I felt like an author


Almost all weekends I drive to Thimphu. And it was one such Friday evening. She wanted me to visit her yet she was not sure if she wanted to see me. She wasn’t comfortable and changed her mind about inviting me. I respect her. And I didn’t insist.

Saturday and Sunday, 48 hours I had at hand. Plans failed and I didn’t drive down. Thimphu was too big a town for a man who drove from Thangu village. Tried calling couple of friends but town people are the busiest ones. Lonely walk in the dusty streets was strange. There were many people around but less and almost no “smiles” unlike what happens in my village area (no matter who, we smile at each other as we pass across the path ways and paddy fields)

I rushed back to my little room in Semtokha. My mom and sisters were watching Television; I am not too keen on getting struck with the little monster. I chose to get wrapped in my blankets. My thoughts wouldn’t let me sleep. It was too early to dream. I opened my Laptop and got online to check my mails and do some work instead. There she was waiting, for whom, I know not but assuming, for me, gave me a bright smile within the four walls.

It is too much of a strange thing in our modern lives that I hardly know who lives next door. But I smile for a person I never saw and lives oceans apart. We chatted as if we were lovers. There were no restrictions and covers. Any thing I typed on the virtual wire seemed to have got her go haywire. Did I impress her? Or was it her personality and character to appreciate and vomit only good words to total strangers. We are often too good to total strangers than to our own loved ones. Hope this doesn’t hold true in our case. Time just got lesser and far across, miles away she was experiencing midnight. Yet our conversation got us struck on to the keyboards. She is younger by many folds but matured enough she seem with heart, like gold. She wrote an article around our conversation the other day on her blog. She quoted me and I felt like and a renowned author. But I am not.

I inspired her to use gmail, she confessed. I am inspired to live on as I do if that means inspiring her. And I must confess, for now, she is the only reader of my blog.
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