That night…

The night was unusually cold for an otherwise warm summer week
A perfect climax to an imperfect day, I thought
As I slipped under the cold duvet of an unfamiliar, icy bed
With the dull beats of my frozen heart

I stared at the silhouette formed by the figure sitting across the room
The darkness made him even more formidable
And I knew that even though a few feet away,
He was now out of my reach

The cold, the darkness, the still night suddenly engulfed me
As silent tears began to flow down leaving a burning trail
What brought about this distance between us?
Was it me, was it him…, I wondered.

For whoever it was, had managed to build
A fortress between us, oh quite so quickly
That I knew I was way to week to break down.

And as I lay in that strange cold bed,
My eyes trying to search for the tenderness and love
That was lost somewhere in the darkness
Knowing it would be difficult to find even in bright sunlight

Just then the room filled with a bright glow
The light poured in by the flashing lights of a passing car
And just for a moment I stared into his eyes
The eyes that answered the unspoken question

It was neither me nor you
But a stranger who had managed
To build between us… that night
A fortress with a single locked door… that was without a key…

Memories that are forever?

Checking emails has been a hurried affair for quite some time now… it is usually a routine of scanning through messages, deleting most forwards, opening a few, forwarding fewer nice ones, replying to emails from friends trying to find out if I am still alive… of course the answer is usually the same, so once I write it, it is usually a copy paste job… something on the lines of… Hey… long time… I am good… chal raha hai yaar, wo hi boring si routine life. Work’s a killer… baki fine… tu bata…

Today started out no differently. After replying to hazzar Happy Diwali messages and sending out a few myself, I was about to hit the sign out button when my eyes fell on this… 1 - 50 of 2481. I stared at that number, slightly shocked. I had 2481 emails and forwards in my gmail (and this did not include the conversations within emails!) in a span of three years?? When did I have the time, and who sent me all these messages??

Immensely curious now… I clicked on the Oldest link… which took me straight to the very first message I had ever received in my gmail… and I was lost… through all the memories, the messages exchanged with so many people… some of whom are still very much in touch, but some of them are out there somewhere, but I dunno where. I scanned through these emails, some that went into 20, 30 and one of them as long as 82 conversations ranging from topics about life, work related frustrations, Sachin Tendulkar, broken heart, shocking confessions, declarations, plots, future plans, surprises, Iraq war and so on…

As I read through some emails I realized that this gmail was really a hold all about my life these past three years, a elaborate description of some of the most pivotal points in my life, a diary about some of my inner most feelings, celebrations, successes, doubts and disappointments… a hold all really.

As I went from one email to another, I also realized how somethings, some people, and some events that once meant so much, are no longer around, most are irrelevant to the today’s Me or have just seized to matter anymore. And yet, the traces of those times remained in my inbox, as clear, and as blatant as if it all happened yesterday.

I asked myself if I really needed these email reminders. Reminders of times that no longer make a difference… reminders of things that are best forgotten… reminders of memories that should have long been erased? Most definitely not! So here I went, page after page, selecting messages that don’t matter anymore (or lets just say, shouldn’t matter anymore)… selecting messages that needed to be thrashed out of my life… and yet, when it came to hitting the Delete button, my hand stilled over the mouse! I couldn’t bring myself to erase such large chunks of my life… from my inbox, the inbox which was the only proof of the times that made me what I am today… the only proof of those moments some wonderful, some painful that reside only in my memory today… the inbox, which was the only proof that they actually happened…

As I sat there deleting messages page after page, I could feel the pain, the sadness, the smile, the joy with each passing message, until none were left… After what seemed like hours, I managed to erase a substantial chunk out of my life… I thought… but even as I logged off… the reluctance I felt while deleting those messages kept haunting me… Is this what we call the inability to let go? Or is it just some personal tendency to hold on? I don’t know… but it was time to let go… let go of some memories (that may last forever… )