Two Roads On Faraway Lands

By Deeksha Chandra

Differences can be beautiful.

Disagreements are alluring, misunderstandings can be delightful. And the winsome disputes are everything. I'd often uncover layer by layer our little world, looking for a miniscule point to base my fight upon. It would always be just the right amount; nothing too severe or nasty that would land incorrectly and hurt you but also not something so insignificant that you outrightly dismiss for a joke. I would always put us to test to find out how much we could bend our equation till it crumbles. But honestly, I never really put in all the force, I would always touch the waters and run back to the shore. I would

never dive. I'd throw blunted tantrums and edited taunts, I'd tone down my anger expression and tweak all my reactions. I never unleashed my worst because I feared we might break, I never took the dive of

faith because I feared we'd sink.

I'd keep telling you I wouldn't talk to you and there couldn't be anything more shallow. Because all I wanted was for you to tell me that you wouldn't want me to stop. And just like that, I loved the differences. Differences meant that we spoke enough, we indulged enough so as to intersect sometimes on rough paths. It's almost like an array of thoughts we throw at each other and for once they stop aligning. They jumble up into something that's not too suitable to our mood or liking. But what follows is the un-jumbling. That's the process that matters, when we meticulously pick up every piece of thought and carefully place it in the shelves of each other's mind, this time a little more gentle in our ways,probably dropping a word or two dipped in apologies at the heart on our route.

A post-fight mind can be like an unkept room where thoughts are just scattered around, broken feelings and cracked trust lying in the corners and there isn't space of peace. That's when for once we might allow someone else to clean up the mess and how well the job is done makes all the difference. Sometimes,the someone might just move and shift something in the corridors of the heart too and they leave the doors open on their way out.

Every petty fight brings us closer, because we realise that it wasn't just about fun and beer and hanging out. With every disagreement we dig out a layer to go deeper. When I'd fight about something that I heard from someone that was said by someone who heard you say it, I loved how we slowly opened the confused knots making sure the trust didn't loose balance. But that is where all my fear lies.

What

happens when we don't have all these someones in the middle, when we don't talk enough to lead to confusions, when we just skip the spades and stop digging? What happens when you leave, when we'd exchange bare minimum words if at all that wouldn't count for a conversation let alone culminating into a fight. So until then,suffice it to say that I love how we argue, how we disagree, how we put each other down only to make up for all of it later on with food offerings or long texts. Because when we disagree, I know we are talking enough, I know we care enough. When we are fighting, atleast I know we are on nearby roads that might not meet to be one but keep intersecting on some sunny days and maybe on some rainy ones too. But what happens when we are roads on faraway lands? I know we'd never meet to be one in absolute either ways, but what

happens when we lose the intersections too, when the bridges won't meet and I wouldn't catch your glimpse over the turns , when your horizons would run far and wide on a pace too fast for me to keep up with, when the distance would be too

much that even if I put my words to travel they'd be run down half way.

So, what happens when we are two roads on faraway lands?

By Deeksha Chandra