mera kuch saaman tumhare pass pada hai....

I cant be too sure but I think this is it, we have finally broken up this time around.. I feel this because for once he too has decided and seems to be sticking with it.....

We are still friends… good friends actually, thanks to him. that week I just didnt want to ever have anything to do with him, but he made sure that we stuck through that.

Though it was a mutual decision, i was the initiator.... we had a talk about it yesterday – the break up – as much as he can talk about such things that is & we spoke about how he would be married in 2 years & how I thought his wife would be jealous of me……its real easy to be the victim.. compared to being the one who fired the gun…. I know I will be alone for much longer than him.. if not forever that is….. & possible never wear the bangla saree I wanted to and that hurts. Of course I understand that he will move on…….

A small weak part of me hopes that when he is well & ready to get married he asks me… I do not know what I will say, but I want the chance to say yes, if I feel like it & I most probably will never ask him for the chance…. Its always been his role…

We were going through which songs to record for my class project so I read him some of my choices – mera kuch saman, main bhool jaon tumhe& hazaron khwahishen aise… that’s how the discussion started off actually.

Today I was reading up something on wonder years & I came across this – “Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers; next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place...a town...a house like a lot of other houses... A yard like a lot of other yards...on a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is...after all these years, I still look back...with wonder” I will too…. wonder

I will probably never cry-cry on this, but the scar will always be sensitive – I wanted to do so many things with him…..I wanted to be the one he came home to tell the good news & bad. I wanted to be the one with whom his father sided with in arguments… I wanted to be the one to gang up on him with his sister, I wanted to cry in his arms when my father passed on. I wanted to speak to him in bangla…… there was / is so much there……..

Yesterday we spoke a bit about what it meant to us, he said he wanted to go & work as an expat (on some level I know this is a desire to start afresh & forget the dreams he had seen of us together, though moving always helps, but I wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to forget it…. It was hard wired into his brain now & unless he lost all his memory, these last years will always remain – but I didn’t see the point of doing it, he had to figure that one out for his own self. Also lets not forget, its our first love, it wasn’t great or poetic or even particularly romantic, but it was still love) We spoke about how he would never share this – the relationship & break up with anyone & that I wouldn’t either. He spoke about returning the stuff I had given him, I brushed it off. I wanted to know what else I could have done differently to learn from all of this, he said he learnt that he would have at least a year long engagement. He said that when I told him I was happier with others, he knew this was the end. I wanted to deny it, but it was true in a small way wasn’t it.

I said I did not regret it, he went round the bush on that one as well as if I had left any scars on him. He said that whatever we say when we are angry, is normally the truth & I asked if all the things that he had said in anger were too….. he avoided that as well… I think it’s a half truth, some of it was real.

Ek sau solha chand ki raten, ek tumhare kandhe ka til,
geeli mehndi ki khusboo,
jooth mooth ke shikwe kuch, sab yaad karado…….. aur mujhe bhulna sikhado…