Menu, Contacts,Names, Options and Delete

It is two in the morning and I am sitting on my bed deleting people from my cell phone and life. The messages on my phone are testimony to their presence in my life at some point of time. I hear people forget and move on. But I don’t. Colours fade, day turns into night, rivers run dry and roads are lost but I don’t forget.

I lost some people today. These were people who came into my lives at some point of time. I have had some good moments with them, some bad, some sweet, some bitter. But I never forget any of them. An emotional fool, they call me. I don’t mind.

The table lamp throws irregular shadows on the bookshelf and …sorry I have to take a break ...nature’s call. The bathroom tiles reflect a pale yellow as pale as the 40W bulb itself. The spider is sitting on her web as usual, a tiny speck amidst multi coloured hues of the tile. I always see her at the same place, stationary. Doesn’t she have friends to visit her? Or perhaps she is like me, no friends and no relations. By the way, I don’t know if it is a she but I like to imagine it as a she. My mind is fascinated by all things female.
The bloodthirsty mosquitoes are buzzing around as usual. Don’t they have anything else to do in life except drinking blood and dying miserable deaths? Scores of people out there who are nothing better than mosquitoes, don’t you think so?
I am out of the bathroom and outside the room. The air is cool. A typical cool November breeze which tickles, reminding you of the sweet cold that might or might not come , teasing and taunting you like a flirtatious lover, whose caress is enough to stoke embers of desire in you, but whose kiss is out of your reach.

I am back on my bed now and staring at the pieces of broken glass in the corner of the room. Remnants of the mirror I broke in the evening. I can see parts of myself in the broken bits, hands; nose; half face; one eye but never my full face.
Never mind, the maid will come in the morning and sweep out the pieces. A new mirror will be brought and I will look at my new face again.

The phone, lying on the bed beeps once and vibrates. It is a message. A new message from a new person, a girl I had met on the bus, two nights ago. She was anxiously searching for a bus to Viman nagar. We got on the same bus and our eyes met. We exchanged numbers. A beginning of a new relation perhaps… I move on.