Saturday, July 18, 2009

Don't Read This


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

Ok. Now, I'll be referring to you as "you". Because I'm writing this for you to read. Because what I'm writing is what I want you to know, but I can't tell you myself. You just sent a text right now. When you (or me) add "bye n tc" at the end of a message, it's obvious that it's an SMS meant to spurt out hatred and anger the moment it's read. So, right now, you hate me. Just when my defences were falling apart, I was melting, I was about to stop hating you, you show me how much you hate me now. That's sad. Why? Because it made me sad. I felt like crying. I dunno what has gotten into me these days, I seemed to have lost the ability to cry. I'll elaborate it later. Now, that's why it's sad news. Because it brought a lump to my throat. On the other hand, it's good news too. When my own hatred for you is ebbing away, your hatred for me is exactly what I need to help me keep you away, to help me keep my stand. Thank you.
Just an interruption, the last time I was really close to tears, was when I was crossing the slum after B.D. Memorial. Your rickshaw was too far by then. I stopped running. That's when I got the shock. You never looked back!! You actually went away! That's when I broke. I threw something at you, to show that I was angry. And I was angry because you insulted me. If Puspen and Disha were not my god-parents, I could have said that you made me look like a liar, like a fool in front of others. But they're not others, they are my god-parents, gratefully. And then it hit me. You really don't need me as a friend. You could just walk out on me, because you don't even feel anything. I'm the one who feels that "can't let you go" kinda thing. Anyway, that's when I started hating you. After giving you all that you ever wanted, this is what you give me. You knew that there was no othe rickshaw, so I couldn't have followed you. Probably, you thought that it's ok for you to show your anger now, and then, when it's time for you to need something from me, you'd make a puppy face, apologise, cry, and melt me. You did all that, yeah. But you couldn't give me back that rickshaw ride, could you? You couldn't replay it and this time, just look back, see me running, and ask the man to stop. You couldn't change it. You have ruined everything that I've done or tried to do for the last one year. One year, eh? Yeah, I lost the N-72 on 15th July last year, and it was 16th July, this year, that day. Very symbolic, indeed. I never thought that losing N-72 would ever matter, you know. Even to this day, I have all your messages saved in my inbox. It's just about a 1000, N-72 had unlimited text memory; this one doesn't, I'm sorry. I had only those songs in the cell, that were there in our "playlist" on N-72. I got it from the N-CD, and made a few additions. I tried to hold on to everything we had, but as Debayan Da said, love isn't a one-way traffic. I've kept telling myself that you don't mean what you say, you actually do love me, just like before. But when you didn't turn back from the rickshaw, all that I convinced myself to believe in, evaporated away. It was obvious. I tried to be your friend, I failed. I tried to get over you, I failed. I tried to get you back, I failed. I failed in all that I did throughout a whole year. I have to stop now. You've drained me away, you have taken everything I was capable of giving. I have to hate you, lest you don't suck the very life out of me. It's not your fault, but it's not my fault either, that I have to hate you. It's a conscious decision.
I can't watch Harry Potter. It was alway special with you. I can't watch it now. Not without you, and definitely not with you. I have vowed not to watch another movie with a friend. I hate watching movies with people. And I'm not watching another movie with you, without holding hands. Else, I can't concentrate on the movie. The Hangover is still in theatres, fourth week running! I can't even watch that, after all that happened. Movies apart, I have to be strong.
I got drunk last night. I shouldn't have allowed you to come to my house, you know. I did, because, in spite all the hatred, I was longing for you. I shouldn't have asked you to come back, when you left. But I did a second mistake, because of the same reason. No, not the second mistake. The third mistake. I shouldn't have talked to you that night. Receiving your call was the first mistake. No matter what I said, about not showing the person I hate, that I hate the person, you know what the truth is? I loved the sound of your voice. I couldn't be harsh.
But now let me tell you why I should have stopped myself. While talking to you over phone, my legs go weak. I shiver. Even yesterday, a single SMS from you was making my blood rush. You know how much I was tensed before you came, after you came? You know my password, so go check my chats. I've labelled them in mauve "in case you read". You'll know whom I was talking to, about whom I was talking, while you were on the sofa behind me. So, do I give you the same feeling? Not anymore, right? Friendship isn't one way traffic too. I don't arouse you with with a single SMS or a single call, do I? You do it to me. And how do you think this can stop?
I got drunk last night. I passed out. I woke up at 1:30am. I couldn't sleep after that. I dunno why. I was melting, I felt that. I'm a big fucking fool, I realised that. After all this time, I still can't stop loving you. You're making me go insane. One moment I hate you. The next moment I'm longing for you. I'm so helpless, and I'm so foolish that I don't even want to get over you! I don't even mind that you don't love me, I just want to be with you. You see, my defences were weakening. I had deleted all the songs in my cell sometime ago. Not that "take a bow" sung by you. I set it as my message alert, and my ringtone, so that I hear so much of your voice that I don't long for it anymore. I'm still so much in love with you, I think. But there you go, with your SMS, now that you hate me, I can be strong again. I can continue hating you.
The only way you can win me back is by falling back in love with me. And that, is IMPOSSIBLE!

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

Friday, July 17, 2009

Strength


I have always thought that hatred is an unacceptable sin. You should never hate a person. You can dislike certain things about a person. You can talk to him/her about it, listen to his/her justifications. If you still don't like it, try and change. If you can't change it, accept it; get used to it. That was my way. I never hated an entire person, ever in my life.
Today, strangely, hatred has shown to me why I shouldn't hate hatred! Hatred can have positive consequences too. After an year of trying to get my mind off a person who, well, in short, broke my heart, today, I feel free of all feelings, my mind feels free of all sick emotions. And that's because of hatred, or the healing power of hatred! Hatred has given me the strength. Now that I hate this person, and everything about this person, I don't feel tortured by love anymore! I have finally "got rid of" it all.
No, I'm not asking all those heart-broken fellows out there, reading this, to do the same. Hating someone is not easy. And hating someone is not right. And hating someone is not the right way to get over someone! Maybe the traditional ways of "pretending to be friends" or "stopping all contacts" are the right ones, after all. But, believe me, I tried all of them. I failed. I can't keep talking to a person who takes me for granted. I can't be friends with a person whom I'm physically attracted to. I can't be indifferent to a person who has penetrated into my most personal life. I can't stop talking to a person, who knows my weaknesses, and takes advantage of them at every possible opportunity. I can't forgive a person who has lied to me; who has lied about me to others; who has made me laughing stock to my friends, and thus insulted me, publicly, day in and day out. Hatred is the only way I can be strong this time. I don't want to be on Square One anymore.

Friday, July 10, 2009

An Empty Moment Exhausted

Destiny:

Builds, breaks, shifts, re-builds.

Divinity:

Calls for justice, unheard!

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

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

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

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

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

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

thus i

pass by

and die


as one

unknown

and gone


i'm made

a shade

and laid


i' th' grave

there have

my cave


where tell

i dwell

farewell.

[Copied from someone's profile]

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Serious stuff again!

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

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

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Scribbling

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

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

Monday, June 22, 2009

Random

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.

Monday, June 15, 2009

The Miracle Boy

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.

What can make the world a better place?