The treasure box.

My little box, my home, with my two favourite gems.

~

                                                                                

                                 

~

I miss these ladies. Bunny left Mumbai last year, for her studies, while Ridzi and I still stay close by. It's never the same for us when we're not together though, - the three of us, at the same time.

Of the countless memories I've shared with these two beautiful, absolutely brilliant women, I remember, only but a few. We were always in our skins, when we were together. Ourselves. With not a tinge of judgement, or anyone to hold the other back.

I still remember how once I'd observed that, whenever the three of us are together, two'd always be in a jolly mood, while the third would be serious. This happened, almost, always!

And then the other two would pool in for help. In a very, indecent impolite, obnoxious, funny, but rude manner. But they'd help! Yes.

~

"You need help, sweet thing?"

~

We were like free birds. High on happy. Brave. And funny.
Oh yes, lot's of funnies.

~

 

Gub bub so much lub.

~

I loved their wardrobes more than I loved mine.
We each knew where the other would keep their secret happy goodies in their rooms.
We knew who was the least, and the most organised, of us all. Crazy. Both of them. And also, the one who was always way too diplomatic to do her any good.

"I don't know what to wear."

"I'm Mamy. She's Poko. You should be Pants."

As far as the number of jokes we've shared is concerned, I've lost count.
We'd never realise how time would fly by when we were together. :)
*Insert random chain snort-laughter.*

"There's a limit to a limit, which also has a limit, but the limit to use the word limit, also has a limit."

The crazy dance routines, the reckless phases, times where we've kicked ass, twirling, walking like a mo-fo badass 'chicki', LoLing out loud, the fail manicure sessions, successful manicure sessions, deep philosophical discussions, utter fail arguments, bitching sessions, dreaming sessions, les-bee friends kinda sessions ("KISS ME, OOH KISS ME." ~ "GET OFF ME, CREEP."),  crying sessions, fighting sessions, oh dear lord.

The teens were what they were, because of them.

~

/* WARNING: Code ahead. */                                          

                                                               
/* Declaring variables. */                                         

int var;                                                           

person temp, x, y, z;                                              

                                                                
/* Initialising variables. */                                      

var = 1;                                                           

x = Ridzi;                                                         

y = Bunny;                                                         

z = Sugandha;                                                      

temp = Temporary;                                                  

                                                                   

                                                                
/* Running while loop, until the end of time. */                   

while(var>0)                                                       

{                                                                  

Person x - "Coming for a walk today?"                              

Person y - "No yaar. I'm too lazy to move. Why don't you guys come over?"                                                             

Person z - "Die alone, bitch."                                     

                                                                   

                                                                   

/* Switching variable roles. */                                    

temp=x;                                                            

x=y;                                                               

y=z;                                                               

z=temp;                                                            

}     

~

We were crazy. Absolutely mad. Insane!
And I miss us, so much!

~

                             

~

The three of us were very unique. Completely different in our own ways. The way we gelled though, was common. There wasn't a care, or a need, to justify us. Of who we were. We just, were. There, and then, right at that moment.

It's only now, as I retrospect, that I realise how amazing we'd been. I've never really spoken about how much I adore them, to anyone. For they had always been the first ones I'd share a story to. They were always, my number one. :)

~

  

  

        

Crazy.yzarC                                                                         

~

Time's a bitch, and things have changed. But I know, deep down, that I'm never, never, NUH HUH, letting go of these wonderful ladies.

~

~

Miss Bunny, Miss Ridzi, I love you two, to bits!
To every brick of an atom that vibrates, to every evolving strand of your DNA chromosome.
My lovelies, you're gonna make me proud.

~

This one's for us. :)






















~

*Insert the buh-bye bro-hug.*

~

Beach ke beach main.

Oh 'ello, Mr. Beach!

We meet again.

The sand seems extra golden this evening. 

The waters, extra blue.

The wind is all sublime, and the skies, just so clear and happy.

Clear, and happy, like the mind-space, before it begins to jot down the thoughts onto itself, 

forming an intricate, complicated detail of layer upon layer, of organised and disorganised 

thoughts. 

Random or 

otherwise.

Dear Mr. Beach!

It's so crowded, out here. 

But the claustrophobia is least of my concerns. 

The horizon, which stretches up until infinity and beyond, 

helps.

People seem happy. 

And I simply adore that couple playing with their young child, attempting to make him laugh. Or that man, who quietly stares at the people around him, like me. Or the little child who runs along with a stray dog. Playing. 

Laughing. 

Look at those two beautiful women jogging near the waves. 

They seem to be sharing a gossip that amuses them both. 

I like people, 

sometimes.

I'm hungry. Mr. Beach. 

All this walking has made me tired. 

I think I deserve something, tasty. Something spicy, sour. 

Yum.

PANI PURI!

Mr. Beach, I am so grateful. 

I think I'd like to stay here forever.

At least. 

In my city. 

For I'd never run out of pain puri.

It's getting dark, now. 

I think I should head back home.

Nevertheless, Mr. Beach, 

I think I'll be visiting you more often.