

Yes, die as the last sane person.

Wag this way

Today is the day I turn 15, old age has started to affect me, I am no more the nimble beast I used to be, I fear that there may come a day when I just go senile, but until that happens I am for now a cranky senior citizen, if you are wondering that how can a 15 year old be an old person, then congratulations, you belong to the second most narcissistic species (after cats) there is, who go by the moniker 'humans'.

I always had a tough life, the textbook 'dog's life', I never knew who my father was, I always had to bark and bite to get through life, all the women I came across in my life have literally  been bitches, but still i am grateful for not being born as a human. 

I was born near a slum, in an area where toddlers were clothed no more than I was, ate nothing different from what I ate and had the same insecurities that I had, but I saw them sad and angry, all because of the need to preserve their human dignity.

I would eat out of a trash can, drink out of a thrown one, walk naked on the streets and yet feel good about myself, so for these specific reasons I thank the creator who blessed me with a dexterous tail rather than a self conscious, self depreciating brain. 

As you all know how cuddle worthy and adorable we are as puppies, it was just a matter of time before I was picked up as a play buddy by some kid and indeed it happened one day, two boys came, mongrels like I was and we stuck a camaraderie, what started with a few biscuits finally resulted in them taking me home and my mom was true to the name (bitch) and was happy to see me leave. 

They were in a phase where the concept of rich and poor was yet to sink in, we played in the mud, we rejoiced in the rain and by the fires we danced like there was no worry in the whole damn world. 

I was with them, when their parents fought, when they were sent to do their chores, or when their parents needed some privacy, or when they ran from the frequent wrath of their drunken fathers, in short I was with them for the whole time a human from an impoverished home can be allowed to be a child, because as it stands for now, childhood, teenage etc are all a concept rather a reality meant only for the rich, in a world where every morsel requires a blood sacrifice, innocence is but a useless obligation much less a virtue. As they grew up I was given a name, Jaggu, they called me and I too deciphered that the kids know till now as munna and babua were Yatharth and Adarsh. 

Yatharth was the pragmatic one, the scarcity of money and due respect from the society embittered him, he was a Rebel, a renegade, he believed that in a world where money is the master, everything is a lie, he was enraged by the seasonal philanthropists, their fake tears, he could see them flinch at the stench of the slums, their game face they wore to mask the disgust they had for them filthy lot!. 

Adarsh to be more accurate was an oddity, even though he was a slum kid, he had an aura of nobility, while other kids were fast asleep, he was up waiting by the tap to have a bath, he had for the greater part of his life followed a self imposed moral code, which placed him at odds with Yatharth who believed that he was too saint like to survive in this country. 

Yatharth was a con, a thief, he was what you wanted him to be if you pay well enough, bikes mobiles and every other thing he had swindled at some point of time and yet being a con didn't have any repercussions on his conscience, though he easily could have been one, he was never a pimp, he was repulsed by the act of trafficking for the pleasures of the seedy underbelly of the society, but rather than cherishing this inability, he was angry at his emotions which came in the way of him having a prosperous life. 

Adarsh on the other hand, was a man who angers the flawed humans, he was selfless, he worked three jobs, all meagre, all petty, but his job was that of a teacher, for the slum kids, he brought them books, toys and apart from that he worked with the police as an informant, he was thrashed countless times by the drug and trafficking mafia, had it not been for Yatharth, he would have been dead by now. 

Their friendship was a turbulent one, Adarsh loathed the fact that he was under the protection of a goon, he was repulsed by the fact that he had Alliance with a thief and ostracized Yatharth every chance he got. 

Yatharth was fed up with his idealistic bullshit Adarsh was so full of, but deep within protecting him was his salvation, the bonds of mud which bound them ran stronger than the ties of blood, but all this, he kept within, on the surface he yelled curses and called him an ungrateful swine. 

both live on, walking on two different paths, a dog's life is too short to form conclusions, i have seen them both from the beginning, but sadly wouldn't be alive to witness the end, their struggle, their unending quest to achieve social status or rather social acceptance transcends the ideals of good and bad, they carved their own ways, but eventually, they too will find peace in their Graves. 

As for me, I am just a shabby mongrel, I have a fickle heart and alas! life is even meaner than a bitch!, for me there is no such thing as hard earned bread, flour is flour, bought with money however dark and murky or earned righteously tastes equally good to me, I go to them both, eat both types, and wag my tail for the time that I have left.

The Promise

 I lie in my bed with numbness gnawing away at my soul, the eerie silence broken by the occasional beep of the heart monitor, I wriggle away in pain when I am awake I scream in agony when I wake up from my dreams I curl up into a ball with knots of self pity and anger holding me in my place.

 Just the one thing which saves me from darkness is a single warm memory, it flickers away like a candle in the wind, vulnerable yet strong, I feed on that memory, I find solace in the fact that I still have

A year earlier

Amidst the valleys in a serene place, there were two who were lying gazing up at starlit sky

  No matter how far they saw only dewy grass with beads of snow engulfed them, all within the cusps of the snow capped mountains, they felt tiny among the mountain yet looking into each other's eyes they felt infinite.

   it so happened that they watched a shooting star, she asked him to promise him a wish, whatever it may be, he asked for nothing as he already had her, he agreed to her whim as he was helpless bound by her doe like eyes which reflected the moon.

  As for her she wished to wish something but could not ask for anything more at that moment, yet she felt the need if not for gain then At least to bind the moment with something rigid so that the memory always shimmers no matter how many eons go by

At Present

(Mayuri lay in bed with contraptions of every kind around her, and swollen eyes of her family and friends are witness to her suffering, she had been assigned a psychologist who goes by the name of Pratyaksha)
 

Pratyaksha: it's been four weeks since you suffered the acid attack; I am here to listen to your account and to help you overcome it, to come to terms with the reality

Mayuri: reality! that's a funny word, when you have been through what I have endured the word seems so irrelevant doc, I can't stand to look at the mirror I loathe to hear this voice of mine, it's like my whole existence has been an illusion, I may come to terms with the world again but never again would I truly be able to comprehend the concept of reality

Pratyaksha : Your face may still be repairable, you need to be optimistic you must set an example

M: I am not weak doc, nor do I lament for the loss of my beauty, don't ask me to be brave!

In My dreams I suffer the attack every day

I Remember how they tossed me about like a toy, I screamed my lungs out in defiance, I remember the stench of liquor on their breath, I gag every time I remember, I shudder when I remember how they shoved the acid down my throat, I stopped screaming then but that didn't stop them!, they tore off my clothes and like that was not enough they doused me in acid and left me burning both inside and out!

 I lay there helpless for hours, with each second parts of me died, I ceased being daddy's little princess, I was no more than a nameless ghost, I deal with the torment even now, I envy the corpse that I was about to become than the person I am now!

Pratyaksha: I hope you will come out of your agony soon, and I sense that the young man outside will have a part to play in it

(Pratyaksha leaves enter Akshansh)

Akshansh: hello beautiful!

Mayuri: sarcasm?

Akshansh: no! Relief, now our complexions match, no more will I hear the taunts of me being a monkey with the princess

Mayuri: you're a dog!

Akshansh: woof! Now stop moping and take your meds

Mayuri smiled but was pained by what Akshansh had to endure, although he remained the clown for her sake his swollen eyes betrayed him, she could feel his agony when he kissed her, she could feel his self loathing when he stared at her scars, she may be the one who was burned but the inferno scorched him equally

Akshansh was at a loss at why he couldn't cry, he felt stranded and miserable yet tears chose to abandon him, it was not the scars of her face that bothered her, yet when the memory of her smile or the dimples which popped up when she laughed, the frown which crept up her face, the freckles which reddened when she was angry haunted her like a ghost, how could they not it was like a painting whose canvas was torn.

But he missed her voice even more the one which was as annoying as loose Change jingling in the pocket when he was angry at her and as soothing as a lullaby more often than that

  He was grateful that she endured the attack but the void left due to it was forever empty, he tried to fill it with rage, with thoughts of vengeance but that seemed just to fill but a small part of  the void which seemed to be a vicious abyss.

  He dreamed every night the same dream in his dreams she was chased by the wolves, no matter how much he stabbed or shot the fangs ripped her apart

  She was as proud as a Peacock as was her name but now she was broken, no matter how strong she projects herself, he saw right through the facade

   Due to the infection which festered in the wounds Mayuri's health worsened her kidneys were giving up unable to cope with demands, so was her liver, yet for the sake of her parents, for the countless women who looked up to her she carried on.
 

  Yet one day when her lungs ached with every breath she took she decided not to torment herself and Akshansh anymore, she was expecting Akshansh to visit her and was happy to see him arrive

Mayuri: Akshansh do you remember that night?

Akshansh: yeah all of them, which one are you referring to?

Mayuri: that night under the valleys where I asked you to promise that you would grant me a wish

Akshansh: yes I remember my fingers still tingle thinking about it, I feel the dew on my eyes like it was yesterday

Mayuri: I think I am ready to make the wish, come closer.

Akshansh: I love you with all my heart but what makes you so cruel!

(Akshansh was weeping the tears which abandoned him for so long finally came raging in like a tempest)

Mayuri :you promised me and I want it fulfilled I told you well before I am quite stubborn, after all you always knew I was high maintenance type

Akshansh chuckled at her sly remark yet he was bound by his word he granted her wish and turned to leave, never to be seen again

A year later

Pratyaksha was standing amidst the same Valley Mayuri talked about, she understood now how it helped her overcome her grief, she walked down towards her Lodge which was newly built along the foothills and was shocked to see Akshansh there, on further enquiry she came to know he owned that place

Pratyaksha: you loved her didn't you? She was lucky to have you, she told me about the promise you know it's nice to see you honor her memory like this she was indeed lucky

Akshansh: I loved her enough to be able to kill her, even this chilling cold ceases to worry me, I walk through hell each night, I walk upon a bed of coals yet I feel brave, At least I loved her enough to let her go!

(Akshansh turned and left to take a stroll)

 Pratyaksha stood there shivering with grief and pity at the same time, she knew what he meant and remembered how they thought Mayuri died in her sleep yet as she understood the gravity of Akshansh’s words she knew he had killed her, she considered handing him over to the police but then he saw in the lobby a photo hanging beside a vase of black roses, there weas blood still fresh on the thorns and beneath Mayuri's smiling portrait were words scribbled in crimson

   

“The price I paid to keep my word

      And the crazy things I did for love"

She decided to leave Akshansh as he was, forever trapped in his own prison 

A Walk To Remember

 We belong to a generation where love is too mainstream and commercialized and from the days of being a complex emotion it has become a full blown obsession

 Prajavala (P) the typical Delhi Uber cool girl, the proper fashioniesta who probably learnt the catwalk before she could talk

 Anita (A) the usual mom with a tongue in cheek demeanor, a doting mother but her sarcastic retorts sometimes rubbed Prajavala the wrong way

P: Mom I think I have found my soul mate!

A: Soulmate as in SOUL or SOLE because this the third guy you are telling me about, and I am appalled by your lexicon and wonder if you mean Soulmate as the one you go to shoe shopping with?

P: Enough already mom! He is truly the one, a proper gentleman, he knows how to treat a lady and yet be assertive, and he exudes confidence.

A: hmm or maybe you just like the cologne he wears, anyway what's his profession?

P: He is an entrepreneur and brings in new ideas to the........

A: So basically his dad is rich right?

P: Yeah but he runs his own company, anyway mom he makes me feel special, I glow up like a firefly around him, I truly value his calm and composed nature

A: oh sweetie you are special, I knew that when you hit your head three times in a row when you were young, and I am sure it’s a tough job to be calm and composed in the stressful environment of a lounge or a restaurant not all men can do that !

P: Forget it mom, your generation will never understand what true love is, I wonder how dad fell for you though?

A: look at your nose honey that's one thing you got from your dad and you hate it, imagine being stuck with his entire face, it's not like he had a choice.

(Prajavala storms out annoyed and infuriated, and Anita could not help but laugh at the situation)

 Anita after the usual chores gets ready to visit Praful

 On The way she stopped to pick up some roses and yet again cursed Praful under her breath anita always wondered how strange it was that Praful always made her buy flowers she knew that in their relationship lay the essence of a divine satire, she was the pragmatist and Praful the emotional fool

 The bus was effectively empty that day and the absence of all the commotion sent her to a trip down the memory lane.

 Visions of the flamboyant haircuts, the step cuts and not to forget the mithun style bell bottoms that Praful used to sport in their youth the numerous scooter rides and the secret calls from the telephone booths.

  She remembered the time they fell in love, then their marriage and how they kept the romance alive.

 Her thoughts drifted back to Prajavala's incredulous notions, she wondered how people travel to exotic destinations to rekindle their love, of the escapades to Switzerland and Bahamas and was amused as to how the times have changed, all it took for them to keep the fire alive was a kulfi together.

 She witnessed Praful's evolution, she saw how a boy turns into a man when they hold their kids in their arms she remembered how he who found it daunting to sit out an entire lecture, submit to a morose desk job, Maybe that was the reason Prajavala never saw the love between them, they were caught up in the pangs of parenthood

 

 She glanced through the window; it was dreamy outside and relived the moments which have passed, the jokes, the tomfoolery, moments where they talked just for the pleasure of hearing each other's voice and the times of silence when their eyes did most of the talking. And for a brief period of time she could feel a warm hand upon hers

How foolish of her she thought, to miss him just before she was about to meet him

 She saw a young girl look at the roses with longing and then it struck her, maybe Praful was saving money by making her buy flowers, he was a Casanova maybe he had a fling

 With a sly smile she walked towards the gate

 P: here, keep them if you want they were for my husband, but I think he would want you to have them

She got down the bus, it was still a short walk down a Boulevard, she wondered about the great romances people talk about the ones too good to be true perhaps that's why their story was not perfect it was just good enough, humming Praful's favorite song she trudged along

(Meanwhile the girl with the roses wondered, how someone could be so cheerful before walking down a cemetery)

Anita finally met Praful and even though he was lying beneath an obelisk, she could still feel his Smile and sitting beside him she said

   "Sorry dear, no flowers for you today"

Disturbia

Oh life oh universe 

What have I done to make thee so adverse? 

All I did, all I do, all the ribald expressions 

Are meant in good humor, as sarcasm is my oldest obsession 

And so you chose me to be the butt of thy cruelest joke

Of the most evil fashion 

You gave me a life devoid of any passion 

   

For years I have been wandering like a vagabond 

Ignorance is at its paramount 

They say Ignorance is bliss 

But this bliss has left me with blisters 

What remains is rubble of dreams and ambitions lying about in cinders 

 I feel envious of the ants 

All in one line, focused and marching along in a unified formation

And I look into the mirror searching for the curious kid, who believed in innovation 

The kid that once peeped is long gone, what stares back is a crippled soul 

In search of a source to push him into an even deeper oblivion 

Give me a sign or else I may be forever lost, show me a glimpse of hope

     Or else where there used to be candle, will lurk a ghost of a flame 

All my life have I been just a bane? 

 I gaze at the stars as they too flicker 

 I drench myself in their pale glitter 

 And as Twilight approaches I recede 

 The sunlight is too bright to bear

 My eyes tell me and so does my heart 

 That I was made for the dark! 

 If there is no silver lining, if you indeed think I am not worthwhile 

 Why not shove me down into an even deeper and darker aisle? 

I stand on the edge of an abyss

Waiting for a gentle breeze

They say falling feels like flying

Finally I will be at ease

At least I will go down with wind in my hair

The airiness will blow away the despair

With eyes wide open I embrace the fall

With hatred for none and malice for all

The Transcendence

The Transcendence

Time has always been an enigmatic topic, the more we discover about it, the more elusive it becomes. There are some events in our life which… which makes us believe that the sands of time are flowing back. Is it indeed that or are we watching the whole thing upside down? This feeling which has now become a clichéd term.

“DÉJÀ VU”

(Prantik; the youngest in a family still torn by the Bengal partition)

There are people who spend almost their entire lifetime at a place, but still they cannot say that they belong there. They have comfort. They have memories, friends, but still cannot call that place their home.

For Prantik, even though his family moved to Unnao when he was a toddler, he had always heard his father, uncles, and elder brothers whining about their home. Even though, they were neither richer nor poorer than the other middle-class families, yet there whole community faced identity crisis. They gave up their lands, their homes. They moved away from their home, where they cherished their childhood, the old were envious of the ones who lay in the graves back home and even after a bountiful harvest, The grain tasted bland, and even in face of happiness, everybody was anxious as if they were trapped in quick sand.

One-day, Prantik woke up to find his mother packing a suitcase, “Your dad will be leaving this weekend; some buyers have approached him about the last piece of land that we own back at home. He hasn’t slept for days, he says he feels like he is selling off one of his new born, but lands that far-out help nobody. Get up now, you are to see him off at the station.”

At the station while moving towards the train, his father was in a pensive mood, “It will be a good year son. We will have a substantial amount of money, but it is nothing without respect. Prantik, remember one thing…All the money of the world, would not give you satisfaction, until you command the respect of the society. Promise me one thing, you will work hard, make a place for yourself among the elite. Knock off every one off their perch and stuff a boot down the throat of anyone who says that you don’t belong here. Promise me that you will not be insignificant! , that you will be remembered ….”

A few months before, Prantik had not thought much of it, but since they may well be his father’s last words to him, he could not help but think of it as his last wish.

It had been months since his father last made contact, the most optimistic of the villagers were also losing their hope.

A few days later….

It seemed to him that someone had landed a sucker punch, straight on his face.

They received the news that the train their father was boarding had been raided by the naxals. Most of the passengers on the train were either killed or decapitated. Given the amount of money his father had on him, there was no reason to expect otherwise.

Even tears were missing from Prantik’s eyes. Although his father had always been a typical patriarch, still the vulnerability, his father showed in his last meeting grieved him.

They were clueless as to how the family would function. They were mere kids, who were now fatherless. All their dreams and aspirations relied on the prospect of the money, which was not in the picture anymore. Feeling morose and depressed, he started moving towards river.

As he sat there watching the sunset, he started pondering about the death. He tried to understand and comprehend whether death was a final frontier or was it just the start of a new journey. All the memories, half-remembered dreams all formed a beautiful collage in his head. All that was missing was a glimpse of future. He wanted a sign, at least a hint that there was still some happiness waiting for him. Just then, his eyes fell upon a shiny pebble. He could see the eyes peering out of it. They were strangely familiar, and looking into them comforted him. He felt energized and determined. With a sudden jolt, he realized that they might be his father’s eyes. He ran towards the pebble, but the stream had carried it off.

He remembered his father’s last wish and decided to act on it.

Many years later…

He was on the road to the village again. He was driving a car instead of riding a bullock cart. It was a much faster way, though his son complained, but it was not his fault. After all, the bullock cart also felt slow to him at that age.

He managed to achieve some recognition and respect. He was a professor at a reputed university, although he was still hungry for more. Visiting his village made him wonder on how far he had come. Their mother had passed away, and regret was gnawing him. The lust for power and his insatiable ambition had not let him visit her for two years, and now that she was gone, all that seemed so shallow.

After the cremation and usual grieving rants of the family, he walked once again towards the shore. He found it amazing how some things never change.

The shore laid waiting, as it was the day, his father died. All emotions engulfed him like a hurricane.

Guilt, remorse and pity for neglecting her mother in her last days.

Gratitude, towards people who finally considered him valuable.

Relief, as he could provide his son with resources, He could only dream of at his age, and sheer wonder, as to how a person like him landed such a wife, who loved him dearly, even after him being the least romantic psycho. Tears of tranquility crept down his cheeks.

As he looked towards the stream, just then a ‘PEBBLE’ drifted towards him, although it was worn by the flow it still showed the eyes, but this time the eyes were not of a grown man but of a little child. He knew then, why the eyes felt comforting. They were his own eyes. The last time around, he chased after the stone, but this time.

’He let it go’

The Reluctant Romeo

The Reluctant Romeo

Well, to start with the conversation, I would like to share a little something about me, I am a creature of habit, you see, I believe that planning is what makes you human, so it really annoys me when people around me seem  so eager to change, you see I like stability, I appreciate order and uniformity, I have been buying the same type of clothes, stationary for ten years, I believe in minimalism.

I work as a Data Analyst in a finance firm and to describe my job title, I would say that , even my boss hardly understands my work, but he sure values me, as I keep the revenues flowing.

Anyhow, you see I take precisely two breaks during my six hour shift, all of them are spent by first taking a drink of water at the cooler beside the inverter, followed by a sandwich, so imagine my plight, when I came to know that the office was being ‘renovated’ , I thought that why can't we just ‘repair’ why on earth should anyone renovate a perfectly functional thing

Anyways, I took my usual trip to the cooler, which by the way was only used by me  because , it was the only cooler present,  when I joined the office, it was now a crammed corner with photocopiers and what not, and to add to my misery, along with the already existing noisy inverter , were installed reflecting window panes, I filled my glass and at that precise moment ,  I saw her face,  reflected from the glass .

I knew I was straight, but honestly never yearned commitment, until I saw her, the word ‘beautiful’ ,  for me , had been just one of the words men use to describe proportionate women, but something about her, in spite of being an analyst , I could not comprehend it , attracted me to her, I cancelled out carnal ambition , because she was rather average looking, I cancelled out any involuntary  response to perfume etc. because I couldn't smell any , I don’t understand , but for some strange reason, I yearned for her attention

I walked back to my desk, and halfway through  I realized for the first time in ten years of my tenure , I was returning thirsty , yet somehow it felt great, in the days which followed, I noticed some change in me, I was picking clothes, I took a conscious effort to look good, although my quirks did not entirely leave me , I was still mad about order and non-randomness

But now I visited the  water cooler more often, there have been moments , when I felt that she looked back at me, I can't say for sure , maybe she was just glancing away from the computer screen , but I thought or rather I hoped that we saw each other, I noticed the most trivial of her habits, she always kept a fresh batch of jasmine on her desk, and I thought “hey that’s something we have in common she also has her own idiosyncrasy”.

One day I found her seat empty, I inquired about her and came to know that she was laid off, I seriously wanted to sucker punch the HR guy but I somehow controlled my anger, and still  out of habit , visited the cooler, I glanced at the glass , at her desk , and no matter how much I drank, I felt thirsty, just then at that pristine moment , I found  a jasmine  on the glass tray

I like to think it was from her, I like the thought of her noticing me, to think that she too felt something, but I never inquired further, you may ask “ why are you being so naive ?, why don’t you find her on Facebook, clear it out , the reason is that ‘ I don’t want to’. I want to savor the hope that she liked me, you see if it is a misconception or coincidence, so be it , I  want to live in that trance forever, for the first time I acted illogically, but for the first time I felt human, see , that’s the power of naivety , you can be happy , not knowing something  that may possibly  be hurtful. Even if it meant nothing, it opened  a portal of emotions in me, I have become more social, she without ever uttering a word, invoked a desire in me , to be a better man, I am more caring and sensitive now , so that the next time I meet her, or the next time that same sensation resonates within me

I will be ready.