7:49 PM, January 17, 2015. I am sitting on the one of the wrought-iron chairs that we have at our rented apartment in the City of Dreams. There is a pillow and blanket lying on the sofa, the Television set is running on mute. A Vicks lozenge's wrapper is lying on the floor. The centre table have two used tea mugs, one chocolate biscuits packet, open, half-filled. And, a water bottle, half-closed.

For the last two hours, I have been sitting on this place, wondering what to do. I do not like spending the whole day at home. I hate holidays. It suffocates me, idles my brain. An idle brain is devil's workshop. I am very sleepy. Probably, over-slept.

I try to write, but cannot. My brain is not working. I think of drying the clothes that are lying in the washing machine, but I am too lazy to. I think of going out, but I check my bank account summary. I am ashamed. All I can do, is sit and hope for this night to pass quickly.

I look at my laptop; I have been working whole morning. I don't feel like touching it anymore.

I pick up my cell phone. Browse through my contact list. My eyes narrow down to one of my best friends. She is getting married tomorrow. January 18. I have sent her bunch of flowers. All I wanted to send her, is a note, a poem, a book, I don't know. But, something lyrical. Not flowers. They don't allow you to just send a greetings card. Bad for their business.

I have known her for eight years now, is it? I am very bad at mathematics. We did not became friends so easily. My first year at college, was, kind of political. It is somewhere at the end of my first year, that we became friends. How? One day I just simply decided to stop sitting where I used to and move to where they used to sit. It was not welcomed, kindly. But, she and her friends, did not raise voice too.

Rest is history. Tea breaks, tram rides, Some Place Else, Boncharals, etc. Poetry, write-ups, David Daiches, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Tree Trunk, Maroon 5, Jane Eyre.

However, nothing comes easy. No relationship is supposed to be easy. As our college lives came to an end, our friendship got diminished too.

Albeit, when you have been friends, have been so close friends, distance pains. We got back, we worked our way back into the relationship.

It was not easy. We were in different cities, our lives had changed. We were different people. There was a gap of three years, in between us. We remained in touch, may not be as close and good friends, as once we were.

Few weeks back, she broke the news. She was getting married. I suddenly felt cheated. No, not because she was not marrying me! But, somewhere I knew in my heart, I had moved very far.

I read my other two friends get excited over her wedding. And, I wonder, where I am in my life.

Ran away from home, from friends, from love, from the city that taught me to dream.

She is special. I vividly remember her handwriting, the letters we have exchanged. The Reader's Digest, lying somewhere in my cupboard, back at home.

I feel like Bunny, from Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani. Best friend is getting married, but I cannot make it. I have been listening to Kabira on the loop. I will sleep my way. Sadly, I cannot just decide to pack my bags like Bunny, and surprise her.

Minutes before I started writing this, I suddenly remembered, or rather it struck me - Mr. Rochester and Jane never got to be with each other. I guess, it was written in the star.

Remember? One afternoon, as we waited for SD to arrive and teach us Francis Bacon, you told me, "Why don't write something big, something for the Booker?" I laughed. I still laugh. But, I knew and still know, you never told me or anyone that you did not believe in.

Thanks, for the best days of my life. I may be different, I may be 2,002 km away from you (Yes, 2,002, I double checked), but you will be a very special friend for me.

I hope you find happiness, that you always dreamt of. You are the most practical person I have met in my life. I wish, sometimes, the way few things turned out, in our lives, it never happened. But both of us, know that few things happen for the best.

Always, love you.

PS - Remember the house, we used to dream of? Four rooms, each to ourselves and vacations? It still can happen. And, you will need a lot of cancer sticks till you are fully done with the ceremonies. Stay, happy.