Sometimes I think if nobody spoke to me, I'd never speak again.
-Alice Oseman, Radio Silence.
-Aryan-
As soon as I got back home, I hit the shower.
We had our dinner and I sat on the balcony when baba came up to me and asked me to join him for a drink.
"Vodka. Dilute it with sprite." I told him.
"Oh boy! I know your taste." he said, smirking.
"So, how was the day?" he asked me after making drinks for us.
"Nice. Great." I answered.
"Oh!! Any special reason?"
"No. Nothing special." I stated.
"Don't lie. You can't lie to your father." he protested.
"I ain't lying baba." I said. "Okay. I'll tell you.", after a pause, I continued, "I got a friend."
"Special friend? he asked being suspicious.
"Nah baba. Just a friend. A good friend. Or maybe not." I said.
"Why not?" he asked, sipping his vodka.
"I didn't ask her to be my friend." I told him.
"You should have asked her, then." He said, giving me a piece of advice.
"Yeah. I know. But, I didn't have that much time. We met today itself. And we both were busy doing our work, she, practicing her dialogues and me, taking their rehearsals."
"Then when did you become 'friends'?" he asked.
"Not 'friends' really, but, see, when you meet someone you feel like- you both can be good friends or the person is good, kind, untouched by evil things. You know right? You get it?" I said, trying to explain him.
"Yeah. I get it." he said, looking compassionately at me.
"It isn't love or something. It's a different feeling. Something I haven't felt in 27 years of my life. Something far pure than love, a feeling of true happiness and satisfaction." I added.
"How good it feels to see you this happy." baba said, pulling me into a hug.
After a while, I said, " Baba now just go to sleep. You have a shoot tomorrow. Now enough of our talks and drinks."
"Oh, okay." he stood up, keeping his glass on the table, and went.
Reaching the door, he looked back and said, "Don't forget to ask her to be your friend tomorrow."
"Yes, baba." I said, smiling.
-Manasvi-
Oh, God!! why isn't didi picking up my phone? I called her a million times.
I am trying to call my cousin who lives in New York. Since, childhood I share everything with her, my happiness, sadness, dreams, ambitions, everything, simply everything. But, a habit of hers that itches me is 'she never picks up the phone, never will she pick when needed the most. The great teenage tradition 'keeping phones on silent mode, she is a very big patron of this tradition or ritual.
-A few minutes later-
Phone rings. Didi calling.
"Hello, didi. Why didn't you pick up my phone?" I asked, shouting at her.
