It is not easy to write my story, or anyone's for that matter because the need of the hour becomes, to look at your life from the perspective of a third person as if you are sifting through life like a book, where you try remembering the days and the moments that were important to you, things that pushed you to grow and changed you.
We had a mutual friend – Anu, who had recently taken up an apartment after having been staying at Serenity for the past year. I knew Anu since the second year, but the third year actually gave me an opportunity to know her better. It was often that I would find myself lounging on her bed in the evenings or taking walks with her. She was a very loyal and supportive friend at that. There were a few things she would not do for the people she cared and loved. I was lucky to be part of her circle.
I think those evenings spent at Anu's which often turned to late night poker nights, or conversations in the terrace also gave me an opportunity to get closer to him. After having stayed at Anu's, till late in the night, long after my hostel curfew had passed; he would walk me home.
I had begun to see my hostel as my home and my room as a part of the little world that I had built in Bangalore. His hostel was right beside mine and when we would leave Anu's house at say 11 or 12 in the night, the streets would be empty except for the few people we would encounter.
That part of the day eventually became the highlight. There was no topic that we would not cover and no stone was left unturned to frequent each other with our opinions that ranged from our mornings to understanding life the way we saw it, to a book I had read or a movie that he had seen.
We were different in every way that I could have imagined but those differences seemed smaller in the mornings that broke out, after the moon had long set and the sun was back from its long sleep.
But we would stand there outside my hostel, as if we had never begun walking, ignoring the security guard who would cast furtive glances as I spoke to him in animated gestures with broad smiles punctuated with excited squeals of laughter. And he would listen to me, nodding here and there, often interrupting as he could not keep his views to himself but mostly he would look at me and I would feel tingles spread across my body as he gave a soft smile and continued to hear me talk, as the wind blew, the leaves swayed and the nights passed faster than I remember.
YOU ARE READING
Black and White
RomanceThe narrator describes her love story, with the main character who is left unnamed. She describes key moments of her relationship, episodes in her life; as she recalls it, long after she has broken up with her partner. The story is a memoir to hold...