A promise to stop Time

Time is a villain in most of my stories, necessarily because time just teaches lessons that are harsh that too in the most brutal ways. Time, however, is very frank about itself. Still, we can not deny its cruelty, especially when the only thing that ends the most beautiful stories is time. We have all once been the victims of time, at least once been victims of what time does to man, But we can not deny that we wouldn't be victimized if we had been just a little franker like the time. It's funny that we all realize, but we never learn, and it's surprising that even though we fell down a hundred times, we still don't know to jump when facing a pit. Time has always been the best rival to an ever-changing human, especially when our hearts decide to stay back for a while, but time forces us to run. We have all had moments when we wished "just one moment, I wished time would stop" however this phrase has just been an expression of how much you loved that moment and nothing more.

Years ago, when I first made friends at school, when I first realized I liked someone when that someone's nearby or talking to me, when I realized its the last few months or weeks of school left and when I was standing there in the hall during our farewell day amidst all my friends I only wished one thing "just one moment I wish time would stop."It's been many years now, and I have many more friends and many more memories, and along with them, I have many more moments when I wished time would stop. However, like they say, time waits for no one, and so with time, even the wishes we wished  change. Now I don't wish to stop time for a moment anymore; now I wish I could turn back time. It's funny and amusing at the same time how much a human can love the past, even though he never liked it while it was still happening. The truth is we all want pasts, we all like the fact that we had a history with some places and people, but I wonder whats the reason. I wonder, would we still wish to go back if we never met those people? I wonder if I do find a way to go back, will it be the same? i wonder if I meet them again, will we still be the same? well I recently found out some answers.

A few days ago, I was walking on a path I always dragged my feet on; however, that day, my feet lost control and started running faster than my brain; it's not surprising why thought. From a distance, I could recognize her form as far I could actually make sure it was her; I didn't wait, not a second could I hold back the tears I ran, ran like I did never before, maybe I was still afraid that if I go any slower, I will lose her again.

She didn't realize my presence yet, so she stood there at a distance casually still bargaining with the shopkeeper to give her a 50% discount, "she didn't change at all, "I thought to myself. I finally reached her, calmed myself down, put my hand on her shoulder, and said," You never change, do you?". She turned back, it was her, I know, but something changed. I thought the moment I see her, she will be as glad as me, But to my disappointment, she only said, "Hi, long time no see," as if I was just an acquaintance she once knows. But the fact is we were best friends, friends who never had formalities. I took the initiative and hugged her, but then she donged and said, "what are you doing, grow up. "When we were away, I thought the distance was the most immense pain in life, but that one moment when standing so close to her yet witnessing the distance I realized that becoming a stranger to people who were once you own and to see them move forward abandoning you behind forever is the most painful thing that could happen. i waited for her to say, "I missed you. "I stood there waiting .she finished her purchase and walked away, walked away from me again, like she walked away back then, the only difference was back then she ran back to me and said bye, now she just silently walked away and waved bye from a distance. I won't lie; I was deeply hurt that day, or maybe it will be more appropriate to say I was broken. I turned back on the way I came this time. My feet dragged themselves unwillingly, turned around to see if she was coming this way, and then stopped, then they ran at the highest speed till then finally reached a silent place. I swear I did not cry that day like I cried the day she left back then. Only one drop of tear flowed down my cheeks and dropped down to crash on the floor, similar to my heart's hope, which hit rock bottom and shattered into thousands of broken pieces.

We never fought, we never had conflicts, we never for once hated each other for any reason, we quickly apologized and forgave each other even if we had disagreements, But that day I didn't know what was wrong I didn't know why there was an invisible wall between us. But now, after learning the cruelty of time, I can finally understand that its the fault of time that the once best friends are now strangers, because as times passed, old colors faded away, as time passed new colors replaced old once.and as time passed relations become stories and memories and friends become just mere characters of a play. That's when i realised that time changes a lot about people and a lot about life, in a way that if we did ever turn back time we will still not be the same.

And as time passed, this happened so often that I no longer run to meet them; I no longer hug them,i no longer wait till they leave. But I wonder if anyone would run towards me, if anyone ever hugs me, if ever someone will wait for me to walk back to them, I promise if they ever do , I will run towards them too, I will hug them back and I won't let them leave; I promise I will force time to stop for one more moment, no matter what it takes to do so.

-Athena

We can be HAPPY too

Childhood, the only ideal fantasy that ever was true, How long? How beautiful? It doesn't matter; childhood is always beautiful. Those carefree days when we lived part of life ever with so much enthusiasm, when we are allowed to be reckless and childish when immaturity was just a synonym to "cute" and when fantasies and dreams were respected equally with reality and above all the times that we all believed in ideality over reality. Sometimes I think growing up is a curse; our life and the rules to a good life change as we grow up, and maturity starts costing us our values, virtues, and in worst cases, dreams. We grow up to realize that the hope that "lived happily ever after "was false and unreal, or at least we stop trying to know if it is even possible. We become so busy living a better life that we forget to live life in a better way, and the worst is that we ever stop realizing the difference. Every time we lose the battle of time and change, we complain, complain that the dream was unreal and not practical, complain that we did not have the best of resources, and complain that we did not get enough help. We also complain that others are complaining about us. We bend the stories of ideality to prove our innocence and sincerity; instead of correcting our reality with the reference of ideal, we claim those as untrue and faulty." It's not practical," "We should think practically," "no one ever did that before, " become the famous lines to reject dreams, dreams of others, as well as our own. We are scared that we might fail, so we just reject it in the stage of "idea" itself. And so with time, ideality becomes a dream that scares us, and we end up calling all our ideologies, values, and virtues and dreams as fantasies and tag them "childish."

A few days back from today, I realized that the dissatisfaction that is deeply felt by each one of us is the result of this difference between the ideal life we like and want and the real-life we live and adjust to. Even after realizing this truth, we blame it on others; we blame it on society, on time, on destiny. On the system only to regret later in life, when we are closest to our ends, we regret not trying once more, not believing just once more, and we regret giving up.

It's shocking that we actually call our self mature during out mid-life; if you observe your self sometime we will realize that all those values, virtues, characteristics, and traits that we idealize and admire were always a part of us when we were still kids.and its really funny how we grow old to realize that our life would have been much better only if were more of what we were as kids then what we were as adults.

A few days back, I was discussing with my mother; I was trying to explain to her that given all her abilities and skills, given her interest and exposure in books and waiting, she should now start thinking about making a future in them. After listening to all that I said to encourage her . she only replied back, saying, "It's not possible anymore to dream so big."

It was sad to see her so disappointed in life. Still, one thing was evident to me after that day.our brain is a brilliant thing, more than we ever realized, and more than we can ever be. When we say it's not possible, it's not practical, it's not you who says it, it's your fear that makes you say it, you no longer want to risk or sacrifice a safe and cozy comfort zone for a journey of uncertainty and then your brain starts to cook up all those"Reasons" so when someone asks you "why " you can support your choice. However, more than anyone else in this world, the only person who clearly knows that there is no reason why we come up with reasons is sometimes the evidence that there is no reason actually. Only if we tried once more will we ever realize that if we do not have the guts to give ourselves a 101st chance after failing for100times already, then we have no right to claim reasons to explain why we never tried again.

My grandma always said that my mom was the most stubborn kid she ever came across; however, today, as I see her, I can only say that she is stubborn but for the wrong reasons. As a daughter, I will keep trying to make my mom realize that her "reasons" are too small and weak to make her give on her dreams and adjust to just being okay. Even though she has given up. I am still here to keep at it. Because I hope someday in time, if she has to ever think about her life, she should have no reasons to regret it.

Because I don't want her to hate her reality or complain about her present, I am a part of her reality. If her reality is only a forced reason, it means that even I am just a cooked up story to satisfy her fear. I can not bare to be a part of her painful reality. Suppose we dig deep enough into our reality, we will necessarily find ourselves adjusting without reality only because we have the guts to put our "safe " lives at stake for our "uncertain happiness".But we all deep down know that we are fine, we are safe, and we are okay as we are, but only if we try once more can we be HAPPY too. And if we can earn our happiness by being impractical or childish, I think it's worth it.

-Athena 

Holding the drop

life my friends is never easy for anyone sometimes because people hate you and sometimes because they love you.The twist is contrary to the belief,its mostly because they love you, because they care too much about you ,and this unfortunately is because they assume they know you and take your voice for granted.
 A few years back ,some how i felt like dusting a few things i forgot existed,high above the shelf that we forgot to clean for years, in a paper warped in dust and a few drops of paint those memories that were once filed to capture the best moments were now lying lifelessly as just piled dust.Dusting off the cover of ignorance and unwrapping stories that existed and faded even before i was born ,i flipped through the photographs with a hope that i could find the kid in my mom ,in search for clues to confirm the innocent version of my carefully constructed mother.flipping through them i found a lot ,but somehow all i could conclude was she was  always too matured to be kids.all through those pictures i saw her help, i saw her work,i saw her study and i also saw her win, but none of those pictures showed me how she looked like when she was alone , when she was smiling ,when she was crying, when she was a kid.I wanted to believe what those pictures narrated, but somehow again i was convinced that there must have been tears that she shed and smiles that she lived ,because there at least should be ashes of childhood if she ever lived as  a human.i believed that there must be at least one picture that could narrate the story behind her silence .my mind as usual flashed to me an image ,it must be a glance of what happened in my presence in the past ,may be some ignored moments that had a hidden story. It was a memory of a half burnt crumbled termite bit paper book i once saw  in her  hands with a never before expression ,i remember the current location gladly so i rushed to the drawer of the study room,in the dead bottom of the last drawer beneath the shadows of piled certificates and gold medals an old album with a leather coat."sweet memories" were hand written in gold ink on the first page, with sure confidence i flipped trough ,empty handed again i shut the book ,it was just as normal as the others of its kind.disappointed and tired i banged the book on to the floor and then fell out a picture .a large white wooden window probably carved out of rose wood and painted white , an attached study table to the frame work,a dull iron office chair that is a part of my home even now and the view of the muddy cartwheel road with kids playing in rain and probably a seven or eight year old mum  ,dressed in a typical school uniform, hair plated and tied up in buns and pen in hand and book on desk ,who else could it even be except my mum,she was leaning her head on the side wall of the study table stretching an open palm to the drop that was half way to touch the ground from the sealing ,it was such a good picture but yet narrated only half the story .curious about the complete story i peeped into the details and then i witnessed the answer that i was searching for, the drop of tear on my mom's cheek ,shining slightly in the dim black and white photo and the words"hope you can feel the drops" written behind the photo in a font that is nearly illegible to human eye, i suspect that the words were written by  mom ,but i am not sure.that picture in  a whole told me the secret that i have always guessed, it proved that my mother was a human, again being my practical mother's daughter is very hard and not getting influenced is even more impossible so out of habit i wanted to test the answer that my brain has weaved .slowing entering my mother's study i put the photograph on her table and looked up .sitting in the chair as royal as ever , with a cold face that had no sign of any humanly emotion ,she looked at  the photograph on the table once and looked at me after a while."why did you study so much that you never played?"i asked in a low tone ,rising up on her two feet ,pushing her chair a little she stood up before me .putting a hand on my head she said"because i am a girl who's life was always about do or die,and the only sword i had in hand for either choices  was knowledge".her sentence was enough for me to understand a lot of things that she never waned to explain or more precisely what she could not comprehend,so i asked no more ,but for the first time my mother asked me a question"why did you search ?".walking out of the room i turned back to her to say the only words i had to explain myself," because i felt the drop". "did you ?how?i never allowed you to ,did i?"she said with a dull smile , "i dared to " i answered her involuntarily, and as far as i remember that was the first time i saw her smile.i still remember the the little curve formed when her lips extended its edges to the extreme ends of her cheeks and her teeth showing their shine from the slight gap of her busy lips and the satisfaction in her eyes.I expected her to say something but she never did.
lying on her death bed a few days back ,just before she closed her eyes for eternal sleep she stretched her palm to my face and held a tear in her hand and said "finally i dared to feel it" .
i wanted to cry my heart out ,but the moment she uttered these words i smiled ,i smiled exactly like she did that day, and then i knew for once that i did dare to feel the drop but only now i learnt to hold the drop.
-Amulya

dedicated to all those who not just dared to touch the drop but also hold them in their hands so that they can make others have a view of the oceans in their fists.

Strangely Beautiful

The most boring hour, the most boring lecture, the most irritating people and the most “pakavu” teacher can sound fantastic and prove to be amazing if there is one person like him around. Dated back to those days when our classes were divided into smaller fragment for some reason that sounds lame, I remember the most funny and amazing days of my school life, credit goes to him. The one who I crazily called a friend in secret without his permission, the one who is most mysterious then the ending world, to guess the least thing about that person is harder then math’s board paper and yet I was always interested to know more and got into trouble . I remember how much a disaster it was the first time we came across each other. But today I remember him as a beautiful story from my early teenage years .I certainly do remember all the fun we had troubling each other. To go by looks  he looked like the best example for misfit, very rude sometimes , harsh with words, “I don’t give a damn to anyone “ attitude. However occasionally and secretly he was also one of the sweetest person I came across.

“The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all
And even if I could it'll all be gray
Put your picture on my wall
It reminds me, that it's not so bad
It's not so bad”

In the last page of my diary he wrote these words, after a little while  I realized that this was a stanza from one of his patron singer’s song ,I didn’t know what it meant , why he wrote those was a mystery too but I assumed he knew I was sad for some reasons ,so he did this sweet act. Well I instantly felt a relief for unknown reasons, though I forgot to say thank you ,I knew he would know I was thankful. All this was beautiful enough to stay in my memories for ages enough to be forgotten, and this I only understood after one year from the last day of school. I never got the chance to say bye , I never even got a chance to see him the last day, I only saw him from a far , and unfortunately that was the last. Whenever I crossed by the roads I always wished to see him ,somewhere somehow accidentally , I wished I could see him once and when ever my wish turned to be only a fantasy a tear would depart from my eyes . I occasionally texted him on a social networking site ,the only reply I would get was a blue thumbs up symbol , initially I was very sad , yet I would text again after a while only to see that thumbs up symbol, it became a habit  and then with time I stopped troubling him. I remember when we were in school he used to say “ we are not friends, we are not class mates, we are not enemies , we are nothing” if some day in time I could ever come across him again I would love to tell him “ we are nor friends because we are not that close, we are not classmates for sure and we are not enemies because we never fought for serious reasons, but at least we are not strangers” .He is like that sudden asteroid which when in sky looks beautiful , when falls to ground causes destruction and yet stays in the pages of history until the end. My time as much as I remember in his presence thought me immense number of lessons, each one as important as any other , in strangely beautiful ways these lessons made my days more beautiful . But my most favorite is the lesson that thought me that ,everyone everything are not rightly cut to fit in the brackets of life and yet these imperfect pieces give us a chance to make our life more beautiful than our dreams .They fill the hollows of hearts and mends the most delicate bridges of life, unknowingly and unintentionally. Since my last day at school I have never seen him again , and I know for a fact I will never be able to see him and yet I still wish to , because I have to tell him both “goodbye” and “thank you”.

Amulya…

Note:dedicated to the strangely beautiful bonds and friends who don't fit into the right brackets but give me a reason to smile at the end of the day.

Pole start

I have always had a habit, the habit to see the moon from the balcony of my room. It wasn’t my habit since the start, I developed to do so after we fell apart .I know it sounds foolish and silly, but who cares any ways .I do this because even I need a reason to come back home before .Five years have passed since I saw him last .The last time I saw him ,the night was in it’s best color and the moon was in full shape, it was the most beautiful night I even lived through and I guess was the last of its kind too. The crimson that faded from the corners and the blue of entering darkness I still don’t forget the sky that was shaded with a part of day and a part of night and where the day and night were divided ,started a road that ended everything from then. The streets were dimly lit with lights on both the sides,the markets had their usual noises and the children had the same old choices ,my eyes looked at this road everyday,but that day they found something that was not so usual.between all those familiar strangers I could see someone I recognized without seeing the face .In between the start and end of the roods standing still, there was a truck with loaded goods ,by its side was a boy who looked too familiar .after thinking just for a moment I knew who he was,but now the question changed from"who is he?"to"why is he there?" and" where is he going?"i knew not where he was heading ,I knew not where he is leaving to, but I sure know it was him and then I could see he was leaving.From where I was standing I bet he could not see and recognize me, and yet as if he could hear my heart from so far he turned to look at me.I wasn’t at the age of having a phone in hand nor was I gutsy enough to have his number even if I managed to get a phone at that time.From a distance we could only see each other and hope that the one afar can understand and so helplessly we stood at a distance that could only show us difference between .Quite a few minutes after and few seconds before departure,sitting behind on his fathers bike he waved a hand and uttered goodbye nothing more happened that night ,I guess there was nothing left to happen at least but the next day he wasn’t at school .I did not wonder why, after all the only truth about himself that he did not hide from us was his shifting life, but then I realized that the only thing I wished was, that he recognized and remembers the person he waved good bye. Back home when I came my feet took me to the balcony directly ,I didn’t know by then what my eyes wished to see,but soon I understood when my heart beated fast listing to a horn sound tired of the racing heart when I lifted my head to see the sky, I saw that ,The night sky was full of stars but no moon.Since then every night I hopefully wait to see the night after the night which has no moon, because I hope to see a smiling face that waves me a hi from the same place someday when the moon in the sky is back in its place.The balcony I stand didn’t change ,the roads that lead to the ends didn’t change but the sky that I look at everyday changes , the position of each star changes , their distances from me change too.But the story of hope doesn't end there.Yesterday I got an unknown call right when i was rushing to get something from office,usually I don’t take such calls but somehow I picked up,I was in a hurry I guess so I said"hello" to the one on the other side ,and a voice replied ”I am back so I wanted to say hi” I uttered no more ,I ran upstairs ,rushed into the house and stood at the same spot in the balcony  ,” now say hi”and  he cut the call ,soon after a hand at exactly same spot raised high enough to tough the sky ,and then he smiled .After seeing each other from the same distance for a while he messaged me “look at the sky” that’s when I realized that the changing sky everyday had one thing that never changed ,the pole star, and then was an other message from him ,"thanks for guiding me back".

Life could't be more Beautiful

I got down from the car and picked up my handbag from the seat, shut the door in a hurry and waved my hand to the driver kaka and said "kaka, good night, tomorrow morning at 5 am pick me up ", saying this I turned back and walked towards my house. I looked at the wristwatch and saw that it was 7:30 pm already which meant that I only had thirty minutes to make the pudding so I could make him happy. I unlocked the door and rushed in, leaving my bag on the sofa in the living room. I quickly plucked up my hair and rushed into the kitchen and started making the pudding. when I just finished making the dinner the doorbell rang, I went to the door made myself presentable and unbolted the door, where he was waiting for me . He stood there with a bag on his shoulders and a smile on his tired face, his smile, as usual, was the best of its kind on earth, it hid all the pain with just a little curve. He came in, put his bag at the study table in our bedroom while I was busy setting the table for dinner. He went to take a shower; I quickly hid the pudding in the fridge and ran to the living room to set up the sofa. He softly walked up to the table and searched for his pudding but he didn't find it, he must have thought that I forget to make it, so he sat down at the table smiling at the plate as if he was consoling the plate that it could not be able to serve pudding on it.I acted as if I forgot about it and served dinner, sat down to eat usually .We completed eating, I picked up the plates for cleaning and he headed towards our bedroom and started the tape recorder of instrumental music like every day .I silently entered the room with the pudding, he was standing in the balcony talking something to himself and staring at the moon. I went quickly from behind and spoke softly" so are you complaining about me?", with a smile, he turned back and answered me that he was just thinking about how much he missed the moon all the days, but then he realized the pudding in my hands and ran up to me like a kid, pulled it from my hands and said in a cute voice "  I thought it skipped your mind" and I walked up to him swiftly, leaned over  and said with a smoky tone" how could I dare?".I headed to the bed and sat down to read a book like usual. He walked up to me, put the bowl on the bedside table and climbed up the bed and hung his head softly into my lap .He looked like a white snow puppy. He slowly started playing with my hand like a baby but I gave no notice. He childishly pulled off the book from my hands and said: " you don't love me any more right?" I softly patted his head and said " oh so is that what you think?" he saw straight into my eyes and that look explained me lot more then what his words could ever say. Shying away I got up from the bed softly sliding his head off my lap and went out of the room silently, he followed me into the study room where he peeped in while I was searching for a book. he suddenly pulled me to the wooden wall of the study room, put me along and leaned in very closely .I moved my head to a side and smiled after a while and said "let me go" as I said so he sang " if I let you go I would never know what my life would be only you close to me, Will I ever see you smiling back at me oh ya aaa, how could I know if I let you go" it was a stanza from my favorite song and in his voice, it sounded even more beautiful .we were so close that the moonlight through the window of the study room could show only one shadow for both of us .He was looking at me like I was a doll, then took me into his arms completely , carried me up to the bed . I naughtily rolled on the bed and throw a pillow at him. He smiled and pulled me close at once, landed a kiss on my forehead and said "you naughty girl, how can you be so lucky that you got me as your man?" and I replied him in a childish tone again " as far as I remember you were the one who chased  behind me" he made himself comfortable on bad and pulled me even more close and said in a calm way "because I love you, " I could say nothing but surely my eyes could explain my emotions that my words could not . That minute I just knew that my life could never be more beautiful.

 Amulya....


NOTE:DEDICATED TO THE PUREST LOVE WOMEN DESIRE....

Beautiful questions

" I " that's just what I was. I was all about myself, all that matters to me was me and my dreams. My work, ambitions ,my likes ,my dislikes, my choices, my priorities  and my people, people that I considered who belong to me, people who promised me to stay by my side and some stories I built with them, this is all about me .Correction that's all I was , because today I am not anything that I mentioned earlier. Wondering what changed me?"He" changed me ,or maybe  I should say that I changed for him, and since then I never hoped for anything more. After the loss of my dream ,with a blow  with it broke a lot of thing which till then were very precious to me, I still never thought of giving up so I choose to earn my dream once again and hence I went there ,to the place that thought me the true meaning of life ,love and the power of innocence.

 That was a fine winter morning according to my memory of it, somewhere in July I guess and the place I went? Let me be frank I don't remember, maybe because that's not important enough then. I was on the third floor of an isolated building in a school yet divided from its atmosphere ,that I assume was just built by then, I entered the class with about 60 students who were meant to be my sub-juniors ,and surprisingly my eyes stopped at only one of them. Right next to the window wearing a blue and white uniform which did not belong to that place ,he was sitting like about a 15 feet away from where I was standing. I don't know even today what happened to me that day ,I am still trying to figure out on it, but I could tell you one thing that it was magical. Everything and everyone else in the room were on mute mode to my heart and my eyes were still stuck at him while he was still unaware of my presence .He was so lost in the world outside the window that he didn't realize anything around, not even his lunch box being stolen. He was staring out as if the only wish he had in life was to reach out and grab hold the sun in his bare palms. While he was busy weaving dreams in day light ,his innocent looks were interrupted by the winds that were trying to dry all the area that were earlier spooked wet by the monsoon rains and in the same attempt they injected themselves into the room probably to dry his eyes .
The gust of wind blew away the dew like  drops hanging to his long eye lashes and this disturbed his eyes , forcing him to turn his head ,and he turned to look at me as if he had heard my heart beat and that moment my world stopped ,as if I was hypothesized ,I couldn't feel the world around me anymore ,or maybe I just ignored it because the world made no sense to me anymore . Today I am few years away from those moments and yet like it just happened I can still see those happen right before my eyes a hundred times every day, just like in films my mind shows me glimpses of that day in slow motion .I miss him a lot ,I miss all those moments but like they say love makes people helpless and so it did .I don't have any complains anymore ,not on life ,not on him ,not on love and not on hope. Today  I have only questions , questions which are so beautiful I don't want to disturb them by answering, questions that themselves answer every doubt in my heart .Doubts that erased a" I " from every sentence and tough me to use " us" .I don't know where he is today ,I don't know why I was there then ,but I know one thing ,what we had between us was beautiful .those days when I would wake up to see the sun only because I wanted to see his innocent eyes again and hear his childish voice that I forgot was once mine too. Days when I apologized to a mistake I never did only so I could talk to him again. Days when I had no shame in telling people that I felt something beyond friends for someone a few years younger to me, days when I wasn’t scared to express feelings ,and days when I did not wait for the answer .days which explained me that sometimes what we feel can’t be denied only because it is practically impossible. I remember him asking me once" what is love at first sight" and somehow I wanted to tell him that he could search for the answer in my eyes and if he could see himself then he knows the answer .I don't wish for anything today but just a moment more with him ,but not for love sake but for life sake .I don't know why my story sounds like failure to people. I believe that the moment I started to love him I got success . Because if putting someone before your self is love ,then I did it on the first day and I still do. Some called my story “unanswered questions" maybe they are right because these questions don't need answers. When we were together we had no time to answer these questions ,now that we are not we don't need the answers. These beautiful unanswered questions complete the most complex answers of my life .I have nothing to say any more except that I loved us and I still do.and we shall always meet in those beautiful questions.

Amulya…