A High Like This

The lights in his hostel room-306 were dim, a subtle orange coming from the halogen lamps outside in the park which pushed him further into a dream-like state. From his window, Sudho could see the entire university with lights shimmering at a distance. People must have been walking, talking as if they didn't carry a storm within. They must all have been liars too. There was no doubt about it, lying was their second nature. Sudho must have been high for days when a strange thought occurred to him, a thought which comes only when you hurt in places you never thought you had. A tear rolled down his left eye through a puddle which had formed deep within his heart, it gently kissed his cheeks and then dropped down from his chin as Sudho took another drag of his freshly rolled joint. He had purposely decided to mix very little Tobacco from cigarettes. His face was already numb from several bong shots earlier, his legs and hands would be to go next but it didn't matter. Sudho still had a smile on his face, he must not have been able to feel his tears.

His room smelled like it was Amsterdam and if he had been caught he would surely get expelled from the college with several thousand rupees to pay for as a fine. It didn't matter, he couldn't stay among those people anymore. He couldn't have those mundane conversations that felt like daggers simultaneously in both his heart and mind. He would rather be intoxicated. Sudho was not one to drink and he was an infamous puker so he actively avoided drinking but he could drag like a son of a bitch putting all his strength into inhaling. He enjoyed it too, the high but today nothing came close to enough. It was a strange dichotomy with a gentle smile like the world was laughing at his despair. Sudho took another drag but this time his chest hurt a little, maybe it was telling him to stop but the sounds of his physical pain were drowned out by the noise of the desperation which he carried in his heart. Sudho was in love or something close to it.

It had been a week since his trip to Dharamshala where he met Pallavi at Joe's Italian Restaurant. He was sitting alone at a table for two churning up some thoughts in his diary while waiting for his Quiche to arrive. He scribbled his pen on paper, he failed. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get into that headspace where the words flowed naturally. Sudho was terrified, he was having the worst writer's block he had ever faced. He kept at it like an itch he couldn't scratch when all of a sudden he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned in ever-present angst which disappeared in a blip as his eyes fell upon a beautifully unfamiliar face.

"Are you writing something?" She asked in a mellow dulcet voice.

Sudho couldn't form words in his mind anymore and even if he did, his mouth failed him as he was still taken aback by her deep beautiful Hazel eyes.

"Are you writing something?" She asked again.

"Umm, I'm failing at it at least." He answered in his deep monotone voice. She smiled and answered, "That makes two then. I'm having the worst writer's block ever."

"I don't think I qualify as a writer," Sudho replied in his typically modest manner. He finally blinked out of her eyes and his glaze gently ran down to her mouth as she formed words.

"Then let me qualify you for both of us."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Sudho finally asked with an awkward smile on his face. He was not used to talking to strangers at least not about writing which always felt too personal to him. However there she was, a stranger and somehow it didn't feel intrusive at all. Maybe it was just the way she was, he felt understood.

"Pallavi." She said as she took the seat next to him.

"Sudho." They shook hands when he finally noticed her indigo colored summer dress with small sunset-colored flowers. That was his favorite color like the ink of a Pilot pen which was also what he was holding between his fingers.

Sudho was perplexed as he had worked all his life to be deliberately unapproachable, he found people to be an annoyance but here she was, came in like a flood that didn't care for who he was. She sat next to him with an infectious smile and ordered the waiter to bring her food over to Sudho's table like she knew what she was doing. He sat there still waiting for his Quiche, hungry while she had a full plate of Gnocchi.

"Here, have some. It is terrible." Pallavi fed him a spoon full of awful tasting Gnocchi. Sudho felt like he was being murdered by the most charming killer ever.

"Oh, God! It is bad." He immediately wanted to throw up but decided not to, at least not in front of her. He coughed, drank some water, and gently pushed it down.

"What do you write about?" She asked.

Sudho paused before he could answer her, he didn't want to sound pretentious and nobody ever before had shown a genuine interest in whatever he had to say.

"I just write about people, all of them, whoever I meet." He answered.

"A true wallflower." She added and both of them let out a chuckle.

"But right now I would give up anything to have just one thought in my mind. I feel empty. I'm out here away from everyone I know, parents, friends, and acquaintances and I still can't find a single thought." Sudho said in a slightly frustrated manner.

"Parents, friends, acquaintances, and Expectations too. I get it, what wouldn't I give up to get out of this restaurant. Oh and my mom owns the restaurant." She blurted out quite carelessly as if she wasn't cursing the food of her restaurant just moments ago. Pallavi must have seen the apologetic expression on Sudho's face therefore she decided to interrupt, "It's okay though. The food has been terrible for a long time and I've been telling my mom about it too. She won't listen."

"Who's Joe then?" Sudho asked.

"Joe is a typical Italian name that has nothing to do with us or this restaurant. My mom however is completely desi." She answered in her nonchalant way and they both laughed.

"What expectation are you running from?"

"This restaurant, I suppose. I get up early, I get fresh vegetables from the market, I clean up the stations but I would just like to write."

"What do you write about?" Sudho asked with curiosity as he had never met someone so easy to talk to.

"Poems mostly." She answered slightly embarrassed and a bit shy. "They're mostly shit." She added. Sudho noticed her biting her lips in contempt while her eyes sang of a delicate demeanor. She doubted herself perhaps, it was unclear. Sudho's trail of thoughts was disturbed by a lanky looking waiter who brought in the Mushroom Quiche he had ordered. Sudho thanked the waiter even though he had been waiting for his food for about 45 minutes, He then took a bite from a slice of Quiche which seemed unappetizing and tasted as such.

"Here have a bite. It's terrible." Sudho offered a bite to Pallavi.

"How dare you!" Pallavi said jokingly already aware of how terrible it was going to be.

"What kind of poems?" Sudho asked.

"Depressing ones. The ones you want to read when it's cold and raining. The ones you read when you want to be alone or are alone, in darkness and dim lights. That's my whole vibe I guess." She answered.

"Can I read it?" He asked. Pallavi agreed to show him some oh her work but cautioned him against any judgment. She handed him her brown leather diary with her name etched beautifully into the cover.

The Night Brings Me Sorrow

While It Sings Of Your Heartbeat.

I Don't Want To Speak To You.

No, Not In So Many Words

But I Want To Talk To You

With The Ways, I Touch You

On Your Lips and Your Skin.

It's Splendid, Magnificent

The Way You Smell

And The Texture That Is Left On My Tongue

After I Kiss You A Thousand Times

I Wouldn't Speak Of It

But I Will Touch You

A Thousand Times More Till We Intertwine.

Sudho was mystified by her words, deeply falling in love with every line she wrote and he always had a very expressive face which made it harder to hide his feelings. He had never met anyone so readily eager to show something so personal. Pallavi could see right through him. Sudho felt somewhat naked and Pallavi ever so embarrassed, it was strange for it was Pallavi who was laying it all out. They decided that they both needed to walk out of that restaurant, there was a lot to talk about and a lot more to write.

The next day they decided to make a trip to McLeodGanj specifically to visit the Shiva Cafe. Near the Bhagsunag waterfalls, the trek to Shiva Cafe along a stretch of steep slope was an endurance test and Sudho was no specimen of physical fitness however it was a given for a stoner to go to the cafe at least once like a ceremony or a proper coronation into the stoner community. He was excited nonetheless. Pallavi swiftly climbed up the stone laid stairs while Sudho followed behind. He thought it would be worth getting up at the top, he might just get a new perspective, some new thoughts too. Deep down both of them wanted to have something they didn't have before and even if it was just silence, they'd be happy to share it. After half an hour of excessive trekking, Sudho was hit by a cold breeze mixed with a familiar scent of Marijuana that Pallavi had lit up. She took a couple of drags and casually passed it to him. He knew that he was home.

He left Himachal that day quite sad feeling as if he was leaving a part of him behind.

He had never felt a high like that and it was quite obvious that he never was going to. The joint was still half left, James Bay's Pink Lemonade was still playing in the background when he decided to put it off. He got off his bed in his mellow intoxication and stumbled his way to his diary. His hand had almost given up but he forced himself to pick up the pen that laid on the study table.

He wrote.

The Way We Separated

Even Loneliness Got Lonely.