Things can go awry with inexplicable adroitness. Going wrong. That's what they do best, when you least expect them to. And that, of course, is when the most irrelevant questions come coursing through your head. Like why Laila is in Vizag when you're miles away in Bangalore. Vizag, like Singapore, won't get out of my head. Some places grab those lofty pedestals in your head that you save for the best things- they slide in smoothly before you even know it- and then where do you slot the other memories? Do we choose our memories? I don't think so, or the more embarrassing, hot-flush-on-the-cheek moments wouldn't be the ones that came to mind most easily.
If only I could pick and choose the songs and the stories I wanted in my head. I'd leave the stinging ones behind and keep the ones that gave me that delicious thrill of ecstasy. But that would probably make me appreciate the better moments less than I otherwise would.
On second thoughts, I like my memories as they are. And life, in general.
PS: This is just one day we're talking about.