My Own

It is one of those days when life is as usual moving past you at a pace that may put to shame the fastest of runners, who have received the best of medals and beamed at the world. One of those days when time becomes a yard stick to measure, excuse me for interrupting, to only measure some milestones set by a middle-ager who is paid for doing nothing but just that – setting milestones. One of those again when smiles meet every face that cares to look at you. Who cares what is behind the smiles?

As the days progress, the people who I had be-friended, almost considered an extended family and with whom, I had for the first time ever felt a sense of belonging, are moving away inch by inch. One finds a job at an other company. One plans to join a production house. One left for Australia. One of the closer ones is leaving to join his Dad’s company. I shall take this opportunity to introduce, thus, some of my friends with whom I have built a bond; amidst whom a warm feeling makes itself prominent in the old bosom.

Today I feel bitten; bitten by the cold winds that I had just heard of. Not that I did not believe in it but I had never before experienced it. To feel poor you must have been rich once. I was rich. I had friends here, around me. The first two seasons of the past year I almost lived with them. Literally. This may be a badly written article, may not explain anything clearly but this is just to say thanks. I hope we shall ever remain friends. The sense of warmth that the best-days-of-my-life-yet brings is priceless. I shall remember them for ever. I do also hope it will be the same with you guys. Wherever you are I wish the best for you.

I shall reframe the same in some time when I get the time.