Birthday pangs...

I don't love anybody that much. I love my inner peace...said once to me, the man I'm in love with. For a while now, I have known this in my mind that I don't love him because he's like anybody, or fulfills some concepts and ideas in my mind. I love him because he's entirely himself.

I was really really irritated to see a smiling family photo of Anand in my newsfeed. Promptly unfollowed the friend who had liked it. Because you see, it is as much a crime as sycophancy to not take sides. I loathed taking that one glance at the photo. But then thankfully, I didn't want to progress on the self torture. Promptly selected one of the two options - block posts from Anand or unfollow the friend.  However much of a camaraderie we might have shared over all these years, and the incessant laughing aloud, he deserved this and left me with no other choice. I hate weak minded men. And I hate that guy who destroyed my life. He has no right to post a smiling, contended profile pic. Yes, I can be hateful and spiteful. But nothing more. I don't need to be revengeful or nurture the pain in my mind. God will, in good time, take care of his punishment. Anand's. I needn't worry about it. In fact, I enjoyed playing Geet in Jab We Met. Cursed him to my heart's content and felt better. But I needed to punish my friend, for not being my friend, in my own small way.

It's always been a custom that I feel more alive from 17-19 December, than in the entire year. I am even sitting up and not lying down on my bed. Although I am restless, I am making a sincere attempt in finishing up my storybook and attending to some long pending tasks.

The girl emailed again last night. Are we meeting on the 20th? I wrote an official sounding email in response. Check everyone's availability and then decide - lectured on the work we plan to do. In reality, I plan to run away. I don't want to fuel my imagination any more. The girl is one of those little angels (nanhi pari) who God creates to give the devotees a warm and pleasant birthday. But again, what's the point in dreaming impossible dreams? It's not like I can get away from this boring and depressing life? Not entirely, never forever. So what's the point in glorifying one birthday?