Crushes, life after 27

I am 27. That makes me old to have been smitten by a few crushes. It also makes me old enough not to write about crushes. The age also affords me the luxury to indulge in the warm remniscing of my crushes with fond nostalgic eyes. Affectionate feelings for the crushes don’t translate positively to the process of crushing, in itself. I am scared of the uncertainty involved. Every crush has changed me, mostly for the better. Any change, though is painful. Some crushes made me a better speaker(somewhat!), some others a feminist. At the least, it has made me a more rounded person than before. One of the most heartwarming incidents was when, a crush said I've been trying too hard to be an asshole and perhaps, I wasn't one. And I really did believe her.
To think of it, who are crushes?To me, these are examples whom I wish to emulate, by whom I am smitten and are better examples of humanity than me. They are myself, I see in the future. But, I am scared of change and by extension, I am scared of developing a crush. Age, one assured oneself granted immunity against crushes. The receding hairline, one supposed repelled the women I admire. And a wit, which only I think can even be called wit!
But, strikes it does every time, with a vengeance. Even, at this age.  Initially, one just laughs it off. After all, isn’t all this for the teens? Like waiting for a message, sounding nervous when you meet the person. You assure yourself, “No, I am not nervous. This wasn’t how it was the last time, when being crushed”. And indeed it wasn’t like this, the last time a crush happened. Because, every crush is different and it is exactly why crushes, by definition are so attractive. Yet, I can slowly find myself opening up to her, one message at a time. Revealing the silliness of me, which isn’t guarded by anything better in the first place.  I am now scared and concocting theories of how this can’t be a crush and how it is a logical impossibility. And to be fair, my theory is logically sound too.
But, when were crushes dictated by logic?

When I was a duffer....

I hail from a lower middle class family in India. And am, proudly kanjoos. But,am even more proud of the fact that I have always returned back people's debts. She gave me love. I gave her my life. She made me her close friend. I made her a part of me.

But, Ive never done something that she has done for me. Writing a blog post for me! Never wrote it for the fear of our friendship of becoming jinxed. I have heard a lot about people saying that the enormity of a friendship is percieved only when it becomes a memory. Perhaps, I wish it were this way. I knew, how much she meant even when we were the thickest of friends. And that enduring fear of losing someone close finally drove to losing her, atleast I guess so. Would'nt I love if God had other plans?;)

Today, I am not scared of losing her. And this is not an obituary piece to our friendship. When people say, someone has become a part of you,its probably because its just 'cho chweet' to say so! I mean it. Listen to my questions, “tired eh?” That eh, comes from her. The next time, I say uh huh, you know whom to blame for. A part of her is living in me. And I will probably, keep it till my receding hairline becomes grey.

Do i miss her? No, I do not. Have I 'got over' her? I do not know what that ever meant. Friendships are never made to be forgotten. The next time,I meet somebody with her name, I shall not fail to mention , I once had a best friend with your name. I miss her not, because I am not going to talk to her. I would miss her, if i knew, if all this was only a void in time and she would one day come and tell me, “Everything will be fine dude!”.

Never have I met a person, so honest.So brutally honest. That was the thread on which our frienship was built. A thread which resembled a rope in full gait. Sometimes, we were like puppies. Cute and sweet. Sometimes, I was chalk and she was cheese. Sometimes, I was rude and she was sweet.Most times, she was rude and I sweet..;) (After all, I am writing it.). Sometimes I felt, she should have been called Meenakshi, for those beautiful fish like eyes. Yes, to sum it all. When she was the fish, I loved to be the water.

Is it ego that I do not apologize for 'something'?(something,because there is nothing to apologize for!)Nope, and she knows it better than most of you who will read this. Do I hate her? Nope, you never hate your best friends. You only hate the times that made us apart! Am I scared to talk to her? Perhaps.

People say,rather she says this a lot. Whatever, happens, happens for good. True, these days I no more fight. Infact, the guys in my college are frustrated after all their rudimentary attempts to infuriate me. I have good friends now too. They have always existed. A mistake,I made then.

Yet, there is nobody to call me a duffer now....