Sanjana: It’s Long Overdue


The first nice photograph we have

Sanjana. There’s so much I can say about her, and yet, I’ve waited up till now to put it in words. She hasn’t failed to remind me, she does that on a decently regular basis. She is my badass, Bihari second half; the most fiercely loyal, vociferous, goofy, bipolar, atom-bomb throwing (that’s an inside joke), book hoarding, dog loving, sarcasm spitting machine I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. That’s how I would introduce her to people if I wasn’t sure she would downright kill me.


The first photograph of us together. Ignore the others.

I remember the French class where we first met and sat together. I’ve always liked people who could get straight to the point, and what she said was close to, “scoot, let’s sit together.” I’m paraphrasing of course, my memory isn’t as good as it once used to be, and I’m no Ted who remembers every gritty detail, even the shape of a deuce he dropped. But I remember feeling instantly relaxed in a new school swarming with new people. I’ve never been someone who likes crowds, and we never needed one, did we?


After the Dundee snowfall. We went cray-cray. Well, I did anyway.

 I find myself to be the goofiest version of myself when I’m around her, and our laughter could bring down buildings. Correction, probably has brought down buildings. She’s the friend I go to remember what it’s like to feel passionate about life. I tend to lean towards the mendacity of life every now and then. She reminds me of the magic I miss out on when I forget what life is all about. Her passion for the people and things she loves is far greater than an average being.


No caption required. You remember this.

I couldn’t have survived in Leeds if it weren’t for her. I truly believe that she always delivers. She’s given me hope in some of my darkest times, been able to make me laugh when I’ve been dying to cry. And even though she occasionally almost overreacts to situations, I love her for it. Because she may overreact to some of the bad things, but god, does she overreact when something goes right. And we all need that, someone who squeals in your happiness and genuinely wants the best for you. I know I can call her and say three simple words, “I need you”, and count on her being there. If she could disapparate to me, she would, and I would always try and do the same for her. Unfortunately travel takes more than a simple click of the fingers; otherwise we would be living together.


London. Best time ever.

I remember burying myself in NIFT the first semester I was there. I forgot about the rest of the world for some time, but she never let me go too far. I always say that if it weren’t for her scrappiness, we could have lost touch (Oh yes I did, I used a friends reference). And look at us now; I can’t really do a good job of imagining life without you. It took us 7 years and so much drama but we’re finally here. The place where even science says we’ll be friends forever. Yeah, Science Bitch. And boy, am I glad we got here.

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Our goofy photoshoots. How I love them so.


I’m ready to accept that not everything bad that happens, happens to me. In fact, I think most emotions twenty-something females go through are universal. Most of us have had the charming-no good-cheating boyfriend; there would always be the funny guy who has severe commitment issues, and last but definitely not the least, the best friend it didn’t work out with because of something as mundane as logistics.

The cheating boyfriend took away your self-confidence and made you question yourself more than any of the rest, but you got out of it alive. You’re actually quite proud of how you survived that one. The funny guy made you question everything all over again, but you still held your own. The best friend however, is more difficult and delicate a situation. You break up amicably but with a heavy heart and you try your best to be as normal as possible. For the most part, you end up succeeding. You remain friends and probably grow even closer than you were before you were together. At some point, you will rethink the decision of ending things because everything are brilliantly comfortable, he understands you without you having to explain yourself to him, you have a ball of a time even when it’s just the two of you and every days seems better when he’s in it. It’s been years since the breakup and the logistics start to sort themselves out. Life seems to be gliding by; the best thing in it is probably him and you think, “I can take my time with this, he isn’t going anywhere.”

And then, BAM! He starts dating someone else and all of a sudden you end up lost. He’s treating her like a queen, the queen you hoped to be someday, he’s taking her places you’ve been but he’s making more of an effort. He’s calling you to say he’ll see you in the evening but the follow-up call never comes because he’s with her and forgot for a second that someone like you existed. He’s tagging her in “Every Girl With a Cute Face Will Understand” type of posts on Facebook. The jealousy is raging and now, more than ever, you feel like you don’t matter, like you were just another number, a girl he hung out with because he had nothing better to do.

One piece of advice; STOP. Shit happens all over the place all day, every day. He moved on before you, but you will too. You can talk to him, but stop for a second and think: is this really what you want? Or is this because you aren’t number one anymore? Don’t be reckless and immature because you wouldn’t want to be with him and then just end up hurting him. So stop. Stop for a moment and think about why you’re feeling the way you’re feeling. Stop blaming yourself for circumstantial sadness. Stop questioning every decision you ever made.

Yes, you’re losing your friend a little bit but isn’t that his choice, not yours? You used to hang out together because you liked hanging out together. It wasn’t some sort of job or duty. When the honeymoon period is over, you’ll be his friend again. You have to figure out if that’s all you want because if it’s more, he needs to know as soon as possible. But stop losing your head and start thinking straight from the mind, not the heart.

You are a brilliant person; you’re smart, funny, self-aware and gorgeous. It isn’t your fault and it never was. Talk to him, because you will eventually have to, no matter which way your mind decides to bend. And most of all, stop behaving like you’re a part of a chick flick, because honey, you ain’t in one. This is life, and this is your life. You want something to happen? Stop moping and go and take control. Go and tell him he’s being a dick and you don’t like being ignored. Or go and tell him he’s the love of your life and you want to be with him. But go and tell him something. Take a leap of faith, or have a little faith in the relationship you have with him. Either way, you will know where you stand and what you have to do. Moping around hoping he’ll understand you is a complete waste of time. He doesn’t even know that anything’s wrong. Give him a break and help him out. It’s the only way you’ll ever get what you want and truly deserve.

The Guy Next Door

He’s the best friend, the one you always want around, no matter what time of the day it is. He’s your sanity when you go completely crazy over some random-ass guy. He’s a breath of fresh air when your family successfully drives you nuts. He’s the hug you need when you have a fight with a girl friend. He’s compassion and comfort all bundled into one. He’s even the infrequent kiss when all you want is that; a kiss. He’s the grey you understand in this black and white world. He’s also the guy you severely disliked the first time you were introduced to each other (mainly because of the greyness). He is literally a soul mate you never thought you would find.

I met my guy next door a few years ago and honestly, I wasn’t too fond of him back then. He seemed like a womanizer who was way too confident for his own good. Of course back then I was a great believer in black and white; a womanizer meant black without question. A couple of years passed by with just a few random sights of each other and that might have been the end of it. Obviously, it wasn’t.

Honestly, I don’t remember when we started hanging out, or why we did for that matter. All I remember is we struck an unlikely friendship and we went from casual acquaintances to close friends rapidly. Over the past couple of years I never realized how much I started depending on him, for advice, to blow off some steam, for love and even for something simple enough as company. I learnt his way of life, I understood why he did the things he did, I saw him making sure he never hurt anybody, I felt him spread happiness wherever he went and at the end of it all I simply felt awestruck. I saw the shades of grey he lived in and I soon realized I had been struggling with the same greys all my life. He gradually grew on me, to say the least.

Don’t get me wrong, you’re not dating and you aren’t in love with him. But you hate him spending time with anyone else because he’s yours. My generation has a gift and a curse; after a point of time we learn how to avoid the feeling of total despair. We know how to manipulate our emotions according to our convenience. So no, I’m not in love with him, but I do love him. He’s more than a friend, but he isn’t the love of the life. He could be; but he isn’t. Everything is a choice, so is this.