the transient twilight

I often wonder what it would have been like to have known the Boy next door when I was another Random little girl. I also wonder about how it might have been had I known him long long back, once upon a time. I wonder then, if I would still know him many more years down the line. I also wonder what would have been if the Boy next door cried at Nothing and the Random little girl watched.

Let's give him a name, shall we? What can we call him? What can anyone call an insignificant little boy down the road, distinguised perhaps only by his ability to cry at nothing? Let's call him Y. Hmm. So what then shall we name the Random little girl in question? .. X, of course! So there then, we have a Y and an X.

Y can be very strong. Or he can pretend strong. He can lie to you about the silliest of things, because the truth would make him weak. He can conceal the truth about a childish mischief, while his chocolaty brown glassy eyes, mirrors his heart right out. He can be brave enough to confess every forbidden thing that he dared to do, fully expecting you to admonish and walk off disgusted; and then when you don't, he can pretend surprise and lose his heart right away. Y can also be a grown up and tell you no matter what temptations you ask him to try, you cannot addict him to any. And then he can plesantly surprise you, when he fails to resist with closed eyes and confesses you are in fact getting him addicted. You see, no kid is ever really a grown up. And pretences fall apart when you inadvertently drop your childish defences for those rare split seconds. Y, like a little boy, enjoys attention and care. Y, like a grown up, can also give you attention and care. Y, like a human being, with flaws can seem menacingly similar to someone close to you (let's call the someone X's friend, Z, who can make X smile when she's crying); similar, if not a carbon copy.

X, for obvious reasons, is from Venus. Martians don't understand that. Venutians return the favour. X when you see her, is arrogant. She can be boring. She can also discuss boring grown up topics with Z over a late lunch. She can refuse to cry; publicly, that is. X can play kitchen with fervour and want to grow up to be like her Mommy. X can be serious and a tad scary. But then, X can always find a hidden spot to hide her tears. She can be giggly to the point of irritating, when you catch her off guard. She can differentiate between the way two identical teddy bears smile at her. She can also have a secret collection of stupid Enid Blyton books. X also knows, she will never be as beautiful as her gorgeous Mommy. She can cry like a leaking tank if Mommy is sad. Her head can routinely lose battles with her heart. And she can routinely fail to learn from past mistakes. X, is a girl; preferably complicated. Serious by choice. Assumed intelligent, by accident.

X, generally dislikes Y, hides from him and fights the tempatation to say nasty made-up things about him. Y, doesnt know that and lends a helping hand to X, trying to be a grown up gentleman. X returns the courtesy (because well, that's all she can do). They blabber. Endlessly. And smile together.

But X can also be a kid and do weird things. Like be silly and offend Y. Y in turn can also be a kid and stop talking to X. But then X can act weirder in her own way in trying to to make Y smile. And he obliges and they are playmates once more. Isn't that what li'l kids do?
But then like li'l playmates, X and Y also want things thier own way. So they argue. Over play, over work, over grey cells and favourites. They mock each other's weird preferences of cricket bats and dolls. And then, just like that, they can help each other in shopping for gifts. Well, that is what li'l kids do.

But the Boy next door who cries at Nothing can be adamant and irrational. The Random little girl can be critical and nagging. They can both have a mind of their own; minds enough to want to stop quarelling forever. And then after some more adamant words, some more criticising and some lengthy moments of a childishly crafted uncomfortable quietness, they decide they should consider a treaty. Hmm. Li'l kids would do that, I guess.

If X knew Y long long back, it wouldn't have been very different I guess. Many years down the line, X and Y would still possibly continue being the same little kids, albeit, with more Acts and many scenes to the silly old drama. And if the Random little girl watched the Boy next door who cried at Nothing, actually cry, she'd probably miss Z and cry along like she would, as a little girl. And the rest, as they say, is etcetera.