The Shit Hit The Fan

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

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

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

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

I Love You

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

Things To Remember

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

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

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

[1] Your blood-parents are vile creatures.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm feeling better now. Back to books.

To my Cancerian friends.

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

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

But, I'm too used to this hope.

Don't Read This

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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