I recall a noon. A noon, when my best friend, N had said, "Life, presently, has become way too boring, really! There has to be something happening. I strongly wish for something exciting and fun." I could see how even the thought of doing something exciting brightened her up. "Espcially now, as we'll practically be away within a few days..", she added letting sadness fill her face, her fair cheeks and also those small eyes. I could feel it, seeing her. Now, after almost one and a half years since she went, it feels like the wish for something happening has come true, so what if its happening in a negative way, I think, trying to convince myself.
A hot bath comes and goes like just another morning thing, waking me as well as my body up, trying to activate me physically. It fails refreshing my lungs and veins inwardly, I feel, as there seems no change or refreshment in the thoughs I've been thinking since a number of nights. Reminding me of those few days when I used to lengthen the bath time just because it was hot and made me feel warm inwardly. As I come out of shower, I see my granny sitting outside and actually enjoying the hot air specially after a cold Indian night, knitting a Purple sweater, probably to gift someone. The way her wet shiny white hair form a coordination with one another, letting the fresh air dry themselves. The way she knits without her spectacles on. The way that Purple coloured something seems to be forming a new big shape every two minutes, having started from just a woolen thread and now turning into a cloth. A cloth that'll provide someone with warmth and her love in cold, inspires me. Despite everything.
I don't understand why.