I was feeling sad. My parents just visited me, see. You already knew that. It had been a year since I had seen them, last year it had been two. Welcome to the life of a 1st generation NRI has been. If home was a hero he'd be making filmi pulling motions with my arm. Me, I'd be getting all fake-oo mad. Singing some sainya mori bainya shit.
I wrote the above a few weeks ago. But other pressing matters are now informing my fingers. In these five years past...
...I wish I had cultivated more meaningful relantionships rather than aquaintanceships
...I wish I had spent more time in the world, outside of my personal sphere of existance
...I wish I hadn't given so much thought to things that made my nights unbearable
...I wish I wasn't wishing that I had fucked around
...I wish I had done an NGO internship instead of moving to Toronto
...I wish we had remained strangers
...Most of all, I wish there was something I could have done so that this bitter post need never have been written
Now I shall take your leave and continue pouring my eyes out over some Rumi.
I said, Thou art harsh, like such a one.'
'Know,' he replied,
'That I am harsh for good, not from rancor and spite.
Whoever enters saying, "This I," I smite him on the brow;
For this is the shrine of Love, o fool! it is not a sheep cote!
Rub thine eyes, and behold the image of the heart.'
