it's still hard to believe sometimes that i won't be switching off the whole world soon and getting lost in another universe at the witching hour (in singapore, the first telecast used to be at 12 midnight).
that my toes wouldn't tingle, my stomach hollow out, my shoulder blades feel a crazy unearthly rush. as a face turned. or a dupatta flew. or eyes filled with what was it, pain? or a voice hissed, "shut up." or a pompom bobbed. or a payal slid sinuously off an ankle and a sidelong glance rested on it for an endless fraction of a moment.
that i won't break all my rules of staying sane, and rush and trip and fall hoping to be caught in the arms of absolute insanity. the arms never missed catching me... not a single time. through the months of first watch, the years of rewatch, the sleepless hours of repeat watch, the ages of writing, editing caps, making vms, plotting fanfics, the eternity of becoming friends with the equally insane, where age, race, nationality, colour, weight, sexual orientation, marital status, profession, education, nothing mattered, as long as you were pagal to the same measure and helplessly in mohabbat... or nafrat. better still, both.
that i live today in this day and night and continuum of time completely undisturbed by that unknown, uncharted, unattainable yet enmeshed in me dimension. there is no "dhoop sa" one here, nor the one who's like "chandni raat," and certainly hamesha doesn't live near me any more.
that there is only this real world i am banished to. astonishes me that i am getting by. guess we all do. but what a complete freefall into skd that was... not like anything i'd ever experienced before... perhaps never again will either. words are meant to fall short in describing such things... why must everything be described anyway? an ahsaas, the dhak of a dhakdhak, a drowning, a surge of gratitude, that melting away.
i wonder what kkg and asr would say if they saw us again... (my mind pipes up, he'd rasp, "unbelievable!", she'd throw some ber into her mouth and grin, and practise tripping and falling into insanity). maybe nani ji would understand, and laxmi ji would sagaciously drink orange juice. babu ji would give shyam a tight slap. op and hp would go find rahim chacha. mama ji would return and stop mami ji at "hello hi" with a hard and manly kiss. la would sashay in and go round and round, akash would chuck his facial hair and return to being payal ji's sweet paramour, payal ji would smile and demand a do lakh ka bag. di would cut her hair, jangle her bangles, and set out to own her life minus the dissembling damad ji... nk and bua ji would have a nandkissore moment... maybe, who knows... as long as there's nasha, jadoo, and a spot of vishwas...
do i hear a helicopter's staccato whir? is he lifting her in his arms and taking her for a...
say "khushi" again, i whisper to him.
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