How to Remember What's Good

Dear Aditi,

   I sometimes forget how lucky we are. Like the amount of freedom we are given. How much our parents trust us. You were literally in a different city without your parents. If someone told me this is how things would turn out a year ago, I would laugh at them I tell them they were mad. Because one year ago, travelling to a different city to live with your best friend was kind of a dream. It was very much a dream.

But now, it is happening. And soon enough I will be in Delhi, living with you for a life because let's face it. Your house is my house. Actually it's more like you are my home. Even if you live 15 minutes away by car or 238 hours away walking, you are still the place I feel most at home at. You aren't a place, but if you were you'd be my favourite one. This is my smooth like salad part of me that is coming out.

It's funny, how my dream is so mundane. It's an acheivable dream, somewhat achievable. It's just living with my best friend. If I told this to 7 year told me, she would question me- probably ask me why isn't my dream to go to the moon, or world domination; or the most likely one, have a candy house like that from Hansel and Gretel. 7 year old me really wanted that house from Hansel and Gretel, because she just didn't concentrate on the fact that the kids almost got cooked and eaten. No, she just cared about the sweet things in life. Not a lot has changed since then. I still do the same, I only care about good parts. And kinda of treat the rest like dinner. Like I did for my board exams, and what I am doing but desperately don't want to do, for my finals next week.
Some things have changed though, like what I think about love. Now, I am no expert. Far from it. My flirting skills are that of a cactus. But I feel like atleast I am more knowledgeable than 7 year old Upasana, who thought that love meant someone coming into your life on a white horse and changing everything in your life for the better. Atleast that's what all the Barbie movies had taught me. Now, my perception on white horses has changed a lot.

White Horses remind me of Brute Force, who was my stubborn and annoying, unfriendly and lazy horse from our camp. I learned to love Brute though. I learned that me our extremely similar in many ways. That if I was a horse, I would also be Brute Force. He may have not listened to me half of the time, and he may have cantered faster than the lead horse, but when he wanted to, he could do whatever you needed him to do perfectly. It's just he rarely wanted to do anything. Which I relate to. 

What I was trying to say is that when love arrives, they are probably not who you thought they would be. That beautiful white horse from a distance, maybe a complete idiot. And yet, being an idiot you will still love them. Or they will stamp your foot and bite your hand, whatever they fancy at the time.

This probably didn't make much sense. Okay, I know it made no sense. But then again, nor do I. And nor do the people I love. So it's okay.

Bye-Bye.
Upa.