I feel alone.
I want Oscar Wilde and Cranberry Breezer.
And, I want people from Delhi and Hyderabad and New Jersey and Australia and Trivandrum and New York and Boston and Bangalore and other assorted places.
I demand that all of you come back. Each and everyone. Like, right now. And hang out in my room, and listen to music and watch movies and bitch and get drunk and talk and talk and talk until the yellow lamp glows dim, and then everyone can fall asleep. I will even cook breakfast. Luchi and aloor dom, and machher chop and cheesecake. I make a really mean cheesecake. Or else, if the weather permits, all of us can go for an early-morning tram ride. And have piping hot tea from the jhupri, with the 2 takar lero biscuit. Or we could make a stop at moharani for the kochuri and the jilipi. We can also have port-wine rattirbela. And I have a whole book full of cocktail recipes I want to try out. Anyways, I digress. I am rambling. I have not had an exhilirating conversation in AGES. Not with these people anyways.
I miss my friends.
Come back you. You, and you, and you.