Because Of You

12th January 2010 - goodbye

2010-01-12T07:12:00.000-08:00

My last post was a huge mistake. A huge mistake. I just read this comment on Facebook.
"followers"??????
i thot twisha wud top dis list!!!!!!;-) sum1 is givin u stiff competition twish....n "princess tinni" is just sittin back n enjoyin!!!!!!nyc....:-)
Sreeja Chanda. Hoo. Okay. I called her up, and asked her for explanations. Phew! I am shaking uncontrollably. Don't ask me why. I dunno why. I don't want to know why. It's just a pity I can't just disappear, without dying. I'll disappear as much as I can, okay. Sreeja explained why she wrote "Princess Tinni". Okay, thanks Disha. Thanks. The last time I shook this badly was last year. Okay. I'll be okay. No, no movie tonight. full stop. And, well, I dunno if I ought to
I can't make this blog inaccessible to people. I can just stop blogging. Bye. This is my last post on this blog.

12th January 2010 - Phew!

2010-01-12T02:48:00.000-08:00

Time: 4:20pm
Yesterday, at British Council, I came across a book called The Writers' Handbook. As I flipped through the pages, I came across a story of a girl who used to blog a lot, a nd pretty well. So well, in fact, that some famous publisher contacted her, and bought the copyright over her blog, and published it as a book. I imagined if any publisher would ever wanna do that with my blog. No, because I don't have that in mind when I write. Example: Now.
I am screwed up and fucked up. And I hate watching anything at all, now. I hate doing anything at all now. I made the phone calls, while sitting on this chair. I have to get my arse up, and go and have a bath, and go out. I made more than 2 phone calls. I made 3 STD calls, and two local calls. It's the locals calls that have pissed me off. I know I haven't mentioned why I didn't update my status on Gtalk after Disha called me on Sunday. Then, it made sense, for once, something was being mutual! Okay, I'll elaborate a bit more. Disha is now almost her best friend. And vice-versa. I don't even know why Disha had cried at college on Saturday. She knows. Okay. Now why that? I can understand not knowing anything about her, because she doesn't know anything about me too. I can understand, my getting to know the mere facts, because she gets to know the mere facts too. But why should there be anything on earth that Disha and I can't share with each other? No, that's not what's pissed me off. Yeah I am pissed off. Okay, I finally admit that. I have been very pissed off. Just that, the reasons taht my brain show me, aren't the reasons! It's not about Disha. Haven't I complained to Criss taht I hate that dIsha can read my face? Haven't I cursed the "attachment" with Disha: the whole family attachment thing? I know I can't just say that now, the attachment doesn't exist. Because Disha keeps telling me, that she can't tell me things, because it's between her and her. Fuck. And I keep saying, that it's what I want. Yeah, I got it! I am pissed off, since November, because, I have been getting everything I wanted to get. And after getting them, the results aren't what I expected. Be it a "change" from the stagnancy in our relationship, or about Disha's being faithful to me. I wanted these to stop. They have stopped. And I am very happy that they have stopped. Yeah I am happy, I am laughing at it, all the time. It's just the dual thing. Again. Phew. I am happy, that things are going as I planned. Everything. Everything is going as I planned them. I had my own mental turbulence in mind too, in my plans too. So, I'm okay with it. Just that, I need my blog to handle it all. I feel liek Brad Pitt in Sleepers. The stress. Dadabhai asked me not to drink anymore. How is it going to matter? Dude I don't need to get drunk. It's all the same, drunk or not. It's all the same. I know that I want this. (Like I said I want to die like Devdas, in pain, yet, that doesn't mean I won't use the word "pain" to describe it then) Fuck. And The Fountainhead. Everything's coming together. And the more everything seems connected to each other, it gets complicated. Why did I have to read The Fountainhead? And why just then? I could have read it ages ago, and forgot about it now. I could have read it ages later, when all of this would have been over. And I get these awful dreams. I can't even tag a "good" or "bad" label to them. And well, in last night's dream, I didn't even know, in the dream itself whether I was happy or sad. I am not the only person I know who is or have been going through this awful phase. But, yeah, I am the only person I know who have absurd dreams. Why do dreams have to be so fucking important? Why can't I have peace when I sleep, at least? Now, i hate it all. Hatred, right. And therefore, the fury. Fighting all these negative emotions is the joy and gratefulness. The trouble is that, the joy and and the fury is directed at eh same incident. Always. Like yesterday afternoon. Having to wait till 12:40pm. I was both furious and happy (happy because I met Gul) at the same incident. Disha: I am both furious and grateful at what she is having to do now. Mind you, I am not furious or grateful to her. It's not her. It's what she is having to do. She is doing what she has to do. And I also, know this, that the reason, she can't betray her, is because Disha loves me. In bengali "amio or doler lok". By being not faithful to me, Disha is actually being faithful to me. Hoo, the complications again! This is why I loved Shob Choritro Kalponik, and The Last Lear. Because they showed the complications, and didn't solve them. People who find their lives alike to what F.R.I.E.N.D.S. show, won't know what complications mean, so they won't understand Rituporno Ghosh, I agree. Now them point is, that what exists as a complication, is a complication. It's not meant to be solved or sorted out. The complication is the eternity, the completion. Get that, Mr. Mehta! You asked me to let the colour fade away, and not delete it with force. And now, if we were in terms like before, you would say that I have forcibly erased the colour, by getting over her. But, then, human beings are NOT simple. No way. It's more than that, it's more than can be said or even described in a sentence. Sometimes, I really feel I have got over her. Because there are things I am doing now, with other people, that I would never have imagined doing without her few months before. And I do them, without feeling bad. The next moment, when I try to analyse whether I really don't feel bad, I realize that I am feeling over-joyed! Over-joyed, eh? Yeah, I feel this is some kind of a revenge, I am doing what she is doing. Then, the strange feeling, because someone inside my brain tells me that it's not me who's taking a revenge. It's her who's doing it. She's taking the revenge. She's making me feel all that I must have made her feel back in Devcember 2007. Then I realise that, no, she isn't doing anything. All she knows, is that she loves you. She does feel it, maybe, at times, that she and me aren't "soul-friends" anymore. But, then that's all. She can't be taking a revenge on me, if she herself isn't aware of it. But, then, my princess, when was she ever aware of anything? When did she ever UNDERSTAND? She doesn't even understand you, or Disha, for that matter! I wish I could lend my brain to her, so that she could use that part that knows you, and understand you. I haven't taught her how to understand everything and everyone, because I loved her, and the more she would understand everything and everyone, the more miserable she would be. The way Disha is miserable. The way Disha wants to cry when she sees me, and wants to be with me, and the next moment, she decides she can't tell me certain things. Please, let her be the way she is. Call it innocence. She doesn't need to understand. She never wanted to take up psychology, did she? Let her be at peace. We're all working on it. We all are suffering, but then the the only reason we can suffer, and not complain about it, is because we care for her. We want her to be happy. If she is happy, we don't give a damn whether she is lying to herself or not. We don't give a damn.
I am calm now. First time, since months, I have WRITTEN everything down, and not in terms of tough intellectual words, or indirect sarcastic words. I have written down exactly what I think. And, well, I am not feeling good about it, not at all. I have my blog header saying "Because Of You". I have referred to someone else as 'you'. That says how much I am being myself. I am still not being myself, because I dunno what being myself is. Not at the present state of affairs. I know what being myself means, if I can go back in time, say a couple of years. Well, princess, you know, Koushik Da reads my blog, Subhenjit (well, he's Arpit's friend) reads my blog too. I mean people who really dunno what's going on read my blog. And it matters to me, that they read my blog. But, I still know that the way I write things, only you can decipher what it's all about. I still write to you. Even if I refer to you as she. And why did I have this outburst? I'll tell you that too. One time, it's justice. I'll tell you whom I called , the local ones: Shauvik, and Disha. Disha told me, in direct speech "ami toke bolte parbo na. O chaibe na je ami toke boli". Wasn't that fucking wonderful? If you remember, that Disha was the second most important woman in life, you should think that I felt awful when she said that. But you would be 50% wrong. Exactly 50%. Not more, not less. When I was making her recite the Hanuman Chalisa, at Burrabazaar, on 3rd January morning, I had a placed a demand on her. I wanted Disha to give me something. Disha said "Don't do this to me." But, I knew that she had started doing it since the previous night itself. The girl-talk you had when I had gone to buy the chickn. Disha admitted that it was about what I suspected it was about. But, she didn't give me the details. I didn't ask for it too. all of use are doing what we should do, because that's what we want to do. Ok, I'm going into complications again, drop it. The good thing is that, she is fulfilling my demand now! She knows it. She just isn't aware of it. If I make her aware of that, she'll feel she's wronging me. Let her be you, for sometime. This is right. [Because this is what I'd wanted all along]Just that I didn't want to write all this, but now that I've spent an hour over it, I won't delete it. I have screwed up a whole day. I won't bathe today, it's over 5:30pm. I won't even go out. Instead, I'll open a book. Maybe. maybe not. Doesn't matter. Not yet.

12th December 2010 - again

2010-01-12T01:28:00.000-08:00

Time:3pm
I wrote the last post, because I need to think, and as I keep saying, I need to write to think. I have been thinking aloud on that post. Now this will be about what I was thinking, and not what I am thinking.
What triggered off this post is Subhenjit's new post. He thinks he rubbed me off ina wrong way, and so, I had changed my Gtalk status to "irritated"! Ha! How I wish, other people on earth could irritate me! Or do anything to me at all! I wish I could "respond" to other people, but no, I don't. Now why I was irritated that day. I was irritated last night too, for the same reason. I have been irritated a number of times in the last few weeks, for the same reason. Here's the thing, Subhenjit. Suppose, I am online. She comes online. I see her coming online, but I don't take the initiative to talk to her. She asks me "Why don't you ping me yourself?". Now, suppose, I do ping her, and talk to her on my own. She replies to each thing at least 5-10 minutes after I've typed it. Period. Guess now, why I get irritated. Anyone would. It's just that, with anyone else, things wold be less complicated. Now, she reads this blog. I have your number, so I'll tell you the rest sometime later.
I hadn't mentioned that I've started liking F.R.I.E.N.D.S. a lot. I always thought that I hated the background laughter thing being played. But when I was on episode 9 of Season 1, I realised that Hardik was right. It doesn't bother much, because the thing is too good in itself. When I was on episode 15, I realised that I LIKE the background laughter thing being played! Now, that Season One is almost over, I have realised that F.R.I.E.N.D.S make my sad. Life isn't what they show it. The complications are carefully avoided from being shown. Be it the Ross-Carol thing, or the Chandler-Janice thing, and MANY MORE. The complications that are bound to exist are carefully avoided from being shown. I can't love it. I enjoy watching it, just because it makes me smile at times. I hope they teach me to overlook the complications around me too! For that matter, I know I don't overlook the complications, but I have stopped letting them bother me. I have become stoic, since December. There's one sensitive issue in everyone's life. Same with me. So, as long as I stay away from that, I am always unruffled. So, dear issue, please stay away from me. The moment you come near me, my blood pressure fluctuates heavily. Let me have nothing-noteworthy days.

12th December 2010

2010-01-12T00:56:00.000-08:00

Time:2:30pm
I was DETERMINED to go to college today. I didn't because I prefered to sit home and think. In short, I've screwed up the whole day. I dunno if I'll be studying. I need to chalk out a plan for the day. I have to make 2 phone calls, 2 STD ones. I have to go out to two shops, nearby ones. I have to go to the ATM to withdraw money. I have to watch Sherlock Holmes ASAP. I have to find a partner for today, if possible (oh I know it's not possible). I have o study. I have to Google College Service Commission exams for Disha. I have to call Disha ASAP. Do I have anything else to do? Oh yeah, I had this haircut (that's the excuse I gave myself at 10:30am, when I decided not to go to college); so I must have a mega bath ASAP. There are two reasons why I should not bathe today. but, I dunno I have to figure that out soon: which reason is stronger. If I'm not meeting anyone till 15th December, I can bathe on 15th. But no, I have to go to college, and I have to meet Disha tomorrow. I must bathe today. Okay, so next thing I do, after I've finished with this (and I've watched another episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S), is having a bath. Then I will make the calls. Then I will go out and do the outdoor stuff. Movie: 4:50pm. I won't be able to make it. I don't want to be able to make it without someone else. And there's no one available at the moment. Dan the money. Okay, let's see. I don't need to watch the movie. I can download it and watch it later. Hoo. No, i won't wait till that. I will watch it, and do so today itself. Or maybe tomorrow. Phew. Let's see. First, the phone calls, and the bathing.
Yesterday wasn't a good day in any way. That doesn't mean I wasn't happy. It means, that every time I was happy, it was because of the prospect of something. In the end, the something didn't happen. First, I had to meet Payal at 8am, I didn't, because I was having a good dream, and I wanted to sleep more to let it finish. (I know good dreams are bad for me, nevertheless). That's bad, that's how the day started. Moreover, I was determined to go to college, and I didn't want to sacrifice college for stupid tings. Thanks to me, I didn't go to college, eventually. Good thing next: I arranged for a meeting later that day. Okay, so I met Payal, and took the stuff I was supposed to transport to Tiyash by 11:30am. When I'm halfway, in a cab, in my hurry, she tells me her class won't get over before 12:40pm. Bad thing again. Good thing next: I went to British Council and studied. I mean real studying: my subject, my syllabus. Then, at 12:40pm, when I'm outside Xaviers, waiting, Tiyash sends someone else to take it. If someone else would take it, why was I waiting for her class to get over? Bad thing. Okay, then I run into Gul. First time, two people who know each textually (and a little more) see each other, and recognise each other, and....that's the good thing. Bad thing next: she is as busy as usual. Nothing more happened. Good thing next: evening with Payal. We met around 7pm and I saw her last at 10pm. We had, among other things: Irish creme: which she found like toothpaste, and me like cookies. Then I walked back home, again, I walked more than halfway across South Kolkata. Coming back home, I came online, and then the bad tings started....and lasted till 3am. When I woke up at 7am today, I was still not at peace. I screwed up the whole day. Let's see if something happens. Whatever happens, won't be good, for me. The last time I was happy was before September last year. As far as I can look back, there has been only two types of existence since 2010. Either, I am numb, and indifferent to everything. Or, I am sad. And I hope, I have a sad day, today. It's better than a nothing-noteworthy-day.

10th January 2010

2010-01-09T17:49:00.000-08:00

10th January: Sunday. Time: 2pm
I didn't write the last couple of days, because not mane things happened. And I was scared that I might ruin my mood if I write anything. Day before yesterday, I watched a movie at home, after ages. Kramer vs Kramer. The movie from which the much-acclaimed Aamir Khan starrer Akele Hum Akele Tum was copied. I knew the whole story, I knew what to expect next. Yet I loved the movie. Anyway, other noteworthy things would be Picco's visit. He is getting too involved with his geography teacher. In fact, I'm scared that his teacher is getting too involved too. Till last week, I have always seen a cheerful and jolly Picco. Since he had that chat with his teacher over Gtalk, what I see is not a cheerful or jolly Picco, but a "happy" Picco. I can goddamn see the difference between cheerfulness and happiness.
And that's scary. If Sreeparna Miss gives him happiness, it is scary. The fact that his teacher is responding is the scariest of all. Now, why? Firstly, there's a possibility, that Sreeparna Ma'am is responding to Picco, because he has his ISC coming up, and it's a teacher'd duty to ensure that her student's mind set is not disturbed before an exam as important as ISC! Now, if that happens, and she tells my brother after his exam that she has been pretending all this while, it would make him suffer more than he can take. There's a worse outcome possible. Both of them have a crush on each other. Either one of them will realize it soon (after Picco's ISC, I hope). The other one (which I'm scared, will be Picco) will never get over the relationship, in tat case. When two people have a crush on each other, and one of them realize it before the other, the latter never gets over the former. The crush turns into a life-consuming obsession. That's what I think. I hope I'm wrong.
The other noteworthy thing that happened at 1am that night was my first MMS. Sritama sent me a picture via MMS. I can't tell you why it's noteworthy, let's just say, I have a weakness towards technology!
Yesterday, the day started with Puspen. I told him a "secret" of mine by mistake, and kept hoping that he wouldn't tell Disha. Now, it might be questioned why I don't wanna tell Puspen/Disha a secret. It's because they somehow are related to my past. Telling them something means, relating that something to my past. And that ought to be avoided at all costs! Even Sayak doesn't know. He will know, but not before it's too late. For that matter even Disha and Payal will know, but after it's too late. As of now, Puspen hasn't told Disha. and he won't, thanks to thir own communication gap. Ha Ha! Fucking nasty of me. Fucking nasty.
After Puspen, I met Criss at Golpark, we had lunch together, at an inconspicuous and cheap restaurant, which served awesome North Indian food. Then we walked from one end of South Kolkata to the other, twice. And took photographs on the way. Trees, sunset, rickshaws, gates, fuchka-sellers, etc. Then we went to a photography exhibhition at the Weavers' Studio, Ballygunj place. Then we went to the Birla Academy of Art and Culture, and for the first time in my life, I watched a violin being played with my own eyes. It was a simple bhakti geeti kind of thing, sung by a shrill female voice, accompanied by a man on violin. Now, that was some strange experience!
Day ended as soon as I harvested my farm on Facebook, and went to sleep. Today morning, I woke up early, and went to meet a guy form Durgapur, Gaurav Pande, who was supposed to teach my how to ride a bike. Thanks to my car-driving and cycling experiences, it didnt take more than ten minutes, in all. I rode the bike on my own, for about an hour, and then, I went to South City Mall, to watch a horror film named Paranormal Activity. It turned out to be a live footage of a presence of an evil spirit, and not a movie in any sense. If censor-boards had any social sense, they should not have allowed this thing into the theatres. Anyone, who doesn't believe in spirits, or doesn't take spirits or ghosts seriously (like me) will be removed of all doubts. It's a real thing being recorded by a hand camera. Goddamn it. I was supposed to have a haircut after watching it. Instead I rushed back home and wrote "Don't watch Paranormal Activity" on my Facebook status message. I copmlained about the censorboard on Twitter. Before I could change my Google account status, Disha called me up. Let's see what I do for the rest of the day. One of dad's NRI friends had come. Madhu Uncle, from Paris. He's a professional painter! I had a chat with him. He said that I can't be a poet, a painter, and a film-maker all at once. I have to choose any one of them. Let's see. I've one and a half years to figure that out!

8th January 2010

2010-01-07T12:44:00.000-08:00

It's 2:30am, technically, I'm still in 7th January 2010. Anyway, I read a few great blogs tonight. Here are the links:
http://neverlandthroughmylens.blogspot.com/2010/01/there-was-kid.html
This brought a lump in my throat!
http://surrealsubhi.blogspot.com/2010/01/staying-apart.html
This is from Subhenjit's blog, I still can relate to every fucking thing he talks about, even thought I know his story and mine aren't the same!
http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2010/01/07/the-magic-moment/
And, my Paulo Coelho! He always talks wisdom, and I don't mind his being the same all over, because he realises the same "truth" all over, like me! THis is an excerpt from one of his books that I've read. Still feels like a first time!
Anyway, I had this time on 2nd January night, when Disha's Mum asked me "How was your new year eve?" I screwed up my eye-brows, trying to find a word for it, without telling her that I had got drunk with three guys, two of them, complete strangers, in my room, and blurted out secrets, not just my own, but others too! Before I could hit on the right word, she said "You don't know, right? You don't know anymore what is good, or what is bad. You don't know anymore when you're happy, when you're sad, right?". I thanked her for stealing my thoughts away! She asked me next, "But christams was good, right?" I wanted to tell her No, but then I knew why she thought it was good. She understood me to a great extent, but then, not beyond that. I wasn't happy, even on Christmas, how could I explain that? But then, I said "Yeah, probabaly", and closed the conversation. She trailed off to other issues, which, are also, quite painful to recount, painful to be the informer of. Pain, aah. That doesn't go so easily. I have realsied why I love cold drinks. It's not the cold drink actually. I love cold, icy cold liquids, in general. It helps to push down the lump in the throat. Now, when did I realise that? Last night. I was so suicidal that I felt I must scribble a suicide note, in case, I actually succumb to my destructive desire someday. My suicide note would clearly mention that no incident in the past is responsible for it. In fact, last night, I didn't have a bad time. Minutes before I was overcome with the desire to end my life, I was happy, I was laughing over the phone with Sritama, over an STD call. In Gayatri Miss's words, the detectives are wrong when they try and find out what happened exactly before the death, because, non one plans to kill himself. It's just a moment of temporary insanity. i experienced i last night so vividly. It happened in a matter of few minutes. I ended the call, I put the earphones into place, and started playing Mon Giyechhe Moner Ghor (Neel Dutt) and thought about something, about two specific people making love, lying over each other, skin to skin. And it just hit me like an uninformed-of gust of wind that I would never experience that. I know I thought about two specific people, but then , they weren't the cause. I wanted to make things "even and normal". I wanted to have sex with a girl. And I realised my handicap. I would never, ever, experience how it feels like to have sex, except online descriptions! It didn't come like a gradual chain of thoughts. It was just a rush, and BOOM. I spent one hour trying to think of the fastest ways to end my life. Then, I made myself look at my life from the eyes of other people. Other people, like Picco, Dadabhai, Disha, Puspen, Sritama etc. Picco, first, because, I know that his dreams are dependent on mine. The day I say that I don't dreamm of being a film-maker, he'll stop saying that too. Now, looking at myself, that way, I realised that I've got a lot of work to do. I will have to prove a lot people wrong! I have to do that before I can end my life. The pain didn't go away. I thought for a second, that maybe, if I have a girlfriend, I won't realise my physical handicap every now and then. Then I realised, that I don't want just a girl-friend. I want someone to love me, that way. Then I realised how much I sound like those guys whom I scold for wanting a girl-friend! Saugata, Somak etc. I tell them that music, movies and books are enough, love isn't necessary. and there I was, standing in the balcony, at 3am in the night, wanting love! Goddamn it! How many times will I be proved wrong about MYSELF in the course of a few days! I thought all my life, that I enjoy solitude. Till, one evening, everyone I could call a friend was either out of town, or busy doing something else, or just not wanting to be with me, and I was badly looking for company to go to a fair. I could go to those rides on my own (which I did go to alone, eventually) but I didn't want to got without someone who would scream at the leaping movements and the pressure changes and all. I mean, how could I enjoy a ride, without having someone who'll scream beside me? That evening, I felt lonely. For the first time in twenty years, I felt that I'm not enjoying being alone! Anyway, being at Durgapur, with Mum and Dida is always an excruciating experience. Even if it has been so since I remember, they still hurt with equal intensity, as if it's for the first time. Sometimes, you never get used to certain things. Oh how true is that! I still haven't got used to a lot of things that I was supposed to get used to by now. Getting over, ha ha!
Anyway, I have started doing a lot of constructive work, finally. I met Rituporno Ghosh's assistant tonight, at a party. I have written another poem last night (before Sritama's call) about a silverfish dying under my fingers, in a book. I have lost it, but as I told Criss the other day, I don't feel bad when I lose a poem, unlike him, because I know I'll be writing more, much more. I don't need time to think and some more time to form words and rhyme them. They automatically just form in my mind, in the unlikeliest of circumstances. I studied a little too, in the past 24 hours. The part in Development Economics, where the economies of Nigeria and Indonesia are compared is interesting. Both the countries, Nigeria and Indonesia have equal area, equal population, and equal resources (oil, forests, etc). Yet, if we look at their GDP growth since 1980, Nigeria has been going poorer from poor, and Indonesia has been growing richer from poor! The book explained it in terms of policy defects and and all. But I still think it's the climate conditions. The UN lent equal amounts of capital to both the countries. They both invested it. And Indonesia recovered the loan, and started exporting manufactured goods, while Nigeria went deeper and deeper into debt. What the book also didn't mention was that the Shell company (US) robs Nigeria of all its oil, while Indonesia gets to sell its own oil. Why so? The more I think, I climate seems to be the answer. Why should Nigerians be lazier than Indonesians, if not for the stark climatic differences? But then, the book is also right, because for different climatic conditions, the UN should have different Structural Adjustment Policies! I have lot more to read on SAPs. I have my January all planned and packed. I have to find time to study amidst all of it. Let's see what turns out.
"We have to take risks. We can only truly understand the miracle of life when we let the unexpected manifest itself." -The first lines from Coelho's latest blog [By The River Piedra I Sat Down And Wept] Only I know how much I'm risking my life for at the moment! Magic, are you coming?

5th January 2010

2010-01-05T08:52:00.000-08:00

Hello. New year, yeah. Too soon, if you ask me! Now, the new year took off too fast a start. Three consecutive "happening" nights, and me, deprived of my blog, in some way or the other. The first night, I wasn't at my own place. The second night, my net provider suspended my connection due to delayed payment. The third night, my computer's motherboard flunked. Now, I am at Durgapur, using a super-slow machine.anyway, I'll write down little now. Right then, my brain was all muddled and confused. I badly needed to write to think. But, now, it's too late to be muddled anymore. I couldn't sleep the night before coming to Durgapur. But, the good thing about it is, I painted on the canvas I had bought a year ago. I wrote a poem, after a month! I'm back on track! I'm technically better.
What still troubles, is dreams. Troubling dreams. Creepily weird stuff. And mornings are still the toughest part of the day, when I can feel a battle going on within my body between two contradictory desires. That's more painful than death, I guess. Anyway, I have mastered the art of self-control to a great extent.
I wish this keyboard would make it more comfortable for me to type my heart out. But, I can't. So, I'll postpone it to 7th January.

30th December 2009

2009-12-30T00:16:00.001-08:00

I won't give excuses anymore, about not being regular on my blog. when I don't write, it's because I don't feel like writing. It doesn't necessarily mean that my mood isn't at its best. In fact, readers know, that I'm more inclined towards blogging when my mood is not at its best!
Yesterday was a good day. I'll tell you why. I thought it would be boring, and therefore, peaceful. But it wasn't boring, and therefore, not peaceful. Every moment I dared to tell myself that I am having a "beautiful" time, a phone call came and ruined it. It was miserable, yet, as Puspen says, something bad must happen in the day, to make it worth it. Yesterday, therefore, was a very, very good day.
I wanted to call Gul a large number of times, but I didn't, because I felt I'd be using her. I don't call her everytime I see something beautiful, do I? Now, I told myself, that Prinsep Ghat is all about Gul. She was the first person who made me aware of its existence. The second person who brought up Prinsep Ghat has a rather unfortunate role in my life. Anyway, I am the one who should have thanked everyone for accompanying me to Prinsep Ghat. But, instead, I made them thank me for proposing the idea!
Anyway, yesterday is past. When I started writing this post, it was mostly out of boredom, and fury. Both, because last night when I went to sleep, I had a plan of action chalked out for the whole day. When I woke up, it didn't exist anymore. The fury wasn't exactly directed at the people who were responsible for ruining my day. The fury was also directed at the "good luck" of the others involved (who weren't responsible, in any way), who made other plans no sooner, leaving me on my own. Then Criss called. He came over to my place. We had noodles together. Then I took him to Mani Square. Yeah, again, it was me who proposed it, he prefers to sit and chat, than go out, any day. Anyway, after he went home, I watched a movie at the 3D IMAX theatre over there. A Christmas Carol. I dunno if it's the movie, or the watching alone thing (after a long time) or the the cab-ride back home (alone, again), but I was having a strange feeling, which I didn't bother to analyse. I named it "peace". I can't say whether it's a good feeling, or a bad one. I can't even say if it's a positive feeling, or a negative one. All I know is the feeling that, if my mind was a canvas, no amount of colour or brush could put a mark on it. White, it would remain, no matter what. Gul sent a text, one that sounded furious, demanding to know why she had been referred to as Oxy. Someone, had given her that name, not me. And that someone, had an elder sister, who had a classmate named Oindrilla, whom, other people in the class used to call Oxy. That's how it came. Now that the first person in the previous sentence doesn't exist, I don't call her Oxy anymore. It's not that I intentionally stopped myself. Only last morning I realized that. Gul, when I called you, and you were at Nicco Park, I was with her. And, I told her, about your call, because she asked. And I referred to you as Gul. That's a first time. That's when I realised that I don't call you by the name "she" gave, anymore. You'll read this, I know. So, you'll reply in a text, soon. :)
Anyway, back home, Dad has returned from Kuala Lumpur. I am not excited to see his face, or hear his stories, he realized that. He was dejected. but I can't help it. I am at peace now. Excitement can't ruffle me. No form of excitement can ruffle me.

The Dual Thing!

2009-12-28T04:17:00.000-08:00

There's been a lot of discussion, both silent and aloud, going on about this dual nature of everything I have been talking about. I explained it to Gul, to Ma, to Neema...and more. Aah! Neema. Wait. I haven't been blogging, because I was busy. Yesterday morning, when my maid cleaned my room, and the empty beer bottles spilled out of my bed, I realized how the past one week has been for me. Can I call it fun? Is this my definition of fun? Boozing with people at my place? Yes, and No. The dual nature, you see! It's as much fun as it isn't. I'll simplify myself. It is fun, because I know this is what I have been proposing to do every time a guy/girl told me that he's bored, he wants me to have some fun with him. It's not fun, because, definitely, I would enjoy a joy-ride in a ferris-wheel more than getting drunk every night!
I got a beautiful message today. After a long time, I got a forwarded message, that I felt like forwarding to others. Here it goes, with my corrections:

While a man was polishing his new car, his 4-year old son, picked a stone, and scratched lines on one side of the car. Furious, the man took the child's hand, and kept hitting it, and hitting it.
Not realizing, that he was using a wrench. At the hospital, the child lost all his fingers, due to multiple fractures.
When the kid saw his father, with painful eyes, he asked, "Dad, when will my fingers grow back?"
The man was speechless with sorrow. He went back to his car, and kicked it hysterically, as long as he could. Then, exhausted, he sat by the car, and his eyes fell on the scratches his son had made. The following was untidily etched:
I LOVE YOU DAD
The next day, the man killed himself.
Anger and love, have no limits. Things, are to be used. And people, are to be loved. But today, people are used, and things are loved.

It was a 6-page long SMS, in case you are wondering.
Not that I entirely agree, or something. But it was good.
The last few days saw me having high rushes of adrenaline at odd times. That is good, in a way, because that gives you the excuse to be rude (and straightforward) with people. I did that with Neema, twice, in the last few days. I have been diplomatic, according to Sayak, and finally convinced her that, what actually is broken beyond repair, is in one piece! She will exist henceforth, in my life, like Payal will too, after last night. Sritama's place will be different, a little higher: I hope so.
Payal's exams ended, and I met her. I was under the impression that I have missed her badly all these days. And when I met her, my illusions were removed. One good thing about all of it is that, right now, there's no one on earth who knows the truth. Not even Sayak, not even Disha. No one knows the entire truth. They know bits and pieces. and Payal doesn't really care, so she doesn't need to know the bits and pieces too. No one on earth knows ME at the moment. I should be glad, and feel powerful therefore. But, I am having other contradictory feelings too, which are far from making me glad. Dual nature!
Something happened for the first time today. Ma had come to Kolkata. I told her I want to meet her. I did. When I saw her off at Esplanade, I was feeling good, despite the eternal quarrel that we had. I won't call it a quarrel. She got upset about me, the moment she saw me. And I was trying to calm her down, and amuse her. We had a good time, actually.
Anyway, the New Year plans are very dicey at the moment. I guess the best thing for me to do will be to stay at Kolkata, in case, someone needs something. But then staying indoors all day, at Durgapur isn't too bad an idea!

READ this!

2009-12-26T13:35:00.000-08:00

http://surrealsubhi.blogspot.com/2009/12/night-to-remember.html

Read this poem. This person has been writing stuff that I could relate to, since a long time. And this is what he posted today. I dunno who he is. I found him through a long chain. Hardik Mehta>>Arpit Shah>>HIM
Whatever, I dunno who he is, but I am pretty sure what he is going through is entirely different from what I am going through. But, goddamn THIS poem. This is exactly what I needed right now! Eh? Every line, every verse. Damn.

Breaking Point, eh?

2009-12-26T12:58:00.000-08:00

Sayak said he has reached his breaking point. I dunno if our definitions of "breaking point" are same. Whatever. I just had a feeling that I am cracking, I am at my breaking point.
It's 2:30am in the night. The date is 27th December, technically. No, no, no. The date isn't important. I am writing, because I am thinking. I need to write to enable myself to think. 27th December. Now, why did I notice it? I am supposed to clear my mind, and think. Not clutter my mind anymore. Ok. The date isn't important. Ok, yeah, I am convinced now that the date isn't important. It isn't important because it wasn't on my mind before I opened this fucking page. I was drunk hours ago. I was having a slight hangover few minutes ago. Now I am clear. And guess what song is playing. Dheere Dheere from Shaurya. Ha Ha! Ok, now I am laughing. I opened this page at 2:30am in the night, because my mind was blank, and I was hit by an irresistible desire to cry. I didn't know why. I still dunno why. I got a silent scream out of my lungs. And I am not crying anymore. Which means I don't need to know why I wanted to cry a while ago. I have done a lot of things I want to do, I wanted to do. But I didn't do what I should do. Those days are over. The days when I wanted to do what I should do. I have stopped thinking. This is the price. There are more prices I have to pay. I can't take decisions on my own. Yes, Sayak, ask Payal. I can't take decisions on my own. It's not that someone else has to decide for me. But I need someone to be the deciding factor! And when you are single, you don't have the deciding factor! Single at heart. I can feel it. I don't love anyone now. Why did I feel that I have reached my breaking point? Because I thought I was cracking. I thought so. In my mother tongue, "matha kharap hoye jachchhe; pagol hoye jachchhi". I felt that a while ago. Not anymore. I know I am doing whatever I want to do. And then I am trying to reverse my actions. Not because I regret them. Last year, at Christmas, I had freaked out on Payal. I had reversed my action, without regretting whatever I shouted at her. Because it was necessary. Damn. Dholna. I don't like the song. Ok, I have changed it. Dooriyaan. Last time it was played on my computer, I wasn't in my room. I was running water from the tap to cut off the sounds coming from my room. I would be lying if I say I was OKAY then. But I had control over what I allowed my mind to think. (think, mind you, not feel). A while ago, I didn't have that control. Now, thanks to my fucking blog, I have it once again. I am thinking clearly now. I still haven't decided what I want for new year, what I want TILL new year. Going with the flow might seem an easy thing to do. But, there's no flow at the moment. And going with the flow isn't me. I make things happen. Why have I stopped that? I dunno. I feel that I have started being myself after two years. But I can't ignore what I see. I see that I am not what I was two years ago. I am more cynical. Whatever people tag as "rude", is what my fellow "researchers" call an outburst, and...what do I call them? I dunno. I can't call it an outburst. I was calm. I had an outburst when Sayak and Diya were talking. I was quiet. But I was shaking all over, and I was crying. I mean the external crying thing, the tears and the choking and all that. That was an outburst. Not last night. Not now. Breaking point, because I am losing my mind. I don't even know whether what I think is right or wrong. I don't give a damn, I say. But, two years ago, I would have given a damn. Knowing myself thoroughly was important to me. Now it isn't anymore. You see, I am not being entirely truthful with with myself. But this is true. I am back to pathological lying, at least. I am back to "FREEDOM". Sayak would say a lot of things right now. But, no, he is a fellow researcher, he can't be right. None of us have achieved what we thought we would. And both of us are experts at making mistakes. Mistakes that give us pleasure. I just made a mistake. I lost my mind. And made a mistake. I don't give a shit now. I don't need to make things happen. If love had the capability to be affected by psychokinesis, a lot things would not have happened, a larger lot of things would have. That proves that at least three relationships on my mind aren't love. I have been in one of them, years ago. That wasn't love. Even the other two aren't, either. I can't tell myself I am not in love, and expect myself to fall out of love gradually. I don't need to do anything. I can go with the flow. I can go on doing what I want to do. Even if I want to do two contrary things at the same time. And I am feeling two contrary emotions at the same time. Attraction and Indifference. Attraction VERSUS Indifference! Whatever it is, it isn't love, thankfully. I have been in love for too long to know the symptoms, when I have them. This isn't love. And I am glad it isn't so. Goddamn it.
Sayak, we both have been in the breaking point for a long time. We have been in the breaking point all this time, we still are. I just realized it, just now. Look back at everything we said, we did. And what was that property that matter loses when it reaches it's breaking point? Elasticity? Or tensile strength? Remind me. It's important.

Faith

2009-12-26T00:20:00.000-08:00

I used to give a lot of importance to faith. Now, I don't, because it's definition has changed for me. I tell two different things to two different people. It doesn't mean that I am lying to one, and telling the truth to the other. What if both are completely contrary to each other, yet both are completely true? With the dual nature of every fucking thing, it's impossible to have faith in one, and not the other. The dual nature of matter, the dual nature of thoughts. I'll read up the e = mc^2 thing once again, and show you exactly how it applies to the real-life incidents I am going through. I won't say I fluctuate, when I say two contrary things at the same time. I am not lying when I say I don't love someone anymore. I am not lying, either, when I say that the mention of Andamans made me sad. I am not lying when I say "Trifles matter". I am not lying either, when I say "Nothing matters."
It's been a a high adrenaline rush for me the past few days. I didn't sleep, fortunately. Last night, when I actually went to SLEEP at 4am (not the going unconscious, due to fatigue) I had a series of nightmares again. I remember two/three distinctly. I saw a man raping my maid servant. I saw a child cutting open his genital organs and smiling at the discoveries. Then there was a window through which all my friends were jumping out, and killing themselves. It was fun. And I was the observer. It was all happening in dark rooms. All the dark rooms were inside the same building, and I was walking from one room to another, just seeing things. I wasn't even scared or traumatized at the sights. I was just observing. Technically I can't call it a nightmare, because I wasn't scared in the dream. I was just blank when I woke up around 10. I didn't even feel anything. I just remembered facts. But you see, it's a good sign. I am being successfully stoic, not just in reality, but in my dreams too!
Today morning, again, a few hopes, and a few fears came true. Weighing them, again, the fears are more in proportion. Strange things did happen, as usual. Strange, because they were neither hopes, nor fears; in short: unexpected! Whatever happened reminded me of the days and events when I used to have more faith in my faith in a person, than my faith in what I read or hear. I believed that if she is saying two different things to me and another person, she must be lying to the other one. I will believe in what she tells me, and not what she tells others. Then I realized, that she believed in what she told others. Then I thought, that maybe, she is lying to herself too. Now, it has been 4 days that the "half-alien-half-human" fellow people have been telling me that I am lying to myself too. I introspected. I had the perfect field of research on Christmas Eve. I realized that I am not lying to myself, I believe in both. So what's in faith then? Is it about what you believe in more? Yeah, I know I can differentiate between both my feelings, and weigh them, and even tell anyone which is more truer than the other. But, then, the other, is a result of the former! For example: You start hating a person, after a series of events, because you used to love the person. The hatred comes only because love was unfulfilled. It doesn't erase the love away, it adds to it. It might get bigger than love, and over-shadow it, but it can't erase love, because love as its source! You might say, that love itself might evolve into hatred. Then love wont exist anymore, would it? Then, there can be another way to explain it. Hatred is nothing but a different form of love. (Ayn Rand would agree to it) But, if we go by the lexicon for a moment Love and Hatred are supposed to antonyms. So, then, in my example, which is more true? The love or the hatred? None. Both can be contrary to each other. Yet both can be as intensely true as the other. Therefore, faith is an unrealistic concept!
I will spend a completely unproductive day today, again. I have to try and get a grip on my auxiliary desires, for a moment. Off to get Criss now.

Post Christmas, Pre New Year

2009-12-25T07:55:00.000-08:00

It's 11pm. Soon, it's gonna be the midnight between 25th December and 26th December. Since I watched the movie Love Actually, Christmas reminds me of the hopes and fears. Movies are so silly, that's what I realize again now. But then, this is not final; as within a few minutes, you might find me arguing against my own statement over the phone! That's the biggest paradox. The existence of opposites. Every opinion, every judgement has a opposite, which, if seen with the right eye, is as RIGHT as it's counter one. We need peace. We need war. We need happiness, we need sorrow. What makes human beings 'humane' is that they always stick to one face of every coin. When a person can see both faces of the coin, he loses his most important humane characteristic. He has two options to choose from, then. To choose from, to consider. That is not difficult, that is impossible. You have to see both the pros and cons, and know that both are equal in weight. Man cannot take that. He has two alternatives. If I consider this ability to dual-see, a "power", he can use it to be a big fat villain, or a sad, pensive man. Now, if I consider this ability as a "weakness", he has only one alternative. To lose his sanity. Losing sanity again has two alternatives. When you lose your sanity, you lose your conscience too, I presume. You can do what you want to do, without giving a damn. Alternative two: you can mourn over your insanity and try to recover, in whatever unthinkable way possible. Unthinkable, because once you can see two sides of every event, it's tough to train your mind not to see one of them. It's tougher to accept that the two sides exist in your vision, and only yours. You feel like an alien in a sea of humans, or rather, you like a lonely human in a sea of aliens! I, for one, have been luckier. I have half-alien-half-human people around me. People who can dual-see most of the times. I have lost my sanity, there's no doubt about it. But, I can't comment further upon it. I needed an answer to a question before I could explore this. An answer that I won't probably get till tomorrow morning, when I will be far, far away from my blog.
So, how has it been the last few days?
I bought books worth more than a grand, on 24th morning. The best Christmas gift I ever gave myself (and the most expensive too!). I watched Avatar in 2D with Puspen and his friends. It was a disappointment. I tried watching it in 3D with Sayak a number of times, but haven't succeeded yet, thanks to the size of the Indian population. I watched the much-speculated-about movie 3 Idiots. I knew I was watching one of the best edited movies ever, but I got distracted half way through it. I had rabbit flesh today afternoon; it was awful: full of bones and all. I had red wine, for the second time in my life today. And it was equally bad as the first time. I tried two new alcoholic exploits (taught by Sayak). Burning shots, and a bottle thing, which basically is an inhalation of alcoholic smoke. I learnt that all my smoking and chain-smoking have been superficial. The way I inhale the smoke is, according to Sayak, not exactly the deep breathing thing it's supposed to be. Which means, fortunately or unfortunately, all the tobacco smoke I have had so far, hasn't traveled beyond my oesophagus (the chamber where the wind pipe and the food pipe meet). Which means, my lungs, and hence my blood, haven't had any taste of nicotine yet. We concluded, that I don't deep breathe ever, in general. I don't know how to breathe properly! So I have to join the Art Of Living classes, to learn to deep-breathe, so that I can eventually learn to smoke. Imagine, Art Of Living is teaching how to smoke!
I had two wild nights. Well, not exactly wild, let's say "eventful". People staying over at my place is definitely "fun". Period. I have finally stopped being the omni-planner of the lot. I didn't plan anything, and no one else did, either. If you ask me, whether everyone had a great time, without me planning everything, I would say NO. (But not proudly, mind you) It wasn't a Christmas like time, it was just as usual for everyone. So, people who usually have great days, had a great day. People who usually have bad days, had a bad day. People who have I-dunno-days, had a I-dunno-day!
Now, new year ahead. One lesson that the past one week taught me is that, thinking is really unnecessary. Few hopes get fulfilled. But a larger number of fears get so. And when most of your fears come true, you can't even protest, because, when you admit that you had feared it, you also admit that you had expected it. Can you complain against something that you were expecting? No. What gives us pleasure, is when good things happen unexpectedly. So, there's no use planning, right? But then, I also believed in making things happen, didn't I? I am doing both right now. I am making things happen to some extent (to some extent), and giving up on all planning and all (to some extent, again). In short, I am contradicting my own self every minute. Insanity, you see! My fellow half-alien-half-humans share this. Laughing and crying at the same time. Fearing and hoping at the same time. Trying and giving up at the same time. It's impossible to do just one. Humans would call it being confused, I know. But it isn't. It's just a form of dual existence. We all are going through the same phase, Disha had said. "You and her are so similar", I had said. Both of us disagreed with what each of us said. But, then, it's physics, you know. Universal. We both were right. Love and physics. We both were right.

Stopping thinking, and it's outcome.

2009-12-17T06:57:00.000-08:00

I have failed in achieving the target I had set for myself. I was supposed to finish a book by tonight. I haven't gone beyond a chapter. I decided to sleep and watch movies as much as I could. so that, I am so bored of it all, that I don't have any other option, but to study. New strategy. One that's very favorable to me (sarcasm to be noted). I'm very unlikely to be bored of watching movies, ever. Any of my well-wishers, if they knew, would say that if I complete my graduation, I can pursue film-making, and watch as many movies a day as I want to. But, then, this sort of philosophy is what I despise. I don't believe in postponing your desires, for the better. I think it's just giving yourself a poor excuse because you don't have the guts to do what to want. that brings me to the more important question of what do I want to do now? I took up economics at a college, a year ago. Did I want to? Yes, I did. I have no objections against economics, I love it, in fact. Then, now, why don't I study? Is it just that I need someone to make me sit down to study? Definitely not. Maybe, I discovered something that I love more than economics. That sort of thing always happens with me. So, what do I now if I love something more than economics? I still need to finish my graduation to achieve that. Let me work on it. Rambling about my academic dilemma is not what I wanted to do, when I opened this page. I knew I needed to write. I didn't, and I don't know what I want to write.
Yesterday, I watched a late night show of the recent Bollywood flick, Rocket Singh: Salesman Of The Year. It was a good one, given by the standards of our local audience. But, I found it a disappointing attempt to make one of those "something different" movies that has taken to our industry of late. Everything was very predictable in the movie, I knew what would happen next, and to my disappointment, that did happen. Anyway, I watched my first Collin Farell movie today afternoon: In Bruges. The guy is natural. I didn't feel I was watching a man, acting out a character, while watching him on the screen. I felt I was watching a live footage of a real chain of events. His facial expressions, his vocal expressions, his way of crying, everything seemed to be done as if he wasn't aware of the camera in front. I have to watch more of his movies to appreciate him fully. But I've heard he's compared to Brad Pitt, so my expectations are already high. Hope it doesn't ruin the final impression!
Christmas is round the corner. Except for Payal's absence, everything seems to be great. Sayak, Disha, Puspen, Sritama, and my cousin Picco are on. Our plan is to go to St. Paul's cathedral, and then Park street, where we'll have turkey and red wine for dinner. I have to add something more to the whole plan, to fill up the apparent empty spaces. I know what I want to add. (It's what I want everyone to do on Christmas, not what I want). But, I'm scared it might not turn out to be possible. I will make the preparations, and then surprise the others. Hence, not mentionable here! But, I know I will badly miss Payal, I am already missing her.
I had written "stop thinking" on my desktop notepad, a few days ago. It turns out that I have actually stopped thinking. Except for a few instances, when my nerves went out of control, I have been numb all throughout, all days.
I had been planning to go on a holiday this weekend, since a long time. But, now that Friday is only hours away, I have run out of money. And the farthest I can go, is to Durgapur, to my other family; that's where I inevitably go when I run out of money!
I am listening to a lot of music these days. Rupam's new album re-asserts the fact he is bad at music, he is great at lyrics.
I went to Disha's place today. We had a discussion about Kareena Kapoor's prospects of winning this year's award for the Best Actress. It's what it should be, we agreed. But, with all the commercial valuation going on about it, Katrina Kaif, the girl who doesn't even take acting seriously, will win it for any of the two silly performances in New York, or Ajab Prem Ki Ghajab Kahani. Konkona Sen Sharma might also win it for Wake Up Sid. Konkona is good, but she didn't have to act in Wake Up Sid. She was playing what she actually is. An ugly, yet "mature" girl (note the pun in quotes). I remembered watching a music video last night. It was the song Raat Ka Nashaa from the movie Asoka. When Kareena Kapoor's character was remembering the memories of love-making with Asoka, the expressions on her face, and more importantly, her body, were exactly exact! I wondered why I never noticed this actress before. I haven't watched a more exact performance of getting "aroused by memories", ever in my life.
Anyway, fingers crossed. We'll all go to watch the James Cameroon movie Avatar some day soon. As of now, the group includes Amrita from my class, Puspen, Sayak, and Puspen's friend Raunaq Sahu, and probably, Disha. This movie will be important to me in a way, I just have this feeling. I still don't see any reason why it should be of any importance to me at all! I am just scared of the prospect of going to watch it. That's the word. I am scared. I dunno why, if I knew, I wouldn't be scared anymore. But then, I have stopped thinking. So, I can't expect to know myself anymore. Everything comes with a price.

The Hangover

2009-12-12T17:08:00.000-08:00

My health is going no good. No food for 48 hours, and yet an upset stomach. I've wanting to write here day before yesterday. But people kept calling for hours, till I was sleepy, and the blog had to be skipped. Then, after all the things on board have been destroyed by the storm, I got a view of an island to go to and anchor on. I set off towards it, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was too late. I missed the only opportunity I had in days, and I might have at all, in more days to come.
Yesterday, met Diptyajit (will refer to him as DJ henceforth) after a long time. After a lot of silent wondering on how to talk about "it", he informed me that had been reading my blog, so he has an idea. Inevitably, I got drunk. I didn't misbehave like the previous day (not my previous getting drunk, but my previous getting drunk with DJ, but I did forget my "rules" when I got a call. She missed it. She could have got everything out then, if she wasn't disgusted with my being drunk. But, it's good. I would have felt worse off, if I had let everything out, not getting anything back in return! Anyway, DJ switched off my cell, and hid it, and left a note on my desktop, in case I don't find it after I wake up. I remember hugging him like I did Aditi Aunty on 5th December. It's the kind of hug, which you give someone stronger than you, your hands tight on his/her shoulder, your head firm on his/her chest or shoulder (varies with the person's height) and you using all your energy to squeeze out tears. I don't remember anything much, though. I see the need bookmark on my browser, and remember, slowly, all the discussions about his life, that we had. He had left by 6pm, I had dropped dead within half an hour from then. I didn't throw up, which means I could have had more. I woke up at 11pm and had a pleasant hangover. I was my sarcastic smirking self again, only with a bit more intensity! Stayed awake till 3am, and my head was clear by then. Then I forced myself to go to sleep. I had a lot of dreams. I remember two of them distinctly. They were too good to be true. Absurdly real dreams. Had people like Hamza (a classmate) and Yealeena (an ex-classmate) in the roles of villains in the dream. But, I won, in the end. The second dream was even more real. It was about waking up, and calling her up, and hearing a freaked out voice, actually breaking good news to me. When I did wake up, after that, I had trouble understanding why her name didn't appear on the top of the call lists. I woke up at 5:30am. It's 7am now, and I've been having an awful nausea since I woke up. I also realized what has been troubling my mouth slightly till yesterday. It's a recurrence of what had happened many months ago. An infection in the corner upper jaw gum. I'll go to Disha's place today, I think. Oh, she lost her wallet again! Anyway, I've got everything out. And wonder why I didn't erase her from all it, like I have been swearing to do, in the last few posts. Am I still having a hangover? Absurd!

Prologue

2009-12-10T12:48:00.001-08:00

Aah, I see that's your way of telling me things, eh? Hmm. Pretty much my way, you know. Anyway, since there has been a few certain things, that I haven't told you, I'm pretty sure, there are, and will be, as of now, as yet, things that you wouldn't tell me. What's good about it? The fact that they are the the same thing. It's the same thing that we are NOT talking about. What's bad about it? I feel like deleting my previous posts, all of them, because I have drawn conclusions, which I shouldn't have, knowing that you're not telling me certain things, and also knowing why you aren't telling me, I should have refrained myself from making a lot of those statements that I made herein. I know now, which of them are true, which aren't. But, then again, I won't write them or tell them. I'll just have a hearty laugh. At Romo's statement of my being a director of every relationship. She was right, because yeah, that's what I have always wanted to. She was wrong, because that's what I've never succeeded in being. And I'm glad that it it's so. I strongly believe in the rules of the universe. The fact that I get what I want, still happens. That's the first rule. But I don't get it the way I want it. That's the second rule, so that's good too!

Breakdown

2009-12-10T11:48:00.000-08:00

Too short a time to be back on this fucking page again. But then, yeah, fucking page, as this is, it has played an important role. Ever since the first day of its conception. I have used this to say things which I couldn't say over the chat window, or over the phone. It had some use. Over last few days, I had resorted to selective publishing. And anyone who has read every post, would know why. The person whom I wanted to tell everything to, didn't want to exist on this page. That's practically impossible, but virtually very possible! Whatever has been happening since the last few WEEKS, has been a great experience for me. A great, and varied and enlightening one. For starters, I have gone back to my school days form, when I considered telling people about my own life was a shameful thing to do. I have learnt IMMENSE self-control, yeah. I have become more confident about a few things, and more focussed towards a few others. And last, but not the least, I have experienced new emotions, new feelings, and new thoughts. I can't say I have changed, no. I have started being myself even more than I was being the last one year. Myself? Yeah, I have started enjoying solitude, like I used to do, till this "person" came into life, and filled up every fucking moment so much so, that I couldn't bear the idea of being without her for a moment. I have no shame in admitting that I had become like a kid, depending on one person for every easy decision to be made, from whether to watch a movie or not, whether to talk to a person or not, and even, whether to brush my teeth or not! I can't say I have started making these decisions on my own again. I have just started giving a shit about everything else. Which is good, you see. The lesser number of things you let into your life, the lesser the inconviniences in their absences.
I have been telling myself that I have had outbursts in the last few weeks. I have been calling those days of uncontrollable shaking of legs as my "outburst" days. Till today. I had a real breakdown today. It wasn't a shaking thing. It was worse, if I'm allowed to compare. I have always believed that the body has nothing to do with the person, it's only the mind that matters. So, when I had no control over my physical behavior, I was glad I had my mind in my control. Today, my mind went out of my control. No, no, not fluctuations. Fluctuations happen when you have varied thoughts at varied points of time. I'm not talking about that. That's an old story. I'm talking about a breakdown. A Complete Breakdown. Where the mind is without thoughts. Yeah, I cried a lot. A LOT! I guess it was because I wasn't prepared, I wasn't expecting it, blah blah. The very thought of it, still hurts, right. But, no, I'm not going to give you the pleasure of reading my thoughts anymore. You have probably been reading my previous posts too, the last 3-4 ones, about which you haven't mentioned anything to me. Your voice over the phone, the way you disconnected, and most importantly, today morning, it all marks the end of the last few weeks. You're not gonna tell me anything anymore. Yeah, you will, tell me unimportant repetitive things, when you need to talk to me to cheer yourself up. Like you already did twice, since your exams started. You'll not tell me the important things anymore. The last straw I held on, you're taking it away. But then, that's what you want, I know. You don't want me to hope for anything, that you know for sure, is never gonna happen. No, I'm not blaming you. I have been in your place a few years ago. I know how awfully normal and natural this is. I won't repeat mistakes. I know what I want. Ask Puspen, he'll tell you how clear I am about my priorities (he envies that, you see). I know what to do now.
I've started doing it, before you did. I have been hiding a lot of tings, before you started hiding things. (It wasn't too difficult, with our reduced conversations!)I have been lying about things, before you started doing it. Just like you think you're doing it for my good (which is absolutely wrong, but I understand) even I had thought it was for your good that I was doing them, and I made sure I tell your best friend everything, so that I don't feel guilty about it. Poor way of thinking, I have, isn't it? Poor excuses I give myself. But, anyway, no more of telling your best friend, no more of guilt. There aren't going to be anymore truths to hide, anymore of "our secrets". Why didn't I guess it long ago, Facebook had shown me the truth long ago. And I was so sure taht you are more faithful than Facebook. :) I am laughing at my innocence now. Never mind, never mind. Now, you'll be having more of "ki re kono shara shobdo nei sharadin?" days from me. You were playing with me. Since long. ( I know, that you don't know what you're doing, so don't bother to freak out!) I've been taking it, because I loved you, and I didn't give a shit about what you did with me. Now, today, I quit the game. I had a breakdown. I am broken. And you've got no use of a broken toy. You've gotta let it go. Bye.

Detached.

2009-12-10T00:47:00.000-08:00

I woke up awfully today. But, that's just the waking up, and the going to bed. They are the only two times in the whole day, when I am in an awful state. Rest of the day, I don't give a shit about who I am, where I am, what am I doing, or what am I going through. I watch movies, talk to random people, chat with people, far and near, read some good stuff, meet some people, and period, the day's over. I don't give a thought to what's happening around me. So, even though, ENORMOUS things have happened in the last 24 hours, (thingS, plural, mind you) I have been detached from them when they were happening. I was pretending, you might say. But then I don't give a shit to that too, you know. I don't give a shit to what exactly is going on. So, I can't care lesser about the word value now!). I know for myself, that I'm not lying about anything. To anyone. If I'm smiling, it's smirk, and not a fake smile. If I am talking, it's a test I think I must pass, and not a show of fake friendliness. I can't call it pretension anymore, because of it's basic honesty. What I am calling it, is detachment. I am watching myself from a random passerby's view. I am detached from myself. So, I can't talk about myself anymore, not anymore.
The other half of my family: Disha and Puspen. I would like to talk about them. But I respect their privacy, and I respect mine too. I can't make their lives public, true. Even truer is the fact that I can't afford to attach myself to the things that mean something big to me, things such as THEM.
I watched two good movies on the two previous nights. The first one, and the better one is The Sleepers, starring people like Brad Pitt, Robert De Niro and Dustin Hoffman. But neither the star cast, nor their acting skills had anything to do with the movie. It was the story, the dialogues and the screenplay that made the impact.
The second one is The Insider. Al Pacino and Russel Crowe, Pacino being in the role of a supporting actor. It revolved around true-life incidents and true life characters, such as the Brown & Williamson Tobacco Company, and Dr. Jeffrey Wigand. Russel Crowe was pretty good, I guess. (I haven't seen him this way before, and I haven't seen him in any more than 2-3 movies) There were a few meaningful dialogues too, but the movie didn't have any overall effect that I can talk about.
Let's see what I watch now. I have become an expert at doing things I never thought I could make myself do. Be it being alone, or be it, not being alone. I'm doing too many things that I can't make myself do, if I give a shit about what's going on within me. I dunno if that's called being strong or being weak. Maybe, it's called weakening, with the pressure of showing strength. No, no, I can't talk about it. I just recovered a few hours ago. Distract and detach your mind, dude. Let's see. I'll watch something now. Or rather, read.

Delayed Neural Responses and Deceptions

2009-12-08T18:56:00.000-08:00

Phew! Finally, I am here. I had said I'd come back the previous night I made the last post, but I didn't. Since then, till the last weekend, I couldn't have written anything, subtracting one person from all of it, because that one person is all that had happened. Weekend saw me preparing for a quiz, which I intended to do well, genuinely. I worked hard too. Then Sunday happened. I remember an incident my Samudra Da (whom I've always called just "Dada") had told me. He was on his way back to Durgapur from the Burdwan University. He was standing on the railway platform, waiting for the train. There were a lot of people from Durgapur (faces he knew very well, and faces he barely knew) on the platform, as there usually is. There was this guy he knew from his street-life days, who was standing too near the edge of the platform. One of those super-fast non-stop express trains came, and passed away. No one gave it much notice. Except the men standing around the man too near the edge. The air pressure had pulled him farther towards the edge. He had fallen on the ground. One whole leg lying on the platform, attached to his body. One half of the other leg lay bloodstained, down in the tracks, the other upper half being attached to his body. Slowly, everyone noticed him. No one said a word for a while. This man himself, didn't scream, or cry or anything. He used his hands to drag himself down onto the tracks, and then he took the leg in his hands, and tried fixing it back to the other half of it. Stupefied, and then hysterical, he continued doing it, till he gradually realized what had actually happened. By then even people had started to scream. What had surprised my Dada was the fact, that, he had felt no pain when a part of his limb broke away. Welcome to our nervous system. When something unexpectedly awful happens, our nervous system remains too shocked to react. Call it "numbness", in my literary version. Gradually, it absorbs the truth, and then, gradually, it reacts, sending signals to the brain about how painful it actually is. Then, the brain signals the rest of the body to shake or cry or whatever. That's exactly my previous Sunday evening for you. My brain had actually comprehended what had actually happened on Monday morning. And, after a long time, I did something utterly selfish. I realized I shouldn't go out, shouldn't meet people, and LEAST OF ALL, meet Shauvik, my quiz partner. I would have made irreversible mistakes if I met him. I tried to sleep off the trauma. I failed. Minutes before the quiz began, I told Shauvik that I'm deserting him. He went alone, and won the second position. Then I went to college, and faced worse. As usual, I did a good job of pretending to be cool with everything. But then I did make a few mistakes today: a few of those "bare-truth-before-you" moments. And then I was alone in a movie hall, again, and before the movie had started, I found my eyes wet!
Apart from this incident, there has been others too, the days were as normal as everyday, and at the same time, happening for the first time. 5th December, for example. Till the next day evening I didn't feel any gratitude towards the person who did everything to ensure I have a bad time on the day supposed to be my birthday. For me, it was just a normal day, a day, when I have to smile all throughout, even when the pain's choking me out of my breath. After that, I got feedback from the people who participated, and I was feeling grateful. I couldn't thank the organizer in person, because I wasn't sure if I'd realize I'm lying, the very moment I'd use the words. But I am grateful for what was done. It doesn't matter now, whether I liked what was done. I am glad it was done. A big controversy, there. But no, as I mentioned in the very beginning, till this weekend, very little of what happened is unrelated to that one person. So, I can't write down the exact truth about what exactly happened on 5th December, and what exactly I felt. Which is a pity, because this was one place, where I wrote down everything, everything that I couldn't tell Disha, Payal, Puspen etc. Not because I love to express, but because I want to keep track of the things I'm going through. I want to keep track of the process of my own growth. Anyway, it's okay. I'll store it in my mind.
[well, i did write it, and then deleted the whole paragraph; this is the edited version]
I did meet Puspen before all of it happened, and told him the basic details of what was going on right then, what had happened till then. He was reminded of nearly similar things he had to go through.
A few days ago, I was walking on an orange-lamp-lit-road, my eyes following my shadow. I observed that I look too young to be a twenty-year old. On the contrary, I feel too old for a twenty-year old. The thought can't be categorized into pleasant or unpleasant, but it did depress me, for a minute.
I had some good food in the past few days. I met someone yesterday. She had made my day. Only that, she made yesterday the first day in a month, that I cried myself to sleep. She reminded me, at night of course, of all the people I have lost. Though she had been the best thing that happened all day, by the time I fell asleep, I regretted meeting her. Delayed neural responses, as usual. Anyway, I don't need to write anything more, I'll recollect the rest from the previous two statements. I wish I could write each incident that happened since my last post, in greater detail. Each incident had meant a hell to me, and had started "chains of thoughts", you know. When I try to pen down things, I get to figure out a lot of un-figured-out feelings and thoughts. That's why I write. To have "clarity". It's the same way you need a pen and a paper to solve a complicated numerical problem. Some things are too complicated to be solved in your mind, without the help of a pen and paper. But then again, I'll manage without clarity. I don't need to find out the answers to the questions that kept hitting me last evening. [ The most common ones were- Disha and Puspen, will they be together in the end? Victoria Memorial, why? Taj Mahal, why was it in that movie song? Sayak, isn't he better off? Me, what am I doing here? What does this very moment mean? Should I go away? Should I stay? ] I will manage without the answers. Ah, I'll manage without peace of mind! I am strong! And I tell myself, that it's all going to be insignificant.
I am not OK with it. I am not at all OK, in any remote way. But then, when was I ever OK with things that are actually good for me?
I am glad I hadn't done what I wanted to do yesterday, at 4pm, at Park Street. First, I had wanted to hit the bike I was sitting on. Then I wanted to text someone and let out all the anger in words (slangs, actually). Then, I wanted to cry. Then I wanted to run away. I didn't do any of them. I asked Sayak to help me to get away from it. He was too engrossed in the latest theories on Diya, to care. And I'm grateful for that. I'm glad, like I was on 5th December.
Do you know why I walk behind the two of you? So that I get to see "it". The look in your eyes, the holding of hands, everything. The more I see it, the tighter my throat gets. I like that feeling, you know.
It's so easy to deceive, and it's so much more easier to get deceived.

Bored. GODDAMN IT!

2009-12-03T07:00:00.000-08:00

She went offline. I'm back here. I just realised what I told Picco today afternoon. I'm bored. For the first time in 19 years, I admit, I am bored. I used to pride myself on the belief that I am the only person I know who can never get bored, because I can make things happen. I can. But now, all I've gotta do is wait. And waiting...well, this time, it's more trying. This is going to be the most difficult thing. More difficult that standing at Tollygunj from 3pm-6pm on a summer evening. More difficult than telling your ex-girl-friend's new boy-friend what to do, and when to do. This is worse, this is more difficult. And while I'me facing it, (and not evading it) I am bored. I tried studying yesterday. I changed subjects till I gave up. I found all taht boring. I watched movies at night, but I remember, I know how often I controlled the temptation to turn the computer off. I found the goodness in Mumbai Meri Jaan boring. I found the emotional scenes unworthy of going through. I found the scary happenings in The Uninvited unworthy of my fear. The only reason I watched the movies was to keep myself awake till 7:30am, for some noble purpose. I was bored of sleeping after that. I was bored of trying tomend my computer. I didn't go to watch the movies I had planned to, because the idea of watching them felt boring. I re-watched Inglorious Basterds with Picco n Dadabhai. That felt refreshing, though. After that, I skipped going to meet a friend to collect my long-ago-lent books. The idea of going out felt boring. But, that's not really important. Typing this feels boring. Or rather, worthless. But at least I'm doing something. If I didn't watch Inglorious Basterds, maybe I would have gone to collect the books, and watched an evening show as well. I need to do what I should do. I need to keep doing something or the other. So I will. The thought of being idle isn't too lucrative too!
Farmville now. Will drop by again later tonight. Doing for the sake of doing it.

Building. Breaking. And, Building Again.

2009-12-03T05:59:00.000-08:00

I had resolved in my last post that I won't write down anything anymore. Despite the long gap, and, despite the events that followed, that still holds. I will write about everything else. Just subtract one person from all of it. Delete one colour from life, in someone's language. What I write is what I think. I have decided t quit smoking a number of times, but I never wrote it anywhere, because I knew it was never strong enough. I remember how Jojo Da had publicly resolved to quit smoking months ago, and restarted it no sooner. When my resolution is strong enough, I'll make a public announcement too. No, not public. Textual, to be exact. My blog isn't public property, it's something very private. Very very private.
Okay, in a nutshell, whatever happened during my absence from online life, will be mentioned serially. Since I have to erase the "sense" from all of it, it will be pretty precise.
1. For the first time, I considered taking up short-story writing, since poetry doesn't have a market, and I don't have time enough for novels. Not yet, not before I stop being a student. Short-story writing...well, haven't tried anything yet. But, let's see. I am not going to give up poetry, I can't. I don't decide to rite them, the words just form in my mind. But, I won' publish any of them, as of now.
2. The much-awaited 1st year results came out. I never saw them. I have got the marksheet, but I haven't seen that too. I have heard my marks from two people respectively. I have secured just the pass mark, but surprisingly, I have passed in Computer Science, the paper which I actually submitted blank. Never mind, it was a miracle, both in a good way, and a bad way. It was unexpected. And I like unexpected things.
3. I am the "proud" owner of a touchphone now. Samsung Corby. My mother bought it for me. I wanted the money, not the phone. So, I'm more inclined to hate it. But, this is the first cell that has been bought by Mum, the first cell I can carry around, without feeling that it's illegal.
4. My computer showed me that it's frequency of mood fluctuations is not too lower than mine. It crashed, I formatted it, it crashed again, I formatted it again. And so on. Right now, it's been 2 hours since my 10/11th format in a month. Let's see, again.
5. I've read my much-dreamt-of A House For Mr. Biswas by V. S. Naipaul. I was disappointed.
6. I've read the much-acclaimed The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. It was a disappoinment, in the sense that it didn't "affect" me. The person who asked me to read it, said that it was the best book he ever read, and he was convinced that it would chnag a few things about the way I look at life, etc. None of that happened. Arundhuti Roy's God Of Small Things still remain my best book ever.
7. Studies notwithstanding, I watched three movies consecutively last night. The first one was the best. Mumbai Meri Jaan. A not-so-well directed, a not-so-well shot film about a not-so-important-to-me issue. Yet, I loved it. It did have its desired effect on me. All I can say about the director is, he has learnt human psychology perfectly. I won't comment on his film-making skills, because it was alow budget film, so I dunno what constraints he might have had. Next I watched a horror film titled The Uninvited. A normal psycho-thriller. I realised during the movie, and after the movie, that I'm bored of horror films. I find the "fear factor" irritating. Last, I watched Snatch. It's Brad Pitt's much-acclaimed-by-Puspen movie. It was a smart movie, not too intense or effective. But I watched a completely unimaginable Brad Pitt. I can't compare him to my favourite, AL Pacino. But, I'm beginning to believe that he's an equally good actor. No, not good. GREAT!
8. I am very tempted to end this post with a personal touch. But I have to restrain myself to a permissible extent. I have had a lot of surprises of late, mostly from myself. When I am thinking that I am doing great, I'm not insecure, nothing, something unexpected happens gives me the same choking, shivering urge to scream. Oh yeah, I forgot that. I don't cry anymore. People cry out of sorrow. I don't feel sorrow anymore. I feel pain. And I do what people do out of pain. I scream. Actually,no, not unexpected things; pretty much expected things happen, but they "affect", because that's probably exactly what I had been scared of. I know how confusing I sound. That's why I didn't want to write anything. Damn.
9. Dear studies, please make me fall in love with you. She has come online. And....well...The End.

Pain

2009-11-23T08:50:00.000-08:00

I am not going to write anymore. Not anything about what's happening, what I'm doing, what I'm feeling. Because I don't want you to know. Because it's awfully painful to see that you just don't care, all of a sudden. I don't want to be Agnisakshi's Nana Patekar. Ok, forget movies. I don't want to be Sritama's Sourav Sadhu. I talked to her, and drew the similarities. I can open a new blog, and start writing there, and not give anyone the link. but no, you were right, ok. I wrote only to let you know. But I don't, anymore. I really don't want you to know anything anymore, because I can't take THIS. I had a successful day today. I was not pretending anything today. I was myself today. I am still being myself. With myself, with you, with him, with everyone. And being myself, with my self, I am saying that I don't want to tell you anything anymore. Of course, with that examination blackmail you'll do tome (you already did) I'll be in touch with you, as usual. But, minimal. I won't ping you when you come online. I won't text you (unless I am in a state as I was in today afternoon at Aditi aunty's place), and I won't call you (unless that's the first thing I do in the morning, when I'm so sleepy that I actually don't remember a thing except that I have to call you up). BBye. Picco has come. To my rescue. HE'll make me laugh. And then he'll leave. And I'll have that uninterrupted feeling of being stifled by big fat hands.

History

2009-11-22T11:22:00.000-08:00

I ought to change my blog header. ASAP. Mission Pretension terminated. Crap. Another Mission started. Feels like that. I don't want to write anything. Because I don't want you, fucking you to read what's on my mind. Ok? It's just the same story all over again. He'll leave, and then break up, and then you'll come back. And now, of course you need me as a fucking friend. The silver ling: I'll realise that I never loved you. Of course. The crack. You are repeating R. Do whatever you want to. I've stopped living in my make-believe world. I know that I had mood swings when you were there. Now, there won't be any mood swings. One blank, long, uninterrupted stretch of uninterrupted depression. Crap. I don't love you. I don't feel that yet. But I will, after you come back. I have been through this before. I was being a fool, I was subjecting myself to my destiny (something I'm not used to doing. I make things happen). I won't have the same story repeat. I know I'll realise some day that I never love you. So right now, right away I must start telling myself that. I don't love you. I don't love you. Crap. I won't gain anything. Out of anything. Nothing good will ever happen to me. I don't need to have good things happening to me. I have had six months with you, and six years with R. They should be enough. I stop it right now. I don't need anyone. I don't need happiness. I don't need friends. In any case they are your friends. They call me yup and ask me about you. You and him. I don't need your friends. If I could live 17years of my life without friends, I can live 17 more years without friends too. I don't need to live any longer. My work will be done. I dunno what work I'm talking about. That doesn't matter. I'll figure that out. Th surgery, of course is secondary, as of now. I would have started saving money right away if I was so focussed. But Goddammit, I wasn't. You dare to point out that I didn't believe in "our money" concept? Don't you. After all this time, making me feel guilty is the last thing you have the right to. Why am I talking to you? You're over. You're gone. And I don't care. I have to be stoic. You're gone. No more of you. You're in some other college, studying some other subject; I don't need to be in touch with you anymore than I need to be in touch with Dodan and Saheli. I don't love you. So I won't do what I do. What I have done all these fucking months. I will get drunk today. The bell has rung. Finally. You don't dare to ask me why I freaked out today, do you? Why did I stop pretending today? You were better off when I was pretending. You don't have the right to. You were the only person who had the right to. I don't give you the right anymore. You don't care now, do you? You'll say yeah, I know. But, I'm not taking it. I don't see any need t be good with you or him or anyone anymore. No Payal, no Disha, no Dehsraj or Sritama. Disha will be there, probably. I will be doing injustice to her, because she came in when R was there. But she wouldn't have persisted in my life, if you hadn't come. DAMN. IT'S ALL CRAP. EVERYTHING IS MEANINGLESS. I shouldn't be in touch with Sayak too. For me he's someone from HSMS, in section B. If not for you, I wouldn't have ever cared for Sayak, I wouldn't have ewer cared to find out the details. Fuck all of 'em. You wanted to learn slangs, right? You don;'t need to, you know. Anger can be expressed without slangs too. And as he pointed out,I specialise in expressions. I have to get my rid of you. I won't express anything more then. Yeah! I am feeling slightly tipsy.
I am talking sense though. I have dine what Neema and Disha wanted me to do. Stay away from you. That would be a guy-like thing to do. Fuck them. They told me that going on loving you was feminine. Fuck them. They themselves, would never had had the strength to do what I was doing you know. Fuck them. I don't want to do tis. You know that. The very sight of you is what I survive on. Don't ask me if I loved R as much as this. I didn't. But whatever was the amount of love was, I thought that was the maximum possible. Then you came, and I did more "out-of-my-way" things. But I didn't think that it was the maximum possible. Whatever I thought. Even you thought that ten years later, you picture yourself in my arms. Thoughts don't count. Feelings don't. Emotions don't. Words don't. SMS-es don't. Late night phone calls don't. Nothing counts. Love doesn't count too. So what if you love someone who doesn't love you anymore? So what if she left you because she got bored of you. After making eternal crappy promises. Promises are meant to be broken, you used to say. I remember that. I should have remembered that when you said you'll never leave me. 15th January 2008. Damn. No, I don't want to remember dates. I have stopped remembering dates. FUCK DATES. They are numbers. They don't matter. Like 21st December 2012 doesn't matter. I've decided. I have reached my tolerance limit. (Actually I haven't, you know. I can still go to any extent to see you smile)I feel slightly drunk now. I am making typing mistakes too. My legs were shaking after i logged of the chat to "show" that I'm angry. And I kept wanting to login back, and apologise. I had to drink that whisky to stop myself. Why am I writing to you? You won't react. You love him now. And I know why you don't want to tell him every truth about me. I won't write it here, don't worry. By the way, I don't think "baby" is shallow. When I am in bad mood, and I'm talking to you in my mind, I do refer to as baby at times. No more of you. I dunno if I'll stop smoking. I'm too much of an idealist. Moreover, I want to die soon. His coming into your life has proved for once and all, the exact cycle my life is gonna go through, forever. The same cycle. The same story. What I'll call history will keep repeating itself. No use living. I'm a burden on mankind. I'll smoke. I'll drink. I'll take drugs too. I don't have any hope anything good, because I don't deserve any good. HAHAHAHAHA!! I'll laugh now. I am laughing. Long since. YAAAY!! HAHAHAHA!

Over-doing love

2009-11-19T08:28:00.000-08:00

I'm back to my blog. I should have written here yesterday itself. I thought today wouldn't be too eventful, so I can always postpone it. Moreover, I was stressed with too much of pre-promised work to have the time for blogging.
What happened today, would be, in my usual boring words, "worse than before". Before I go into it, I should describe the previous couple of days. Proximity had over-powered Mission Pretension. I dunno if it was good or bad. Clearly, it was "good" for me. Having yourself unmasked (without any effort) is technically supposed to be good for one's psychology. What I dunno is, if its good for the future, for the "hope". Koushik Da pointed out in my previous post, that too much of confusion can cause permanent damage to the mind. Well, the confusion is inevitable, if not the damage!
[Break]
Here I am, back, after more than 48 hours of having written the above paragraph. That awful day is still fresh, I can still make myself cry, reminding myself of the FACTS. But, I'm not shaking anymore, like I was the day before yesterday. Moreover, I don't think I'm allowed to write them. But I want to.
Okay, back to what I had referred to as a couple of good days, it's all the result of stealing. Stolen money, stolen happiness. It had been so good, that during the last few hours of the "couple of days", I had started being myself with her. I didn't know when and how she unmasked me. Crying to her seems so natural. Even if she is the only one who insults me every time she sees me crying, she is the only person with whom I'm comfortable crying!
Anyway, I didn't write anything that night, because, I thought, there wouldn't be much happening the next day, so I might as well postpone my blog. Moreover, I was exhausted. I watched 2012 against all my better judgements, and it made me prioritise on her even more. These kinds of movies do this thing more than any romantic movie!
Mashallah! The next day, right in the morning, I heard about the Taj-Together plan, and I put my mask back. I was feeling bad, sad and sick when I met Sayak. I tried to smile at him. But whenever he wasn't looking, I had trouble keeping a straight face. Next thing that happened, was running into them. Hoo. It was unplanned, and unintentional, especially because I was ill-informed about certain things. He talked to Sayak. She talked to Sayak. I tried to deep breathe. I failed. I bent down twice to calm my stomach. I failed. I shuffled my feet a bit, trying to calm my legs. I failed. I was scared that my face betrayed it all. (Later I came to know, it didn't!). She "felt", and "saw" my legs shaking violently. She laughed at it. I wanted to tell her that she is a sadist. I did. But, I kept thinking why she had laughed, and all the explanations that came to mind were positive ones. I can't really pen them down. But, if I was her friend, she wouldn't have laughed at my misery. She laughed, because she saw the amusing part only. She is indifferent to me and my miseries, probably. That's good. Indifference is better than the "friend" thing. I won't explain it anymore here.
Then, Sayak and me, went to my college. We were mostly quiet. I was trying my best to be OK. But my body has a mind of its own. When I am laughing, it makes my legs shake. When I'm having chocolates, it makes me want to vomit. Anyway, from Star Theatre, I boarded a tram with Sayak. I had to do it, after the turbulence that I was subjected to an hour ago. In the league of the things I have to do without her, it felt like a revenge. But, once Sayak and me were seated, and I looked out of the tram, I was bombed apart. I kept talking to her in my mind, I kept giving that imaginary her, all sorts of explanations like "Sayak wanted it, not me.", "Even you went for the launch ride", etc etc. I realised what I was doing, I wanted to cry. Then, I went to Dalhousie Square for the first time; i.e, the tram went, I saw it for the first time. I saw the Writers' Building and the lake before it, and all the palatial buildings around it. I thought it was beautiful. I didn't want to cry anymore, I was crying. I never wanted to do it. I never wanted to see anything beautiful without her. Yet she's making me do them. I have to see a lot of beautiful things without her. Oh, by the way, the news is that, I am neither going to Delhi, nor Mumbai, nor anywhere else. I don't have money enough. If, by any chance, I do get my hands on something, I'll flee, I swear.
A Coffee House disaster afterwards, I learnt that like "us", even Diya and Sayak's first movie together was Taare Zameen Par. I was reminded of the significance of the Enrique number Hero in their story. Similar to mine. I felt furious. I couldn't see any way how Diya could come back to Sayak. But she must return. There's too much of similarity between both the stories. Diya must return to Sayak, somehow.
Anyway, then I went to Disha's place, where Pupsen said that I looked drugged. I took his practicals and books, to do the diagrams that I had promised him a year ago. A sleepless night afterwards. Then, a sleep-ful morning. I had calmed down a lot by afternoon. Nothing much that day, except the late night chat with him, about her. When I say I am calm, it means I am numb. I feel nothing. I felt nothing.
Next day, an inpromptu-quiz. India Today Group's Inter College Business Quiz. It was held at Jyotirmoyee School Of Business at Sonarpur. We came third. I didn't feel anything then. I had gone "weak" once, when we had qualified for the final round. But, that wasn't weakness to my definition. Shauvik, my partner, called his father. Other people were calling their best friends or their parents. I had called her impulsively. She did't receive though. Anyway, as soon as the quiz was over, I left the place. I didn't wait for their free transportation back to Kolkata. Damn, I was in a village, in winter, I ought to enjoy it, and I can enjoy it only if I am alone! I travelled back home on my own, and travelled in a local train after nearly a year. It wasn't dark yet, and the train wasn't too crowded, in short, it was great. It reminded me of some Vivek Oberoi movie with a train scene in it. But, the name of Vivek Oberoi was about to spark reactions within, when I pushed aside all thoughts away, again.
The night was uneventful, even though I was at Disha's place, helping her give her Mom the birthday surprise at midnight. I was glad to see them happy, the three of them, but I didn't feel it rubbing off on me. I have become indifferent to them. Even Gublu, I have become indifferent to him too. Disha tried making me cry once, saying that I don't love her, I over-do the love thing, blah-blah. I managed to keep a straight face. But my voice was choked when I asked her for explanations.
I came back early morning, had a few intellectual discussions with father. Even that didn't excite me. I was supposed to go watch Kurbaan with Sayak. I couldn't. I had sworn that I won't watch anymore movies at theatres, because I am short of money. But, that's not the only reason behind not going to watch Kurbaan. I didn't want to watch Kurbaan with anyone. Then, I was supposed to take Sayak to LBC Fest, I have been promising him that since months. I didn't. I was incapable of doing it. He understood it. Because he has been through the exact phase. I slept, I had confusing dreams, I shivered in the 12o'clock sun, I was dazed. My head reeled for no reason, my migraine was back, awfully. My legs shook so badly that I couldn't even sit still. I had no track of the time or events around me. I was slightly better by evening. I went out, walked a kilometre. An important kilometre, at that. The stretch from South City to 8B. A damn important kilometre. I had to stop walking twice to stabilise my wobbly legs.
After that, I met the two of them. It wasn't unintentional this time. He made it happen. This time, he knew everything. He tested my acting skills, and I passed. I was at my best.
Coming back home, I read a bit of the book he gave me. I watched Chinese Coffeea bit. That movie is directed by Al Pacino himself. And after watching it, I respect him even more. I love the person more than the actor! Chinese Coffee's protagonist is so much like me. Except that he really has no money. The best similarity that comes to my mind, right now, looking around my own room, is Harry Levine's condition about being so used to living in a sunlight-less, small, cramped room, that he can never live in a large sunny room. He was a writer too, but with less of originality, and more of real-life inspiration, so much so, that his friend accused him of stealing his life. He shook badly when he was under stress. He loved a girl (with whom he had a relationship for a six and a half years), who left him long ago. The last similarity I'll mention here is what he told himself: "No matter what you do, how hard you try, how long you go at it, nothing good can ever, will ever, should ever happen for you."

Fluctuations, and more.

2009-11-16T08:47:00.000-08:00

Firstly, I want everyone to read this.
http://ramblesofamelancholybore.blogspot.com/2009/11/elusive-neverland.html
The first paragraph describes EXACTLY what I had on my mind.
I had stopped reading others' blogs. But, the first few lines that appeared in the updates, attracted me.
Anyway, so the bad couple of days explain my absence here. No, I can't write all that happened. Before logging into my blog, I thought I didn't want to rite. Because it doesn't matter anyway. Whether I keep track of my fluctuating emotions, or not, it doesn't matter. Anyway, her voice to the aid, I'm so cheered now, that I want to write down everything. But I can't. Anyway, I respect her privacy.
It rained heavily today. Sayak and me finally watched a movie at the Kolkata Film Festival. Will watch one more with Amrita (a classmate) tomorrow. I walked from Dhakuria to Jadavpur with Sayak, getting wet to the skin. He kept talking. I kept thinking, and trying to cry. When I knew I would cry, few hours earlier, I kept a smile pasted on my lips, forcibly. And when I had the license to cry, damn, the lead ball stuck in my throat became obstinate. Torture, torture. I have to get drunk today. No, I don't need it. I am not in that bad a state today. I needed to get drunk on Saturday. But, I was so sick with lack of sleep and food (I went to a birthday party, mind you, but hardly touched any food.) I couldn't keep balance, I couldn't stand up straight without any support. I didn't have the energy to drink, though I had bought a 150ml bottle on my way back home. I knew it would be a tough day. But I had taken all the measures to ensure that I survive it. I didn't. Anyway, as I emphasise on my status messages everywhere: this wasn't the worst, worse is on its way.
Fluctuations persist. One moment, I'm virtually dead. I lose all my ability to think, to understand. This has been the most predominant feeling throughout today. Nothing matters. Nothing makes sense. Words like "sorry", and "Thank you" have stopped being magic words. They are just some sounds. Sounds don't make sense. Music don't sense. Movies don't make sense. What makes sense anyway? What matters, anyway?
Memories? Aah! Soon, someone else will have the same memories that I have. Even memories can be stolen, trust me. If she does all that she did with me, with him, doesn't he steal my memories as well? One moment I feel using the word "steal" is a crime. He didn't steal anything. He didn't take anything or anyone away from me. He needed just her permission, and she did give it. The next moment, mad with fury, I feel like accusing him of breach of protocol, accusing him of taking her away, taking the only good thing in my life away. What follows after the thought-swings is a feeling of numbness. As soon as I realise that what I think or feel doesn't matter, I stop thinking or feeling. And it doesn't matter, not because she doesn't care, but because I don't care. I fluctuate every milli-second. I am not constant. So why should I matter to myself?
Met a guy called Paras today. He's from the Computer Science Department of our college. I knew him by face, previously. But today, I got to know him. He's one cheerful, talkative, aggressive, idealist boy, who gives out positive vibes. I could feel them. Only that, my mind, absorbed in a pathetic solvent, couldn't absorb the vibes. I've become impervious to happiness. Everything that's happy and good hits me and deflects away.
I fluctuate even more because she does. She doesn't do it intentionally, or even consciously. One moment, she still cares for me, and the next moment she is indifferent to me. One moment, she just doesn't see me beside her. The next moment, she remembers that I was there. Damn. I am complaining about both. I don't want her to just care for me. I don't want to be a bother for her. If I say that I don't want her to be indifferent to me, that wouldn't be truth either. When she is indifferent to me, I suffer badly. But, a self-sadist that I am, I enjoy suffering. I feel better when she hurts me, than when she cares for me. I want her to hurt me, more and more. I remember those K-serials' cheesy dialogues. If you love someone, let her go. If she doesn't come back, she was never yours. No, fuck, that's not the point. The point is, if she comes back. And if she comes back, well, my favourite dialogue from Kumkum "Love is like a yo-yo. The farther you go, the greater force you'll come back with."
That's why I want her to torture me. Pathetic, aint' I? I'm still hoping that she'll come back. Damn. I don't know what to do, what to think. I tried falling in love back with my previous ex. It succeeded for a moment. Then, it all seemed so meaningless. All those "this is just a phase" consolations came back, confusing me even more. No, confusion would have been better. I am not confused. To be confused means to have two contradictory thoughts. Yeah, I do have contradictory thoughts, sometimes, but most of the times, I don't have any thoughts at all. My brain stop working, stop perceiving or understanding or even acting in response. And the rest of the times, I have more than two contradictory thoughts. Let's take the moment when they embraced. You won't believe how many things came to my mind at the same time!
"Will she hug me next?"
"Will I clap?"
"Will I just walk away?"
"will I look at them and make a sad face?"
"Will I smile?"
"Will she tell me something next?"
"Will he ask her to hug me too?"
By the time I decided that I would say something in appreciation, my throat had gone all dry, till it's innermost region. And I didn't get water when I asked for it. The moment passed away as SLOWLY as it happened. They left, I came back home. Numb, numb. I have to keep myself immersed in books, not movies. Books offer long-term distractions, unlike 3-hour movies.
I don't know what will happen next. I won't lose my sanity, not yet. But I might lose it soon. I am fluctuating badly between hope and despair, happiness and agony. From tomorrow onwards, I lose one more rope to hold on to. I could have had it, though. I don't feel I made a sacrifice for them. I feel selfish, because I know that I want to be hurt, because getting hurt gives me pleasure. I asked her to sacrifice one of the last bits of me left with her, because I want to get the pleasure. The pleasure out of the pain. I dunno anything. I am numb now, so I can't even cry. Let's see. I have to try to drink. Maybe that'll help me cry. Maybe that'll help me feel what I'm not letting myself feel.

Back

2009-11-12T11:07:00.000-08:00

No more personal posts here, I'm stable. Yeah, I have mood fluctuations, but I have my goal clear. I want her to be happy. And she is happy. So, I'm happy. There are times when, in Neema's language, my blood boils. But if there's something I can't give her, and someone else can, I don't have a fucking right to object. I'll manage my fluctuations.
Done with the exams today. I did my best. I know I could have done better, but given the circumstances, it was pretty good. Thanks to all those who forced me to go for the exam when I was determined I won't!
Since the last two days I'm receiving a lot of love from Disha's mom. I know this is temporary. But I have to make use of it, till it's there. I have to use it to cheer myself up.
With all the birthdays coming and going, I'll have something to keep myself busy with, for quite sometime now. I overate last night at Jojo Da's birthday family party. And today, I didn't have anything all day. Compensated, I guess.
I dunno if I'll finally make it to a single movie at the Kolkata Film Festival. Hoping for some time next year, or the next! Hope again!
Anyway, one thing's confirmed, I'm watching 2012 alone. Also Tum Mile, which I never thought I'd watch (especially after the disasters the Bhatt family has been producing over the last few years). But I will. Back to my movie self again. No resolutions anymore. I can spend as much money as I want on my desires. Secondary desires, that is!
Praying for Puspen's recovery. He looks pretty awful, and that makes me feel awful as well.
I have all the Wong Kar Woi movies downloaded. Next, Akira Kurosawa. And Al Pacino will be my relief breaks! I love the man. Just saw a few scenes of Chinese Coffee. It is an under-rated movie, but supposed to be Pacino's 2nd best performance after The Godfather-s!
A lot of books on my way too...Chetan Bhagat's Two States (will start that tonight itself). Then Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. Then Hilary Clinton's Living History. More to come. Till my results are out, I have to finish all that I wanted to do this year.
Delhi seems to have taken control of my dreams, or rather nightmares. I have a bad dream whenever I go to sleep. I never experienced this kind of a thing before. That chain of nightmares at Durgapur, to start with...till today morning. I can't stop them, like I can't start my food habits all over again. But I'll manage. The toughest is yet to come. 19th-23rd December. I have no plan of action yet. One thing's good, I didn't get drunk any of these days yet! I wanted to, every night. But I didn't!
Anyway, I'll see what happens. I'll fight my emotions till they consume me. I'm not doing too bad right now. Except for one outburst.
I dunno. I just don't know. It's best I just stop my brain's functioning for sometime. Just enter a nitrogen freezer, and freeze myself, and all my metabolic functions till she gets married. I can allow my brain to start functioning after that, I guess. I dunno. I told you, I'm still not over the fluctuations. Right now, I'm feeling angry and sad at the same time. I was feeling happy a while ago, when I started writing this post. I'll stop before I blurt out unnecessary details.

Break

2009-11-10T03:50:00.000-08:00

I'll be taking a break from blogging, for reasons best not said. I changed the title and all back to what it was originally when I started blogging. I changed the picture to Gublu's face because of the importance he has in my story. I wanted to put up the picture of the other Gublu in my life (the first Gublu, in fact), and I did that too, but then I realised it would not be safe. My whole blog might be deleted without my permission if I put it.
I have an exam tomorrow, another exam day after tomorrow. Kolkata Film Festival has already started from today. So, right when my exam is over, I'll devote myself to it.
Last night, I had severe mood swings again. One moment I was super-excited (with all the birthday planning) and the next moment I was super-depressed (with all the birthday plannings seeming meaningless and aimless).
Today, I kept myself busy again. It's not that I didn't cry. I had cried while watching Jail, but at completely un-emotional scenes, unlike my other companions. I had cried a number of other times too. And thankfully, the person whom I used to hate for reading my face few weeks ago, has lost her ability to read my face!
Anyway, I just had a shock (while typing this blog). I dunno if I can study. The awful shivering is back. But I can't write anything anymore. For a long time to come.

Good Versus Bad

2009-11-09T04:11:00.000-08:00

Monday. 9th November. I went to college against all my innermost desires. Because I had given word to Shauvik that I would go to listen to his story with Aadhya. And because I was supposed to get the lighter I had lost, back.
When I missed the station Girish Park, thanks to my silent monologues, I decided to walk upto college from Sovabazaar. I did. The weather was pleasant, and I didn't sweat much. When I entered the college, I saw the notice boards advertising a lot of cultural events coming up. Silent monologues again, I entered the hall. Met Sunanda from Hem Sheela. I crossed the hall, my feet asking to stop every minute. Below the staircase, I saw a few of my classmates standing, him among them. I was filled with both anger and pain at the same time. I hurried upstairs, avoiding eye-contact with anyone. Once upstairs, I looked around me, and not seeing any familiar faces, I tried to cry, and let it out. My eyes had squeezed and opened to find two of my classmates arriving. More poured in. My throat stuck, I tired making vague smiles with my facial muscles. A guy came and punched me in the stomach, and asked me "ki khobor?" (what's the news?). I replied that my tummy-line is increasing, and smiled with closed eyes.
I sat in the first bench (as usual). I remembered how I used to enjoy sitting in the last bench till 12; you could get the view of the whole class, what everyone's doing and all, from the last bench.
He came in; I saw it with the corner of my eyes. I tried to focus on the diary in front of me. The white and red design: ACC. I opened the last pages, and began reading the poems there. Three of them. After a while, he called me and asked me to go and sit on the bench before him and his gang. I had still not recovered. I asked a violent "Kyun?". He gestured something that meant "okay, be there". That started the process, I was calming down. Then Neema called me. I stared at her for one whole minute. Her eyes. Ok, I told her I have a crush on her, so I must obey her, I thought. I don't know if I have a crush on her. I like her looks, and when she talks to me in person, I feel different, because I can't help thinking that SHE knows everything. Damn, she knows everything. Anyway, I took my bag and notebook, and went to that bench. The view was awkward. The five rows in front of me were empty. As if the whole class was behind me, and even the teacher would come and stand behind us, and we would have to turn around soon. It was very, very awkward for a permanent first-bencher like me. I turned around and told Neema that the view is awkward, and she replied that, that's how the class always looks, and everyone sits at the back.
I was calming down. I opened a blank page, and tried to think of some poem. Then I turned back a few more pages, and I heard his voice behind me, reading the stuff on the page open. I turned round at him. I was calming down. I could make it. I'm not sure where I was looking, when he said that he forgot to bring my lighter. I was furious. He said sorry. That made me even more furious. Thoughts ran around like mice inside my head. I remembered that she said she'll kill me (she had said quite seriously) if I teach him to smoke. I felt like telling her that I'll kill him if I don't do well in the exam, because I was supposed to study today morning; I came to college only because of the lighter. I also imagined other implications of the "sorry". The breach of protocol that he is indulging in, by falling in love with her, and all that. Puspen came to my mind ("breach of protocol" is Puspen's remark, mind you). I tried to think like Puspen. Ok, I am strong, I am stoic, I don't have feelings. You can't kill my heart, because I don't have a heart. I am impervious to sorrow and happiness. That helped in calming me down instantly. I remembered Dada, and imagined that he would be proud of me today.
The class started. I couldn't concentrate. But, never mind, I was not feeling bad. Afterwards, I did talk to him a lot. I talked to his friends, I talked to other classmates, I talked to Shauvik (wait for the Aadhya story), I talked to her ex-classmate too, and told her about HIM & HER, and introduced them to each other, saw him blushing at the mention of her name, talked to HIM about her, and about things other than her, perfectly normally, fake-smiling all the time. By the time I was leaving college, Mission Pretension was so successful that when I told myself "Okay, the acting is over, you can be yourself now.", I found it difficult to take the fake smile off my face; so well it was pasted!
I told Disha how his being so good with me makes things worse, how his concern for my "smiling", my studies etc, make matters worse. If he would have been a bad person, things would have been better. But sadly, he's very good, or rather he's the best.
Anyway, then I was on my way to South City, to try and gift-shop. I changed my mind and took the train back. I went to New Market to buy a nose pin from Chamba Lama and a brass chain for my pet dog from Simpark Mall. Chamba Lama people told me there won't be any nose-pins till Sunday. And Simpark Mall, as I found out, remains closed on Mondays. I had a good conversation with Payal, and that helped me clear my mind about the impending gift shopping to be done. Half-prepared, I came back home. I can't write anything more, I have to talk him and her to give the final touches to my plans. And if I write it here, she might just read it and the surprise would be gone.
I didn't sleep much last night. So, I'll try and sleep now.
He told me he'll give me his notes on the Gender Issues and Development thing. (told you, he's just too good!)So, I can have that thing off my mind.
The outcome of whatever's happening has both good and bad to it.
Good ones first:
1. He's the incentive to my going to college.
2. I've got someone to talk to at college. I hope, my "go alone-sit alone-leave alone" days are over.
3. I was praying for change, because I was fed up of the stagnant state of our relationship. Here's the change I exactly wanted!
Nevertheless, bad ones:
1. I don't have a single soul on earth whom I can tell EVERYTHING, truthfully. I have to wear a mask all day, everyday, everywhere, with everyone. Even the ones who know everything (like Disha and Neema) can't influence me to be myself, and as I realised the first day this started, I am pretending to happy with them too! I just tell them the facts, but I say everything with a chuckle. Puspen and Sayak can be called exceptions. I can be myself with them, but I hardly meet them, and if I am with any of them it means I'm busy trying to keep myself busy, so no depressing talk! Puspen is different than Sayak. He's more like my strength, than a friend. God-father ho toh aisa! :)
2. Its a continuation of the first point. I don't have an inspiration anymore, no one to tell me what to do, when to do, how to do. I don't have anyone who'll get angry one me!
3. I can hardly have any solid food anymore, without excreting it out (in any form) within no time.
No more bragging about it. Whatever happens, happens for the best. And I am quite okay now. I hate to admit why I'm okay, when I'm okay, but well, it's the unbreakable faith that destiny will be in my favor. Even though, "destiny" above all things have been against me all these days, I still hope it's just a phase. Everything will be ok. So why waste time sulking?
I'll go to sleep now, and try to study when I wake up.

Difficult, but not Impossible.

2009-11-08T11:17:00.000-08:00

It's difficult, but not impossible to subtract all the "censored" things from the entire day, and find and write the rest. 24 hours is long. I'll try. I'll start off where I had left a few minutes ago.
Sritama had called, yeah, and now I'm feeling numb again. And feeling NUMB is 10 times better than feeling BAD. I'm still having a lump in the throat, but I'm calm. The thing, that I was thinking on the way back home today, is that if I have ever had any dream , it was to have a sad death. I remember Aavriti had once asked me my secret dream, and I had told her that I wanted to be on an island, all alone, like Robinson Crusoe. There should be white sands and dark blue sea, but I should be alone. So that I am sad, and things are better and more beautiful when you are sad. Like sad songs are mostly the best kind of music. I want to be sad. So now that I am sad, I should be happy. I should be glad that whatever's happening, is happening.
Sritama and Shauvik's stories are their private things, which I won't mention. Anyway, Shauvik said he's committed with Aadhya, she's the girl from Ahmedabad whom I liked! The other girl Disha was friendlier, so Aadhya seemed more attractive. Anyway, nothing matters. Even Tashi's missed calls don't matter really.
I told Sritama that I really want to go to Delhi, so if my results are out, and not too bad, I'll be in Delhi in the first week of December. I will spend at least one moment of my birthday in front of the India Gate. She said that would be great, and I shouldn't worry about the excuses, because her college fest is around that time! Let's see if I have the mood or the money! I once nearly cried while talking to her about Delhi, but I made it up. She was asking me if I would mind if she was with me on my birthday, and I said a genuine yes. I cried, remembering my previous birthday, and the previous plans for this year's birthday. The chocolate cake, etc. Sritama didn't suspect that I'm close to tears (my acting skills are slowly improving, but I had to tell her to make her believe that I genuinely want her to be there. I know I don't feel anything for Sritama, but she means a damn lot to me.
I was talking to Oxy today morning. Oh, won't refer to her as Oxy anymore. That was the name WE used to use. Oindrilla Mitra. The girl whom Apurva from USA had sort or "referred to me". I know I make it sound like a project. But when you can't get your ex out of your mind, dating other girls is impossible, and unless I make it sound like a project, it won't work. Anyway, Oindrilla, alias Gul, is a very nice person. I haven't met her yet, and I'm in no hurry. I like talking to her. It doesn't mean that I feel like talking to her all the time, or that I miss her when I'm not talking to her. I just send her texts once in a while, and she replies, and our textual chats are not boring. Anyway, we made this deal that she'd talk in Bengali, and me in Hindi (to develop our respective linguistic skills). After a while, both of us were exhausted from the effort! It was nice, it made me smile for sometime. Anyway, I've got some idea about where Princep Ghat is, so now, I can go to meet Gul there, when she goes for horse-riding early dawn. That's because she has an immense academic pressure, and she can't manage to meet me otherwise.
Saugata had called, and mocked me about complaining that I don't have a girlfriend, when I have someone whom I talk to every night. I told him that things have changed after I returned from Delhi, and I'll tell him the details when we meet for the theatre thing on Friday.
I want to ask Picco to come today, but I have to study; I have already wasted the whole day again! It's difficult, but not impossible!

Un-Thinkable, Un-Writable

2009-11-08T08:50:00.000-08:00

Puspen was telling me yesterday that Kurosawa's movies are so good, that they are unwatchable, I mean, they show REALITY so well. Similarly, what I'm feeling is un-writable. Un-thinkable too, and I'm not thinking of it. I have let the feelings come and hit me and deflect away (yeah, Puspen, it's your language, I know). My language now, last night, what I exactly felt was that a cold ice knife has pierced me in the chest. It was this feeling, in its exactness. Anyway, back to today, I think it's going to get boring if I write everyday, that things are getting from bad to worse. But they are, and they will, and I have to expect worse, so that I don't feel it anymore. Today, for the first time since all this started, I got violent. Murderous, to be exact. As I said it's un-writable. So, I won't write it. I have already told Sayak, because he asked me how I am, exactly when, I was swallowing the violence.
I can't even write what happened all day today. Anyway, compared to other Sundays of my Kolkata life, today was better. Technically speaking, of course. I wouldn't be feeling violent if nothing bad happened.
Anyway, Sritama called. Bye.

The First Sunday

2009-11-08T00:52:00.000-08:00

Today's the first Sunday after all that happened. Last night, I couldn't sleep, scared of what might happen. Sundays were always bad for me, because I didn't get to see her, and didn't get to call her either. What would be this Sunday like?
Anyway, I had a chain of nightmares again. It involved all the people who were with me in Delhi. I remember one distinctly, in which we had to change our thoughts from one topic to another, to save our lives. We were trapped somewhere, and whoever thought abut one single thing for more than ten seconds, just died on the spot. The next dream had Ramit (someone from Durgapur) in it. He was bewitching people into some wicked world with a red gazing lamp. Guess it's the Farmville thing. Anyway, there were more. Considering that I went to sleep after 2am, when the alarm rang at 6am, I found myself already awake. Anyway, one song to the aid, I studied three pages. Then I logged into Orkut, and saw Sayantanee's Shekhar's photos on Somopriya's album. Called Sayantanee, scrapped Somopriya. What followed is another NITian's love-mess. He was double-timing, givng more prefernce to Somopriya, of course, but being unfaithful to her as well. I guess the two girls are meeting up today, and Shekhar's gonna kill me!
Anyway, I downloaded all the F-3 songs. But, haven't managed to listen to them again. I told you, I'm partially anti-music right now. Anyway, I discovered a song today, I told her, and she stole it. But it's more idiotic than sad. The lyrics of the song make sense only to ME!
Anyway, Disha called and requested me to stay at her home for a few days, because she can't study. I don't think I'll be able to study if I go there, but I've gotta make a few sacrifices, to get a few sacrifices in return, right? Let's see, it's not evening yet.
She'll give me access to the internet all 24 hours, so no worries, really.
I typed a Memorandum of Understanding for dad today, it was fun (the feeling of being a grown-up and all)
Back to Farmville now. :)

An un-Romantic Victoria and More...

2009-11-07T07:57:00.000-08:00

Two of my previous posts have been deleted, and I can't re-type it all unless I find out WHY. Anyway, Mission Pretension has an important accessory to it. To make myself do all the things I never imagined I'd do without her. It started off with the going to Star Theatre with Sayak, and today, Victoria Memorial with Puspen. It would have been better if I went with some girl, but for me, what matters is with or without her. The company in the latter case doesn't matter. It didn't matter when I went to IMAX. Nor the launch ride on Ganges. It was similar. Anyway, I want to tell something more about the IMAX experience (note the pun), but I'm not sure if I am allowed to.
The day started off well, after some good sleep, after a long time. I didn't do anything productive though, I mean studies. I went to Victoria, and found it to the most un-romantic place on earth. I didn't enjoy the museum too. I guess anyone who knows history well enough won't enjoy it, because everything is an illustration of what I already knew. Sat on a bench afterwards and discussed movies with Puspen. He put a very difficult question to me. "According to you, which is the best Bollywood movie of 2009?" If he hadn't added "according to you" I would have easily answered Dev-D, from the critic's point of view; the film critic within me. But, the movie that's closer to my heart is Love Aaj Kal, it brought me close to tears, no other movie did. DevD was awesome, but I couldn't really relate to Dev! Same with Farhan Akhtar in Luck By Chance, or Shahid Kapoor in Kaminey, or Sid in Wake up Sid. And there haven't been any low-budget good movies like Dasvidanya or Khosla ka Ghosla this year. Or maybe, there was, but I don't remember much. I was more inclined towards my own home collection than the theatres this year. I had made a new year resoultion after all, that I won't waste money on anything other than her, and that included watching movies without her. Dil Bole Hadippa and Blue Oranges (low-budget, yeah) weren't upto the mark. Kambaqt Ishq and Chadni Chowk To China would rather not be considered movies in the first place. They were insults to the concept of film-making. Main Aur Mrs. Khanna was a good entertainer, period. Acid Factory was entertaining too, I don't need good stories in action movies, if the action sequences are good. Same with Blue; the camera work was awesome, but there were flaws in it. Even Love Aaj Kal had flaws, but not Dev-D!
Anyway, the Kolkata Film Festival is coming. And this year, I don't any reservations about going with or without her. She has made it clear, that she is not interested in watching documentaries. She has made it even clearer, that she'd rather go to a movie with her friends or him, than with me. And in any case, I enjoy watching movies alone, so I shouldn't feel bad about it. I have to get excited about it. Let's see if I can get a Delegate Pass.
Other important things would include the arrival of the birthday season. Lots of birthdays this month, so lots of gift shopping to be done. Last year, was the first year of my having friends, hence the first year of my having to buy gifts for someone's birthday. I had given everyone a book, matching his or her taste. But, till now, none of them have read it. So, no books this time. That makes it tougher for me, because when it comes to shopping, I am not good at buying anything other than books. When I go to buy other things, I lose my sense of good and bad, and end up buying the wrong stuff, most of the time. Let's see. After my exam ends on Thursday, I'll go shopping...till Friday night.
I was in the mood for studying today evening, but first Disha (who's going through the worst phase in her life, I think) and then Payal called and now, the internet connection is back, so I wasted tonight as well. I think I'll ask Picco not to come tonight, so that I can study now.
Oh, and yeah, I had some food finally. A Green Lays 20 bucks ka packet. The girls from Bhutan had gifted it to me at Delhi. I haven't vomitted it out yet. I hope I'm fine now. And oh, I'm not entirely anti-music now. I'm tapping my feet to the tunes of two songs all day. One Hindi, one English. Not bad, eh? I'm recovering fast! Mission Pretension, Jai Ho!
Tashi (from Bhutan, and my crush at Delhi), have been giving missed calls, which I've been returning. I guess after the exams, I'll call her once.
One last prayer, Dear Results, please come out soon! The delay is irritating me.
Did I miss out anything? Oh yeah, Disha's bad phase. But, since she herself doesn't know the reasons behind it, I don't know what to write. In my words, this is the first time when I asked her "Don't you love Puspen more than anyone else?", she replied, "Give me some time to think.". No matter who she is going out with, who she's going to bed with, whenever I have asked this question to her, she had always replied Yes without a thought. Not that I'm scared my god-parents might break up. Because, even amidst all the trauma, she said she needs Puspen with her. I'm just scared that she's not okay. She's ill. I dunno what to do. This is the first time, I dunno how to help someone.
Oh, I had a strange dream today. It was about her, as usual, but I wasn't physically present in it. She was with some friends, whose faces I don't remember. Then, she told everyone that she wanted to call Arijit Kundu, and then she called me (somehow, I'm not with her, but I can see her). When I received her call, she asked "Kundu??". I replied "Yeah, bol". I was aware that she was making a mistake, but I didn't want to tell her, because I wanted to know what she had to tell Kundu. (Even in dreams, I am wicked). Then, the line got disconnected. I kept saying "Hello? Hello?" till I woke up!

Pretend! (Part II)

2009-11-05T11:20:00.000-08:00

Well, I won't write much. I had a busy day. Have been outdoors since 8:20am till 12:05 am! Yet, against all norms, and all beliefs, I was depressed all day, and finally on the way back home, I almost cried too. No, I didn't cry just like that. Something happened in the cab, that's not allowed to be mentioned, though. Anyway, I just had a few failures in my Mission Pretension. Met him. And he read a few of my expressions. But anyway,as I said, just a few failures. About her, I dunno. I looked at her face today, for once, for the first time since the day all this started. And just one line crossed my mind in a flash. "You're so beautiful". Then I realised that I'm still in love with her. Then, I swiftly erased the thought. It came back a lot of times the whole day. When Sayak and me were ordering kababs (after watching London Dreams at Star Theatre), he noticed that I was shivering. I was. Why? Anyway, London Dreams, is a badly made movie, with lots of absurd things and lots of directorial errors. And I feel pity for Salman Khan, who's just wasting himself at Mumbai. Ajay Devgan was ok. Asin's character was also poorly portrayed.
Other things include my expenditures today. A lot of unnecessary ones, but unavoidable ones too! I don't have a clue about what I'm gonna do. I wish this exam didn't loom overhead. Hardly 3 days to go, and I'm still not familiar with the syllabus! Forget what to study, and from where to study. I'll need to keep blogging though, as I haven't got anywhere else to dump it all. I'm posting this NOW, because she isn't over the phone. Anyway, I'll try to sleep. I smoked more than 40 cigarettes yesterday, but hardly 15 today. I need to go to college tomorrow, so I'll smoke even less tomorrow I guess. Let's see what happens...even I'm going with the flow, Sayak!

Pretend!

2009-11-04T18:42:00.000-08:00

The arrogant, over-confident, and nearly dishonest self is back. I wrote in my Orkut "about me" that I'm back where I was six years ago. But I didn't mention the vices that I had six years ago. But then, I'm not feeling bad that the vices are back. In fact, who said that I'm happy to be back to six years ago? No, I'm not happy. But, I can't afford to be sad. Whatever's happening, is what I've often wanted to happen, unconsciously or sub-consciously, but I've wanted it a number of times, and I did allow it to happen, and I did, of course, make it happen, to some extent, even though divine interventions made it look as if it was destined to happen. Actually, till 24 hours ago, I was suffering pretty much. But finally the pretense (not just to her, but EVERYONE) of not suffering has rubbed off on me, and I need less than half a second to swallow my tears. I'm being cheesily cheerful, even when I'm all alone. Laughing at every silly thing and all. One thing I can't stop, is smoking, more than ever. Nicotine, when I brought it into my life, was meant to be a substitute. A substitute for the strength. I didn't need a substitute more than today, ever before. And though it's completely my illusion, I know, I feel that the more I smoke, the more I can pretend!
I'm pretending, because I have to. I don't wanna ruin the best thing that's happening to her in over a year (second best, next to me). Now that, she is in love with someone whom she can easily introduce to her family and her friends, I should be at my best. That's something I couldn't give her, even if she did love me. So I should not show what I'm going through and ruin it for her. A friend of mine told me yesterday that a person is made to suffer only as much as he is capable of suffering. Looked from that point of view, I can suffer this much, especially because I have been through this one before. Not exactly similar, but yeah. The girl falls in love with another guy, and still needs you as a friend, knowing that you love her to. I have been through this. And whoever said history repeats itself, was more right than he knew!
SO, this business of pretending to be happy, involves a basic lie. "Pretension" is itself a lie. And, to the level that I take it to, for my own selfish needs, it ends up having a few accessory lies to it too. What I mean is that I'm not just pretending to be happy, I'm saying a few more lies too. Not that I enjoy lying them, but then I tell myself that these are the sacrifices I've gotta make to keep her happy. If I tell her the truth, she'll make sure that it doesn't happen anymore, and that's gonna trouble me even more, and threaten my ability of pretending being happy! So, I need to lie to her, for the time being, for her happiness. Sounds like those K-serial husbands, I know. But I can't help it. I'm already scared that I won't be able to hold out too long. I mean, blurting out the truth comes spontaneously when I'm talking to her. I'm so used to telling her every truth, I'm so used to not lying to her ever, that I'm scared I'll fail. But I'm hoping that I'll be strong. Let's see. Destiny always has different plans, no matter how much I want to believe that I make my own destiny.
And, leaving apart the question of her happiness, my own very selfish need is that I need that "hope". I need to have the hope on which I survive. And, I want to believe that I still have it. And to make sure that I still have it, I'm looking for things where I have an advantage over him... I actually don't have any advantage over him. She feels pretty damn committed to him. But it's another pretension, this time to my very own self, I guess, that I still have advantages over him. And to help me pretend this to myself, I have to lie to her too!
I dunno why I wrote such aimless stuff. I will go and break my morning fast now. The lump in the throat is back.

S.W.O.T.

2009-11-03T22:27:00.000-08:00

That's a psychoanalytical test Sayak taught me. Oh, gotta introduce Sayak here. A new friend. It was strange how we became friends. Sorrow united us, best said. His girl left him, and well, my girl had left me long ago, and I couldn't help remembering that both he and me had started dating our respective ex-girlfriends, at the same time, same place. Moreover, there were feelings that he talked about, that I have been through in the past. There are feelings he talked about that I am experiencing at present! Anyway, so back to this S.W.O.T. analysis. S for Strength, W for Weakness, O for Opportunity, and T for Threat. You should do a S.W.O.T. analysis frequently, so that you get to know yourself better, that's what Sayak learnt at Noida! Anyway, the first time I did it, my results were positive. Strength: Self-control. Weakness: Love. Opportunity: College. Threat: Anger. The second time I did it, a few weeks ago, the Strength thing was a person...I don't remember the rest. I'm telling you this because my Strength has left me. She has, finally, stopped having me as the only guy around and all. She is finally in love, in genuine love, mind you (I know all the symptoms)with some other guy. And you know what's worse? If I had to marry her off, this guy is exactly the one I'd be looking for. He's perfect for her. I hope she's perfect for him too. Anyway, that's good news, if I look at it this way: the fact that she wasn't with someone else, helped me to keep hoping that she'll come back. Now that it's changed, I should be able to get over her sooner. Wish I was a robot, man!! Just click on a tab "Stop Hoping", and be done with it.
Now, the bad thing is, I'm still hoping! I'm pathetic, right? Like Picco mocked me about "following a girl for a year, when she still doesn't respond". But man, she was in a relationship with me for a few months. And well, there are a lot more things, if seen from my point of view. Forget it. Sadly, I'm not a robot. And to Picco and his likes, you won't understand how hopeless love can be. Not yet. Wait till you fall in the gadda yourself!
Anyway, I ought to have written about one more thing here. One night. But, I didn't, and I won't, because it was the WORST thing that ever happened to me. One night, that made me feel like, in Sayak's words: "I'm going insane". I seriously thought I would need to go to an asylum. Anyway, I wish I could write about it, but then there are three reasons why I won't. Number One: It's censored, both by our Government and HER. Number Two: It's too late. A new chapter has just begun. Number Three: The reason why I didn't write it right when it happened is that the very thought of it hurt me, the very memory of it took the breath out of my lungs. I just couldn't have written something I was (and am) trying to erase from my memory. Just for the sake of this e-diary, I'll mention the date. 9th October. That's the beautiful date, sorry. The date when the beauty was scratched away is 16th October. All 2009. I don't worry about the year. I usually remember years well enough. Anyway, things have been getting uglier from ugly, so I just stopped posting my private life here.
Other things worth mentioning would be my Delhi trip. My first venture outside the state, without parents. Should have been damn exctiing, but no, I was missing her so badly that I cried at least once everyday. Anyway, about that, there are more jhatkas to come. I can't even talk about them. I'm not allowed to. Fucking permissions. If I am not in a relationship with you, I won't obey you, ok? And I don't care what people think of you. Or anyone. Anyway, I already have a lump in my throat. Will elaborate on the Delhi trip later.
For one thing, I can't do almost anything now. I am hungry, I take the biscuit in my hand, and then, the very thought of putting it in mouth feels nauseating. I put it back. Forget sleep. I used to believe that I can sleep off dissapoinments! And now, well, even when my eyes are burning, and I'm dead tired, I can't sleep in peace for more than 20 minutes. Fuck. And studies? Don't remind me that I have an exam coming up in a week. All that seems immaterial. Kyaa karoon padhai karke? Good results? Kyaa karoon good results leke?. Now, she's bothered about his studies, not mine. Ok, forget her. Parents. Well, no matter how well I do, they'll say I could have done better. And no matter how bad I do, they'll still love me! So why study? No, I'm not being a pessimist. I am going through a bad phase, that's all. A bad phase since a year. Damn, man. I'm pathetic. About going to college, I realised I haven't got the strength anymore. That's why I took the SWOT test again today. She's still my strength, and I have lost my strength, I've lost the voice that told me every morning that I should go to college. Now that voice will tell the same thing to him. Oh well, he's my classmate. I need to ask Sayak, if he ever saw HIM!

Bliss Point 2009

2009-11-01T09:06:00.000-08:00

Blisspoint. That’s the name of an annual economics summit at the Sri Venkateshwara College, Delhi University. 2009 saw this economics fest going international. Amidst a multitude of obstacles, I finally made it to the summit, held at the capital of my country.

Me, Shauvik of my class, and Saugata from Bidhannagar College, left Kolkata on the Purva Express on the morning of 25^th October. The journey was pretty uneventful, because all of us were busy preparing for the events to come, doing the 11^th hour quick-reads, discussing potential questions for the quizzes, and topics for the debates. Shauvik had done his Plus Two from Delhi, but he hardly remembered anything, Saugata had been to Delhi as a child and for me, it was my first time to Delhi, and my first out-station trip sans parents! The excitement brimming, we reached Delhi on 26^th morning. The host college had sent a guy called Rishi to receive us at the New Delhi Main Station. He had to pay a fine of 250rs for not buying a platform ticket. I had to pay a fine of 200rs for smoking. Welcome to Delhi.

We were taken to the International Youth Hostel at Chanakya Puri by Rishi, where we bought our accommodation-cum-food for the next four days with a meager 400 bucks. Not to mention that all our transportation costs were being borne by Sri Venkateshwara College itself! The hostel was, well, good enough. We were given dormitories, where we had to share everything with 6 other people. We spent the rest of 26^th October with a friend of mine, who took us to Connaught Place, Janpath, Palika Bazaar, Chadni Chowk, Red Fort and India Gate. It was Monday, and unfortunately for us, visitors are not allowed inside the Red Fort on Mondays. Exhausted, we returned to our hostel late at night, and had a good night’s sleep.

The next day, we were taken to the college, from the hostel in plush Tata Innova cars. The event was kick started by the inaugural speeches of some Economics-Eminent people from the Delhi University. Sustainable development, as usual (since the last few years) was announced as the theme for the entire fest. The first event was Quiz. Me and Shauvik got kicked out in the very first round. Of course, we ought to say this in self-defense that there were 60 teams, from which only 8 teams qualified for the final round. Next came the barter system event called Horse Trade, which resembled a fish market scene. Teams were given a certain amount of one unique item and a list of items that they had to acquire by the end of the event, all by bartering. I regret not participating in it. Saugata from BNC had formed a team with the delegates from Bangladesh (Khaled and Himadri) to participate in it. I missed participating in the Essay writing and Debate competitions, because their times coincided with the first round of the quiz. I hope our college sends a larger team next year, so that such “losses” don’t recur.

Lunch was buffet, and food was quite ok. We left the college premises, and went shopping with Praveen from Secundrabad, and three people from Indonesia. Two of them are Subri and Yanki; I didn’t get the third person’s name. We returned late that night too, and had a good night’s sleep again. For me, it’s strange, since I had turned completely nocturnal thanks to college life.

On 28^th October, we had the interesting most event of the fest, Model United Nations. I was representing Viet Nam, and I had a lot to say. But I didn’t have enough data to prove my points, so I left it after the first session. To describe MUN, I would need two whole pages, so it’s best I leave it for verbal communication!

I missed participating in the Economic Quest event, though I had prepared a presentation from home for the same. But it came of some use, since I lent it to my Bhutanese friends, who had qualified for the first round. Other events that day were the Panel Discussion by DU professors. The most interesting speech was that of the NREGA Act.

Later that day, we went to the North campus of the Delhi University (our host college is in the South campus) and then to Kamala Nagar, the adjacent market. We had tandoori momos (first time heard of it that day!) and my friends pierced their left ears.

On 29^th October, we attended a movie screening by the Greenpeace environmental agency. The name of the movie was “The Age Of Stupid”; it was a documentary based on climate change. My friends left it mid-way, but it had glued me to the screen. The facts like that of the Shell Company robbing Nigeria of its oil resources, and systematically impoverishing the natives was too hard to ignore!

Then we had the event Ad-Mad, whose tagline was “You have to be mad to make our ads!” Products like color-changing shampoos, vodka-flavored milk etc were given. I got photographic memory lenses. I still don’t know how I could have done it better, but out of the 40 teams that competed, I wasn’t selected for the top 8. I agree I wasn’t mad enough!

After that, Shauvik was with the Bangladesh people, distributing some book by a certain Vikas Vij, whose publisher is based in Dhaka. Saugata and me confirmed our return tickets and lazed around for some time. The concluding cultural evening started around 7pm with a Kathyak dance by Arushi of Sri Venkateshwara College itself. It was followed by some classical numbers, which were so intensely performed that it brought me to tears! All the international delegates performed too. Sri Lankan people did a strange dance in which the girl was dressed as a monkey! (I thought they hated hanumans!) The Bhutanese did a slow rhythmic dance. Subri from Indonesia played a kind of flute which, he said, they play at marriages! One of the Pakistanis did a musical piece for us! Our Bangladeshi friend sang an Indian number by Babul Supriyo. The Venkies (as they call themselves) performed a few awesome numbers, one of them being a song whose background score was performed by the vocal chords of the students themselves!

That was followed by a banquet dinner, whose dessert consisted of the best chocolate brownie I ever tasted! We were given Blisspoint t-shirts, certificates and medals after the dinner. Few of us went back to the hostel; others went to Smriti Iyer’s house (the president of the Economics Association of Venky) for a “party”. I don’t regret missing it as I heard, later, that the alcohol provided was too less!

On 30^th morning, we checked out of the hostel. I met another friend of mine, and all of us together had lunch at McD’s at CP. Then Saugata and I boarded the train back to Kolkata, at 4:20pm. Shauvik said he’ll go to Chandigarh.

Blisspoint 2009 is certainly one of the best things that have happened to me in a long time!

Bliss Point!

2009-10-20T09:41:00.000-07:00

The Future Of Nuclear Technology In The Civilian And Military Spheres

Does anyone remember how the Communists had opposed the advent of computers in India, almost a decade back from today? Today, even a die-hard Communist wouldn’t dare to imagine life without computers.

Every new technology had met opposition when they came into existence, because of the social or financial or moral damage it threatened to mankind. So it is, with the nuclear technology. So it is, with almost everything on this planet: there’s a flipside to every story; there’s a by-product to every invention.

What is the nuclear technology? It is a technology that promises us huge quantities of energy by the mere fission of two mere nuclear particles. The question is, how do we propose to use the energy? Definitely, a normal human being, born in the 21^st century, would say, that this source should be used to fuel the engines that practically run our daily livelihood. Electricity for civilians, for example, amongst many. With the world under the threat of extinct resources of energy, any new alternative is welcome, isn’t it? Now welcome to the flipside: the military uses. With the weapon manufacturing industry being a highly profit-yielding and competitive one, the scientists can’t be silenced about the mass-destruction weapons that the nuclear technology hints at. Especially, when the world woke up to its arrival with a nuclear bombing. That was a mistake; the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, that is. If we had heard of windmills pumping out city-devastating storms, we would be having a similar debate on them as well.

What we need right now, can be encapsulated in two points: One, we need to forget the military impact, to enable the civilian benefits of nuclear technology to reach the masses, without its multitude of legal and social issues. Two, the weaponries ought to be discouraged to manufacture nuclear bombs. We need to understand that a war is a wicked thing. Neither the attacker nor the defender gains a ticket to heaven by exploding each other’s habitat. Erasing war is too far-fetched an idea, I know. But, as long as people get angry enough to shoot each other, governments can get angry enough to blast each other too! What we might do is, just make each other understand, that you can hurt your enemy, if you’re angry, but not obliterate him completely!

At the end of the day, the common man doesn’t care whether his country’s boundaries exist or not; he cares whether his bedroom is cozy enough or not. At the end of the day, I don’t care whether my identity is a French or an African; I care whether my stomach feels empty or full. If we remember that every morning when we wake up, we would never waste our energies on quarrels or brawls during the day! We would use our physical energies to earn the bread of the day; the better the food, the better the mood!

The philosophy for our muscular power applies to nuclear power too. We can’t risk a future without any electricity, in the fear of a future with deformed babies!

I don’t know how feasible a genuine global agreement on the prohibition of nuclear weapons, is. I don’t know if there’s a non-violent way we can ensure no country is secretly building nuclear arsenals. I don’t know if we can ever have international co-operation on the military sphere. But we can’t stop the use of Xerox machines because the carbon-paper manufacturers are starving. We can’t ban “progress” because of its by-products. We have to take the risk. Decades later, if and when one sees New York or Paris sparkling at night, with nuclear-powered lamps, not many of us will remember the anti-nuclear campaigns, that we’re seeing today!

My First Appoinment With A Psychiatrist

2009-09-10T11:33:00.000-07:00

For many, who still don't know about my "condition", this post will definitely reveal all secrets, for once and for all. I had to write a mail to a friend living abroad, about how my life's first appoinment with a psychiatrist, did go. She knows, and I know that there are many more such appoinments to come, and this first one won't really matter in the long run (unless manking really ends on 21st December, 2012). So, I decided to copy-paste most of it from there to here. The day was 4th September. 2009. Before I start off, I apologise for the delay in posting it. I'll just provide the too important details, that will help me recollect the whole thing, in future. After all, this is my e-diary!

1. The three of us (mum, dad, and me) went to her and her first question was "So, what's your problem?"

2. Ma answered her question. She told her all that she disliked about me. My dressing, my smoking, my "large" number of friends, etc
3. Dad said that I led a luxuriant lifestyle which is unsuitable for a middle class family. The psychiatrist (I'll refer to her as CB from now on) asked my dad, whether he could afford the "luxuries" I asked for. He said yes, he could afford, but he didn't want to spoil me.

4. Next, CB asked them what were the "good" qualities in me. They said that I am always available for help, be it for friends, or family. I am very helpful. Dad added that I read good books, and watch good movies.

5. Then she turned to me and asked me what I had to say about what my parents said. I told her the ones I agreed with, and the ones I didn't agree with.

6. She sent my parents away, and talked to me for an hour, in private. She asked me questions like whether I masturbate, and whether I ever had an orgasm, whether my friends had normal sexualities and normal orientations, how my love-life was and when did I realise that I felt like a guy etc.

7.Her conclusions drawn were:

(a) The female figures in my life, namely my mum and Dida have been UN-inspiring. Thus, I have believed that females are weak creatures, and so, I wanted to be male. I disagreed, I told her about Gayatri miss, Racho's mum, etc people, the female figures who had played greater roles in my life, and who are not WEAK. She said, I liked my friends' mothers and teachers, because they were of a motherly age, and I was looking for a mother in them. I said that might be true, but that doesn't have anything to do with my sexuality.

(b) She said that my girlfriend left me because she was looking for a boyfriend, not a son. And I was looking for a mother, and not a girl-friend. I didn't react to it. (My ex-girl-friend laughed a lot when she heard this. CB was ridiculous, she said.)

(c) She said that I ought to talk to people who have already undergone the surgery, to know the other side of the story. I agreed. She asked me to join Sappho (which is actually a Lesbian community in Kolkata). I told her that I'm not homosexual; but she didn't pay any attention to that.

(d) She said that I let logic rule over my emotions. I decide what's right and what's wrong with my brain, and not with my heart. I didn't tell her anything, but I couldn't agree with it. But, later, Tiyash said, that she was right. I really let my logic rule over my emotions. I took that as a compliment.

(e) She was good, but she wasn't transgender herself. Nor was she a gender therapist. So, there were a lot of things that she didn't understand. There were a lot of things I said, that she had never heard of. For example, using a chest belt. I have read in many websites, that using a chest belt is a symptom of female-to-male trans behavior, and the behavior could be diagnosed with physical examination of the chest region. She hadn't heard of it. If she would have, she would have examined my chest, and found scars leading back to class VII, when I first started using it. Anyway, I'm not going back to her, even though my parents are impressed by her.

(f) After she finished talking to me, she talked to my parents for 10 minutes, in private. I dunno what she said or asked. My parents haven't said anything about it. Maybe she asked them not to talk about it. But my mum doesn't object to my "disguise" anymore. That's the only development so far.

That's all. She asked me to consider the surgery after I'm 21 years old, because according to her, adolescence technically ends at 21 years of age. And during adolescence it's usual for a person to be confused about his/her sexuality, and sexual orientation. I said, yeah, I will have to wait till 21, because my parents won't give me the money for the surgery, now or ever.

Period. That closes the topic for now...till I'm 21!

The Shit Hit The Fan

2009-08-30T03:51:00.000-07:00

I am upset. I am disturbed. However, unlike my usual self, I have no clue as to what has caused it. There doesn't seem to be a real reason behind it. It seems, it's the aftermath of many real reasons that have occured in the past. I have this feeling that this isn't unknown to me. I have been through this before. A summer Sunday afternoon. No, summer has nothing to do it. A Sunday afternoon. With nothing much to do. It hasn't been happening for quite sometme, because my Sundays haven't been uneventful. I have either been out in the loud noisy city, sitting in a mall or a metro station, observing people; or in Durgapur, sleeping off the afternoons with ease. Or maybe, on the way from back from Durgapur. It's even easier to fall asleep in a bus. Anyway, an empty afternoon today. Period. I used to go to watch movies by myself on sunday evenings last year. Now, I don't have money. Not having money is definitely not a reason for my distress. I live in my own house. I don't need money for my daily activities. But, often, as now, the realisation of not having money makes me feel handicapped. It's like not being able to afford to buy myself happiness, if I want to. I know, money can't buy happiness, that's what all say. But, as a character in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho had said, money can buy out unhappiness! If I had money, I would be near Rabindra Sadan today. With a ticket in my pocket. A ticket to the 6:30pm show of Angshumaner Chhobi at Nandan. Anyway, I'll have to wait for money till 4th September; in fact, I have to wait for 4th Septmeber, for both financial and psychological reasons. I'll be taken to a psychotherapist for the first time. But, she (or he) would be responsible for diagnosing my disorder, not my recurrent depressions. Even more so, because I have resolved to keep my relationships out of the scene. I'll tell her (or him) that I have had two relationships, and I'll give her the "technical" details, if she wants to know. She won't if she knows me well enough. I have done my homework, and I almost know what she's gonna ask me, and therefore, have rehearsed each reply. I hope she is good, and she asks me questions to which I haven't prepared answers.

I had resolved not to talk about my love life anymore. But it still doesn't go away. I mean, okay, I have accepted everything. I have accepted the pain and sorrow and tears and blah blah that I've gotta tackle, but I don't mind that. As my Bengali tutor had once said , if there were no sorrow in life, people would never appreciate happiness. If there was no ugliness, people wouldn't appreciate beauty. If there was no crimes, people wouldn't appreciate justice. It all made sense. It was how things were supposed to be. Good and bad. A few happy memories, a few sad memories. That's how it's supposed to be. So, who the hell am I to complain?

I am not complaining. Nevertheless, the dull pain, the tightening of the throat muscles doesn't stop. It happens less at times, once in two weeks; but, sometimes, it happens every moment, every day. It seems that there could be only one thing I need in my life, my whole life is centred around that need. The need for that person. Anyway, I am not going through that now. I am not depressed. It's just the fact, the hopelessness that has resurfaced in memory. Even my mother's prejudices, my grandmother's fits, my brother's weaknesses, my father's indifferences, are on the surface of that liquid-filled vessel called memory. I am drinking whisky, the amount left-over from yesterday's Signature, which Dad's friends had brought. I'm hoping that it will help these "worries" to sediment inside the vessel, instead of floating on the surface.

It's even worse because I read Ruth Rendell's novel Live Flesh. My first read of this best-selling author. In fact, I'm reading a thriller kinda paperback book after many years. The book was about a man, who was uncomfortably similar to me. I would preserve the finer points for a private discussion. But for those who have read the book, I'm COMPLETELY similar. I never wanted to be the anti-hero of my story. But, it seems, I turn out to be so. I had been boastful about having immense self-control over myself. But, now I realise that I have as much control as Victor had. I am impulsive. I remember Disha and Tiyash kidding about me throwing the things on the Principal's desk, when I was supposed to meet Her Highness once. I remembered a lot of other incidents, and I realised how I loved being violent when I'm angry. I have thrown a bottle at my Dida's forehead. I have strangled my beloved brother too, once. I remember how determined I was to kill him that day. I don't remember though, what had stopped me. I take pleasure in thinking, that it was an immense amount of determination to control my anger. And for people who have been with me at HSMS, the incident of throwing the duster away from the desk, as a mark of protest to the Maths teacher (I didnt' want to do maths, so I thought, she had no right to force me to do sums). I am pathetic. I need psychatric help for more than one disordes. And, like Victor, I love being called a good person. I want to be good, and if someone, mistakenly says that I am a good person, I feel that feeling called "happiness" technically. Also, I feel my "live flesh" shivering when I'm tensed or angry, or under any form of stress.

The title of this post is a significant line from the book.

I'm still not drunk. The whisky is over.

Movies and More

2009-08-15T03:26:00.000-07:00

When my exams were going on, I had so much on my mind that I wanted to write down here. But I did not, in the fear of wasting time. And after the exams ended, lo! I haven't got a single thing to write about. I wrote a few poems, but I didn't make them public, because, I'm secretly planning to publish them someday.

I watched a lot of Robert De Niro movies. He's a great actor, great, really! But, I dunno why I still can't accept him to be comparable to Al Pacino. Maybe, it's the movies. All AL Pacino movies have kept me glued to the screen, so much so, that I refused to respond to my bodily needs. But, I do pause the movie, and get up for a while amidst De Niro ones. For example, Raging Bull; De Niro gave an unparalled performance. Whether Al Pacino would have played it better, is a question I prefer not to answer. But, De Niro was awesome. I took three breaks during the movie.

Anyway, my movie missions aren't going too well: I can't watch a dozen movies a day, as I figured I'd do. Because, I feel like contemplating on each movie after it's finished. Maybe, it's because the movies have been too good ones. I won't give a brief list like Puspen did, because I don't have so much time. But I'd like to mention Crash, an Oscar-awarded movie. It was typical take on racial discrimantion, to be unjustly brief. Yeah, unjustly. It's not just a movie on racial discrimination. What's best about the movie, is that it shows the state of affairs from everyone's point of view. So, when you see through the villain's eye, you forget that he/she's the villain, because, through his eyes, whatever he does or thinks is justified. That's what I always advocated. Nothing is ever wrong or right, only thinking makes it so. But the movie didn't deserve an Oscar, because it used a number of stereotype scenes. Like Sandra Bullock's accident making her realise who's near and who's far. It reminded me of the Amisha Patel-in-hospital-scene of Humraaz. Moreover, that black detective looking for his brother, and finally finding him, only dead. Too stereotype, too filmy. There were more, but I can't remember them now. One thing I couldn't understand was the significance of the movie's name. Why "CRASH"?

Anyway, I'm reading a great book. Better late than never: The City Of Joy. It has been so moving, that I have started giving alms to beggars once again. Smoking makes me feel guilty, once again. I'm in love with Kolkata, once again. Literature too. If you haven't read it yet, please do. It's my first Dominique Lapierre book, I have a few more on my shelves; I'm looking forward to them. Oh, and finally, I bought Paulo Coelho's new book "The Winner Stands Alone". I'd read the first 20 pages at Starmark, to make sure, the man isn't repeating himself again. But, well, he has. And I found it out, only after buying the book. :(

I also had an unpleasant episode, trying to make popcorn myself, those Act II Ready Mix ones. I burnt my finger, and more than 60% of it. I've gotta ask Tiyash or Disha to teach me how to make Popcorn. Shochi Mashi's cooking is becoming more and more intolerable.

Pujas coming, two months ahead. Plenty of time, I know; but the club guys are already out collecting money. I dunno how's it going to be. I have almost finished my shopping (I don't need too much clothes, that's why).

I haven't been to college yet, and I don't want to, more than ever.

Signing off,

Off to watch Kaminey!

Marriages Are Made In Matrimonials

2009-07-26T09:24:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-25T13:13:00.001-07:00

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

2009-07-25T01:52:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-19T21:51:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-18T21:35:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-17T06:29:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-10T21:07:00.001-07:00

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!

2009-07-08T17:45:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-04T12:08:00.000-07:00

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.]

Random

2009-06-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

Copy-Paste of Orkut-about-me:

Ok, here I am, literally online after one whole month. I'm glad that I've survived it: I was beginning to think I've got addicted to the Internet. Anyway, now I know my priorities even better than before. I don't really need to have a computer or movies or a mobile phone. I just need one person, who can fill up my time, all my life. I need to study, yeah, not just because my exams are round the corner, but also because, I hate it when someone knows something more than me. I guess I like to show off, yeah. I know that's bad. But, the truth is, I hate restrictions. I hate it when I have less money, I hate it when I'm with someone, who doesn't have unlimited time, I hate it when I have to return home by a certain time. Similarly, I hate it when I find my knowledge about something or anything is "limited". All that self-analysis apart, as my closest people know, I need money, for that long-awaited "surgery". So, that's another reason I need to study, I need financial independence fast. I'm sounding obsessed, am I? Well, yeah, I'm going through a bad phase. A bad state of mind. Since...a fortnight. Maybe it's the heat. It's awfully hot here. I'm sweating even when I'm under a fan. And, my father won't get an AC, so all those anti-mall-public out there, I need to live in a mall right now. I need to be in an air-conditioned environment, for physical reasons.
Ok, I'll change this again. Orkut, later.

The Miracle Boy

2009-06-15T04:56:00.000-07:00

Foreword: This is the long-promised poem to Deshraj, for Deshraj. For the boy who’s indispensable, to a lot of people who matter to me, including yours truly.

He walked with a stride,

He laughed like a child,

His words were mild,

He had nothing to hide.

He loved all abound;

Was loved by all around,

Around him was found

Silence amidst sound.

He transformed tears

Into smiling faces

He hid his fears

In unknown places.

Black he wore, yet he shone

Style came from sources unknown!

He played all day,

Yet was no dull Jack

He was ready to help

Before you could ask

Always full of vim

Always radiating

Anyone around him

Would need no gearing.

His smile would enchant

Spirits that didn’t flex

His eyes so elegant

Could do a hex.

He’s a friend with all

Never misses a call

He’s never too far,

Of all he’s a part.

25th may. Cyclone Aila.

2009-05-28T09:44:00.000-07:00

Foreword: 25th may 2009; it was my brother's birthday. Everyone went to sleep early, because there was nothing to do in the dark. I had slept all day. So, I was awake all night. Aila had hit Durgapur at night, after ravaging Kolkata in the daytime. Till my exasperation, I rang up my ex. I didn't talk though! Later , when the emptiness was unbearable, I took out the pen and the copy. I did not have my dear Microsoft Word, so the lack of "substance".

Imprisoned indoor, no electricity
Outdoors, a storm was blowing the city.
Can't go out, have to stay home
Can't go out with aila on the roam:
Uprooted trees, away blew things
Broke the glass, tore hangings,
Crashed and crushed cars on road
Another crisis...to vouch for votes!

The wireless screeching it out all
Echoing in the walls of the hall
Oh how hard it is to be alone!
With no t.v, nor the phone,
Nor the computer, nor music
Boredom could make one sick.
None to talk to, none so near
Nothing to do is hard to bear!

To....the journey that's NIT, Durgapur

2009-05-20T06:55:00.000-07:00

Foreword: This poem was written for someone who wanted something about the end of his college life. He specified the points that he wanted to mention. I just converted prose to poetry. Three verses, dedicated to the life at NIT, Durgapur. The four years.

FARE-WELL

Farewell to the four years

Of cheers, and fears, and tears.

Farewell to the four years

Of bikes, and burns, and beers.

Gang at college, friends at home

Cursing Newton, Gauss and Ohm.

Nights out for days, on the roam

Clothes don’t matter, what’s a comb?

Hygiene is a sin; never care for health

Winning bets, that’s real wealth.

Late to bed, late to rise

When it’s fun to be foolish

Why be wise?

Smoking joints, smoking cigarettes

Youth is the life with no regrets.

Drowsy days, dreams and distress,

Life in the hostel, food in the mess.

Learning to sustain in sun and rain;

Never let life turn mundane.

The electronic screen live before eyes

Always full of entertaining supplies

Bunking classes, no heed of time

Life is multi-timed, the world sublime!

Watching everything found on the LAN

On Orkut and Gtalk, a different man

Life beyond existence,

Is life intense.

Mass of memories, endless energies

More years ahead: can’t forget these

Can’t go back, can’t let it go

Yeah we know; we have to grow.

So here we are: all of us, guys!

‘Tis time to bid the final goodbyes.

It isn’t as bad as it appears;

They will be with us, the four years.

Down the lane, we may meet again

In pain and strain, we’ll together remain.

Early to bed, early to rise

It’s fun to be foolish,

But best be wise.

Special thanks to Sarbojit Mallick, who introduced me to the world inside NIT, Durgapur. And all the ex-classmates of mine, who’re still in it.

The Phone Call

2009-04-24T06:33:00.000-07:00

The Phone Call : 24th April, 2009

(Enquiry about Earth Grandeur. I hate you, Bhai. You made my evening eventful.)

You called and I heard your voice.

You talked to me, left no choice.

48 hours, seemed like a year

It’s hard, you know, you’re not near.

I know you think it’s okay.

But it’s more than what I say.

The sound of your voice over the phone

In that tone, so well known!

Made me heave, made me sigh.

Made me choke, made me cry.

Made me lose my mind.

Made me tongue-tied.

Please Come Back

2009-04-17T13:28:00.000-07:00

It's 2am. We just had a "Conversation Of Confessions". Confessions of what we think of each other. Look, this is a post which ought to have been typed and sent to your dream, and not to this blog. I know. I know that you say that you hate my blog, you hate it even more when I write something addressed to you here. But I just don't let myself believe it. That's how my brain's formatted, you see! I would just like to remind you a few things.

1. When I started this blog, we had broken up (or, in your words, we were not in a relation anymore). I would not have started a blog if we were still going.

2. I never said I am starting a blog to reach out to people or let people know what I think, what I do or anything like that. If you remember the mail I wrote to Dada in "defence" of a blog, I had clearly stated that I just wanna empty my mind of what I think. I don't care who reads. I wouldn't mind if anyone read, because if others read and commented, I would know if I am as wrong, as bad, as illogical as you really make me think I am.

3. The blog was previously named "Because Of You". I had also told Dada in that mail, that I just wanted to write down things which I wish I could tell YOU. Things that you don't wanna hear. Writing them down here gave me a feeling that I'm making all that available to you, you could read them if you wanted to. You could, if you wanted, ever in the distant future, know what I really felt, what I really thought. You don't appreciate "thinking", I know, but you have, nevertheless, interacted with a lot of people like me, who can't help but think too much. It's a clinical condition, if you would say so.

4. When I write something addressed to you, you freak out. Becasue you think people read it and understand who the "you" is referred to. I have never agreed to that. Nevertheless, I removed my blog link from Orkut.

Five minutes over, right? Okay, no more of that. Enough of justifying my blog. Topic change!

Just a post script: I'll start a new blog. I'll never let anyone but you know about it. I hope that helps. Both of us.

Ok. Now, why am I here? I slept the whole day, well nearly the whole day. I don't feel sleepy now. And we had quite a troubled conversation today. I guess I shouldn't write it this way. You'll be more satisfied if I say "I had a pretty troubled conversation with you today!". I have had even more troubling conversations, even more troubling days, even more traumatic times with you since 11th June 2008. I am sorry about the date. I am not boasting of my ability to remember dates. It's just that a "thinker" like me doesn't easily get over the last kiss. I still have "ticket" in my wallet. It means I want to remember it. It's not an inherent ability. It's hardwork; hard brainwork.

Next time that Cancerian friend of mine tells me that you're still in love with me, I'll either ask her to repeat it and record it on my cell or just murder her. (Look, I

am being implicit!) The way you had rang her up to ask whether I'm okay, is supposed to show that you love me, she says. Huh! These are things I don't tell you. I didn't even "confess" it today. I said I'm fed up of being patient with you. You said "Then don't be!". If I obey you, I ought to unlock my self-control. I am patient with you because I hope you'll come back and I shouldn't rush things. You ask me not to hope so. Okay. I want to obey you. But then I have been taught not to give up ever! And it's not filmy. I want to give up. I want to move on. I want to get out of the "trap". But, tell me, haven't I tried to? Oh, why do I even ask you? You'll say no. But I think I've tried. And even if I haven't tried enough, I think, one day, you said that it's all destiny. That was two years ago, you don't remember, I know. But then, you ought to remember that you never imagined that you'll be over me, till 12th Feb'08, the day your elders made you see that you are in a futile relation. You ought to remember that you had never thought that before THAT day. What happened was destined to happen. Am I wrong here? Maybe. But even after 12th Feb, you had been with me for sometime. For a few moths. Why? Will you tell me that you needed that time to realise that what your elders said on 12th Feb was right? Will you tell me that you knew on 12th Feb, that you ought to get over me, you WOULD getover me, and you need those fucking months to get over me? Ha Ha! If you say so, I can't even blame you. Because you yourself had said so on 13th Feb! You had said that you'll need me for sometime. You can't end things abruptly, so I ought to be with you and help you get over me. And there I was, so pathetiaclly in love with you, that I had agreed! And I don't even regret it today! I would trade the world to see you smile, to see your parents smile, to see your ENTIRE family smile. I would do so. Even today, I will do so. I really have no complaints. I really don't. What I'm trying to do now, is to stop crying and write down whatever's crossing my ming HERE. So that, some day, in the future, you might want to read it! Fucking HOPE, you see!

I was sulking today, as I have already texted you, because you weren't cheerful. If you remember, I was sulking even yesterday, when you were grumbling about going to someone's house with a "waist-ache" and a sweaty, stinking body. It was only after you started smiling and laughing that I started doing the same. It's just you. You hate to think, I know. But if youreally thought about it, you'd see that it's just all about you. I am happy when you are happy. I am sad when you are sad. I am angry when you are angry. Even a large proportion of my likes and dislikes have become similar to yours! How can I deny the goddamn facts? There's nothing filmy about it! You are not just a part of me, you are the larger part of me. The part of me that's me, myself, is smaller. I'm avoiding the term "better half", hope you notice. Being a better half, or being in love has nothing to do with this. They have nothing to do with the fact that you are the only thing that matters to me. You and your likes and your comforts are the only things I care about, the only things that make sense to me. The ONLY things.

One more thing I couldn't say over the phone today, is that, it's just love makes a person filmy. It made you filmy too, once upon a distant time. Crying in a school bus stop, in front of friends who don't even know the real person, the real reason, is not just filmy, but stupid too. You'll say you forgot that, probably. Ask your best friend, then. What about the night we stood on the tank-bed and watched the stars? Wasn't it you who said that you have been noticing a star on your way? Or was it me who forced you to do that filmy act that night? Do you at least remember that you had called me up one day, right after you woke up in the morning, and asked me to come over? Look back at it today, do you think it's logical? Do you think it was logical or sensible of you to do it? No, you'll say. Yeah you say that too! You say that you regret whatever crazy stuff you did with me. You say that you really weren't in your right mind during those days. You say all that to me. Because, what you did back then was, according to this present YOU, filmy! Even you were so when you were in love. Therefore, you don't have the right to say that you hate my filmy stuff today, since you know, that I'm still in love. You want to try and be a friend, eh? With this great understanding of yours? How can you be my friend if you can't even pretend to understand me? How can you be my friend if you get impatient with me everytime I'm sad about you? I don't know about your "best friend", but I have literally watched you with your other friends. You're not understanding even with them.What you call friendship, isn't friendship. It's funship, in my words. You just adjust to them because you have fun together. Memories of funship can make one nostalgic too, and they make you so too, at times! Why am I talking about this? Because, for a moment, I was filled with hatred for you. It wouldn't have this if we were in a relation today. None of the bitter moments that we have would have happened if we were in a relation today. So, you can't blame me for any of them, you can't blame my attitude, my thinking, my activites for what happens between you and me. I don't mean that you have to blame yourself. I really don't. I think you should blame the ABSENCE of a relation for all that happens. You should blame "destiny" for all that happens. Because, if the Cancerian is really wrong, it's destiny which made you fall out of love. It's destiny which has kept me in it. And, it's destiny which will take us apart. I don't have to TRY to get over you. And if the Cancerian is right, then, please, stop all this. It's killing me. I won't ask you to live with me for the rest of our lives, I won't ask you ever to do anything that would involve hurting your mother. I know you'll never believe it, even if you love me, you won't believe, that your mother means much more to me than my own does. I would never dare ask you to do anything that you'll take you away from her. I love her. If the Cancerian is right, and you're just pretending to be out of love, because, you know it's a futile relation, and because, after all these months of "out of love", it's easy for you to be so, then, please come back. Come back to me. If there's such a thing called destiny, and it wants us together, it will weave a story of its own, without taking your permission, or mine. If destniy doesn't want us to be together, it will pull us apart when the right time for it comes. And if, there's nothing such as destiny at all, if it's all about how we make things happen, I promise I'll let you go when you ought to go. I promise I won't hold you back from your family, I promise I won't ask you to be with me forever. You have a guarantee on that. When you told me on 13th Feb'08, that your elders told you not to be with me, I didn't fuss, I didn't cry, I didn't react. I'd just said "So be it. They are right. I'll be fine without you." Even when you had told me about someone else proposing you on April Fool last year, I'd said "Yeah I will be fine. GO.". I promise I won't hold you back. Please come back.

The Re-Union

2009-04-14T02:48:00.000-07:00

Part I (Poetry)

More than a couple of years later

When memories have gone dimmer

To meet them did I get the call

Oh, just a few of them, not all!

I did not want to go;

I did not want to show,

I'm not one of 'em anymore.

Some of them have changed

Some are still the same

How do I tell them what they don't know?

They said I'm still the same

I said, no, I've changed.

You were never one of us, one said

"You were never one of the lot"

Few kept taking pictures throughout

Few discussed fashion, few love

Some just gossiped of all about

Of the people around, of those above.

They talked of those not in front

Some pleasant, some unpleasant.

There were events re-enacted

There were laughters re-laughed

There were news: people getting married!

Families troubled, burdens carried.

Re-unions ought to be frolic and food

So was this too, just as good

Save this, that I wasn't myself

I didn't share the stories on the shelf.

More than a couple of years later

When memories have gone dimmer

I don't regret I went to meet 'em!

It was clear things are not the same.

Part II (Prose!)

Okay, so, after all the dilemnas, all the fluctuations in my decision, I finally went to the re-union. I reached on time. In fact, forty minutes before the others stared pouring in. I wanted to run away every mintue of that "wait". But then, I wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought I'd be. That, doesn't mean I was comfortable. I had just switched my sensors off. When Shreya said she read my "boy-friend's blog", my brain kept saying incoherent things to me, till I finally closed it's mouth:

1. Ask her who it is. You'll have fun.

2. No, don't. Give it a damn.

3. They still think I can have a boy-friend. Oh good, they'll never understand me.

4. Just get the fuck out of here. Walk out.

...

Okay, I didn't ask her anything. Shreya is one of the few with good English vocubulary, I like her, and I admire her vocubulary. I can't afford to get angry with her. Trishita, Nilashree, Poulomi Dutta...they are self-obsessed as usual. They're the ones who kept taking pictures till the end. Rumeli, the organizer, shared her time with most of the people, quite justly. Sriparna was her same pathological self, and, as usual, I wanted to avoid her every moment she came close. Poulomi Chakraborty was scary as usual. She ought to have been a transgender, you know. But no, she's huge as usual...in a lovey-dovey relation with a guy.... as usual? Oh, yeah. How can I forget Ambarish-Da?

Then there was Nupur, Debarati 1, Debarati 2, Sayani Banerjee, Sreya Poddar, Roshni Tafadar, Prianka Saha and other such people whom I never talked to, back at school. I just said Hi to them, and didn't associtae with them any further. There was Sayani Paul..I was glad to see her for too many little reasons. One of them would be Apurva...she's Apurva's friend. Another would be what she said to me, about me. She was the one who said that I haven't changed: I've evolved. Moumita Kundu, Sohini Ghosh, Elisha...something other than Carmel binds me to them...Dada's tution...DPL group...I didn't talk to them much...because I couldn't relate myself to them Mou, who was pretty cool, back in those days (she used to wear cargos with short kurtis) had so awfully decked herself that I didn't want to talk to her. I'm sure what I did or am doing, is not the right thing. But then what about Gourob-Da, her boy-friend? How could she compromise with her outlook? No, no, check, check, I ought not comment. Apologies to you, Mou. Sohini was pleasant. I wish I saw more of her in Kolkata. Elisha was again, with dark lip-colour and stuff...oh no, no commenting on it!

Nikita and Suprava were altogether an awkard feeling. It felt so weird to pretend that I'm interacting with them after a long time. All blames to Puspen, he kept me so much in touch with the two of them, and then restricting me to talk about him....gosh, it was....awfully awkward altogether!!

Sudeshna, preferrably called Tina, was a comfort...we clicked...or rather I pretended to click with her. I told her very little, I heard all her stories. In fact, I walked her back home after the whole party was over. I heard about Tutan's marriage and family issues...it was all so shocking...I couldn't believe that I knew so less about the girl whom I claimed to be my best friend for 3 long years! Tina updated me about Pratanu and her story too. I also talked with Prianka Roy a little. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. But I don't want this re-union to happen again. I don't have any business with Carmel anymore.

Life Is...Tough Perpetually

2009-03-03T06:57:00.001-08:00

Long time, no post. yeah, that's because I didn't need to write anything. I had a person to tell everything to, and thus drain myself out. I'd nearly stopped smoking. I had nearly started studying, at an amazing pace too! I had nearly been one of the happiest persons on earth...but the crystal piece of "happiness" fell and broke again. The things I didn't want to see, pushed up to sight; the scents I didn't want to smell, came blowing with the wind; the the goosebumps I didn't want to feel, pricked out of skin; the person I didn't want to love, squeezed out my energies. Life is...tough, perpetually.

I've learnt a trick from Puspen. The title to this post is a result of that newly acquired skill. He spent a night at my house, had maggi, and the next day, a call from Disha shattered every sublime "feeling" that had begun to erupt. I went back to that previous self: friendship doesn't exist, I don't have any friend. I guess a better self would be one who didn't believe in any form of relationships at all; not just friendship. Read this: Pseudoism. Am I a pseudo? Oh yeah. 100%. But notice Sigma's comment below the guy's post.

Its said that we all have four faces:

The person we project to people.

The person people see.

The person we think we are.

And the person we really are.

It means, I'm forgivable. On the auto-ride back home today, I realised that I just have too many psychological disorders. Gender Identity Disorder, Depressis Psychosis, Pseudoism, Multiple Personality Disorder (mild), Superiority Complex, addictions...are few of the toppers, in order of priority! But, since the World Health Organisation recognises each of my "psychological" disorders as having purely biological origins, I have my genes to put the blame on, right?

I went to college after more than a fortnight. Everyone was cheerful. As usual, of course. The same innocent smiles, the same meaningless laughters, the same glee. It hurts to see so much happiness. Sometimes, it cheers me up. Sometimes, it depresses me even more. It was the latter today. Afterwards, I went to the Spanish class in the evening. Probably I won't be going to the classes for the next three weeks, thanks to the awful Selection tests!

Another episode was the trip with Sohom Da and his friend Uma to the gift shop. When I heard Nilanjana's bitching around, I remembered Ayantika. Lots to say, if I start on it. Maybe sometime later. Anyway, the bubble-maker that I'd bought for Gudiya, couldn't be given to her due to some unfortunate unavoidable circumstances. I gifted it to Sohom Da. It made sense. He'd crossed that "level" of this pseudo-friendship, which made him eligible to receive something as special as a bubble-maker. Maybe. Maybe not. I dunno. Disha, Payal, Sritama, Tiyash, Sohom Da, Deshraj, Puspen. My 'pseudo-family'. I can't find a single word to describe all of them. I dunno. I guess each of them, just play an unique and special role in my life. I can't call them friends, primarily because, none of them give me happiness, secondarily because, calling even one of them a friend, would be like over-insulting or over-appreciating the others. Concern is actually the only common feeling I feel for all of them. I guess each of them satisfy each of my personalities. But, given a chance to celebrate something such as Holi or good results, these would be the ones I'd ask over. That's how each of them is important.

Going back to Sohom Da's gift, when I gave him the envelpoe, he over-reacted. Then he calmed. Then he asked "Can I hug you?". I agreed, we hugged. Holding him felt like holding a piece of cardboard. Later, when he showed the package to Uma, I allowed him to open it. The happiest part of it, ironically, was that the bubble-maker bottle had opened, and all the soap-water had leaked out, wetting the wrapping etc. I told him that I'm feeling bad. It wasn't a lie. I felt bad because the sight convinced me that the bubble-maker still holds a meaning for me. It wasn't meant for Sohom Da. It was, and is, meant for US. Sohom da hugged me again. Same thought crossed my mind. Holding a piece of cardboard. I realised I should have written something more in the card I gave him. "Wish you more flesh this birthday..."

Anyway, Holi plans suspended. Payal semi-silent. Disha semi-expressive. Puspen semi-busy. Tiyash semi-stoic. Deshraj semi-home. Sritama semi-sad. Sohom semi-something. I re-re-realised that I want to celebrate Holi this time, especially when I had to tell the Spanish teacher today, that I have never ever been allowed to play Holi in my life. I want to do it with my friends, and not dad's friends, nor sons and daughters of dad's friends, for that matter!

Another news is that I tasted turtle meat this week. It was soft, and a slightly different taste from mutton. Later, I learnt that my better half is against the consumption of turtle-flesh. Even later, I learnt, that turtle flesh is legally banned!

I had a semi-starvation day today. All I had since morning is coffee. I had a few fuchkas sometime before the Spanish class, and two delicious pastries after it. That's all for the last 36+ hours. Tiyash has stopped envying my weight loss, she's sure people like me and Disha are losing weight too fast to be healthy anymore!

Apart from watching Pink Panther II (awful) and The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button (awesome), and SFI's victory at my college students' union elections, and my new musical crush on Ne-Yo's "Mad", and my new painting's aimlessness, there's just one more news left. A bad one, at that. I have realised and accepted that, I'm the one who's guilty of more mistakes (in context of the relationship in the recent past, which semi-tortures me all throughout, in the very present!).

Life is....tough, perpetually! Or, semi-tough rather...

Rihanna

2009-02-22T07:58:00.000-08:00

I sympathise with Rihanna with what happened to her. I love her, I feel her pains better. But, in a way I'm happy, because I never liked Chris Brown. I hated the guy. And I never approved of Rihanna Fenty going around with Chris Brown. Now that she has got beaten up by him, I'm glad that my suspicions have been proved right, beyond my imagination!! But, the sight of my beloved's face smashed up is too tormenting!

Despite all that, the newsletters quote her as saying "I still love Chris"!!

Outrageous!

The Post-Blues-Bliss

2009-02-22T07:07:00.000-08:00

Ah, happiness tastes so great when it comes after intense sorrow!

Okay, let me start where I left off. I'm just back from a weekend at Durgapur. A torturous one, at that. No, don't be surprised. The visits to Durgapur, my home, are always torturous. My 'family' gets suicidal at self-fabricated meaningless crap-like issues. My brother, the only reason why I smile when I do, the only reason why I am still alive, the only reason, why I go to Durgapur at all, is there, his ICSE starting in a week. I wish I could bring him here with me. But, I know that would only worsen things beyond repair! Anyway, this visit's special characteristic was, that, for the first time, I was scared for him. I was scared that my brother isn't safe there, with pathetic psychopaths for company all day. Anyway, we had our own happy moments, the chicken-patty-cum-chocolate feast on the first evening and the "toilet song" downloading on the second evening. I had few teary moments, except the one on the first night, because, I went off to sleep everytime 'things' started.

I had a realisation on the first night, for the umpteenth time, of course...there is a difference between pre-recorded MP3 music and songs sung to me by certain people. Rupam numbers, by Puspen. Most english songs, by Tiyash. Asoka's Roshni Se number by Disha. And, yeah, almost all songs by Disha. Her voice adapts to all indian music quite easily. Puspen and Rupam go together, for me. So, I just can't risk asking anyone else to sing Ekla Ghar to me!

Anyway, I didn't have anyone singing lullabies to me that night. On the second night, I listened to Whisky Lullaby, by Braid Paisley and Alison Krauss. Gaurav had given that to me during Xavotsav, i.e., the last week of January. Finally, I heard it. And I loved it. It described a suicide in a beautiful way. Bro said I love all depressing songs. No, that, is certainly, not true! Though, I can't find a depressing song now that I didn't like.

Ok, I had oats for the first time. Though I'd heard it is awful, I loved it. Maybe, I like that kinda taste...or maybe, for a change, it was prepared better at my home!

I had rabri too. Oh, yes, it wasn't entirely depressing, I had my share of happy moments, I'm telling you. But, the happiness wasn't BIG enough to overshadow the ugly moments.

Anyway, after I'd left home today, in a rush, I just realised that I didn't bid Bye to Dida before leaving. Somehow, that brought a lump in my throat, under the scorching afternoon sun, on the dusty lonely road, I had to squint and make a face to swallow the lump. I called her up and apologised a while later. In spite of all the hatred and indifference, there's a bit of 'care', a bit of 'longing' at times. Is that love? I wish not.

The bus journey was torturous again, the amn beside had dandruff, yeah much much more than me, else I wouldn't be complaining. He slept with his head on my arm all throughout. He was shorter, hence my arm. Whenever I removed my arm, he just comfortably shifted he head to my chest. On contrasting circumstances, this would have buoyed me up, making me feel fatherly! But his dandruff enraged me to such an extent, that, I found myself contemplating the consequences of my banging his head on the seat before! Forgive me for that.

My studies are progressing, slowly again. I have given up. It's impossible to pass in this exam. Even if I start working hard. I've given up.

Anyway, coming back to Kolkata, I celebrated my acquisition of money, by recharging my Vodafone number with 444. I bought 3 packs of Gold Flake. AAHH, my brand, after 10 long days. I bought a handsfree for my Sony Ericsson phone, at 100 bucks. The best part is that, it's an original one! I got it at 1/15th the original price. That's why I'm happy.

Again!

2009-02-19T07:15:00.000-08:00

Yeah, again! Now I know why Rupam keeps singing the same stuff; and Coelho keeps writing the same stuff. If I was professional, I would have turned up with similar stuff over and over again during this phase. I dunno what makes me sour now. Let's find out. A challenging afternoon, one that tested my self-control to its limits, so much so, that finally, my tears became shameless! Then a troubling nap for less than hour. A failed effort to cook up something. Yeah, to cheer my self up, I tried making an egg-roll. Fast food is always an uplifter. For mood, for weight, alike. Anyway, I discovered that my stupid "home" has a "stupider" kitchen. No white oil. I used a combination of Mustard oil and Butter, in an 1:2 ratio. Then, I discovered that there's no vegetable, no curry, to use inside the 'roll'. I used raw onion. Yeah, Tiyash is right, I finally agree. Raw onion doesn't taste well in kathi-rolls. I should have fried it. Then I discovered that there's no ketchup. I remembered having finished the KFC pouches a week ago. The thing I finally 'manufactured' with the minimal raw material available, wasn't tasty enough to lift up a depressed mood. I made coffee. That was wonderful. In fact, the best coffee I tasted in a year! (the previous being prepared by my mother, on one of my pre-CBSE days!)

I SMSed randomly. Few replies came. Anyway, why should, anyone at all, have time for me? The last SMS I sent was "Thanks for your time. I hope I can study NOW."

I studied a couple of pages, and finished the chapter on Secondary Storage. I decided that I have read enough of Computer Science. I can glance through the remaining 70% on the night before the exam. Mathematics deserves more time than I'm allotting for it. But before I sit down with Maths, I think I ought to pack my bags for tomorrow. I've got to take all the winter clothes back to Durgapur. In any case, I don't think I'm going to Bhutan on my own, before I pass college. So, there's no point in keeping the warm clothes here in my already over-stuffed room anymore. Whatsoever, before I start packing, I thought I'd make a short post about the eventless evening.

Anyway, I never told anyone of the experience I had on the way back from the Book Fair. It was the first time I had stood at the foot of the door on a bus. Only my feet, and my hands were inside the bus. The rest of me, alongwith my bag, was dangling outside. The ladies in the cabin were expressing their alarm. But, I was thrilled. Life had seemed to be devoid any trouble, then. The rush of wind on my face, brushing through my hair, slapping my eye-lids close, gave me a feeling what I best describe as momentary euphoria. Momentary, because, it was erstwhile, like every happy moment is. No sooner had I smiled to myself, than, the 'face' of my dreams, my nightmares, my reality, came back to memory. I was upset again. But, anyway, shoving aside the issue of 'happiness', the feeling of 'thrill' persisted, till the crowds thinned and I had to shift to the gloomy interior of the bus. But, that was after the bus had reached Ballygunj. From E.M. Bypass to Ballygunj, I was a wingless bird. Just felt like doing so a while ago today. Riding on the footstand of a speeding bus...

Trouble-tree

2009-02-19T00:07:00.000-08:00

No sooner have I managed to overcome "personal" predicaments, than impersonal issues have started building up. Trouble Tree starts at the academic level. Even if I sacrifice all necessities, I won't finish even half of the syllabus for my Selection tests. Next cometh financial issues. My Dad won't allow Mum to give me money, nor would he give me money himself. Ohk....famiy is a perpetually pestering element. Not because they care for me. But because they don't care for each other. Something more added to the Tree. SFI. This is what happened at college today.

I had no plans to go to college. I had planned to watch Billu Barber in the morning show and come back ho0me and study. Well, Dad gave me twenty bucks. So, no movie. I decided I'll go and do the first class at college. And come back...

Soon after the first class was over, and I was leaving the room, a classmate came up. should I mention his name here? Why not, no one's reading my blog anyway. Rajiv. He's been selected by the SFI for being the candidate for our class representative at the Ist Year Science panel. Ohk. He told me that he had some work with me, if I could kindly lend him some of my time. He's friendly with me, I'm friendly with him. Refusing him a bit of my time would be rude. I acoompanied him to wherever he took me to. Near the office. There were a number of people there. Before I could find out what it was all about, he said he needed a 'help'. Ah! What a perfect word to use. Was he in touch with my previous classmates, who knew that I'm one person who never refuses 'help'?

Okay, he took out a small paper. Explained it's meaning to me. It was a nomination paper for the Student's Union elections. My anti-politics self contracted. He kept assuring me that it doesn't have anything to do with politics. All I would have to do is put a signature on it, fill up my details and stuff, take it to the Principal's office, collect a form and bring it back to them. Well, 'them' refers to the SFI people. He's the candidate, yeah. But if his name doesn't come out in the final nominations due to typing errors etc, I'm a seconder. Some other classmates of mine are doing this too. It's all a precautionary measure. It doesn't have anything to do with politics. the form that I get from the office will be filled up by them, and Rajiv's name will be on it. Not mine. Okay, I said. He asked me whether I have any problem. I couldn't think of any. Excpet that I didn't have breakfast in the morning (true!) and I'm hungry and I don't have money enough to have something outdoors. No problem, he said. With a smile, of course. He made me fill up the form. Then, he and another guy took me to the canteen. Treated me to a plate of my favourite parathas and potatatoes, two cups of tea, two cigarettes. By then it was noon. I was taken to the office. The guy managing the huge crowds trying to enter was told of my hurry. I was alowed in within a few minutes. I saw two of the girls from durgapur (my hometown) there as well. Shit man! From the conversational morsels I overheard there, I guessed that it was an SFI business. The other party, DSO, had to fight their way to get into the crowd. There were jokes here and there that if they're too tired standing in the lines, they's say that they're DSU, not SFI. Anyway, it was not only 'too late for protest', but pointless, as well. I've been supprting SFI all throughout. At least, at my college, I preferred their modes of action to the DSO's ones. Anyway, the work at the office went off smoothly. I had put one more signature somewhere. I came out carrying out the form and my ID. Rajiv greeted me. I had asked him before "Why me?". He had cleverly replied "Because I want you. You're the kind of person whom anyone won't dare to say anything at. If something is aid at your face, you'll defend it. That's why. If you do this for me, I, personally would be grateful. You're helping ME, not anyone else.". Anyway, all politicians are clever. I'm not. Moreover, I'm too short-tempered for this business. Moreover, I'm too ignorant for this. Anyway, I had to submit my college-ID and that form the office people (professors) gave me. I dunno when I'll get my ID back. I have been strictly advised by Jayita in the morning that I should be possessive about my ID card now, till the elections. Anyone who gets my ID can cast my vote. Anyway, there's too much of irony in the entire affair to be bothered about this little one. Joga-da thanked me loudly. Rajiv thanked me a number of times. Another Prosenjit-looking dada thanked me. He's Joga-da's friend, I know him by face. Why are the SFI guys thanking me?

It's useless being foolish anymore. I'm a registered member now. Against my better judgement.

Trouble Tree grows taller. Now I can't bunk college on the election day. I'll fail in all the subjects.

Basquiat

2009-02-17T06:02:00.000-08:00

That's the person who painted the picture in my previous post. Yeah, I've been idolising him for quite a long time now. Now, I think, I just want to die a death like his, not live a life like his. I want to be a more responsible and sensible person. At least in the long run.

As I said in the morning, love is magic, at times at least. A cheerful meeting, few moments of laughter 'together', some harmless flirting, that's more than enough to change the whole way you have been looking at life, the whole way you have been living life. I didn't feel like smoking. That killer smile, those killer eyes... gosh!...they drive me crazy. I just don't even feel like smoking. I feel like, well, dancing, singing and smiling, all in front of the mirror (oh yeah, I hate the sight of myself when I'm "off"). Oh, and yeah, I feel energetic. Love is a form of energy, Paulo Coelho repeats that in almost all his books. Anyway, I ought to harness this energy now and do my work (Coelho's language again!). I ought to study.

Tomorrow holds bleak prospects again. That Shochi Mashi's daughter needs to be taken to the hospital. She's a real headache. Not because her daughter is sick; but because her priorities are muddled up. I told her to leave early in the morning with me, so that I'm free by 8:30am. She said in the most obstinate possible tone, that she can't leave before 9am at least! This is how she loves her daughter, this is her sense of duty, the one she boasts about too frequently.

So, that means, I won't be free before 10:30am at least, that is if she doesn't come up with more excuses. Anyway, since I haven't got any classes after 11am tomorrow, and, I can't afford to watch a movie at an late-morning or afternoon show, I don't see any point in staying outdoors, doing nothing. Time is too precious when exams are ahead. And since money is precious too, now, I dunno if I can afford to travel much, to and fro, so, I may not get to see my 'mood-elevator' at all tomorrow. Anyway, I'll try and be patient in tonight's phone call, and sort things out, (with and within myself, of course), and try to ensure that I stay in a good mood for long enough (till tomorrow afternoon, at the least!)

I don't want a life like Basquiat's. I want a death like Basquiat's.

Limits

2009-02-16T21:13:00.000-08:00

"ami amar limit jani. amay atkash na..."

That's what I kept saying on New Year night after getting drunk. Puspen said that people say the truth when they're intoxicated. Seems he was wrong for one another time again! He's wrong about a lot of things, when it comes to me, for that matter. I did not even try to study when I woke up in the middle of night. I just downloaded a few NeYo numbers, for a change. One of them was the female 'response' (and not version, mind you) to his chartbuster So Sick. So Sick was a common favourite once upon a time. Today, it's just one of the most appropriate songs I can relate to. Apart from Rupam, of course. And a lot of other songs, too. But, what has changed over the years, is the way I listen to sad songs. I used to use sad songs to squeeze out tears when I'm sad. Seemed filmy, back then. Now, I use them to swallow the tears. Like the one shown in movies, life, even in reality, everything is erstwhile. Anyway, I went to bed at 4am, woke up at 8:30am, ignoring all the alarms going off at various points of dawn. Shochi Mashi's daughter hasn't been released from the neighbourhood hospital, so there's no question of taking her to the other one near Tollygunj. I had a number of things to get photocopied. I made a written account of my prospective expenditures for the day, and showed it to Dad.

Xerox: Rs. 40

Auto(transportation): Rs. 20

Fuchkas: Rs. 10

Total: Rs. 70

He gave a sheepish smile and said I'm crossing my limits. He himself spends less than Rs. 50 a day, and I'm a jobless adult, how dare I spend Rs.70 a day?! He just goes to office by scooter, and comes back home. He has a 'brunch' (breakfast+lunch) at 10:30am, that sustains him till evening. He has tea then, and comes back home by 10pm for supper, if there isn't any other invitation elsewhere. After a lecture, he threw a 100rupee bill at me. Clever! Now, how and where do I get the change?

Someone said in an SMS: nekami-r churante pouchhe gechhish ekebaare. Ah, I have crossed my limits again. When I didn't talk last afternoon, I was accused of keeping things to myself. When I'm expressing everything today morning, I'm being accused of melodrama! Fuck! Doesn't even know what's going on here. Doesn't even bother to find out. Just passes comments, and thinks it's perfect. I felt like replying 'Go to hell'. But I couldn't. I still haven't managed to get 'into' the system and use curses and slangs. I just can't. I'm too dramatic, eh? Maybe. I never asked anyone to 'adjust' to my ways, ever.

I haven't cleaned my room yet. Because, I got the two books I couldn't find. They say "Necessity is the mother of invention." And they're right.

Spanish homework done. Hospital cancelled. Counselling postponed. I had a dream in the morning about Farhan Akhtar. Not a troubling dream, somehow. But, it changed my mood. In fact, nearly, elevated my mood. I decided that I'll do what I feel like doing. Arrrgh, how many times have I decided that in the last few days! That's why love is a torment. One moment, you feel like doing what you should do (play by the rules, no compromise with your dignity, blah blah). The next moment, you feel like doing what you want to do (surrender to the 'magic', in one word).

Next, I crossed my limits of indecisiveness. I decided I'll do what I want to. Then I changed my mind. I said I'll do what I ought to do. Next I said what I feel like doing. The very next moment, I refused it. The, again, I said I'll do what I want to. Then, I finally rested on what I should do, ought to do.

I have to go out to buy medicines for Shoch Mashi's daughter. Crap.

And, escapism again!

2009-02-16T12:42:00.000-08:00

Escapism again. To avoid dad's comment on my room, reeking with smoke. To avoid that vital phone call post midnight, the prospect of which sustains me throughout the day. Another nill and null "next day". I can't move on. Can't move forward, can't move backward. Just stay static. Stuck in the middle of an unfinished story. Not even the middle. Somewhere in the first-half. The first half of a fast-forwarded story. Huh! Fast-forwarded, eh? Still think it's true?

The call had come. To both the cellphones. Unlike the previous two nights. Does that mean my better half really wanted to talk? Ah, I'm learning the rules. I'm learning not to succumb to love. Not to LOVE. That's it. Oh no. That's not it. I'm learning to escape. With 16 'sutta's a day.

I should live for my brother. He's the only one left backstage after the drama is over. I asked that SFI guy of college to read this, when he asked me what I'd done all day. Strange thing to ask. By a strange person, indeed. Sohom Da's late night SMS pissed me off again. As usual. But, I'm lucky I was asleep then too. So, when I read it later, the 'pissing off' hardly lasted. I decided I'd give it a try. That ghazal by Pankaj Udhaas. Anyway, I have also learnt that it is not only wrong to be always right, it's useless too. The romanticism of "Everything I do, I do it for you" turns tragic when the person referred to as 'you' thinks it's meant for his/her worse. Pretty tragic. Pretty ugly. Pretty stupid. I'm stupid. Dammit.

Anyway, post-evening, I didn't study much, not even a whole page, but I sorted out which book to study which chapter from, in Computer Science. And, for the millionth time this month, I re-re-re...re-realised that it's next to impossible to do well in the Selection tests. It's next to impossible to mug up this huge syllabus. Next to impossible.

Disha rang up again in the evening. She asked me to tell her the names of all my classmates. She has decided to join a computer course. I asked her to join guitar classes as well. The Dean of Science at Xaviers had told her that Bio-tech has weak prospects, and it's one of the weakest courses in their college. So, she'll be taking up Chemistry, instead. Our call lasted for more than an hour. Both of us were engulfed in clouds of mosquitoes. So, it's not my unkempt room, after all, that's responsible for these creatures!

I came online. Downloaded songs again. Rupam again. Cigarettes again. An early dinner (nolunch, no evening snacks, yet, no hunger). Cigarettes again. I decided I may watch Billu Barber anyway, since more than nobody gave positive reviews. But, well, I dunno. I may not watch, again. If I do, it's going to be at the Wednesday morning show at Forum.

I went to bed again! No wonder that I fell asleep in no time. When I'm depressed, I sleep a lot. I feel like sleeping a lot too. On other normal occasions, I would fail to fall asleep within a couple of hours of going to bed, if I didn't have a tiring day!

Now, it's 2am. The 'next day' has begun. No 'meetings'. And therefore, no motives. All I have to do all day is/are:

[1] Take Shochi Mashi, my housekeeper, and her daughter to the Bangur Hospital at Tollygunj.

[2] Go to college, at least to find out what Sudipto was saying about the validity of our ID cards.

[3] Do the Spanish homework: Un parrafo sobre su habitación (a paragraph on your room)

[4] Go to the Spanish class in the evening.

[5] Try and study more, and think less.

[6] Try and counsel myself. Anyhow. As soon as possible. I know I can't get help. This isn't something I can tell friends about. Hence, no outside help. Self-help is the only way out. Someone wrote on Orkut: Strentgh is nothing but how well you hide your pain. I was srtong, wasn't I? I need to stop the strentgh from draining away at this rate. Post-May, I can afford another melodrama, not before, not now, definitely.

¡vuelve!

Post-Valentine Blues

2009-02-16T03:53:00.000-08:00

Not the kind Diptohjit had. Yeah, he said he smoked two packs, just because he didn't have a date on V-Day. Is it necessary? Doesn't it suffice to have friends and family members who love you, whom you love?

Anyway, no criticism now. Not at a time when I'm incapable of rectifying my own faults. Disha rang up. I had been avoiding calling her up, because I didn't want an elaborate version of her "weaknesses". If I see my best friends going weak at this time, it's going to be difficult to be strong myself (the reason why I shouldn't have watched Seven Pounds). Anyway, Disha cleared my misconceptions. Felt better. Had the bath. Used the shampoo pouch that was disturbing my vision all day. No, I can't elaborate on the story of the shampoo pouch here. Reasons:

1. This is public.

2. It's silly.

3. I don't know myself.

Then, finished the two last cigarettes left from Payal's gift yesterday. It wasn't a gift, sorry. I asked for it. It was a necessity I had asked for. Yeah, I'm losing control over my self-control powers too easily these days. As ususal, I went to sleep, to avoid the mood-turn-off. Actually, the bath had made me feel slightly better, in the sense, I had finally cried during bathing. To be specific, during the shampoo-application time. I needed to cry, I thought so. So, when I finally managed to cry, I thought I must be feeling slightly better. Anyway, I went to sleep. AGAIN!!

Few SMSes came and woke me up within an hour. Only one of the SMSes was really cheering. Sohom-da's. Somehow, the news that his exams had gone well brought joy. Why? He doesn't matter to me; does he? Maybe he does. It's the way we start loving the place we live in. Habit. Anyway, I left home with nothing much to do. Borrowed some money and bought three packets of Flake. Think I changed my brand? No. It's just that, I don't need to get the high anymore, any cigarette does for me. I just need to have a stick in my mouth, and gray smoke billowing out. That's stress-relieving enough. Shit man, why am I boasting about things I hate about myself? Ah, hatred! I should avoid that. It makes me feel suicidal. And my "habit" of justifying every act makes me try and justify suicides too! That's a latest 'development'(irony to be noted). Anyway, I'm supposed to study. I'm really, really supposed to study. Now. I'm listening to Rupam. His songs appeal to me because they seem to echo everything I think. But, they don't cheer me up. But, in spite of the depressing lyrics, they make me 'feel' energetic. Especially the Hasnuhana number.

Moumita Acharya's SMS, the new landline connection at my Durgapur home, etc...all should have added to the 'mood-elevation' process. Did they?

Maybe I need a chocolate. Ah, no money,baby.

Escapism

2009-02-15T21:54:00.000-08:00

Yeah, what I hate the most. But, even I do things I hate myself. I've been escaping emotions by over- sleeping. I have been escaping responsibilities by switching off cellphones. Today morning, I didn't go to see off Payal. Told her that I couldn't wake up early enough. She sympathised. She believed that I could do that. Sleep over. Yeah, she's a friend, because she has the power to cheer me up. Anytime, always. But she doesn't know me well enough. That goes for Sritama, Deshraj etc and a lot of other people. In fact, a LOT. Anyway, I was having troubling dreams again. When I finally woke up, Baba refused to give me money, because I didin't go to college. (He doesn't know that I don't have college!) I managed 70 bucks, though. He added "no cigarettes". I had my breakfast. Then I SMSed a classmate whom I was supposed to meet over coffee in the afternoon that I have some work. Lied to him, eh? Oh no, not entirely, I had work. But not the work which I told him. I need to have a bath, a "mega" one. I need to clean my room. I need to find two books. I need to counsel myself, for whatever reason I'm depressed at the moment. I need time for myself. It's not morning anymore. I have already lost the energy I had woke up with. Let's see how much I can do.

Seven Pounds

2009-02-15T08:25:00.000-08:00

Yeah, watched the movie. The poem from my previous post didn't get the desired appreciation. So, this movie shouldn't get the desired appreciation as well. Same reason. It went beyond the common man's intellect. My companions for the movie represent the common man, in this case. I liked the movie because, it wasn't a mainstream film. But i couldn't love it, because, according to me, it failed to satisfy the main criterion of a creation. According to me, a creation, be it a painting or a poem, or a movie or a peice of music, should satisfy the following criteria:

1. The common man should understand it.

2. The common man should love it.

3. It should, in all possible ways, benefit the common man.

If some work fails to satisfy the above criteria, it's a selfish work. It means that the creator has just expressed himself. His "expression" doesn't benefit the common man. So, he shouldn't expect the common man to spend money in 'viewing' his work. Moreover, he isn't contributing to the society. So, the society ought not "sympathise" with him, his creative moods etc. That's why my poem wasn't satisfying. Because my friends found it "deep", "aatel" and beyond their comprehesive powers.

Anyway, so talking about the movie "Seven Pounds", it was beyond the comprehension of many. No wonder it won awards. (will comment on that sometime later). About Seven Pounds, it was the story of a man who's life shatttered in an accident. He lost his wife. Six other people died. He thinks he's reponsible. So he sets out to "help" the people who has been affected. Ok, nothing wrong with that. Great philanthropy, must say. But, the "common" man isn't capable of such benevolence. That's wrong. He cares for those strangers, but not for his own blood-brother, not for his best friend. What kind of philanthropy does that show? Shedding your responsibility towards your family, towards yourself is a sin as well! That's wrong. Moreover, he's dying in the process, in order to donate his eyes, his heart (and his bone marrow). Why? Because the death of his beloved wife makes living worthless for him? Is that why he's not bothered about himself? Is that what the flick tries to show, to teach? If yes, the that's wrong. A movie that doesn't teach you to look at life in a better way, which doesn't teach you to overcome mishaps and move on, which teaches you, on the contrary, to succumb to the tragdey, isn't the kind for public viewing. It's a depressing movie all throughout. That's wrong. I'm not talking about myself, mind you. I like depressing stuff, but, they don't help me. So, I shouldn't watch them.

Anyway, afterwards, Payal treated us, since we had run out of money. I didn't have money enough to go back home! Poor me. I'm paying heavily for my days of extragavance! I guess, I'll have to stop smoking cigarettes now...may switch over to biris now...they come at 4 for a rupee!

Coming home, I spent the entire night before the "living screen". One after another "friends" came online. And I kept chatting. What the fucking hell am I doing?

The Time Thrown Away: Part-II

2009-02-14T23:24:00.000-08:00

Some random reckless dreams

Some words beyond memory

Some moments spent on the bed

Eyes open, limbs spread

Silence within, horns outdoors

The dialogue with myself

Goes on without rhyme

Without limits, unrestrained.

The rings of gray smoke

Squeezing out energy

Writing, erasing, re-writing

Conscious conscience, unconscious

The time thrown away.

In dribs and drabs.

And dreams. And drags.

The living screen before

Worth living life for;

The people without

The values devalued

The books lying

On the ruffled bed-sheet.

All reminders unwind

The time thrown away.

Have spent the entire morning on Orkut. A close friend's close friend was online. Around noon, I started studying. And I did more than three paragraphs. Two whole pages, in fact. Since morning the poem was forming in the mind. I guess that's why the first post was named so...Anyway, we'll go out post lunch. Either a movie or mall-hopping. By "we" I mean me and my two friends. The chowmein freaks I had referred to in the morning. But, I'm back on track, hopefully.

The Time Thrown Away

2009-02-14T20:49:00.000-08:00

Neither did I "try" to study last night, nor did I make any of the phone calls I was supposed to. I just switched off the PC, had a fag, and went to sleep. When I woke up at 5am in the morning, I found my last night's supper packed and kept at the head of my bed. Daddy cool!

Found a few unwelcome missed calls and SMSes on my cellphones. Had the food. Went to the loo and found that I have stomach upset. No idea why. I just had a few cookies, a sandwich from CCD and a burger from KFC all day. Nothing else. Anyway, replied to a few SMSes and calls, had a fag again, and slumped back into bed. I was having a beautiful dream about Mamata Banerjee staying at my home, when Baba barged into it and made me aware that it's 9am. He had brought some 'ideal' chowmein last night from Jimmy's kitchen. I had to swallow it for breakfast. I didn't though, not entirely. I have a hope that other chowmein freaks will come to my rescue. I rang them up, they were still asleep at 10am. I rang up Sritama, whom I was supposed to call last night. Her cell's switched off, indicating that she's asleep too. Diptohjit had SMSed, he'd smoked two whole packets yesterday, and now he has a bad infection in his throat. I don't understand why someone who's single, and, with extra emphasis, who has never been in love, needed to fag so much on Valentine's Day. It's 11am now, I have downloaded the Bong Connection songs, and now I'm downloading the songs of Cactus' new album. Maybe we'll watch a movie today. In short, I won't even do three paragraphs today.

Shift. Change. Improvement.

2009-02-14T06:23:00.000-08:00

That's the way of Nature. Shifts. Changes. Whether for the better or for the worse, that's always relative, always debatable.

Shedding all philosophies, coming to the point, the purpose of this blog has changed. No more showing off my "literay skills" or "intellectual ideas" or "personal stories". Just a daily diary kinda thing. By 'daily' I mean when I feel like, of course. When I have the time and the energy, and the opportunity, of course. Today is Valentine's Day, and like the previous year's one, I end up choosing this day to innaugurate something new. Last year it was a new Orkut profile, this year, THIS.

Anyway, my "selection" tests start from 13th March. I never knew college life could require studies, but it's showing it's true picture gradually. The politics. No, not those teenage fights. I mean serious politics here. SFI guys beating up Opposition, etc. No, I'm not anti-SFI. I support SFI in my own college. But, when it comes to other people, other SFI members in other colleges, I become skeptical. I see severe conservatism, loathful partial behaviors, and abominable arrogance. Watching the movie Kalbela only served to intensify my skeptical views about student politics. Keeping all those 'ultra-debatable' issues apart for a while, let's talk about studies. Why do I need to study? Because I need a job. Because I need money. Because...oh the list is endless. Money is more important than love. Because, where there is no money, there is no love. You'll believe when you read the stories of parents killing their kids dur to food shortages and joblessnesses.

I had a great day today; the kind of 'days' I always want to have. But, I didn't study a word. Sorry for the exxageration. I read three paragraphs today. But, I have, at least, a million more paragraghs to read, understand and learn by heart before 13th March. Someone had said "slow and steady wins the race". Let's see how true it is. How three paragraphs a day can help me to complete a million paragraphs in less than a month. Fuck. I hate very few things, but study load tops the list eternally. Universally, eh? Dunno.

The only gift I got today was a packet of chocolate cookies. Only people I wished sent me "same to you" SMSes. Doesn't matter, because I never believed in the concept of "celebrating" V-days. But I believed in the day. A day, when busy people should take a break and explore love. (Remember the saying "love is the business of the idle, the idleness of the busy"). Even if love doesn't exist in reality, it does in dictionaries at least! The debate on love will be elaborated on some future post. Enough for today. Need to sleep, call up a few friends, and try to study. At least three paragraghs more.

Happy Post-Valentine's Days to every reader.

An Ode To Youth

2009-02-03T07:29:00.000-08:00

For Sritama. But it turned out to be mine. I guess only a few, who had been nasty kids like me, will be able to relate to the first two stanzas. The last stanza is not "poetic" in the sense that I actually struggled to bring in rhythm within it. So, forgive me if it sounds 'aatel'.

AN ODE TO YOUTH

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither

The days spent on bed

The nights spent awake

The evenings out cycling

The afternoons in, studying

The mornings late and lazy

The memories still seem crazy!

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither.

From the gullible kid to the 'grown-up' teen

From the gold-haired teddy to the hunk on screen

From the silent tears to the adamant fights

From childish claims to teenage rights

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither.

The hours slithered away beneath careless feet

Innocence was, when 'goals' took a backseat.

Come prudent days, passions mellowed

Strained, strangled voices crying aloud

Amidst busy being, squeezed nostalgia

Leisure located in a crowded pizzeria

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither.

The Silhouette Was You

2008-12-07T09:44:00.001-08:00

9:00pm.

Exam tomorrow. And, I am suffering from brain death. To make things worse, I miss you, her, him, everyone.

Apurva calls. I know that by the look of the number....those USA numbers are weird. We talk about Sritama...Sritama envies Apurva, Apurva envies Sritama. We talk about Gaurav. We talk about her future, her confusion. We talk about my exam. She asks me to write a poem for her class assignment. I tell her I'll do it tonight itself, since I will be going to Durgapur tomorrow and no more access to the net after that. Call disconnected.

I'm thrilled. And then worried. You'll call me an aatel again. Okay, challenge one: time limit: 15 minutes. Challenge two: it should be a common man's poem; not a poet's poem. Challenge three: Sonnet is the alternative for Apurva.

Challenge two gets priority. All the while I keep in mind that the imageries should be such that you understand. I need more than 15 minutes. I don't know what Sonnet sends her. But I'm feeling more alive after this:

The Silhouette Was You

I didn’t tell you that I’m walking backwards,

Hoping that I’ll bump into you

I didn’t know that you were far away,

I didn’t know the silhouette was you.

I swallowed the lump in my throat,

Cleared it to shout out to you

I didn’t know that you were far away,

I didn’t know the silhouette was you.

I made a glider, and away it threw,

Hoping that it would fly to you

You would know it’s me: the paper was pink

Aimless it flew; I watched it shrink.

There’s the storm, there’s the rain

There’s the water flooding the drain

Even you’re still here, ain’t you?

Even when it’s gray, even when it’s blue.

I went to the church, behind the hill,

Looked here and there, in fact looking for you

I didn’t know that you were far away,

I didn’t know the silhouette was you.

The fall is here; the roads are red

I’m sitting by the window, waiting for you

I don’t believe that you are far away,

I don’t believe the silhouette was you.

Special thanks to Microsoft Word.

Not Just For Economists

2008-11-30T07:19:00.000-08:00

Ah, this thing, Okun's law is there for my mid-term syllabus and I couldn't locate it in any of my books or notes (I hardly have any of the latter). Hence, I looked up online. Puspen, who's introduced here and everywhere else as my best friend's boy-friend asked me how long I'd be free...here's the SMSes:

Puspen: "Does your free time end at 8pm?"

Me: "It should. But it won't. I've got some work online. Target: finish it a.s.a.p."

Puspen: "What work?"

Me: "Relation between GDP and unemployment. I can't find it in any of the books I read from, yet it's there in the syllabus...hence...get the rest"

Puspen: "that's a PhD topic!"

Me: "No. We were taught in the class. Okun's Law. I don't have the notes, that's all. It's pretty simple. What makes you think that it's a PhD topic? Everything has formulae in theory. PhD is just about showing that the formulae fail in real world"

Puspen: "Because I've always wondered why a country with the 2nd highest GDP growth has such widespread unemployment. I still can't comprehend it. I'd be happy if you could enlighten me."

Me: "1. Okun's Law states that for every 1 percentage point by which the actual unemployment rate exceeds the so-called natural rate of unemployment, the real GDP is reduced by 2.5%. This is an empirical observation, rather than a result derived from theory. It varies depending on the country and time period considered.

2. The part of the adult population that is not interested to work (or not interested to be literate enough to learn to work) is not included in the labour force. Thus they are not called 'unemployed'. An unemployed person is one who has been looking for work for the past four weeks from the time considered. (Strict definition)

3. Government policies are not made keeping economics in view. They're aimed at popularity, hence they deviate normal economic theories. The Minimum Wage Law ensures a price of labour (wage) which is well above the market equilibrium price. Since firms do not agree to pay the higher price of labour, they reduce the number of hired labourers, thus generating unemployment. (British Council has this book on how the minimum wage laws harm us. I'll get it if you want)
4. The country with the 2nd highest GDP is Japan. India has the 10th highest GDP. And India and Japan have same unemployment rates according to unstats.un.org (updated on June 2007)"

Puspen: "I think I stated India has the highest GDP growth."

Me: "Here's what you said-'Because I've always wondered why a country with the 2nd highest GDP growth has such widespread unemployment. I still can't comprehend it. I'd be happy if you could enlighten me.'"

Puspen: " Ya. GDP growth. Not GDP."

Me: "You shouldn't have. In terms of GDP growth rate, India ranks 22nd in the world; according to www.nationmaster.com/graph/eco_gdp_rea_gro_rat-economy-gdp-real-growth-rate"

Puspen: "My God!"

P.S.- Puspen is pursuing MBBS at SSKM Hospital. Since I had this discussion with a doctor-to-be, I might have taken advantage of his ignorance and used wrong terminology. Hence, corrections are welcome...

About you, you'll re-ascertain my 'aantelami'; so, I hope you won't read it...:P

Who’s Gonna Be ‘Corrupt’?

2008-11-08T09:03:00.000-08:00

A couple of nights ago, I was reading Amitabha Ghosh’s Countdown. A delightful read, I must say. One of those socio-eco-political accounts that will glue an intellectual’s eyes to the text. I read about how George Fernandes vehemently and violently protested against Indira Gandhi’s policies as a college-student in 1974, when India had its first nuclear test at Pokhran. Years down the line, when the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) & it’s allies came to power, with George Fernandes as the Defense Minister, they had five consecutive nuclear tests at Pokhran; and Fernandes himself signed the documents permitting them. What changed him? Or did he change at all? What makes a politician do things that are, seemingly anti-humanity? Do we really understand them beyond what the media shows us? Do we ever get to know what are the various (and, often conflicting) pressures that they carry on them, beyond what they themselves decide to reveal to the media? I think, NO.

I sent a message to all the people on my phonebook (oblivious of the expenditure, as usual!), which goes as follows:

“Suppose, you are the Prime Minister of India. The United Nations hands you a cheque worth Rs.20 lakhs INR for building 100 primary schools in the country. Your childhood friend is diagnosed with lung cancer; the best surgeons for treatment are in France; the expenditure is something like 20 lakhs. What do you choose to do with the money you have? Do you choose your childhood friend or your country?”

What I forgot to mention is that 20 lakhs is a hypothetical value, I understand that it’s certainly not enough to build a 100 primary schools. At the same time, what I meant to highlight is that the UNESCO and UNDP funds are never actually large enough to serve the purpose they’re meant for. The other thing is an assumption that you aren’t corrupt, yet. If you’re already corrupt you aren’t even remotely expected to spend the money for its intended purpose. Furthermore, if you’re corrupt, you already have enough money at your disposal to bother about a mere 20 lakhs or a mere lung cancer!

Save a few, most bothered to reply! Here are the various replies: (for a brief, tabular representation of the results, please scroll downwards):

(I hope none of my friends will take offence at my public publishing of their SMSes)

Agnimita: My country. If I’m the PM, then I can finance my friend’s operation myself. I wouldn’t need the money allotted for my country’s development.

Avik-Da: I will save my friend if he’s worth it.

Arijit Kundu: I would go for my country first, then any friend, then myself.

Amrita: I will choose my country. Because, for my friend, I’ll have black money.

Nikita: Good that you have provided me food for thought. I will ponder upon it and reply later on.

Kundan: I’d use the grant to build schools! And if I’m the PM, I’d have my own money enough to afford my friend’s treatment at France! So, both would be done!

Puspen: Friend.

Mrityunjoy-Da: Country…

Sagnik: Ask the Prime Minister himself, LOL

Neema: Dunno if it’s right or wrong, but I would save my friend. The schools can wait.

Gaurav Pande: I would return the money. If the choices would have been such that I would have to sacrifice something of my own for any of those causes, I’d readily done so. I can’t choose anyone of these options because choosing one of them may cause harm or difficulties to others. I don’t want to take decisions which bring joy to many and death to one. So better avoid. That’s the best way out.

Deshraj: That’s a tough decision. But I think I’ll choose my childhood friend…

Arpita Bayen: I’ll build primary schools with these rupees. And I’ll try to get 20 lakhs with all my money and property…if I can’t, I’ll get a loan for it. Because, I can’t use country’s money for my personal problem, and I can’t leave my friend either. (Arpita’s is the best reply according to me)

Sudeepa: Look, it’s easy to say that everyone has to die someday, so, it’s India’s future which should be considered here. Anyway, There isn’t any PM whose private possessions are less than 20 lakhs. So, both will be served.

Sudipto: Childhood friend.

Sujoy: As a Prime Minister, I must go for building the primary schools, as the amount donated is not for my personal use. And I hope my pals will also understand why I have done so. (the second best reply)

Souvik: As I’m a PM so I’d think for everybody! The schools can wait for sometime, but if I help my friend, I can save 1 life. So, I’ll help my friend first!

Saheli: I’ll chose my childhood friend.

Raka: When such a situation happens in reality, then, I’ll weigh the other factors and effects and decide. Till then, racking your brain over this is futile.

Bishwadeb-Da: Firstly, if I’m the PM, then I’ll have enough sources and power to sponsor and not require UN funds (assuming my friend is poor, and not one who can afford the surgery). Secondly, I am sure India has world-renowned doctors, so I will not need France for a surgery. (this response was good enough!)

Rumeli: I would choose my childhood friend. And do hell with my country. I will resign. And will see what happens later…because I love my friend a lot.

Sohini: My country.

Madhumanti: I will choose my country.

Moumita: Of course my country…since I’m answerable to my country & the UN…a responsibility as a Prime Minister. Maybe I could spare that amount from my pocket for a friend.

Sourav Roy: Childhood friend.

Sangharsan: If I were the Prime Minister, I’d never want or ask for money…I would work hard to keep my country in the best way possible. I will sell myself, and all my happiness to save my friend, but never my country. My friend would also never want me to do that.

Arijit Majhi: It’s simply impossible to set up 100 primary schools with 20 lakhs…it’s better to save my friend’s life.

Trishita: My childhood friend, of course!

Payal: I’ll think and reply after a few days.

Tiyash: I guess friend…or 50:50…

Manavi: Obviously, I’ll choose my friend. Why open schools and torture tiny-tots…right?

Elisha: Confused…but I’d do both…build 100 schools to maintain my image before the UN & curb illiteracy. Also try to fund my friend’s treatment with my own bank balance as much as I can do for my friend…

Torsha: Give me some time to think…will reply later

Rajarshi-da: Country….because it’s meant for the country.

Dipayan: I’ll start a 100 primary schools; that way, my country will be rendered necessary service…& my childhood friend will be proud of me. But out of black money (this is India), I’m sure those 100 schools will be made. It won’t hurt to become a bit immoral for my friend and my country! That’s the way…that’s why, be within the system…and only when needed, take the wrong path. We always have a choice; it’s upto us to use our choice and put it to good use, however bad it might look to the public eye or our own morals, if it finally helps the person or the system….that’s important to you. A problem is not going to exist without a solution! And to put it to a conclusion, what I don’t understand is, why do you have to choose between your childhood friend and country?

Suchandrima: He’s the PM, that too India’s, and he himself doesn’t have Rs.20 lakhs! And…100 schools with just 20 lakhs? No schools, only slums will be made! I’ll choose friend with my money, and country with UN money.

Aryan: I will choose my country.

Sonnet: Me, being a philanthropist, so NOTWITHSTANDING the matter of being my Prime Minister, I would always prefer my country when the fund is coming for a specified reason. As for my friend…I think I can live with one kidney. (the most ‘practical’ reply)

Sohom-da: I should divide these 20 lakhs between the two. Reasons: 1. The treatment can be started, paying the 10 lakh in advance and the 10 lakh out of instalments, in future (out of my drafts, bonds & estates). 2. The building project can be started using 10 lakh and the rest 10 lakh can be paid of any of the PM...funds. Time is what a PM needs.

Vaibhav-da: Well, for the time being, I’ll allocate 10 lakhs between the two causes. And invest the remaining 10…so that it will multiply itself in some time. Hence, both the causes will be served.

Avishek Das: Obviously, my friend.

Abhishek Banerjee: 20 lakhs are insufficient for building a 100 primary schools! So instead of taking on the project, I’ll use the money to treat my friend while in the meantime I’ll ask for extra funds. While the extra funds arrive the stock markets might show an up-trend and the extra funds will multiply and become enough for the project!

I was really kidding…I myself don’t know what comes first- duty or love. So naturally, I don’t know the answer to your question!

Koyel: Country at first. If abandoned educated fellows turn doctors, then many people’s childhood friends can be saved from lung cancer. (the third best reply)

Aishik: people of India.

Mum: Tough decision to take. Leaving it for you.

Baba: Country. Because it’s wiser to invest in education than a disease such as lung cancer.

Bro: 10 lakhs to schools, 5 lakhs to friends, 5 lakhs for myself.

You know what I’d thought? If someone spends it on any other purpose than the intended one, he/she’ll be the one whom the common man calls ‘corrupt’. So, I’ve got a number of completely corrupt friends, and partially corrupt friends as well!

Number Of People Questioned	77
Number Of People Replied	47
Number Of People Choosing Country	19
Number Of People Choosing Friend (Corrupt)	15
Number Of People Choosing 50:50 (Partially Corrupt)	6
Number Of People Undecided	5

Anyway, here's the same question for anyone who reads this:

P.S: Please remember the assumptions...

U.S.History

2008-11-03T10:44:00.001-08:00

Here's the FLIPSYDE song:

[Verse 1]
Hustlin's in my blood my father's name is Britain

His history consisted of robbery killin' and pimpin
Filthy rich and the biggest killer that you ever seen
Once I'm older I'm takin' over ima be king
I was locked up in jail when he got the new land
Opened his cells I guess that's how the story began
First mission was to clear it out and claim it as mine
Indigenous people were peaceful it took no time
Great grandmother Africa was blind and disabled
Sons was traitors we played divide and conquer invaded
Sold her children into slavery and profited quick
Started makin' side deals and that's how I got rich
Daddy Britain found out and tried to put me in check
He don't understand I'm a man and I deserve some respect
Tried to bring it to me but I play for keeps and I won
Still my daddy but you ain't the only man with a gun
More money More problems little brother is wild
They call 'em The South he's country with a big ass mouth
Tried to show 'em new business but he don't wanna change
I love 'em but I knew eventually I'd blow out his brains
I'm America!

[Chorus]
You know you know God Bless America
You know you know God Bless America
You know you know God Bless

[Verse 2]
Me and my daddy still cool and my uncles is with us
France Russia and Italy and we all killas
But it's this nigga named Germany that's out of control
Rollin with Japan and Turkey and them niggas is bold
Started fuckin' with my uncles and we all went to war
Uncle France damn near died at the tip of his sword
When the smoke cleared we won let 'em retreat
Shoulda' killed 'em cause they knew they had us close to defeat
Kicked it off again 20 years later it was on
This time my uncle Italy traded and he was gone
I was neutral when Japan hit me guess that he knew
I aint gone' let my family fight without me jumpin' in too
Woulda' lost if I didn't hit Germany's weapon supply
Kamikaze Japanese was always ready to die
Dropped atomic bomb let them niggas know that it's real
Speak soft with a big stick do what I say or be killed
I'm America!

[Chorus]
You know you know God Bless America
You know you know God Bless America
You know you know God Bless

[Verse 3]
I'm racin' with my uncle Russia we the ones with the guns
He supported the North so I rolled with South Vietnam
Thought it would be easy but almost 60 thousand died
They was harder than Korea so we ran for our lives
It's a family called the Middle East and they got bread
Sellin' oil they don't cut me in then off with their head
I got a nephew named Israel that's right in the middle
Pay his allowance as long as he can dance to my fiddle
I had a patna' named Iraq gave 'em weapons and money
Nigga started getting' power and he start actin' funny
Saudi Arabia's cool gotta son Bin Laden
I was trainin' his soldiers to go against the Russians and stop 'em
Then he tried to say I need to take my soldiers and cut
Gave 'em the finger that's when he flipped and blew my shit up
I took it to 'em, and then I took it back to Iraq and if you ain't my blood brother you gonna be flat on
yo' back
The sons of Africa just invented this shit called rap
Tellin' my secrets that's why I'm puttin' their heads on flat
Built an empire quick and it might not last
But I bet I go down in history as the one that smashed
I'm America!

[Chorus]
You know you know God Bless America
You know you know God Bless America
You know you know God Bless

Hustlin's in my blood my father's name is Britain
Hustlin's in my blood my father's name is Britain
The red the white the red the white the blue
The red the white the red the white the blue

Watch: the video's really worth it.

HOWRAH BRIDGE

2008-10-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

I am sitting aboard a rickshaw. An auto before me. A Maruti behind me. A wall on my right. A hardware shop on my left. The rickshaw was stuck. A local traffic 'jam' ahead. As usual. These days, during the course of a journey, if you never stayed stuck at the same place for a few minutes at least, I’ll doubt if your journey was complete.

Anyway, as I say, I’m stuck. As usual. I do not lose patience (like you do), as usual. I look into the shop (something you’d never do; you’d crane your neck to try and gauge how long you’ll be ‘marooned’ there).

The shop has a blue polished table for a counter. White-washed walls. Black shelves. Iron nails, iron clamps, steel chains, perforated black discs, ropes, etc, etc. A man with a moustache in a half-buttoned gray shirt sitting on achair, reclining against an iron stand. Two boys, aged around six or seven (I guess) standing low behind the counter, their backs to the man. Their eyes fixed on the slender wooden blocks arranged curiously over one another on the blue polished table top. The mouths in random motion.

I remove the headphones from my ears.

“Ami conttactorr...ami Howraa beej baniyechi…tui terrorichht…tui Howraa beej bhangbi..theek achhe?” (I’m a contractor, I’ve built the Howrah bridge. You’re a terrorist, you’ll break it. Okay?)

“Na thik nei. Ami keno kharap hobo? Tui terrorichhst hobi, ami conttactorr hobo.” (no, not okay. Why will I be the bad one? You’ll be the terrorist, I’ll be the contractor)

“arrey na na tui bujhchhish na. Amra dujonei kharap. Ami toke asholey nijei bhangte bolechhi beej-ta. Jaate amay Gorment abar taka dey beej bananor jonno!” (Oh no, you don’t understand. We both are bad. Actually, I myself asked you to break it, so that the Government again gives me money to re-build it!)

“Theek ache taholey.” (Then it’s okay.)

“DHEERRUUMM BBBRRMM DHEESH DHEESH DUMM!!”

(The wooden blocks lay scattered over the blue polished table.)

“YEEYY!!!”

“Ebar tui Gorment hobi, ami conttactorr hobo.” (Now you be the Government, I’ll be the contractor)

“Na na, tokeo kharap hote hobe.” (No, no, even you’ve got to be bad)

“Achchha teek ache, tahole Gorment abr kichhu bhalo lok-der mere tader taka conttatorr ke debe? Theek ache?” (Okay, then the Government kills good people and steals their money, and gives it to the contractor. Okay?)

“Kintu bhalo lok gulo tahole ke-ke hobe? Khali toh ami ar tui achhichh!” (But who’ll play the good people? It’s only you and me here!)

“Taholey toh eta ar khelte parbo naa...tahole notun khela bhabi dara…..” (Then we can’t play this anymore. Let’s think of a new game.)

“Na, na etai khelbo ami, etai khelbo ami…” (No, no, I will this game only, this game only.)

The rickshaw proceeds on. Their voices die out. Or, do they?

Once Again...

2008-10-15T04:24:00.000-07:00

I cleaned my cupboard today morning. Was a strange, strange experience as I'd expected it would be. A piece of newspaper which I'd preserved all of the last 12 months (an article on atheism, published last Mahalaya), went to the bin today. My old school gloves too. My sketchbooks as well. A few rusted blades and melted rubber bands as well. I came across a piece of paper with my last poetry on it, it was written in early class XII days, Disha being the only one who read and commented. A silly blank verse. Here's it:

Once Again...

the battle's lost.

The loser sits

on the edge of the bed.

Staring.

At the wall

at the canvas

the rain washes the colours away

wipes the picture

away.

Once again...

the battle's lost.

Once again.

Once again...

the focus.

On the spider

that creeps upwards

in the room full of men.

The big picture blurred.

Eyes on the black square

deeper deeper...

when the battle on the board

is lost.

Once again...

the focus on the spider.

Once again.

There's something more written on the paper. I'll post that as a comment.