Then, again, too many times, though my mother had told me to think before speaking. I guess she knew exactly what was going to go wrong with me. I had loved a woman, I had told my mother, “why is it my fault”, but if you’re listening woman, I know now it was my stupid mouth, it wasn’t me, it was my stupid mouth. What can I do now? We have given each other too many chances. I offended you and you did me. There’s no point in even writing this, but if you’re reading this, I wish you well. I can’t even take your name, I just feel ashamed.

Remember all those days, those rain covered Pune streets, those chilly Bangalore nights, the walks on the road behind the Pune station, those streets of Bangalore where we used to carry each other after getting drunk, those telephone conversations which used to break dawn, those emails which tried to find the right words, only to stumble again, the last time, Jazz by the bay? Yes, when I played chess with glass of whisky and wine, and you looked at me, and I looked away, the way I cried like a girl for you, woman, yes, I thought we are not allowed to be emotional, but hell yeah, do u remember woman, or do u believe only in rationality now?

Yes I too have moved on, I tell myself that I have moved on, every night, every day, every minute and yes the clichéd “every second”, between every heartbeat and every time interval that my brain cells take to communicate with each other. I loved few others after that, wishing love was love, but I couldn’t, even though you did not love me, I love these women when they come across me, but no-one makes me feel like you did, no-one has touched me like you did, no-one cuts me like you did, no-one is as cruel, as bad, as bitchy as you were. Just one desire, I just tried to be what I was not, but I will never speak to you again, it’s all over, the dream is gone, time is gone.

I feel angry sometimes, so much that I could fix a vent in the earths hardest plateau with just a wicked laugh, without opening my mouth, cause it might speak again, give me back all those memories. There’s no such thing as reality or love, otherwise I would have run somewhere else, now I don’t have anything left to go to, because I know the truth now, but still longing to live what could have been a sweet lie, with you, yes, a lie, constituting thousand lies which I told you, for you., I don’t want you, yes, get away from me, just get the fuck away from me, please woman, get away…