The funeral party...

The reality was never there. The relationship was never really born. But every good thing has to come to an end. So I wanted to give it a fitting end. I choose to call it the funeral party.

I went quite mad during the party. As it is I have promised to myself that I would let myself do whatever comes in my mind. I was surprised to find myself saying that to him. And God knows how many other strange little things. And way he's famous in my life for the cutesy things he reads, he read something like - our souls know each other...

I was mad you know, mad and flirting and happy - who'd say it was a funeral party. And was I expressive? You bet. The same compliments were in place too. You look good. Not pretty this time just good. But that's OK enough. It was like reliving the life when it was all born. I was grieving then, I am grieving now. He's the only color in my life, my only preciously impossible dream in this grim reality. Reality where everyone around me is dying and a child will never be born to me probably. I feel a strange quietude and peace in loving him.

And then the party ended. Or maybe it didn't end. I was exhausted when I traveled to Delhi straight from the party. Almost. And kept working late through the night - because I you see I make commitments and I can't be dishonest to them. And amid the back breaking tiredness I'd close my eyes to see his face. My favorite face, my favorite smile. Goosebumps. Fairy tale. Fantasy. Sleep, the rare and ever elusive thing called sleep. Because when I wake up, I'd find you. In some way. In some virtual way...

I take a night time stroll in Delhi. Delhi doesn't anymore seem so scary. And I find an ice cream stall. My face softens. The tagline of the ice cream brand has his name in it. See...imagination triumphs over reality.

My session at the conference gets the maximum number of claps. It's not my credit. The funeral party gave birth to something intangible and enigmatic...