Tuesday, November 20, 2007


This afternoon, there was a stampede in the cafeteria, caught in which I was almost killed but I managed to emerge out of it in a single piece, triumphantly clasping my catch -- a double chocolate cone for me and a double raspberry for Angel, because I like chocolate and she likes pink. She must like raspberry too, its pink.. I dunno..

And then we sat on the lawn. After we lunched on the ice cream, we lunched on more ice cream and then on soda with ice cream. Angel kept hers untouched till the ice cream merged into a homogeneous pink soda-ice cream solution. She did not tell me why, probably because she could not fit that into anything she talked this afternoon.

Angel talked and talked about how good she felt when the days were warm and sunny, like today. 'Because its only now that we'd enjoy all the ice cream', she said. And then she told me about how she wanted to fly. I tried to picture the two of us in a glider, against the springtime sky. It seemed very weird. And I don't know how many seconds had drifted before I heard her sob.

Angel was crying and nothing I said whatsoever seemed to make a difference. I wished I'd be able to hug her or at the least look into her eyes just this once but that would not happen. As a matter of fact, I have never looked into her eyes ever. Angel and I are an oppositely directed Siamese pair, with the back of her head nearly joining the back of mine. This means that while we have each other to talk to all day, we can never lie down on our backs on the lawn and watch clouds, birds or air planes, among other tiny compromises that come along.

But we don't mind being this way, probably because we are used to it. Dad reckons medical science will evolve in a few years and we could be separated to lead normal lives but Angel always retorts that we are normal. At this, someone around always remarks about who would marry us. I then lose my cool and ask them to keep their fat mouth shut.

Angel's sobs had become more rhythmic. She would still not tell me what was bothering her. But I knew what had to be done, that simple trick which always set out world right. I patted her shoulder with my right hand and said, 'Angel, stop crying. No matter what comes, I'm always with you.'

She choked midway down a sob, paused and then giggled. All was well. Then she said, 'Thanks Esme. And no matter what I think all day, you are always on the back of my head.'

Credits: Sa, for 'Esme'. :)