Tuesday, January 23, 2007

The sea and the me

And we went to the sea, just before the sunset, tired with all the not allowed biking on the highways. In the sand you would sit in the center, treating everybody with cheap ice cream which you bought from money stolen from Mom's purse. And then you'd tell us fairy tales about men, heroes, politicians and scientists. Everybody revered you. I looked at you with pride as we were blood related.

And we went to the sea, three of us, all walking. The world outside seemed enormous to our young eyes. You told us about the city, history and of course life in a manner our childish brains could understand. I still remember the exact details of Reclamation, Mahim Fort, Elphinston college and King George the 5th. In time I went on to be a young man from a boy, and in time you became an older man from an old man.

And we went to the sea, all of us together. And then the rest of them left. And you got quieter than you ever were. And then you wrote names in the sand, his name. Obviously it hurt then, a lot. Somehow I smiled. I miscalculated that seeing you at that moment writing a wrong name was a lot worth than joining the rest of the gang. I said something like "Thank you". And you wrote the name again, over and over again.

And then we went to the sea, four of us, and the other two went away as usual. Then you said, "Siddhartha is not just a nice book. He fails to understand it. You know what, the sea always makes me realize what paripakwata is" And then said things to each other, the words flew away with the land breeze towards the sea and never came back. Over time, even the pictures of the memories faded away, but some words stuck to it, like a soundless motion picture with a legend at the bottom.

And we went to the sea, this time just the two of us, still in the excitement of the novelty. We walked around in the sand in epicycloids trying miserably to make a romantic conversation, but kissed instead. We walked again, on a different path, but close enough where I could see the old footprints in the sand. And on the older path sometimes the old footprints were chaotic. That is where we had kissed.

And we went to the sea. You went away to swim so that I was alone. I didn't even know you much. But I made some music, had some beer and thought a lot about the other you in the plural. The cold blue Adriatic sea glanced at me but it had a lot to look after. The alps smiled white teeth. The castle was still in its proud photogenic position and Croatia as usual poor and beautiful.

And we, we could never go to the sea and we never might.

I am sorry if this offends you.

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