Life is like a puzzle. You try to interlock the pieces together, in a hope that it would make sense someday. Secretly wishing that you would get to know this was the only way things had to be done; you try to fix the ruins of your living existence the same way it was broken apart, one at a time. It’s not a simple process. Each one of the pieces, you think, needs to be carefully analyzed and made peace with before you move onto the next one. But as you go on you realize some of the pieces are absurd. That you can’t make peace with them; that this wasn’t the only way but it happened for its own sake and you cannot do anything about it.
“Things K taught me” is a segment of my life, so important that it’s going to have its own category here on Mellifluous Misery. Karun was a boy of my age (six months older, to be precise) whom I knew in my pre/early teen years. I have not mentioned him even to my closest of friends. It never occurred to me. But for past few days, I have been constantly thinking about this guy with whom I have no contacts now. I think this is the time to look back at this particular part of my life. It can take years. And I can only hope that it turns out to be an interlocking piece and not something absurd. The latter tends to be more tormenting, or so I think.