Miles you go ... while I sleep

I just had a late-night conversation with one of my very close friends. We were in college together after tenth and - even though we started talking on a winter morning under queer circumstances - have been great friends since then, for ever. I remember during the final board examinations, I would struggle with Calculus and Organic Chemistry all night and before going to bed - puzzled, flummoxed and vain - I would wake him up so that he could start his studies. And then there was this similarity in our unwavering adherence to Rafi and good food!

So when he went to pursue medicine with a brilliant performance in the entrance (and I - looking here and there and not being able to see much beyond the newly constructed, incomplete structure near my house that I have to call my college for the rest of my life - went for engineering), our interactions became less regular. Now, if you picture two boys focussing on the next few, most crucial, years that would decide the course of their lives, then read on. The fact is - you have only got half the picture. Because, one of them would go on whiling away time like no one did in a while. (Not that he repents, but that is more to prove that some people never learn.)

Talking to him, at a time when I am at my reflective best, really brought back some very fond memories. He has always been there, even at times when - after a of belt-loosening eating frenzy in our favourite roadside restaurant - I would pause by the nearest sweet-shop on the way to the bus stand.

I remember when I was very young, one winter morning my mother dragged me by my hand out of the bed and straight to the bathroom. She had but an option to do that, it was 8:45 and school started at 9:30. And when she happened to pass by after sometime, she found me lying there, curled up on the doormat. :D

This was not to digress from the what I was talking about in this post. I just mentioned it in passing - as a sample of what I am capable of when I am asleep. And, my best achievement was at this friend's home. This was about 2 years back. Three of us spent the day at his place - where he stays alone. In the evening, when the other friend was gone, my friend had to go out for some work and I stayed back. With nothing much to do, I took to the pages of a book on medicine and in no time knew of its sedative properties. So, within 5 minutes of his leaving, there was a breathing log on his bed. I woke up to his vigourous shaking, and opened my eyes to a very worried person. His face had anxiety, relief and anger written all at once.

As I came into the situation, I understood what made him the way he looked. When he returned after half an hour and got no answer to the bells, he called me on my mobile (which was lying by the pillow I clung to like a drowning man with a buoy). When that did not work, he started calling my name at the top of his voice. He was really worried when this went on for about 15 minutes and there was no answer from inside his own house. After having no other go, he - with the help of the watchman - broke the lock at the grills and came in; pretty sure I was murdered. Only when he saw me did he realise that this death was rather temporary.

These memories make me feel great and forces me to believe that there is nothing that I cannot do. If I could spend all these years being the way I am, I can surely carry on till the day I bid these memories goodbye.