I'll be leaving anyway...

: How's the coffee?
: I prefer tea, actually.
: The coffee here is really good, that's why I thought I'd ask you to come here.
: Good choice.
: Damayanti, do you remember our old memories?
: I don't have time to remember; and don't call me Damayanti—nobody knows me by that name anymore. Do you have a lighter?
: But the person I knew was Damayanti; should I call you by some other name now?
: Fine then, don't call me anything. Will you give me the lighter or not?
: Here you go...listen, do you really need to smoke to write poetry? Or is it all just an act?
: You have to put on a little act with yourself, Akash! Otherwise people can't survive. But cigarettes are something else entirely, damn! They make you forget everything.
: What nonsense are you talking?
: You don't smoke, do you, Akash?
: You've forgotten that too!
: Oh ho, sorry sorry! You're not some scattered, disheveled poet—you're a disciplined working man, you wouldn't understand all that. So what grade are you at now? I won't have to call you 'sir' or anything, will I? Ha ha...
: Ugh, rubbish! Is this what I called you here to talk about?
: But this is exactly what I came here to talk about.
: Damayanti, drop all this. Get your life together; you're still young, there's still plenty of time, you can do it.
: Are you sure I can't?
: How can anyone live such a scattered life?
: What do you mean by 'getting it together'? Getting a job? Or hanging around some working man's neck chanting prayers?
: Why are you putting it so crudely? Why would you hang around anyone? You'll have a beautiful wedding and settle down.
: Nobody will marry me.
: Oh my, why not?
: For the same reason you didn't—that's why nobody else will either.
: I couldn't hold onto you for a particular reason. I was...
: Stop! Women have plenty of excuses for breaking off engagements, but men only have two or three...and those only if they use them when necessary!
: But I do love you, Damayanti!
: You don't love me more than I love you! When you told me you couldn't marry me, I was so devastated I was ready to die. When I sat down to write my suicide note, I discovered that for two nights and days I had been crying and writing nonstop. I was amazed to realize that in those two days, both my grief over losing you and thoughts of death had left my mind. That day I felt reborn, I found myself. I decided to pick up the pen. Ever since I picked up that pen then, I'm still holding it today; yes, though I've added a new lover—cigarettes. Apart from the price going up with every budget, there are no other side effects to loving cigarettes so far! Ha ha ha...when cigarette prices go up, that's bearable, but when people raise their price, I can't accept it.
: I...Damayanti?! Me!?
: Just drop it! I'm leaving.
: Has my Damayanti forgotten me like this?
: I haven't forgotten, I just don't feel like acting crazy the way I used to. You've remembered me quite well; if one person remembers, that's enough, don't you think?
: I used to really enjoy your craziness.
: Hmm, that's exactly why I don't do it anymore. How much more pleasure should I give you? I gave you plenty already...ha ha...
: Behave yourself, this isn't your house.
: Looking at your attitude, it seems like it's your house. Sir, you've bought the restaurant too! You have so much money!
: Quiet, absolutely quiet! Not another word. Leave right now. I won't call you again; I'll forget that someone named Damayanti was ever in my life.
: Hey, it's because I was going to leave anyway that I learned to write poetry—otherwise I would have just stayed...