Maa

Gurgaon is full of pigs. I mean, real pigs. You'll always find a big fat one rubbing itself against the sand or drenching itself in the mud to cool off. But the cutest sight would be a mother pig with her trail of tail-twirling piglets accompanying her wherever she goes. That's what blind following must be all about. This morning, i encountered a mamma who visibly was annoyed by my invasion of her privacy. After all, she was breastfeeding her kids and by my pervy camera moves, she got all agitated. For once, she got up and took a safe distance from me while her suckling kids started running in circles. Since all men all pigs, i understood what she meant. What you're seeing above is a picture i took for Snapchat. That's it. One picture. That's all. Respect mothers. 

PS: For the record, she was back to feeding her babies milk right after the impromptu photo session. 

भ se bhookh, फ se food

Zomato is all about food. It's not just India's only global app but closer home, it has perhaps one of the coolest offices in India. I'm in the middle of my fourth month with this awesome company and i must say i've never been more impressed. People are amazing to me and i don't blame them because without my beard, i must be the prettiest person in the building. Furthermore, since i'm part of the marketing team with a keenness on social media, i'm observing a world i didn't know existed during my earlier stints as English teacher, business transcriber and film journo. No, no, i haven't changed as such but it's a pleasant surprise to see yourself amid unprecedented growth in the food sector. Remember, the Shettys own 3 out of 4 restaurants in Mumbai? I guess it was destiny. (Related trivia: The tech side of F&B industry in India is STILL at its nascent stage though which makes it doubly exciting!) In the coming days, you'll see more and more people using food apps not only for browsing restaurants but also ordering online. That's inevitable. Foodie or no foodie, everybody's going to make the most of the available platforms. And why wouldn't we? When the cellphone made an entry at the turn of the century, who could have assumed that it'd become an essential part of our existence? Thanks to the impetus provided by the Internet, things have only escalated on the tech front, thus providing newer avenues for upcoming players. No wonder Instagramming food has become more important than tasting it first to check whether it's worth taking a picture. Who doesn't like to call themselves a foodie nowadays? Although it'd be misleading to call myself a foodie, i enjoy the awesome free food that my job entails. The best part being i don't even have to step out of the office. Gurgaon is the perfect mix of unsettling dust, filthy pigs, sweltering summer, rude autowallahs, bored cows, corporate residents and farce. But if i were to juxtapose all these elements with my job, it's quite a fair deal. 

If you've got the hunger—metaphorically as well as literally—to do something memorable with your time in the world of startups, i'd strongly suggest you to check out our careers page. Who knows you too might write a blog post someday that would get you fired?

Striking a chord

The final moments of The Imitation Game is so heartbreaking that you are forced to rethink. You not only feel bad for the way a genius like Alan Turing was mistreated but also wonder what really is different. Just because you don't understand another being makes you superior? Like i read the other day, the person speaking broken English is already fluent in another language. Can we (always) say the same about the one fluent in English? Going back to Turing, he develops a level of intimacy with a machine he helped create—which helped the Allied Forces win WW2 and inspired the likes of Steve Jobs in more than one ways—reminds you of Wilson from Cast Away. Remember how Tom Hanks' character continues to talk to the volleyball and later apologizes to it in a manner you wish your ex did? We don't get to know why Wilson was named so but we do get a peek into the story behind Turing's Christopher. Attachments like these make you rethink about the lack of difference between living and non-living things. 

Dropped catches and glory

I'd prefer testicular cancer. Yes, there i said it! If there was a choice, then i'd go for the balls. I know how insensitive this sounds like given i fully understand how gruesome the Big C is. But then, i've got reasons attached to it (not that attachment has served any purpose in my life so far). No, no, this has nothing to do with that iconic "I'm in pain" scene although an incident did occur in 1999 (the year Fight Club released) that brought me closer to my testicles. No, no, i didn't hit my puberty either. A cricket ball did—sadly—and the target turned out to be my nuts. Yes, a heavy leather ball from the sky (as i was supposed to catch it) hit my Netherlands instead of my palms. I remember experiencing the worst form of discomfort as time slowed down. No joke. That's also how the world's greatest cricket fan began to lose interest in the sport. Four years later, they performed a surgery on me leaving behind suture on my lower abdomen. To cut a long depressing story short, the whole event played a significant part on my asexual—to borrow a roommate's word for me—nature. Apparently, refusing to laugh at sexist/misogynist jokes makes one impotent. To be honest, i don't really know my motility rate but i like to call myself "inadequate at times but mostly functional". The roles testes play! So, for all the diffidence-inducing mental torture that happened because of a dropped catch, i'd prefer C in my Ts. That'd be poetic justice for a youth that got wasted on wondering too much about stuff that mattered too little. But the cherry on the cake would be me defeating cancer and not only participating in but also winning the Tour de France. Lance Armstrong would be SO envious of my two inglourious basterds, man.

Marry me maybe?

Since i'm an expert in sign languages, i came up with this innovative method of speechless proposal. Accordingly, all you've got to do is flash the ring finger of your left hand. It might look like you're giving a fly to somebody you hate but it's actually an attempt at making a fool of oneself in front of someone you love. That revealed, there are several benefits of this approach. The most prominent one is you avoid making a fool out of yourself in public in case you're one of those who get carried away by an IPL match and propose their lady just because Mumbai Indians is winning. 

Two things can happen in such a scenario: 

a) She ends up storming out of the stands leaving your cryface on the big screen. 

b) You miraculously turn into a single guy with a legendary status on YouTube.  

Yes, if only he showed her his ringie instead of uttering those horrible words. If only. 

Comparative studies of nonsense

• On a scale of of me to you, how much do you trust yourself?
• On a scale of 1 to Gulzar, how wonderful are you with words?
• On a scale of 1 to me, how sleepy are you?
• On a scale of of me to you, how much do you trust yourself?
• On a scale of 1 to me, how sleepy are you?
• On a scale of you to me, how much is the probability of we?
• On a scale of 0 to you, how messed up are you?
• On a scale of 9 to 5, how unemployed are you?
• On a scale of poking your own eyes to killing yourself by mistake, how clumsy are you?
• On a scale of 0 to unicorn, how delusional are you?
• On a scale of 1 to 10, i am lost.
• On a scale of 1 to Pigeon, how snobbish are you?
• On a scale of 1 to Sheldon Cooper, how irritating are you?
• On a scale of 10 to 1, how mathematically challenged are you?
• On a scale of... fuck this shit!

All about you

• Life is miscalling, where are you?
• I'm growing a pair of wings this summer. You?
• I dance from within. You?
• If you're going to be like your idols, who's going to be you?
• Are you the only child or you have siblings to look down upon you?
• You don't spaghetti it, do you?
• Is the problem bigger than you?
• Would it be OK if i Cc my worries to you?
• Even painkillers don't work during weekends. Why are you?
• I don't have a handwriting anymore. Do you?
• I don’t know who you are anymore. Do you?
• Are you in pain or is the pain inside you?
• There are all kinds of assholes under the sky. Which one are you?
• What's right with you?
• What do can for i you?
• Who else doesn't pay attention to you?
• Whose greatest fear are you?
• What's the best thing that never happened to you?
• What is it that's NOT bothering you?
• So you punish the ones who are incredibly nice to you?
• What's the procedure to move on with you?
• Where's the button to star you?
• You used to be stupid. What happened to you?
• You look very happy. What's wrong with you?
• What if your sorrow ain't very comfortable with you?
• How come everything reminds me of you?
• Jesus promised me heaven if i followed him. You?
• You're doing your job or is your job doing you?
• Would you mind if i fall in love you?
• The nature doesn't change its priorities. Why should you?
• Who else can express you better than you?
• Harry Potter grew up but Mowgli didn't. You?
• How is your health and other's weather treating you?
• What if the ones you left behind are better off without you?
• You've got time for everything except for that one guy called you?
• No idea what this blog post wants to say. You?  

Please connect the dots

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Happiness quotient

Last night, two of my colleagues-turned-friends asked me what makes me happy. This was before they answered the question for themselves. One said something about visiting his countryside back in his native Portugal while another said something about getting recognition for his work. In my defense, i said i love talking to people. Unbelievable as it may sound, i do love talking to people. But i've noted that my level of communication drops as soon as i get familiar with a given person. My finest interactions have taken place with random strangers whom you meet and then never meet again. The absence of baggage on how i should behave or talk like or whatever with such people is a unexplainable relief. I guess that makes me happy more than anything. 

Related: A friend from Ahmedabad once told me that we are here to leave behind witnesses that we were here once upon a time. In that sense, i think i'm just happy collecting more and more witnesses who don't really matter but still do. 

#LikeABox

The question isn't "What are you thinking?", the question is "How are you thinking?".

Don't you think so?

A major switch

In a room at a hostel resided two young men. One was Extrovert and another, Introvert. The former had a life and was proud of it while the latter didn’t wish to see what he was missing. However, Extrovert was too carefree to note whether he’s leaving behind a mess for Introvert to clean up later. Moreover, the world had come to a stage where an individual adhering to basic cleanliness/orderliness got promptly diagnosed with OCD. But then, the two didn’t talk much so we’ll never know how one’s lifestyle affected another’s. Interestingly, they had an arrangement in place: Extrovert will switch off the light at night even if he had to get up from his bed. The switch was nearer to the door than the beds and Introvert wouldn’t volunteer at all. This routine carried on for a long while before one particular night when Extrovert imitated Introvert. He lied on his bed with his palms behind his head asking his room-partner to switch off the light for a change. Introvert turned his head to look at him in a manner he has never done earlier. He then pointed his left hand at the switch with the index finger sticking out. Before Extrovert could understand anything, the hand kept growing and growing and growing reminding him of that guy from Fantastic Four. The only difference being this was for real and that was the last time he saw darkness.

Moral of the story: Chuppi-parast logon ke saath ungli mat karo.

Explain and simple

People love calling me tweleb (Twitter celeb) although i don’t see why. It’s neatly OK but still, if you sit down to analyze all the cogs in place, you’ll learn how hype operates so effectively on social media. There are so many embarrassing instances of ignorance that tweleb would start sounding like an insult (if it ain’t already) to you.

So.

To begin with, numbers define our position, right? How much do you earn? How many years of experience? How long is your penis? How long can you fuck? How long before you retire in Shimoga? How many hairs left on your pate? How many followers do you have? Apparently, having more than 20K+ followers (when human population recently crossed 7.2 billion) is a big deal. A lame tweet getting 15 RTs—which happens to be my average—is supposed to be celebratory. A heavily-posed DP receiving 200+ likes on Facebook makes you revel while a dipped-in-fancy-filters images garnering 50 hearts is supposed to be a sign of fame.

Bullshit.

We don’t even know what popularity is.

Tip of iceberg, huh? Big deal?

Staph.

It’s not.

What truly seems to be happening is we as individuals have lowered our expectations to such a level that we crave validation from absolute strangers. Who are these people? Will you ever be able to connect with them? Is there any scope for building a relationship that lasts longer than a trend on Twitter? And speaking of validation, what if every single person who comes across your tweets agrees with you? What next? What will you do? Consider yourself a celebrity just because your thoughts (read: jokes) are being celebrated?

I don’t think that’d be appropriate.

An advisable move would be to just keep doing what you like doing without worrying who’s noticing and who isn’t. That should suffice. I’m saying this not because i’ve worked towards creating a space for myself where i don’t stand accountable for what i share online. I write and i disappear. End of discussion. But at the same time, i appreciate the time the aforementioned ‘absolute strangers’ took to pay attention. But engaging them in an exhibitive and trivial conversation would be stretching it too far.

Sounds fair? No.

OK.

I also acknowledge that people have a short attention span. They might applaud you or troll you mercilessly for one goof-up of a one-liner but they are not permanent. And neither are you. Both your admirers as well as your detractors will forget you if you don’t log in for 2 weeks.

Trust me on this.

It has happened to a lot, especially those who thought that the timeline would scroll in the opposite direction if they deactivate their account.

Were these handles twelebs? Some of them, yes.
Did that change anything? Nope.

Do poems grow on poetry?

They say poetry is dying when the greater truth is poets are alive but not really kicking. They don’t want to succeed anymore. The desire to make one’s presence felt has diminished and that is indeed worrying. One doesn’t have to be a literary eagle to observe it happening not only in the offline world (where poets are an endangered breed anyway) but also the online one (where poets are few as usual but more pretentious than required). This imbalance hasn’t helped the case because poetry as a sustainable art form has morphed into a pitiable myth. If only more poets with good poetry to back them up exhibited a strong stronger reaction to mediocrity. Remember when a Nobel laureate went on to appreciate Eminem’s body of work saying that the white rapper is doing a great service to poetry? This was last decade and i thought both were kidding. Turns out they weren’t because they knew what was needed to keep an art form from dying. The people and the poems should rhyme. If that doesn’t happen, then what’s the point? Gulzarsaab has written some of the most beautiful poems ever but chances are you might not have read them. You know why? They were published and not converted into songs. Hard luck, yes. It’s not like poems can’t survive without music but we are at a point of era where we are least interested in the ones who give us words. We don’t wish to know how an emotion can marry metaphor and leave happily ever after. We’ve reached a point where people attend reading sessions but are evidently afraid to read out loud their poems. In such a damp scenario, the real slim shady stands out for his courageous self-pity and bitching semi-originality. 

Tense moments

You are known by what you do. Not by your name or what your parents did. In the long run, what really matters is what you did with your time. How did you spend it? And who did you spend it on? Or with? As long as you're alive, everybody is allotted equal time. Equal number of hours in a day. But the funny thing about time is it doesn't allow you the privilege of understanding what really is going on. Even if you think that you've figured out everything, it doesn't really sum up well. Uncertainties. Which might explain why we are able to point out the patterns or connect the dots only when an event has ended. That knack rarely occurs to us in real-time. Looking back indeed helps a lot but doesn't also mean that we are creatures of the past? Every single moment is passing us by without showing us the courtesy of slowing down a bit. Truth to be told, our entire existence is in the past tense. In such a scenario, the question would rather be, what are you going to do with your future?

The birth of an earworm

Some songs like you instantly and stick with you like a gorgeous scar. Such songs are a rarity in themselves. They come along seldom and if you're lucky enough, you'll pay adequate attention. That'd also be your first step towards a downward spiral into musical ecstasy. A pathogenic journey wherein nobody except the eardrums is harmed. That song for me (as of now) happens to be Nate Ruess' Nothing Without Love. Not only is this track splendid but also the video enhances its overall appeal. You can see the diminutive singer actually feel what he's crooning. The way he almost drowns while singing. The way he dances without a care on an empty drenched road. The way his weary eyes have a way with the camera despite being in a crowd. The way a girl smiles at him as if his lyrics mattered a lot. The way a piano bursts into flames. The way you wish the song never ended but it will and you'd be left with no option other than playing it again hoping you'll get bored of it sooner than you find another such beauty of a song. 

When pagh life beckons...

Before i get on with whatever i want to say, i'd like to admit that i never once forwarded Santa-Banta jokes during the Internet Age. Never. Not even once. For a very simple reason: They bully a particular religious group. If the word 'Sardar' in those jokes were to be replaced by 'Hindu' or 'Muslim' or 'Christian', would they sound so funny? Besides, these jokes tend to persecute a community for their apparent lack of gumption, forget intelligence. Not cool, paaji. 

Secondly, i always respected the Sikh community. Just like i respect others. 

Thirdly, i may not be pious per se but i don't believe in hurting sentiments (especially the ones that don't exist). 

All that blahblahskyisblueblue explicitly expressed, i finally wore a pagdi today for the first time. A proper one, mind you. Jaspreet not only brought the 4.5m cloth required but also draped it around my head with such finesse that i wanted to kiss my forehead. Being a perfectionist, he used a long needle to accentuate the folds that you can see in the picture. As you can also notice (which wouldn't have otherwise), the Punjabi tractor on my tee goes nicely with the turban. I look like a Sikh to be honest. Also, my ears are tightly covered so that i can't hear colleagues laugh at me. I wore the thing for about three hours and even strolled in office cafeteria before realizing that i don't have the faith required to continue any further. Trust me, it's only when you wear a pagdi that you understand the physical discomfort Sardars overlook on a daily basis. 

Options

Remember. 










Or don't forget. 









Whichever takes longer. 

Hide and laugh

She thinks he's unfunny and often points out the lameness of his humour. On top of that, she laughs with the annoying "You're getting better" comment. 

But there's the catch. 

He thinks he has always been funny and she is merely getting entertained without giving credit where it's dude. Granted that he cracks some of the lousiest original jokes in the history of stupidity but that doesn't mean he can't make her laugh. For the insider record, her laughter lasts longer than her orgasms. Yet, she won't admit that he's genuinely funny. Maybe it's a feminine thing to do. Like women keep going to washroom at a party (but not in office as they deliberately don't consume enough water during working hours) without anybody really knowing why. 

Wait.

Maybe the catch here is she goes to loo repeatedly even in their house so as to laugh out loud. After all, it's not humanly possible to suppress one's laughs from his supremely hilarious quips for long. 

29 and still counting

Aaj mera janm din mubarak hai. That's why all i'm going to say is i don't have any regrets anymore. At least for today. It's good to know that i crossed 27 (thus losing the glorious chance to be part of the 27 Club) and then 28 and now i'm 29 and hopefully, will see 30 too. One can always go "Life is..." but in absolute terms, it means nothing. To each, his own experiences. You may find the key to happiness but you don't get to keep it. And as of today, i'm happy. I'm at a place where i don't beat myself up. I am OK with the pace my life is going. I have someone who is a far better person than i am. I have a job where i may come across as a fresher (and trust me, it doesn't feel good to be a rookie at 29!). I do have my lows but then what's the point in existing if there isn't a balance. That said, i'm not really sure what i'm doing but i like to believe that it's OK. And that's an amazing feeling to wake up with. Or go to sleep with.

Gender equanimity

If you are a fan of British television, you should check out Black Mirror. It's amazing how the writers of this sci-fi anthology series could imagine a futuristic world where people can be blocked for real with a click of a button or how citizens will be forced to bike for their sustenance—amongst other such probabilities. However, despite all these mindboggling features on display, what struck my partner the most was the manner in which almost every single episode was suggesting infidelity on the female protagonist's part. I didn't even notice this remarkable commonality. Maybe because i'm a messiah who can leap into the future and see a world where the disloyalty tag is associated more with the fairer sex against what is the status quo right now. But at the same time, a recent study threw some light on the changing trends between the sheets and what could possibly be a reason why the aforementioned script-writers might have just nailed it as this paradigm shift is concerned! 

Wanderlustrum

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"

Hmmmmmmmmm. I see myself on a never-ending vacation in Galapagos Islands. Although the one-way ticket costs Rs2.5 lacs (as of now) while the return tickets cost my right kidney, a piece of my liver and my left testicle (as of then), i'm keen on that place that changed the way we look at ourselves. To those who are wondering, Charles Darwin embarked on a four-week long journey to this beautiful piece of earth before spending three years and three months (the same amount of time i dedicated to mid-day) so as to come up with his planet-shattering Theory of Evolution. He paid a huge price family-wise for the same but science looks up to him fondly, doesn't it? Oh no, i don't mean to attempt any scientific research of that kind. I just want to be there in five years' time. And never come back home. I don't know how i'm going to accomplish that plan but i'll keep hopping from one company to another until i get to a point where i don't have to answer such a ridiculous question which proves Darwin wrong.

Heading nowhere

I really don't know where i'm going with this post but it's alright because it doesn't really matter when you want to just write for words' sake and hope that it makes sense while hardly anything else does in your world of irrefutably lame theories wherein every second thought is a justification for what could not possibly be the answer to a damning question especially in the area of anthropology where human traits are constantly under the microscope with lens so wide that each one of us miraculously turn into unicellular beings with smaller-than-my-penis feelings that count or even dare to stick out their neck to see what could be another way of looking at things which we might have overlooked earlier based on the sheer size of our ego or the flexibility our ignorance that never ceases to entertain me as i love our species for they tend to genuinely believe in their forebodings more than their blessings when it should be the other way around resulting in a unique situation leaving fodder-less hacks like me with no choice but to fend for myself along the line of a continuous sentence that is basically going nowhere just because it neither have to nor wants to. 

♫ Tan-tada-tang ♫

What is it that we need more than anything else? 

• Love? 
• Purpose? 
• Oxygen? 
• Internet? 
• Food?
• Friends?
• Money?
• Cinema?
• Family?
• Tang?

Think about it, will you?

• In the ___ number of years you've spent on earth, there must have been a series of extended moments when you went without love. And still you survived, didn't you?
• Do you REALLY know what your purpose of life is? Most of us don't and that's what keeps us going. If we already knew, it wouldn't have been been so fun. Sounds convincing?
• We breathe not because we need oxygen to survive but because we need to get our body rid of the ever-accumulating quota of carbon dioxide that fuels our system. Got it?
• Internet may be a vital piece of our existence today but we did fine not only before it happened but also when the WiFi sucks and we start looking out of the window. Don't we?
• Of all the things i've become after moving north, i'm most proud of the fact that i am a 5 Star level foodie now. Also, if i can be so inspirational, can't you go without food?
• I like people. I am an Anne Frank in that sense. I like to talk to them and touch them (asexually) but i don't think i have it in me to hold up the torch of friendship. You?
• Is there anything, like anything, that could be as overrated as a piece of paper and a few coins that require more mineral resources to mint them than they are actually worth?
• I used to watch at least a dozen films a week and i'm not even counting documentaries or TV series. But then i moved on. It's not THAT hard when you get a life, isn't it? 
• Everybody dies. Even though it might seem like you are going to be immortal, you are going to need your family for arranging your funeral. But it's OK to rot too, right?  
• Summers can be extremely uncool, specifically when the temperature hits upswing of 40 degree Celsius. In such a scenario, Tang comes as a blessing in orange disguise. 

Conclusion: You need Tang more than anything else in life. 

May the 4th be with us!

They were just talking. Just talking without hearing each other's voice. A seamless conversation, she called it. Textual. No phone call; no skyping. Just words and random doodles and website links. Lame jokes on his part and a reluctant audience on hers too. The original plan was to elope to Kasauli, if not build a boat and fish in Vashi Creek. Neither of the plans eventually materialized. However, they managed to meet each other in the summer with little planning on either end. No awkwardness happened though. Momentary bouts of silence, yes, but no awkwardness whatsoever. It was simply perfect the way their hands greeted each other. A couple of hours of bliss, if you may. Not so sure about her but he was ecstatic. At the end of the rendezvous, she had the audacity to ask him whether he was happy to see her for the way she was in person. Today marks a year to that unforgettable day and he's never been happier to see her for the way she is in person. 

Doing the write thing?

What you're reading happens to be my 750th post. I started this rubbish machine of a blog in 2007 and have been gradually drawn to sharing more of myself over the years. I like to believe that i have an eye for detail. I see through things (sometimes) and i remember them (always). It's a curse. I write about them (always) and i hope i forget them (sometimes). However, that doesn't really mean i'm a blogger. Blogger, to me, is a modern-day term for someone who wants to be seen as a writer. S/he may or may not be one but would rather pretend that s/he doesn't need validation from the publishing houses while hoping they pick up their blog someday! In my defense, i never saw myself as a bona fide writer. I tried myself at poetry though and failed beautifully. Writing is a sacred business. People don't understand that because most of us don't know what it is to write from one's heart. If you are able to compose a heartfelt letter to your lover, you are a writer by default. Try converting that letter into a novel or non-fiction. You get my drift? The irony is a writer employs words at the risk of being unemployed himself/herself. It's a big deal to be that person who pumps 4000 words—and the resulting ideas—on a daily basis. I'm not THAT person. My patience is thinner than me and i'd rather spend my time coming up with lame tweets, lamer Snapchat images and one-word captions—because writing an essay for describing a picture is defeating the very purpose—for my Instagram feed. Which also sounds like an excuse for not working on a film script i'm supposed to have completed a month ago. I just couldn't wrap my imagination around it. Not to say i won't someday but as of now, it's difficult. 

OK. 

I guess that makes me a blogger then by my aforementioned definition. 

Coming back to this blog, i hope to continue sharing tidbits from what i see and i don't want to see. This world of ours is beautiful and i recently tried looking at it with my left eye closed. It still appeared beautiful but everything changed when Akshar informed me that one-eyed people can't watch 3D films. 

Surreal dip

I had a very weird dream. I was drowning and bubbles were rising from all sides. But the funny part was i could clearly see everything through them. There were whales and barracudas and a dancing army of green-coloured small fish. The water was so freaking clear that i was sure that i wasn't dying in India. Furthermore, i was wondering why wasn't i trying to swim. I mean, i know how to swim. I wasn't a champion swimmer during my younger days but i indeed had aquatic grace. No bragging. But in this peculiar dream, i was just going down and down. The worst piece about it being i wasn't panicking at all. It was as if i had accepted my situation and wasn't ready to fight it. Throughout, i was thinking about her, my family and my friends. I was wondering where were they and whether they knew that i was leaving them without a trace. After a long while, i could see nothing. Just pitch darkness and i guess that's where i fell asleep in this dream. But i woke up in reality all sweaty and restless. It was one of those instances when water was on either side of the boundary.