In the name of life

I danced the night away. Clinkering glasses of wine and spirits added to the rhythm of the night. We bathed on dance floor in colours of celebrations painted over our moods- blue and battered from weekdays of struggle at work. Escaping from an earful by the boss, parents and loved ones, our refuge was perfect only until on my way back I saw a man with his son, dressed in pristine white unapologetically sleeping on a park bench.

Skies began crying. It poured in streams and not droplets as if Mother Nature finally had turned teary eyed without any sobs or sound. Maybe she was not in mood to be consoled

They ran for shelter while I rolled up windows of my cab. The little one clutched big hands and tried to shake sleep off his eyes. Dreams were not meant for him. It was in harsh waking truths that his life was to shape up. I don’t know why but i stopped the vehicle near them. The man was apprehensive till I showed my press badge and asked if everything is alright. He asked me to watch over his son till he fetches his stuff he left behind near the bench and I nodded silently asking him to cover his head with a newspaper I had in my bag. As he moved some metres away with fast sogging offering that I had given him, cabbie asked the boy what they were doing there at this hour. The boy looked up and turned towards the man and just to let us know that if he tells us as the man would be angry.

Considering it a kidnap or some such shady business, I probed further and prompted the boy to speak up if there is anything wrong. I told him sleeping in park is illegal and police officers would be happy to get them moving if I complained.
At my attempt, looking down he muttered unapologetically that there is no need. Their landlord had thrown them out and his father – the man that he was with had no money, so they were waiting for the temple doors to open in the morning. By the time, he finished a few more details about where they lived and the tea stall that they had nearby, the October rain stopped, and father returned. I offered them a lift if they wanted to go anywhere and he refused. After which I asked the cabbie to move from there.

Yes, I was smashed yet, not with the drinks but with my own view of life
There might be many 8 year olds in this world calling sky their home, a few supporting their parents in daily struggle without knowing the role that they play. That kid for me is answer to my prayers for guidance about my life. I could never pray specifically and always asked god to show me the answers as i move ahead in journey of life. Today was a landmark, a reason to celebrate as true reverence and faith had met me in person. They were contained in a small frame with a smaller mind, big eyes and bigger questions but yes the child and his self respect was bigger as he never asked for money which a child would normally and easily in this situation and stood being half drenched with rains instead of seeking convenient comfort from helpful strangers.

His determination shone in his eyes to move ahead and change the situation without being apologetic and to face the life like his father who did not expect this young life to seek help elsewhere. I remembered my maid who helps my landlady run her household in clockwork precision keeping my mind off the trivialities. Also about the watchman who guards my home 24x7 with his meagre pay, the rickshaw drivers who have left me at my correct destination when I did not have a clue and strangers who were hardworking poor people without begrudging their challenges in life.

On the other hand, I had my day job, the deadlines that I was ready to crib about, and my humble abode which lacked the best paintjob i desired. I realised at that moment the easy route of self pitying behaviour prevalent in the queer community of my city. There are challenges that lie ahead of us – social acceptance, section 377, fear and misunderstandings at every junction of our lives.

I asked myself while climbing the stairs towards my home when I visit the parties and hang out with friends or date, what is the void that needs to be filled? It is the spark of determination that the kid had. His acceptance of his realities and will to support his dear ones through it rather than an easy rebellion route or self-pity can guide each one of us.

I was sleepy and ready to enter the realm of dreams. The ones that showed the blue print of change required in our attitudes. The brighter, better tomorrow where each one of us brings to the fore – our unique views and creates value rather than spilling over petty issues of sexual compatibility with the cruisers at a particular location.

I guess it is these experiences that are humbling and for which Billy Joel wrote River of dreams which I am ready to enter blissfully

Lights, Rights and Fights of a Suburban Life

21 grams is the exact weight you lose from your body when you stop breathing; rather living and reduce to a mere body; rather corpse. Is that the weight of human life?

That's a question posed by a movie, which I saw a few years back. I remember very little about the movie but this question has remained at back of my head ever since. I have got answers to it partially time and again but the complete picture I guess will emerge only in final years of my life or at least I hope so.

I am writing today after long as amidst a usual day full of struggles to reach work on time, meeting client deadlines, work handed down by boss, catching up with friends over phone or in person as something unusual happened and I asked this again

We had just finished our dinner rather left it in between and walked out after finding a family of roaches resting in the bread basket of a famous mughlai restaurant not far from my home (we didn't pay them a dime of course). A minute after expressing my disapproval over my NRI friend's holier than thou views about India and its need to improve spurred by the dinner incident that a speeding truck brushed past him pretty close and parked a minute ahead.

I don't know what got into me and I rushed to the truck instead of my friend leaving him with another colleague who he has never met before in his life. I stood in front of the giant vehicle and began yelling full blast at the driver on the deserted road well past midnight. The guy who was definitely under the influence of alcohol, was looking amused at my act as my friend had no visible injuries and he wasn't the one who was making the noise.

I did not hit the man and began making him understand where his fault lies. He had not honked or blinked his lights and was oblivious to the fact that in his steep turn he has not made his super close parking but nearly hit someone who was saved by a microsecond by my colleague who pulled my friend very briefly from a larger harm.

For a person like me who follows a philosophy aiming at world peace - Nicherin Daishonin's Buddhism , this would seemingly be contradictory to his beliefs. it is not so in fact. I made a scene and noise enough to gather an audience of 5-6 people including two rickshaw guys and snatched the driver's ringing phone which he was more focused on. He was non-chalant about the whole episode and was standing proudly with his arm stretched over the bonnet of this large automobile.

I flung at him all that he could do in any such situations and reacted to each of his arguments about not knowing Hindi, which he was surprisingly saying in Hindi. He followed it up with his attempt to play the local Marathi language card, which was again busted as I am conversant and fluent in the language. This was followed by his over the top claim that he would pay 10 - 12 thousand rupees whatever the cost of medical damage and come to police station with me after calling his boss.

I refused to budge over his half hearted sorry mumbled with no remorse what so ever. He was more worried about delay in dumping of goods that he had been carrying for the night. My anger was mounting by the minute and I was now manhandling him to get into a rickshaw and at the same time asking him if he has realised what he has done to which he retorted with a very desi "it happens" statement. That nailed it and I stopped right there and began again on twice my earlier voice. It wasn't just his mistake but more so his attitude that made me aggressive. I was downright close enough looking at him in the eye, inches from his face and hurling away to glory about his attitude. My problem was with his excuses, which were coming by the minute and piling up.

The man was not yet convinced of his mistake and the spectators began butting in trying to take my side and every time I said I would have hit him but I want him not to do something like this again, he gave me " don’t make a issue where there is none, your friend is alive" look.

I refused to relent till I hear the man admit and realise the impact of his action rather than cocky, half hearted apologies which were coming few and far in between his arguments of how honking horn would have irritated us who were from rich families and so he did not do it before turning the truck. The driver had to apologise since I gave him no other option.

He came up with a “Are you hurt?” and I looked back sharply. I saw my friend who was hurt and was now tired as he saw no point in continuing and the other one who was just waiting for me to begin hitting this man

As much as I yelled, the crowd nearby agreed and supported me by talking to the driver about what I was saying a while back i.e. his options like honking the horn or applying brake or blinking lights during the turn. I let him go but informed him about how he has to change and learn to accept his mistakes or else him and his truck would never have a good effect back and would end up leading a very sorry life as it took him good 20 minutes, public reactions and my refusal to hand his phone to him which he wanted badly. By the looks of it, he was more concerned about his calls rather than the human life that we were talking about.

It was then I handed him back his cell phone and told the guy that I wish that he changes his ways or else what has been averted today would happen and when his family runs around to get him out of jail, his boss – the contractor he was calling would actually make him realise what he has not.

We left and walked ahead to cool our heads with a drink of coffee we were originally seeking but decided to go to our respective homes instead.

Any other person would say that our day had ended on not so good note but I differ, all that happened reassured me to carry on my quest to find my answer. What is the actual weight of life? How much does it matter? How do we instil this knowledge of holding our lives as treasures of hope, dreams, love and everything there is to being alive? How do we make humans more humane?

I smoked thoughtlessly , walking towards my home which is close by and realised that I have to find out the way of talking to each of these truck drivers from within my boss, my friends, my family, my city, my country, the world and within myself. The dialogue has to continue. My task does not end at confrontation. My task is to continue holding the knowledge that human life is precious and to convert it into wisdom into my sphere of work. I have to insure my events, not to overlook the fire norms or medical attention for cost cutting. I have to stop compromising rather neglecting the voice within.

It is me who gives life its weight, its meaning. It is me who makes it what its worth. It’s us who chose with our daily lives every moment whether our 21 grams would be used to awaken the struggle to give living its dignity, it’s worth by keeping the human life at the forefront of whatever we do.

I have my answer now and assure you that I would do my best to make my 21 grams of life worth it.

Summer days of contradictions

It’s a sunny day today. Pleasant and familiar, taking me back to the idle afternoons of childhood and discovery of many joys in boyhood. My world as a child revolved around my home in a sleepy suburb of Mumbai. Somewhere close to the mean madness of the metropolis, my township provided me ample of adventures to last one summertime after another.

I witnessed my best friend’s upbringing in a cliché south Indian fashion where life ideally is as simple as an idli. The formula to follow is to bury your noses and more into books while in school and college and at the most learn carnatic music, bharata natyam or join a chess club if inclined towards extracurricular activities. Simultaneously my Punjabi upbringing had its share of problems of a disjointed nuclear family that hadn’t been able to find any roots in this city except a small flat in the suburbs. Most of my family which would have been responsible for my identification or association with my culture or traditions was in north India, scattered like beads of a gaudy ornamental necklace.

As far as the environment goes, this apartment was the only thing that connected me to my neighbours, none of whom had a wish to dream big, leave alone ambitions to conquer the city they were a part of.. An opinion was considered lethal for a kid my age and determination was viewed as an inconsequential part of a child’s make believe games. Somehow I knew from day one that I was a square peg and should not even think of trying to fit into these round holes. I wore similar clothes to their kids, I had same issues like the lack of money, space and privacy as most of them, but I never let the awareness of my distinction sink into depths of my mind. It didn’t need recall even though I gained expertise in local dialects and could hold a conversation in Marathi as fluently as English, much to the amusement of my neighbours.

As a true blue member of the bollywood city, I had started my reading one summer looking at a movie ad in paper and reading it in roman Hindi with the alphabets S-H-O-L-A-Y. This biggest hit of Indian film industry may not be in my list of personal favourites, but does hold its significance just like these incoherent facts. Well let’s put things in perspective. Though I enjoyed being a witness to my friend’s life which worked in clockwork precision and produced some wonderful results for him, I never regretted not having much order in my life.

Through my college, I sang, danced, and acted on stage and off it into jobs that I fancied, while he studied to get top grades, as if he would ace in life if he topped his class. His summers ended with results of his annual run to the winning post, mine just were intervals till I returned to be my old social butterfly self.

In a summer after college, I fell in love, maybe for the first time as earlier I had loved my girl friend but wasn’t in love with her. This time it was a boy from US who found me online. My afternoons were sunny with smileys, days were filled with reading print outs of romantic emails over and over again. Maybe it was the heat or blind puppy love, but if there was a smile that mattered to me, it was his. I basked in radiance of his love. We planned gazillion things about his visit to Mumbai, our life in coming years and more like two kids, sitting idly deciding lives of their dolls in the perfect pink plastic house

I moved out of my parent’s home but he didn’t turn up online for long. I called his dorm to know that he hastened his chemotherapy as a medical student authorized to do so for a non-malignant tumour in his head and had expired due to brain hemorrhage. That summer didn’t cheer me up. The memories of it still don’t fade. Harsh brightness of the days mocked my dark life and warmth scalded my heart. His memories were coupled with a knowledge that no one else in the world probably knew his true nature. His thoughts, emotions or desires were all unknown, uncared for and died with him. I lived for the seasons to change, rain soaked my spirit and winter froze the fire of anger within.

Today, it’s been many years since and many people have come and gone in my life. My friend still awaits his arranged south Indian marriage and works 24 x 7 like a good boy. He hasn’t faced deaths except a few old relatives. That’s because he didn’t venture out much in sun listening to his mother who warned him of burns. I remain friends with him and connect as frequently or infrequently as per my work. The reason for doing so eludes me. Maybe I want to be rooted in ordinary mundane life too even if I fancy my alternative lifestyle. Security of love and family still has value for me as it has for him. But for me, summer is knocking again. Mornings are arriving earlier and twilight seems to evade me. The question remains what to expect this time. Nostalgia remains and enthusiasm for new day too. Summer strikes and I wait for its bittersweet contradictions to unfold. As I head towards an unknown destination jogging early morning, I reach a conclusion that no matter which road u take, the sun will shine bright. It’s for us either to stand in way of its light and warmth completely and bloom from bud to a flower or to stagnate with security of never reaching our true potential in shades.

One world outside and within

I have lived in the self indulgent bliss of thinking that the world of thoughts and feelings within me is completely separated from the world outside, where I talk, socialize, love, win and lose. I look at the endless crowd at a Mumbai beach close to my home, sitting as couples families and friends and can’t help but think how many of them would have gone through a similar phase in life, where in the thoughts and feelings harboured inside were kept from being expressed.

I am on my way to treat my family to a lunch at city’s posh eatery, something that has not been done before. But today at the age of 26, I see my parents nearing 60 years of their lives, still struggling and living within a marriage that has lasted 32 years with just a few happy moments and memories. I have kept them away from my inner world for long, even moved out of my home 4 years back for the declaration of my need for space and individuality.

I arrive early at the decided venue before my parents and my sister and book the table with the air of arrogance that they are late and also that they wouldn’t know their way around this place. I make a reservation and settle on a bench when I see my father and he gives a smile that I return almost as if I am doing a favour.

While he calls my sister to find where have they reached I ponder whether anger, love and guilt when unexpressed and unfulfilled really vanish under wraps with a quaint smile or silence? Is this garb impenetrable as we think of it to be? Does the silent sibling rivalry crop up as adultery? Does backstabbing a friend result from an unexpressed compliment about new dress? Does the devil within your head work more slyly and stealthily than the angel who needs you to act on your good will? Isn’t the scary silhouette outside the manifestation the dark fears within our minds?

As we proceed to our table as soon as my mother and sister arrive to complete our nuclear family like many others sitting at an arms distance from us in the cramped space.The service is as prompt as any authentic Thali joint with 12 waiters serving 36 dishes or more in 3 minutes flat, leaving you amazed at the feat that they pull simply and charmingly. The whole routine coupled with delicious food and presence of loved ones brings smiles naturally to all members on my table. Warmth of the moment thaws ice for me and I smile too, but this time looking at their satisfaction at a simple gesture of treating them to a not so fancy meal.

I dwelve within mentally for a reality check on why did I move away from these smiles if they bring me so much of peace and are worth cherishing. Realisation dawns on me that I fear staying with them because of my own discomfort with their ways which I associate to being unrelatable. Have they never felt the passive aggression of my rebellion against the norms they advocate? Right from the grunge attire to choice of career and lifestyle contrasting to theirs is not a co-incidence. I am enlightened in a flash then.

I can see that all the causes I made subconsciously at the thought and feeling level resulted in the bitterness before as I acted on them sooner or later. The silence that I thought dealt with them, didn’t actually end them. Just like a cat does not go away if the pigeon shuts his/ her eyes, a problem does not get solved unless we act on it.

Every discomfort, unhappiness and suffering has a route in our indecision and inaction or dearth of will to see the truth. When we seek the answers for problems outside within us, we are sure to find a thread that lead to the action, maybe a thought, a hurt, an encouragement, a misunderstanding. Though intangible, these things do manifest into world outside. If we see a visible pattern that harms, it is just a question of letting it go and to create new cause.

I cleaned my conscience and got rid of my biases as I washed my hands. The disease was gone. After taking care of the bill, impulsively I took my sister and mother shopping for daily groceries at the biggest Hypermall of Mumbai. For once, I was there to buy happiness not for me but for my family without any grudge. My world was turning inside out. The catalyst was within and the change started there as well but I saw the glint in eyes outside. I wasn’t missing my ignorant bliss at this moment but silently celebrating the knowledge gained.

On my way back home, I am sure that these fundamental patterns deeply etched within my own life however upsetting remain true. I wonder how many such inconsequential and illogical beliefs have seats within mine and everyone else’s psyche. Reaching back to threshold my home, I determine to harmonize my worlds with every thought inside and action outside

A triangle of hearts

My life had been vague recently. The boundaries between, truth and lies, real and surreal were wafer thin. Sadness was as much a part of my life as a smile that erupts from looking at an acquaintance or a friend as a knee jerk reaction.

My crush S hadn’t called me to accompany him to the Gay Bombay party as almost always. Though I clearly remember that it was him, who had taken my mind off my usual lows of loneliness, feeling unloved and worthless with an hour-long phone conversation last night. Even he knew and somewhere deep down I was aware that the empty feeling in spite of a decent job, a loving family (the kinds that I stay away from for sanity sake) and a series of achievements stemmed from him. My insecurities of losing him were so accentuated that I counted them amongst my list of compulsions. My other most obvious and frequent compulsion was and still is checking my pockets for house keys at least five times before shutting the door in spite of being locked out only once in last two years.

Sitting at home, waiting for his call would make me more miserable and crankier. So I got ready reluctantly and between a face wash and cologne, I spoke to him for the first time to enquire his plans for the evening only to realize that he would be accompanied by his crush A

S and I had a history wherein he was a confused bisexual who met me while I was recuperating from a major abusive relationship, which was dear to me more than life. The result was that initially I mated like rabbits with S, whose real name surprisingly is Bunny.

Though normally I am not comfortable sleeping around like the usual gay suspects but with him, not an ounce of guilt cropped as twinkle of his eyes, that glint which contains all his boyish naughtiness, curiousity, purity, innocence, righteousness and more kept me from ever doubting that it was plain lust. It saved me from damnation and even helped me to be strong enough to make changes in my environment but I lost touch with him fighting my daily battles of food, shelter, faith, clothes and accessories.

Next time he met me at a party 3 months later, my life had changed and so had our equation. From then on we moved to initial flirting, a period of abstinence, contemplating relationship to my realisation that I loved him and his fear of saying no as he was not ready. After dealing with his neglect, my anger about rejection and more, now we are close enough to share more than most people. Its weird how I am the only one who can get him to talk at times. Not that I am great expert at this but my formula is simple – give in order to get.

By the time I fixed my schedule with other friends and moved to socks, shoes and deo, S called and we spoke again. He was waiting this time near my home to fetch me. I cherish any acknowledgement of attention or care from him even if today it meant sharing him for the evening with A.

I managed to push my friends to go with others (quite literally) and entered his car. Now I was in his space. Sitting on the front seat of his car meant that I could play songs of my choice, look at him for the next 45 minutes till we reached the venue and more over I hoped to see that glint of his eye and his smile. If I was lucky, he would share one of his beliefs or heartfelt thoughts about me. Though these symptoms are of puppy love, it had been 2 years now, I was 25 while he was 28, balding, dark and had bloodshot red yes due to his lack of sleep. My excitement had never died through this period, as it turned into restlessness, may be greed to get more of him just because I knew I could not.

Amidst the anticipation for A and small talk about the party, he asked me for a favour and before he completed or mentioned, I assured him that I would sit on the backseat once A arrives. He looked a bit surprised but he was used to my uncanny knack of being honest and practical even if it meant my own loss.

I asked him about my new look, a bit sluttier than before hoping he would notice my track pants that tickled from inside due to their soft material and translucent black tee. He cribbed that he was not dressed appropriately while to me, he looked striking. He wore his charm, his appeal to be undaunted by others, being headstrong at places where it mattered.

Soon we arrived at a juncture where A was supposed to come overboard and I wished that he shouldn’t be more attractive than me. I felt guilty for being mean and not being happy for someone so close to me in mind, body and spirit like S.

There A was, dressed in all black, wearing a shirt much like mine, reminding me of our similar tastes and this unwitting competition tonight where one love would win over other. Maybe it would make me extremely happy if I won but in any case S would win nonetheless. This was the thought that calmed me, as I got up to offer A, his deserved and my desired place in S ‘s car. It seemed like I was offering him my position in S’s life. Maybe he read the grimace on my face or was genuinely nice. I heard him speak for the first time ‘ Sit. Don’t bother. I will go behind.”

I had almost forgotten to judge him or even to look at him properly due to his gesture of kindness. I curbed the demonic voice within and waited till he introduced himself. S’s face had a very strange glow. He was conscious of our presence together. He knew that air-conditioning of his car just worked superficially. The breaths within our bodies were warm with pleasure of seeing a loved one, hot with jealousy and luke warm with acknowledgement of competition for much cherished attention. But somehow I realized that the prized trophy S wasn’t so much a prize until we attached our anticipations, expectations and other emotions in their mammoth proportions.

The conversations progressed and I noticed that A was aware of S’s crush on him and also knew that getting into my good books would not be easy for him. He got personal in humour intelligently by breaching below the belt zone in manner that a man finds both titillating and welcome. Especially when he or she is sitting with a morose soul like me. My usual good humour, endless supply of oneliners and wit that attract others usually were nowhere to be found today. I thought to myself about my defense strategy in life. Except for debates, dance, singing old Hindi numbers, I have always been bad at my defense. Historically I have been bad at competing for love and attention, be it with my sister for my mother’s special gulab jamun, or with my best friend for my class teacher’s brownie points or any sweet kisses from S in the past at a party earlier. I looked up at him, he was smiling and had rested his head in an angle through which S could see him through the rear view mirror.

S was a newbie at driving and I could say A distracted him by the jerks I could feel on the front seat in spite of the seat belt. I sighed silently and wondered why did I agree to be a part of such an ordeal. I could see it clearly and could not deny that Together they were everything I ever wanted to be with S. naughty at times, Nice at others and Nasty at rest, they had a spark that would send a ripple of mixed feelings right within me. The clock was ticking but the traffic remained static as if resolved to delay my pleasure of partying and to stretch this period of discomfort. I remembered the incident when both A & me had spotted a guy forcefully kissing S and then S giving in by not resisting at a party. After we witnessed this from distance, both of us were upset but S had spent next day and more trying to pacify A. I wondered what would happen this time if history is repeated.

A spoke on phone continuously through the journey irking S due to his misplaced attention. When I tried to console him by saying that we would reach soon he reacted sharply” it’s my fault, only if I could drive better, we would reach faster. What’s the point of going to party for barely one and a half hour when to and fro travel will amount to three hours”?

He looked pissed and irritated. This was the part I did not know how to handle. He reminded me of my father who has frozen in this state forever. As a child, we had named one of our pets after dad. (Of course we didn’t tell him the secret behind the dog’s baptism) and went around calling him snappy. So we taught our dog to be lesser aggressive and to be gentle and obedient. Simultaneously I would pray for dad to get this message and training miraculously.

Anyways, A broke the tension with a quick repartee about S being hot at wrong places while he is cold in bed with A. Amused as were, we all chuckled and I saw that ice had been thawed. We would not be loggerheads in spite of S. I looked at A and knew that he chose to be wise rather than otherwise.

We were at the threshold of fun, frolic and fortnightly fare of flaunting our assets to avail of free sex dates, dancing partners and more fringe benefits but our Karma did not want us to enter the Karma lounge where the party was being hosted.

Between Mine and A’s requests for S to try and park carefully and to chill at the party without thinking how late we were, A valet arrived to inform us of the cop trouble. We could see our efforts and travel go down the drain that very second. Rather than my usual nagging about section 377 and India’s farce of a democracy, I looked at S, who was brown and not red with anger.

When he asked A and me whether we should wait and see if we can get entry into the party later, I wanted to say “ I don’t really care about the party if you don’t.” he said he wasn’t in mood to party now and I like mary’s little lamb agreed to it, but was waiting for A’s reply. It could tilt the scales, if he said that he wants to go for the party and left Sam’s side, then S would be all mine for the evening. But A didn’t do any of those things.

I stayed glued to my seat almost feeling pressed under the thumb of destiny to accompany them wherever they went now. No friends, No gay music, No drinks, I had to face my fears alone. Yes it was the time for delivery and performance. It was time for me to give my heart to my lover on a platter literally like Eklavya gave his thumb to his Guru

To be continued…

I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

Some moments sinking into feelings of love…
Restlessness and distress running through the veins of my days…
Proximity of your heart and intimacy of your body heat…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

Only if distances between us didn't exist…
I loved you with my heart and soul…
I admired you every moment in my mind's eye…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

My beloved, I would have given you my all just to hear you say it just once
Nostalgia struck me only to remind…
All the moments of my life when I loved and loved loving…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

If we wouldn't have met ever, the sighs of my past would have stung me and my mirror would ask a thousand questions
It seems impossible to wait anymore for your arrival
My breaths would escape and I would be left lonely without you…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this
This wait wouldn't have lasted forever and I wouldn't be helplessly praying

The storm that we faced a while back, the destruction we encountered,
That surge would have taken us with its currents,
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this
We wouldn't have lived just to see a glimpse of each other