Was he or was he not?

The very thought of him brought a grin to my face. What was it that he had that the rest of them did not have? Was it the boyish face? Was it the wit or was it the crudeness about him? Was it the way he read my thoughts? He had made himself central in my life I guess, or I had made him so myself.

A word here, a sound there, a sight somewhere, a laugh elsewhere, they all reminded me of his existence. He lived somewhere, vital and vibrant… He was full of life and he lived it vividly; high on life, that’s what he was! He was indulgent in life as anybody could ever dream of being and this somehow made him so absolutely disarming.

The road is pretty deserted. It is terribly windy, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems to matter. Where am I going? Does it matter? What’s the time? What day is it? Well… does it matter?

He remained as interesting as he had seemed the night when I first met him. He was probably a casual flirt, but he certainly never gave it away. He was a perfect charmer, though he seldom spoke to women. He barely even registered their presence. His indifference to most women brought solace to me I guess, and even gave me a sense of pride to have caught his eye despite him being what he is. His dignified silence peppered with occasional witty and sarcastic remarks somehow made him more attractive than he could ever imagine…

It looks like it might rain heavily. I do not have an umbrella… What road is this? What am I walking towards? Am I lost? Not that it matters… But I don’t understand… Well anyway, it doesn’t matter I guess, not now, at least!

Strange how strangers cease to remain so once you get to know them. Familiarity doesn’t always breed contempt you know? He stormed into my life and I never really thought much about how deep he had infiltrated. It never mattered to me. As long as I was happy, I never really looked around to see the source of my happiness I guess. It never struck me how my life had become so much more enjoyable all of a sudden. His easy approach to life, his casual ways, his ideals, I soaked them in. He simplified my life, and I loved that.

He found me just as amusing, surprisingly. He liked me for what I am I guess. He never mentioned that, but I knew I intrigued him as much as he intrigued me. He always had a patient ear when I spoke and a keen eye when he saw me. He chose to be well-informed about me.

Needless to say, we were good friends.

It’s raining. It’s probably pouring. The birds are back in their nests… nests… where’s mine? People are taking shelter; I can’t feel the rain. I’m just wet and soggy – inside and out. Where next? The clouds will wear themselves out. The storms must wear out someday… Do all storms wear out? Maybe, it doesn’t matter…

We had our own differences too... I was a vegetarian, and he thought a day without chicken is a day wasted. He shunned responsibilities, and I loathed him for that. He couldn’t take an overdose of emotions, and I was quite unlike him. He was too modest, and he claimed I was that way too, and we both disagreed about that. He was a born athlete, and I could barely spell ‘sports’ right. We disagreed on a lot of things, and we chose to live with our own opinions without trying to convince the other about the idea. We had many differences, but that never mattered. We respected each other through our differences and maybe, we even celebrated them. A whole new lesson on acceptance – that’s what he taught me… And the effortless tolerance that came with him is what made him so addictive.

Am I lost? Lost in which sense?

Do these lanes lead anywhere? All lanes do lead somewhere don’t they?

I mean, will I reach home if I take these lanes? What home?

I probably grew used to his presence. I never had the ability or the need to think ahead of time. Neither did he, I guess. We just lived happily, two friends and a glorious life. The summers passed with him grumbling about the heat, and the monsoons passed with my singing praises for it; the winters were his pet’s favourite and the spring was ours… How many summers passed? Well, it never really mattered to me. We just grew with each other and the world changed rapidly around us. We were probably too preoccupied to notice what had changed, but whatever it was that had changed did not change the fact that we found each other as fresh and as engaging as ever. Him, and I…

It’s getting late, isn’t it? Well-spotted; smart, aren’t you?

I missed him sorely in his absence. The month when he had gone abroad surely was the worst time ever; it made me feel like fish out of water. He looked pretty tired too when he was back. I assumed it was the journey, and never asked him about it. I could never get myself to confess how much I’d missed him. And if he had missed me, he never told me that.

Do I have to be as confused as this? Why can’t I get myself to take risks? Why?!

It was then that these doubts started haunting me… Is he or is he not the one for me? If I were to search all my life, I probably wouldn't find another man who could match up to him. He could read me like the back of his hand. But could I accept him as he is, or will the differences start looking larger then? I could not imagine the thought of him changing, let alone changing for me…I was unsure of myself! Should I or should I not? Would he or would he not? Is he or is he not?

Can you shut up? Does it matter? Does anything matter now?

This was ages ago…

…He seemed happy today, it was his wedding. The days that we spent together as friends seems to me like its history. It’s lost somewhere. How did a wedding change so much? It didn’t hurt so much yesterday when I was getting the arrangements done… He surely looked far more handsome today than he ever had before. But he probably loves the bride; yet this only deepens the cut… funny!

Was he or wasn’t he the one?

I know now! But does it matter anymore, now when I’ve lost the man of my life on that question…