This had been languishing as a draft in my dashboard long enough so here goes... It's fiction by the way, as is anything labelled "Clouds" on this blog.


He was just 20 and she was 25, when they first met. They didn't speak much and most of the dialogue between them was restricted to passing cigarette lighters and joints.

Once he told her about this book that he'd been reading, "Did you know that Jesus was a black man?"

"That's pretty cool," she said, "Maybe now I will start believing in him."

She passed him the joint, while he looked at her and wondered what it would take to actually shock her. If only he had asked her she would have told him - nothing.

The next time they met again, ten years had passed. They connected instantly this time, seamlessly cutting through the barriers of age, race, religion and interests.

Physically, she wasn't really his type yet, in a strange inexplicable way, he wanted to possess her. He wanted to be around her, imbibing that heady aura that he now found himself being drawn to.

She sensed it too and felt herself opening up. It didn't surprise her though, she always fell for the wrong kind of person anyway. Oddly enough, he was a rule and not an exception.

They spent an entire night together, talking about various things over some really stiff vodka. Funky anklets, tattoos, mountain treks, whisky variants, old shipyards, housing problems in the city, the humour of Ali G, the side-effects of artificial insemination, the need to be free, the desire to belong.

It was 4 am by the time they wound up. He muttered goodnight and walked out of the door as she made herself comfortable on the couch.

They met for lunch a couple of days later. He seemed eager to get to know her more. She was in a mood to oblige.

They went together to the building still under construction and as they walked up the half-done stairway, their voices echoed as they spoke. Once they reached the top, they were hit by strong gusts of wind.

His cool grey eyes pierced her through the lenses. She had never seen eyes that colour before. She had never been with anyone who wore glasses before, but it felt good. Like they finally had something in common.

A while later they walked back to her apartment where everyone else was waiting, and sat down to lunch. After they were done eating, he turned towards her and said, "Thank you. That was beautiful."

Beautiful? No one had said that about her cooking before. Yummy, delicious, scrumptious but not beautiful.

It all seemed to flow like a dream until that moment. They were all having watermelon ice-cream for dessert, the dogs were barking at the birds outside the window, someone was talking loudly on the phone.

Then somebody else at the table said something. She had an opinion, he had an opinion, everyone had an opinion. Everything changed after that.

He realised she carried too much baggage from the past. She thought he was too naive about the future.

They continued to speak and text, superficially though, till he took the flight back home. That's how it ended.

Until he came back 2 years later.

The first thing he did was ask about her, "How is she? Where is she now?"

"She's moved on," the person who had introduced them told him.

"I'm ummm happy for her," he said.

Then he asked, "Is she happy?"

"She's moved on."