Life-ing it up...

I wasn't done yet! Turns out, I had more than my fair share of heartbreaks in high school. A couple of years after my first sad poem, there was yet another tragic tale in the pages of my long lost journal. This was close to my sweet sixteen, I remember this one vividly. I learned a lot about the world then, the real world and that it had a s***load of difference from the world Archies, Veronica and Betty lived in. Years later, I would also come to know that the whole thing was set up by my own girlfriends. They obviously knew I had hots for the guy, a senior who had lost a year to join our batch. A bet was placed to fool the moderately popular teacher's pet and I turned out to be the classic nerd who fell for it. You would scoff, get a grip, girl, it was high school! It, however, remains an old wound. I trusted my group, I loved that guy.  Anyway, let me regale you by saying that in my early 20s I hunted up his number, called up, and blasted him with a climactic lecture. For al...

It was the best and most relaxed fortnight, in a long, long time. I was home after almost a year and a half. My beautiful, beautiful Dibrugarh. It was perfect at 22C and yes, I'm scoffing at the most unfortunate souls who were still steaming in Delhi then. When I de-boarded at the small airport in Dibrugarh it was blissfully drizzling. I could have almost cried with joy. Picture the usual monikers of green, fresh, verdant satiated, lush, cool, cozy, etc. Enroute to town from Mohanbari My ever mindful mother had brought a light shawl for me to wrap up, I'm not exaggerating, I did need it. I rolled down the windows and sprawled on the rear seat of the car, the cool air, the droplets, the rushing tea gardens did wonders and an album of memories filled me. You see, I get nostalgic very easily and quite often. It's a bit melodramatic at times but then I found out I was always so.  One rainy afternoon, I dug out an old journal of mine, from my high school years and read through...