It was Friday. January 31st. The day of Dirty Talk 6.0. Mumbai City.

I’d woken up at an unearthly 3.45 am to make my way from Chennai to Mumbai. After battling much too much of Mumbai traffic by the time dusk rolled in and tautologies were acceptable, I with the rest of the Gaysi Family was finally at the Three Wise Men.

6.50 pm. The show got started. Laughs and tittering all around. I, meanwhile, despondently pondered the lack of 3G connectivity in that room. It meant no live tweeting. Bummed but determined to make a go of things, I decided to go old school. I started taking pictures anyway. To upload “later.” (Yeah, I know. Who does that?)

So there I was crouched on the floor right up front, taking pictures of Siddharth Basrur. Contemplating my next selfie. Wondering if Kalki Koechlin had an opinion on brightly colored pants… And that’s when I saw you.

So of course, under the ridiculously faulty assumption that you are reading this and I should be so impudent as to know what you are thinking, No, I am not going to  go all Craig’s List Missed Connections on you now. Because that would be something terrible like…

As you can see, articulate – but perhaps not what I was going for. Rather, to be inexplicably different ( but like every.other.millenial that exists in this universe), I have decided to go all Thought Catalog on you.

That’s right. In bullet points and naked words I shall speak of my feelings. Yempty Life. Girlu Come. Life Reversu Gearu and all that. full feelings.

FYI: cringing is a perfectly acceptable response.

These were some of the best parts of that night we shared under the same stars. or in this case, layers of concrete of Santa Cruz’s first ever high rise built by Raheja builders, if Wikipedia is to be believed.

• I didn’t realise I’d noticed you. Not till very much later in the night when some friends quizzed me in jest on whether i’d seen anyone interesting that evening. Much to my surprise, I said yes. Because I’d remembered you. And when they asked me to describe you, the plethora of detail I could recall was incredible. Creepy even to me, but incredible.

• Sure, you wore a white top and some jeans and stuff. Yet, it wasn’t even about why your bag was turquoise in color? or why your shoes were of rather colorful fabric? did you or did not have a tattoo or why u’d draped your scarf in an eclectic way?  It was the fact that I was wondering why…that I still continue to wonder why that is more fun that ever discovering the answers to these facetious questions.

• The following day, I remembered more. I’d briefly heard your voice. In the passageway of proximity-that-would-put-twerking-to-shame that we were both so lucky to be standing in. I also don’t remember both, what you said or what you sounded like. But I know you’ll forgive me because Kalki Koechlin was in the room.

Now, what’s all this about? Am I attempting the world’s longest pickup line? Not really… I’m a regular girl, who likes girls, standing in front of a girl, telling her I kinda, sorta, maybe, perhaps think her bag was turquoise in color. There’s not much to me. I’m not flawless (for after one too many card games I am contemplating changing my ring tone to this), I didn’t make any fabulous new years resolutions (except that I must.see.every.SuperHero.movie that ever releases in 2014 in a big screen theatre). For all I know, you could be straight or spoken for or just blistering mad that I wrote all this. But I do have something important to tell you …

You see, we’ve all had our share of broken hearts, unfortunate endings, ghastly days and phases of quasi-emotional-impotence. Like many others,  I’ve been skating along in the aftermath of some of these events unsure of ever being able to feel (I’m going to use a word, I just read today here)…“unbridled crushiness” ever again.

and BANG! you came along and just the idea of you, has… launched me into butterfly city.

So, Thank You for that.