For starters I realised last evening, after two consecutive allergy stricken weekends that anti histamines do not make me sleepy. They just don’t. I can gulp down the strongest allegra and be just as alive and kicking as I was without a hint of sleep or drowsiness clouding my thoughts. I have wanted to write but guess I am going through a bloggers block. Does that term exist at all? I am guessing it does. On one hand I had this imaginary post in my head last night but I just knew that by the time I had battled the sultry heat and humidity in the morning and managed to reach office way before the mandatory in time the words won’t be spouting off me. So here you go. They just aren’t. I have travelled a little bit the last one month. Spent the laziest three days in my Aunt’s gorgeous house in Chennai doing nothing but catching up on my sleep and hanging around with old friends. I had such a great time hanging out at Zara after years and drinking glass after glass of Sangria and chatting and talking about everything under the sun. How tired I am of Calcutta already and how I miss hanging out with warm, friendly people. Sigh! They were three days so well spent. There was also this exceptionally uninteresting weekend spent in Shillong quite by myself. After doing the usual touristy stuff I was cooped in my resort watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. I couldn’t even walk around that hotel property cos the Prince of Tripura who owns the darned place lets open his dogs at the most inappropriate times of the day. Anytime I’d put on my walking shoes and wanna head out the Security would scare the living daylights out of me with gory descriptions of those canines. Eeeyeeeeww impulsive travel plans don’t always work out. Lesson learnt. I am not living in my imaginary what if world all of a sudden. All of August all I wanted to do was to run away someplace far far away but come September and I am living in today. I need to remind myself of that what if world to try and get there or else I’ll get caught in the humdrum of everyday life and give up on getting out of this place. Sometimes I can’t hardly wait for things to change then of course you come across welcome distractions and you ask yourself come on not now when it was all sorted out in the head. All I want is to get out, run away and then I still want to run away just as much but only if I could fit in the beautiful distraction in the plan to. If only it was this simple. What fun it would be planning our different lives out and living some of our dreams knowing you’ll be right there walking by my side or waiting for me at some point or the other when our paths would merge.

And despite all the cynicism, the bitterness, the countless disappointments, unreturned phone calls, stupid impulsive trips made to different parts of the country that amounted to nothing but foolhardiness, one fine day at the neighbourhood coffee shop you come face to face with what life could possibly be or so you think. What do you then if that bit of yourself you discovered that day is going away? You let it go away because now you are all realistic and you distrust lovely dreamy strangers with long hair and guitar playing abilities. The you that grew up on an over the top dosage of romantic comedies died sometime back and got a fitting funeral too. It died time and time again until there was nothing but charred bits of your heart left. You blew those ashes away into the sea that February evening while walking down Bandstand. You believed that was the end of the romantic in you and life will be carefully distributed in different boxes of perfect shapes. You’ll know which emotion to put into which box for safekeeping. What you didn’t expect was to deal with a deluge of emotions all of a sudden one balmy monsoon evening? Now you can’t seem to find a box to put all these newly found desires in. No you can’t cos this doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere yet its brimming with possible happiness. Are you gonna walk away and let this be knowing there was someone with whom you perfectly fitted right in with? Maybe some stories are best left without trying to pre-empt an ending. Maybe happiness is also in spending a lifetime with the wrong person and knowing there was someone just right for you. Maybe happiness is just making peace with what life is serving you on a platter.