"How does it feel?"
"To be stranded at a table with a stranger acquaintance and an almost cold cup of coffee, and every pellet of rain striking on the glass, harder than the last one? Well, do I quite have a choice at this very moment?"
"Given a choice, you wouldn't prefer to be stranded with me?"
"The question is not you, my dear."
"What is, then?"
"Some other day maybe."
"By the way, coming back to the question, how does it all feel?"
"Didn't I just express my observations on that?"
"What I meant was, how does it feel to have won it all?"
"No one's a winner. There are just survivors and the deceased. We can often choose to believe we can make it to becoming more than mere survivors, make it count, make a difference. But, all of this is as good as the belief."
"You mean you don't believe your works, or anyone's works or acts for that matter, ever make a difference?"
"Do they? Ask yourself the very same question and for once, don't pretend. You will realise you had the answer all along."
"So, we all are pretending, in your opinion?"
"Holding opinions isn't something I am specifically good at. I observe and observe, and that's about it. I'm a storyteller, not a preacher."
"Seven bestsellers in less than a decade of breaking into the scene. Critically acclaimed and condemned to equal lengths, your works have been controversially astounding, I must say. Could it get any better?"
"That's the sad part. And, the funny bit too. We always believe it can get better. We always believe we deserve better."
"Better than a bestseller?"
"I wish I could still be a storyteller."
"Aren't you?"
"Bestsellers are bestsellers. Storytellers are storytellers. From tellers to sellers, it's all too addictive and irreversible a journey."
"A revolutionary consumed in commonplace errors?"
"I'm no revolutionary. I am commonplace and I have no shame accepting that. It's time we stopped hero-worshipping. There are no heroes. There never were heroes. There never will be heroes."
"So, this bestseller has a muse?"
"Isn't life muse enough? But, I do get your query. Smarter ways of finding scandals for the front page. Well, I'm not involved with someone in specific. Now, as expected, you would construe or should I say manipulate, this very statement as a certification of my immoral and lecherous ways. But, that's absolutely fine by me. I guess we are done here. The rains seem gone."
"You haven't changed a bit."
"We see what we choose to."
"Sridhar Ramakrishnan, I hate you. You can be whoever you are, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you."
"Let go. Hatred is too strong. It will break you down eventually. Try loving instead. It's beautiful."
"I did try. If only..."
"Some stories are not stories, but poems. Don't look for closures. It's better that way."
"And, what do I do of the feelings?"
"Stop defining everything. You never can. You never will."
"Why can't you be more like your works, in life?"
"That's the idea of me. This is me."
"You can never lose your way with words, can you?"
"I can lose my way in words."
Don't make it tougher for me. Just leave."
"I have been gone long. It's been seven years."
"If only it had ever made a difference to you.."
"You had wanted me to let you be. So be it."
"I was mad at you. I couldn't bend the knee to you! But I had never asked you to leave.."
"Every act comes with consequences. We get to choose our acts, not the consequences."
"Ever thought of getting back?"
"No."
"Do you even care?"
"Nithya, I see the truth. You and I, we were in love for six years, married in four of them. It didn't work out then. It won't work out now. We could try endless times."
"You have someone in your life now, don't you?"
"I should leave. And yes, I haven't paid for your coffee."
"But why..."
"Reflections are better off on the other side."
The rains were gone. The city had re-imagined herself in the reflections.
The wet streets, the drenched potholes, the murky reflections.
It wasn't forever, but then, what is?
"To be stranded at a table with a stranger acquaintance and an almost cold cup of coffee, and every pellet of rain striking on the glass, harder than the last one? Well, do I quite have a choice at this very moment?"
"Given a choice, you wouldn't prefer to be stranded with me?"
"The question is not you, my dear."
"What is, then?"
"Some other day maybe."
"By the way, coming back to the question, how does it all feel?"
"Didn't I just express my observations on that?"
"What I meant was, how does it feel to have won it all?"
"No one's a winner. There are just survivors and the deceased. We can often choose to believe we can make it to becoming more than mere survivors, make it count, make a difference. But, all of this is as good as the belief."
"You mean you don't believe your works, or anyone's works or acts for that matter, ever make a difference?"
"Do they? Ask yourself the very same question and for once, don't pretend. You will realise you had the answer all along."
"So, we all are pretending, in your opinion?"
"Holding opinions isn't something I am specifically good at. I observe and observe, and that's about it. I'm a storyteller, not a preacher."
"Seven bestsellers in less than a decade of breaking into the scene. Critically acclaimed and condemned to equal lengths, your works have been controversially astounding, I must say. Could it get any better?"
"That's the sad part. And, the funny bit too. We always believe it can get better. We always believe we deserve better."
"Better than a bestseller?"
"I wish I could still be a storyteller."
"Aren't you?"
"Bestsellers are bestsellers. Storytellers are storytellers. From tellers to sellers, it's all too addictive and irreversible a journey."
"A revolutionary consumed in commonplace errors?"
"I'm no revolutionary. I am commonplace and I have no shame accepting that. It's time we stopped hero-worshipping. There are no heroes. There never were heroes. There never will be heroes."
"So, this bestseller has a muse?"
"Isn't life muse enough? But, I do get your query. Smarter ways of finding scandals for the front page. Well, I'm not involved with someone in specific. Now, as expected, you would construe or should I say manipulate, this very statement as a certification of my immoral and lecherous ways. But, that's absolutely fine by me. I guess we are done here. The rains seem gone."
"You haven't changed a bit."
"We see what we choose to."
"Sridhar Ramakrishnan, I hate you. You can be whoever you are, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you."
"Let go. Hatred is too strong. It will break you down eventually. Try loving instead. It's beautiful."
"I did try. If only..."
"Some stories are not stories, but poems. Don't look for closures. It's better that way."
"And, what do I do of the feelings?"
"Stop defining everything. You never can. You never will."
"Why can't you be more like your works, in life?"
"That's the idea of me. This is me."
"You can never lose your way with words, can you?"
"I can lose my way in words."
Don't make it tougher for me. Just leave."
"I have been gone long. It's been seven years."
"If only it had ever made a difference to you.."
"You had wanted me to let you be. So be it."
"I was mad at you. I couldn't bend the knee to you! But I had never asked you to leave.."
"Every act comes with consequences. We get to choose our acts, not the consequences."
"Ever thought of getting back?"
"No."
"Do you even care?"
"Nithya, I see the truth. You and I, we were in love for six years, married in four of them. It didn't work out then. It won't work out now. We could try endless times."
"You have someone in your life now, don't you?"
"I should leave. And yes, I haven't paid for your coffee."
"But why..."
"Reflections are better off on the other side."
The rains were gone. The city had re-imagined herself in the reflections.
The wet streets, the drenched potholes, the murky reflections.
It wasn't forever, but then, what is?
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