The Phone Call

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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...