When I returned to India in August last year, I thought my friends and I would lose touch and just grow distant and rifted as we drifted apart in the current of the lives we would start leading once our terms in college and school started. But, thank God, that that is not the case.

We ALL finally met up the week before Christmas at this college fest and we spent 2 days together. It was almost just like old times. How I miss them! I thought we'd become like those friends who meet each other every now and then while they're in the same city, unintentionally though, and then reconnect after 30 years when they're in their variety of marriages, with a whole new brand of drama defining their lives and worth talking about over tea (Honestly, I prefer tea to coffee any day of the millennium.) ; and in Bengal the tea-time conversation is tradition, and is traditionally called 'adda'- I kid you not. Then we'd be overwhelmed by how much our lives had changed and marvel at how different we look, how old our kids are, how we imagined each other marrying very different men, and so on and so forth. 

But, alas, we're friends for life. Now that I've said that I hope God doesn't start screwing around with my karma and send my friends cosmically away. That would so suck. But the universe has this way of committing the worst types of situational irony when you least expect it or are secure in your delusion that such could never take place......and then it does. I think someone called it Murphy's Law. That was hilarious. It's all about how everyday things seem to happen with the greatest frequency and concentration (per unit time) for a fixed period of time, when it is most inconvenient for it to occur. Like how the phone always rings and rings the most when you're immersed in a tub of hot water fora long, luxurious bath. 

But I'm deviating. Back to topic. 

Well, during the band performances I saw my 'scary bassist'. He came right up to the lip of the stage and I could barely look at anything else. I didn't particularly like the music or the showmanship, but the 'scary bassist' was something to watch. His attitude, his poses, his movement, his hair......what can I say, he had beautiful hair. I was terribly asphyxiated in the hall; not only was it getting stuffy since they closed the doors, but my head was fuzzy and I'd started feeling sleepy, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. 

I've never seen him before, and I've not seen him since. I missed my chance. But.....okay, some may call it stalkerish tendencies, but I just like to call it a positive attitude towards taking the initiative..... and I had to use some extensive connections to get his name and number. I haven't called him. I'm too much of a chicken. I probably never will.

No, you know what, I just might. 

PS: Don't worry, I'm not even capable of potentially criminal thoughts. Everyone's safe.