Lost in translation


I bet you've got a friend; a friend who knows the type of music you listen to, the genres of movies you like,
the food that you just can't swallow, the people that you acquaint with, your family issues, and everything else
that lies beneath. If you haven't one, then I think you have yet to find that person. He was mine, as she may be to you.
We didn't grow up together or anything that you might expect, neither did we meet in college as is the tradition amongst
nepali students. We met in new york, or should I say on the way, he was discovering the world less traveled and me, well I was an underpaid intern working for a modern day slave house, also known as a law firm.

During my flight to the CIty for the first time, I sat next to him, he was reading a book I remembered reading. I started talking to him and we soon found out that we had some mutual friends in common. Given the 3 hour flight and my inability to sleep in AA's congested seats, and my fear of falling asleep on his shoulder, I conversed. He seemed to know a lot about the city adn talked about the broadway shows that had seen and the book readings that he had gone to.

It had almost been a year since I had immigrated to the City, you wouldn't bet a penny if I confessed the fact that I had not visited,in greath depth, the Times Square or the Rockafellar center.
 It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was just that brown nosing the higher ups and being a workaholic seemed easier than trying to call up friends from yonder years. Remembering him, I asked him if he wanted to show me around.

He and I strolled around the city for the weekend, he took me to timesquare, the rockafeller center, I taught him how to skate, we watched Rent, and saw the sun set from the Brooklyn Bridge. He asked me a lot about my life, and I was only happy to oblige and complain what a bitch life was in the city. He listened patiently and reminded me of the time when I was so excited to see the city. The next day we decided to explore staten island and indulge in some good history. I knew that I had just met someone who was going to save me from myself and the city.


It took us a year to admit that we had something more than friendship. I had just been offered a job in another state and I was without options. He didn't want to embark on a long distance relationship and I didn't understand. I cried my way into the new city, with a broken heart on my sleeve.

I'm back in new york for the week and I can't help but wonder about him. I have bought my ticket to go see Rent again, only this time I'm going by myself. A friend of mine once compared passing the Bar exam to grabbing a solo drink at a bar, and the equal amounts of liberation they generated.  I can now attest to this fact.

Nomads wander through earth, seeking things that they know not. And we thought it was going to be an easy ride.