Pooja - A Memoir

I think I met Pooja about five months ago in the most serendipitous way possible. She found me on one of those platforms I use to connect with people. After looking me up, she reached out through LinkedIn, and soon after, we connected over a call.

Now, five months later, I'm writing this to capture the freshness of our memories before time erases them.

Where do I even begin to describe her? How much do I truly know about her to do justice to this? I’ll try my best to pen down what fascinates me about her—the things that sparked our conversations and kept me intrigued.

Pooja is multilingual, just as fluent as me, if not more, in Hindi, English, and Telugu. Maybe it’s because her father is in the military, or maybe she just has a natural gift for absorbing her surroundings. Pooja always told me she loves meeting new people, discovering new places, and embracing new experiences. I wonder—was I one of those fleeting experiences for her, or did I leave a deeper impact? I don’t know, but I liked to imagine my role in her life was more significant. There's no harm in dreaming, and in my case, daydreaming.

When did my feelings for her shift from friendship to wanting more? It’s hard to pinpoint exactly, because it feels almost magical. I don’t know when our platonic bond turned into a desire to spend more and more time with her. I’m captivated by the way she speaks, with a touch of Telangana Telugu woven into her sophisticated English.

I’ve always been fascinated by books, and she’s a voracious reader who has a knack for remembering the essence of every book she reads. When I saw her bookshelf, it was so organized—only filled with books that she either wanted to read or had already read but still held some kind of sentimental value. I truly admire that about her. It’s rare to see that kind of clarity in choices, and maybe that’s what draws me to her. She’s decisive, financially secure, and has built a small, comfortable bubble around her life.

Recently, I started imagining a life with her. It’s a thought as recent as a week ago. Her charm drew me into that fantasy. Thinking too much about it only hurts, though, because it feels like a lost opportunity. But I tell myself that the best is yet to come. Whether that’s true or just wishful thinking, it’s a hope I need to hold on to in order to move forward. Otherwise, I’ll be stuck in the memories of our time together and lose sight of the future.

The reason I’m writing this is to preserve the best of her outside of my mind. My brain tends to warp memories over time, making me believe in false hopes. This memoir is my way of keeping the essence of her brilliance alive and unaltered.

Some specific memories stand out:

• We first met at OpenSpace restaurant on a rainy day.
• We visited bookstores together several times, especially at Lakdikapul, always searching for something new to read.
• We went to a stand-up gig by Sai Kiran, and that’s how I discovered RestroStudio Cafe, where I learned about its founders and the inception of Musically Yours LIVE. (Both times, it was raining.)
• We often wandered around Jubilee Hills, going to RestroStudio for lunches and Starbucks for coffee. (It always seemed to be raining during those moments too.)
• We met a few times at Malkajgiri: Once for a multi-hour conversation over Starbucks.
• For dinner at Nilofer in Himayatnagar (during a light drizzle)
• For dessert at Concu (during a rather windy and rainy day)
• At her house once, during the heavy downpour

Pooja feels like an angel to me—someone who listens without judgment, someone who appears only during the rain. I have no way to trace her back. She’s not on social media, I don’t have a single picture of her, and we never took one together. She exists only as a memory now, but she’s one I don’t want to forget for a long time.

--

Nikhil Dintakurthi

(Based on Real Incidents) (Name Changed)