Saturday, January 12, 2008
despite imminent drowsiness, i have to jot this little note down. a few hours ago, the three of us, hijaz, dan and i, were on the 747 bus from the airport to the city, all sitting in the back row, all really weighted down by exhaustion. a few rows ahead of us was a man and his son, who was all of eight or nine (im guessing), and they didnt look local. eastern european, or middle eastern maybe.the boy was sitting by the window. it was coldish and wet outside, and cocoonishly warm inside the bus. the windows were fogged up on the inside, and the boy ran his fingers along the window, leaving streaks.then he started to write. he wrote 'i love you', each alphabet about the height of an average thumb, across the window, then wiped it off. i thought i didn't read it right, but then he wrote it again. he starts the I and the L, and then his father turns towards him and he immediately joined the words together and forms boxes. it struck me as super weird that a boy that young would write something like that. it just seemed as if it would be something i would have written on a foggy bus window. it was just so intriguing. the boy made three boxes with the I and L, and the middle box longer than the third, and the first box the shortest, then divided the second and third boxes into four and three respectively. he then wipes off the boxes with his palm. making sure his father was facing the other direction, he wrote on the portion of the wall that's behind his seat, clearly in view of the three of us lazing at the very back. he writes a name, draws a heart and colours it in, and writes someone elses name below it. then he hurriedly rubs it off, and checks if his father notices. his eyes settled on the three of us at the back and they search us for signs of whether we had noticed what he had written. he stared at me for a moment, almost challenging me to expose the fact that i had watched him write something he never wanted anyone else to know. i glanced back to the front of the bus and continued to converse with the others, who didn't seem to have noticed any of the boy's antics.what's poignant is age and time and secrets. that little boy made me wonder whether he was copying someone or something he has seen; or had written down his crush; or, weirdly, was in love with someone (?). he made me wonder how old i was when i first fell in love, properly or cintamonyetly (ans: 17, and 9 respectively). he made me wonder when and what was right, if he had been of a different age or gender, would it have meant as much? he also made me think of the things we keep inside waiting to be let out. like the simple gesture of scribbling a name, or stories and anecdotes we tell about the people we love. he made me see myself in somebody else, and feel and think the way that person would. he made me remember that love is love, irregardless of time, gender, reciprocation, age or limitations.he made me smile.
<3 <3 <3
23:13
