Marriages Are Made In Matrimonials

If heaven exists, then all relationships, should be made in heaven, technically speaking. But, being an atheist, I can't make myself believe in something, which I believe, is non-existent. So, if marriage is NOT made out of love, it must be made in matrimonials!

I had read this quote years ago : "You can't marry the person you love, and you can't love the person you marry". I was a love-bitten troubled teenager then. I thought to myself, yeah, that must be so right. Years later, today, after being in and out of relationships, in and out of love, in and out of family, in and out of friends circles, and all of that, innumerably, I think differently. I know that there is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. I know that I can say "I love you" to anyone; but I can say "I'm in love with you", to one person only, the one person I'm attracted to and I'm in love with, too. So, I think, it's quite possible to love the person you marry. Even if it's an arranged marriage, the more the time you spend together, the more you start getting used to his/her presence, and the more the dependence, in short, more the love. Attraction? That depends on a various other factors. That's one issue over which I have felt being possessive in a relationship is justified. If you never allow your spouse to meet new people, or interact with new people, there's comparatively less possibilty that he/she might get attracted to someone else, and have an extra-marital affair. What one must remember is that attraction has very little to do with love. The laws of attraction often defy the laws of love. I'm not asking you to watch those movies on extra-marital relations, where the "off-track" spouse eventually returns to the "family", for the sake of love, children etc. I'm asking you to imagine yourself in the accused person's shoes. You might be in a happy and healthy relationship with someone, when you meet someone, who is like no one you've ever met before. Is it your fault? No. Is it your relationship's fault, that couldn't keep you committed? You should know, that the answer is no. Destiny is, as you shape it. But there are few things that are beyond your grasp, your mind-power. So, love always exists, no matter how troubled or less-happening a relationship might be. Love breeds with time, and attraction is an accessory to love in such cases. So, there's no need to feel that love-marriages are better than arranged marriages. If you are in love, and you can marry the person you love, of course, you should. Parents do agree with time ("time" might refer to a decade as well as a week), even the so called "society", which is treated as a fearful entity, consists of mere human beings, who, eventually forget their differences in their own course of life. So, I have nothing against love marriages. But, if you're not in love, or you can't marry the person you love for personal or impersonal reasons, you shouldn't have any problems with arranged marriages. Marriage, after all, is a way of mankind to keep itself going. Marriage isn't a necessity, not with the world already being over-populated. But marriage isn't something to be scared of. Not even if it's arranged. It's just about having one more friend, who can be more than a friend!

I Love You

I love you. And you are beautiful. And I am sorry for all the times I have wronged you. You've given me all that you could. I am sorry for asking you to give me more than you were capable of. Hope you forgive me for all that, someday. I really love you. And I dunno what I'd do all day, if you didn't exist. I'd sleep all day, and dream of you. Thanks for being what you are. :)

Things To Remember

I am supposed to study. I thought life was great right now. I had stopped complaining. The person I loved, showed me how much I was loved in return,. I have no more complaints about that. But there's something out there, always, ready to lash at you at every possible oppurtunity, something that you can't detach yourself from, never. Family. I had been shopping for clothes. When I went into the trial room to try out something, I had to take off my t-shirt. And I saw the body I'm in, the body reflected by all the mirrors around. That's when I broke down. My self-imposed and self-asserted peace and happiness wwere thrown off the shelf. I can't say I was in tears. That would be an understatement. I was sad, I was angry, I choked, I wanted to die, I wanted to break all the mirrors, I wanted to take a knife and cut them off my chest. I had to sit for an exam in a hall with all girls, which made me "a girl" too. I couldn't give my exams anymore, I thought. I can't live anymore. I decided to do something as soon as possible. You can't live trapped in the body of the gender you don't belong to. No one understands. Even the person standing outside the trial room, waiting to see if I look good in the new t-shirt, doesn't understand. I resorted to what I had vowed I'd never do. That's the "power" of weakness. You can break your self-made vows when you go weak. I told my Mum. She had been telling me that she'd take me to a doctor, sponsor the GRS, and then, cut off all ties with me. Okay. I need my identity before a family. So, I agreed. Even Dida, who has been ringing me up everyday, to ask me why am I not with her, who just can't remember when my exams are ending, promised me that she'd sell off our ancestral house and give me the money I need. Today, when I woke up, I was in a good mood, I knew that this would be solved. Everything would be okay. I would just have to give these eams. Then, I'll go to a doctor, get the diagnosis, the prescription, the permission, the therapy. The process would start within months. I'd free from this entrapment soon. I would not have to sit and sulk over my problem, I could start off with solving it, because, my mother would pay for it. I changed my Orkut status message. I told Payal. Minutes later, when I'd mailed to Mum the details of the disease and the clinic, she calls to tell me, that she can't. In direct speech:

"I have enough problems in life, other than you. I have no time, and desire to support you in this. I don't care whether you decide to live or die. I can't support you in this."

Is this a fickle-minded person? Of course, yes! I have lived with this woman for 18 years, how could I forget that? How could I forget all the times she betrayed me, all the times she took back her words, all the times, she went against me, Gawd-knows-why! She is the last person I can ever trust, I knew that. She shatters me again. Yeah she doesn't care about me. She never did. She wanted me to be a doctor like her. She didn't want me to read story books or listen to music or watch TV or watch movies, because she herself had never done any of that. What she never understood was that I'm not her. She's my mother, period. She doesn't own my mind, by the virtue of being my mother. I'm telling you, even if I didn't have this Gender Identity Disorder, I'd be estranged from my mother. Because of our different lifestyles. Everything that I think is normal, is prohibhited by her. Friends, movies, music, story books are just the things on the top of the list. So when I started doing the things that she had never allowed me to, she showed me how awful she can be, how awful she is. She has asked my friends to go away from the house, even before they had entered the door. (Hospitality?!!) She had lied to me about my father, my friends, everyone. Same with my grandmother. Lies, all lies, just to have what you want, you can lie to any extent. That's their principle. About my father, he's a self-asserted idealist, arrogant, stubborn creature, and worst of all, he's irresponsible. He's a liar too. Anyway, what I want to commit to mind today, so that these people can't hurt me anymore is that they don't matter to me. The three of them don't matter to me, because they shouldn't matter to me. The things to remember, always, are:

[1] Your blood-parents are vile creatures.

[2]Never trust them. They have betrayed you again, and again.

[3]Never tell them your sorrows. They don't care.

[4]Never tell them your happiness. They don't support.

[5]Never let Tiyash down. She has been with you through thick and thin.

[6]Disha and Puspen are your god-parents. Love them blindly.

[7]Payal, Deshraj, Diptyajit, Sritama, Apurva etc: whether they understand you or not, they have always tried to do what makes you happy. Reciprocate it.

[8]Avoid Durgapur, and Carmel Convent High School. Any interaction with anything or anyone related to Durgapur and Carmel Convent, are bound to depress you invariably.

[9]Help Bhai whenever he needs help. But remember, it's just duty. He pretends to love you, he doesn't.

[10]The GRS can't wait. The disorder is killing you. Do something about it ASAP.

I'm feeling better now. Back to books.

To my Cancerian friends.

I'll tell you in short what's going on. I have become dependent on hope. As long as I have the "hope", I am normal, and I feel normal. Hope has become indispensable to me. When certain things happen, that make me lose this hope, I break down, I am not alright.

I know this "hope" is supposed to be false hope, at least that's what the person concerned says and keeps saying, and one of you keep saying that too.

But, I'm too used to this hope.

Don't Read This

My last post was all about hatred, and how hatred is giving me the strentgh to keep myself away from a certain person, the person whom I keep referring as "my better half" in most of my posts. I have realised that I'm being very selfish and self-centred in treating my blog as my personal diary. I must write about impersonal things too. Long time I didn't write an essay! This post will be my last letter (for the time being) to that person, who is making me go insane. I need to write it all down, because I can't find someone to tell it to. It's cluttering my brain, and I need to know that I don't need to think them over and over again, because, I have them written down on my blog. A virtual memory is an eternal memory, a virus can't destroy it, like it can do to my Disk memory.

Ok. Now, I'll be referring to you as "you". Because I'm writing this for you to read. Because what I'm writing is what I want you to know, but I can't tell you myself. You just sent a text right now. When you (or me) add "bye n tc" at the end of a message, it's obvious that it's an SMS meant to spurt out hatred and anger the moment it's read. So, right now, you hate me. Just when my defences were falling apart, I was melting, I was about to stop hating you, you show me how much you hate me now. That's sad. Why? Because it made me sad. I felt like crying. I dunno what has gotten into me these days, I seemed to have lost the ability to cry. I'll elaborate it later. Now, that's why it's sad news. Because it brought a lump to my throat. On the other hand, it's good news too. When my own hatred for you is ebbing away, your hatred for me is exactly what I need to help me keep you away, to help me keep my stand. Thank you.

Just an interruption, the last time I was really close to tears, was when I was crossing the slum after B.D. Memorial. Your rickshaw was too far by then. I stopped running. That's when I got the shock. You never looked back!! You actually went away! That's when I broke. I threw something at you, to show that I was angry. And I was angry because you insulted me. If Puspen and Disha were not my god-parents, I could have said that you made me look like a liar, like a fool in front of others. But they're not others, they are my god-parents, gratefully. And then it hit me. You really don't need me as a friend. You could just walk out on me, because you don't even feel anything. I'm the one who feels that "can't let you go" kinda thing. Anyway, that's when I started hating you. After giving you all that you ever wanted, this is what you give me. You knew that there was no othe rickshaw, so I couldn't have followed you. Probably, you thought that it's ok for you to show your anger now, and then, when it's time for you to need something from me, you'd make a puppy face, apologise, cry, and melt me. You did all that, yeah. But you couldn't give me back that rickshaw ride, could you? You couldn't replay it and this time, just look back, see me running, and ask the man to stop. You couldn't change it. You have ruined everything that I've done or tried to do for the last one year. One year, eh? Yeah, I lost the N-72 on 15th July last year, and it was 16th July, this year, that day. Very symbolic, indeed. I never thought that losing N-72 would ever matter, you know. Even to this day, I have all your messages saved in my inbox. It's just about a 1000, N-72 had unlimited text memory; this one doesn't, I'm sorry. I had only those songs in the cell, that were there in our "playlist" on N-72. I got it from the N-CD, and made a few additions. I tried to hold on to everything we had, but as Debayan Da said, love isn't a one-way traffic. I've kept telling myself that you don't mean what you say, you actually do love me, just like before. But when you didn't turn back from the rickshaw, all that I convinced myself to believe in, evaporated away. It was obvious. I tried to be your friend, I failed. I tried to get over you, I failed. I tried to get you back, I failed. I failed in all that I did throughout a whole year. I have to stop now. You've drained me away, you have taken everything I was capable of giving. I have to hate you, lest you don't suck the very life out of me. It's not your fault, but it's not my fault either, that I have to hate you. It's a conscious decision.

I can't watch Harry Potter. It was alway special with you. I can't watch it now. Not without you, and definitely not with you. I have vowed not to watch another movie with a friend. I hate watching movies with people. And I'm not watching another movie with you, without holding hands. Else, I can't concentrate on the movie. The Hangover is still in theatres, fourth week running! I can't even watch that, after all that happened. Movies apart, I have to be strong.

I got drunk last night. I shouldn't have allowed you to come to my house, you know. I did, because, in spite all the hatred, I was longing for you. I shouldn't have asked you to come back, when you left. But I did a second mistake, because of the same reason. No, not the second mistake. The third mistake. I shouldn't have talked to you that night. Receiving your call was the first mistake. No matter what I said, about not showing the person I hate, that I hate the person, you know what the truth is? I loved the sound of your voice. I couldn't be harsh.

But now let me tell you why I should have stopped myself. While talking to you over phone, my legs go weak. I shiver. Even yesterday, a single SMS from you was making my blood rush. You know how much I was tensed before you came, after you came? You know my password, so go check my chats. I've labelled them in mauve "in case you read". You'll know whom I was talking to, about whom I was talking, while you were on the sofa behind me. So, do I give you the same feeling? Not anymore, right? Friendship isn't one way traffic too. I don't arouse you with with a single SMS or a single call, do I? You do it to me. And how do you think this can stop?

I got drunk last night. I passed out. I woke up at 1:30am. I couldn't sleep after that. I dunno why. I was melting, I felt that. I'm a big fucking fool, I realised that. After all this time, I still can't stop loving you. You're making me go insane. One moment I hate you. The next moment I'm longing for you. I'm so helpless, and I'm so foolish that I don't even want to get over you! I don't even mind that you don't love me, I just want to be with you. You see, my defences were weakening. I had deleted all the songs in my cell sometime ago. Not that "take a bow" sung by you. I set it as my message alert, and my ringtone, so that I hear so much of your voice that I don't long for it anymore. I'm still so much in love with you, I think. But there you go, with your SMS, now that you hate me, I can be strong again. I can continue hating you.

The only way you can win me back is by falling back in love with me. And that, is IMPOSSIBLE!

Mum's betraying me all over again. I was crying over the phone last night. I told her how no one can replace her and how much I love her. And then, this is what she gives me. I should never forget that day in class Seven when she had betrayed me publicly. I should never believe in her anymore. YOU are online. I'm talking to you. And, finally, I am crying. Thanks!

Strength

I have always thought that hatred is an unacceptable sin. You should never hate a person. You can dislike certain things about a person. You can talk to him/her about it, listen to his/her justifications. If you still don't like it, try and change. If you can't change it, accept it; get used to it. That was my way. I never hated an entire person, ever in my life.

Today, strangely, hatred has shown to me why I shouldn't hate hatred! Hatred can have positive consequences too. After an year of trying to get my mind off a person who, well, in short, broke my heart, today, I feel free of all feelings, my mind feels free of all sick emotions. And that's because of hatred, or the healing power of hatred! Hatred has given me the strength. Now that I hate this person, and everything about this person, I don't feel tortured by love anymore! I have finally "got rid of" it all.

No, I'm not asking all those heart-broken fellows out there, reading this, to do the same. Hating someone is not easy. And hating someone is not right. And hating someone is not the right way to get over someone! Maybe the traditional ways of "pretending to be friends" or "stopping all contacts" are the right ones, after all. But, believe me, I tried all of them. I failed. I can't keep talking to a person who takes me for granted. I can't be friends with a person whom I'm physically attracted to. I can't be indifferent to a person who has penetrated into my most personal life. I can't stop talking to a person, who knows my weaknesses, and takes advantage of them at every possible opportunity. I can't forgive a person who has lied to me; who has lied about me to others; who has made me laughing stock to my friends, and thus insulted me, publicly, day in and day out. Hatred is the only way I can be strong this time. I don't want to be on Square One anymore.

An Empty Moment Exhausted

Destiny:

Builds, breaks, shifts, re-builds.

Divinity:

Calls for justice, unheard!

A lot of things happened. A lot of coincidences. A lot of realisations, most of them were re-realisations, though! A lot of patient and persevernt actions, which I pursued without people's support, finally paid off. Paid off well, mind you! A lot of people, including, my better half, told me that I shouldn't give importance to a person who wants to shun me away; I shouldn't keep knocking on someone's door, when it's shut on my face everytime; I shouldn't keep respecting a person who always insults me like shit. But I kept trying, I kept trying, and finally, the person has yielded to me. I can't call it an achievement, I can't boast of it. This person has made me grow up, I am too indebted to complain. I'm glad, period.

I know I am never gonna be someone great. I could have been, though. But I can't be immune to love, therefore, I'm gonna go to the docks. When I look ten years into the future, I see myself a Dev-D mimc. Drugs, alcohol etc. All day, each day. But, if the impossible happens, I get the money for the surgery, I get a "soulmate", who's a "room-mate" too, I might be a low-key poet, or alow-key painter, or a low-key film-maker. I know I'll be into something creative. Because discipline pisses me off, and any other form of work would require discipline, even if I'm self-employed. I'll be low-key, because I ain't that talented enough. I love writing, but I know a 50 others who write better than me! I love painting, but I know a 50 other guys who paint better than me! It's not depressing, because, I have lost the desire to be the best, long ago. I am, as my better half says, a jack of all trades, master of none! I take an interest in everything, I don't sharpen myself at any of it. I am happy as long as I have work to do, work given to me, by me, myself.

But, there are short-lived moments when I wish I could just be great at studies, get a high-paid job in the UN, or any MNC, work a lot, projects, presentations and all, earn a lot, and just pursue other stuff in my leisure. But, they are short-lived. The slightest of disturbances make me realise, I mean, re-realise, that all that wishful thinking is nothing but media-influenced shit. I don't want all that.

What I am doing here? Since I haven't got AdWords here, I'm not even going to get paid for blogging. I just wanted to write something; anything, to while away time. I'll be leaving for a weekend at Durgapur, withing a few hours. I need to kill time, somehow.

I could have studied, right? With my exams going on, that would be the sensible thing to do. Heck! I love studying, but not when things such as exams make it a compulsion. That's the problem with me. I love doing everything, as long as they ain't compulsory for me to do!

Who cares! I'm on the wrong, I know. But all men ain't destined to succeed. Some need to fail, in order to build a base for comparisons, when judging success! I'm destined to be a loser. So that, some other mortal gets to be a winner. I can't say I don't mind. That would be a lie. But I don't think I'll sulk if I don't get to be great. I know I have made a difference to a lot of lives. And that should be enough to be proud of, for the rest of my life.

thus i

pass by

and die

as one

unknown

and gone

i'm made

a shade

and laid

i' th' grave

there have

my cave

where tell

i dwell

farewell.

[Copied from someone's profile]

Serious stuff again!

Firstly, let me say, what the time and place and etcetera are. 6 am. Home. Just watched The Bucket List. Beautiful movie. Can't afford to do anything else now. I need to ponder over a movie after watching it, when it's too good. This is the third movie I watched in arow, preceeded by Ace Ventura and The Shining. The movie period was preceeded by a sour moment with Dad, with him having no clue, that it was sour, for me. The movie period is followed by Soham Talukdar's latest post on his blog. If, I detach myself from it, okay...I like it, I appreciate it, I appreciate it always when people add the "personal touch" to their publications. If, I terminate the detachment, well, the same thing that made the moment with Dad sour, is there, I mean his post. I dunno if it's time yet to go public about it. I have, once mentioned in a post about it. In a list of psychological disorders I suffer from. But this one disorder is different from others. It's like people refuse to identify you as what you believe you are. Anyway, I'll talk about it, someday, maybe today. But not now. So, here I just "re-post" the comment that I typed to one of my posts a short while ago. It would be more noticeable here.

"This comment is not supposed to be a comment. This will be re-posted elsewhere, I hope. Dear Soham, it's okay for you, who has hardly spent even a whole single hour with me, to misinterpret ME. So, I must mention, that I bear no "grudges" against you. But yeah, when I read your post, it infuriated me. Till I realised that, dammit, it's Soham Talukdar, someone I don't even care about; I shouldn't expect him to understand me, of all people! Anyway, self-issues apart, let's come to the "piece of poetry". The poem, Farewell, was, as mentioned, supposed to a "tribute" to the NIT life, not a criticism. Whatever I wrote , whatever, I "highlighted" was done in a note of appreciation. The last two lines of each stanza are meant to EMPHASISE that: the fact that I'm appreciating that kinda life, NOT criticising it. Secondly, I'm a heavy drinker and a chain smoker myself, I love getting "intoxicated". I hate people who hate the idea of getting intoxicated. Period. Thirdly, there were lines in my poem, as I believe, that were specifically designed to show the lucrative-ness of the careless lifestyle. The one that I live, and only the people at NIT, as I know, live. I find it lucrative. I blame my "poetic skills" if my words betrayed my feelings! Fourthly, I have interacted with a few NITians, quite closely (both physically and psychologically); I know that beyond all the carefree attitude they show, they have thinking, feeling, pain-responsive" souls. The person who asked me to write the poem, is one of them. Fifthly, if there are still complaints about how I portrayed NIT life, I must remind that I just converted prose to poetry, the matter was all typed and sent to me by the person who wanted it. I have no complaints against NITians or the NIT hostel. Lastly, about referring to me as "she", I don't want to talk about it. Not in this already-too-large comment. Apologies to Soham, for my unexplained outburst. I request you not to react to it, or rather not to really "read" it all! I sound confused, and I am."

Scribbling

Too much on my mind.
All the time.
It's best I'm left alone.
To brood and groan.
It's wrong to feel
You have all the burden
To yourself.
I know there are
People.
There, Here.
You, and you, you.
But you have your own
Stories.
Ponder.
But observe.
I'm not
What you want me to be.
I don't want to be.
What you want me to be.
I'm sick.
I'm pathetic.
I'm incurable.
Yeah, I copied all that.
From your SMS.
It's me.
It's time you saw
That we're going nowhere.
Give up on me.
'Cuz I can't be.
Look at me.
My disguise.
Period.
That's enough.
I'm fed up.
Of explaining,
Demonstrating.
My work is done.
I'm free to die.
I'm free to smoke.
I'm free to burn my lungs
Till I'm no more.
I beg of you.
Volver.
One last time.
Let me feel you.
I won't repeat the words.
I won't bore you.
With all that
All over
Again. Again.
Just one last time.
Volver.
I'll tell you
Clearly.
What bothers me
All the time.
You.
Me.
The others.
Living,
Non-living,
Abstract.
Period.
That's enough.
I'm fed up.

[Back to Square One on 3rd July, 2009, after you "tried" to volver.]