Hmmm

Bc to Dementia....cud barely sleep till the clock struck six and then the Mayhem over man's fatal attraction to woman and repercussions of the law guardians.
The excitement seems to be very bleak
Not hearing from someone even more bleak
Something that I fear is desertion....not to be has ceased to be a choice.

Wonder how life is gonna change,if at all
Mumbai,cant wait to meet you,my solace of the soul,my irrelevant logic,my cuppa beside
salt water reservoir,and the aimless walk perspectiva.

To say it all together,kinda anxious,dunno if that is called the fear,the fear of denying fear but isnt denial reality?

09.09 hrs
17th May,Kolkata

And is not afraid to Ask!

Yes this post is very reactionary in nature,like a pressure cooker being pressurized to the point that its almost bursting. What I see myself writing is directly proportional to three seasons of watching Sex and the city for two nights and one day;like I was starving for approval about emotional, sexual and intellectual confusions. And by the end of it I feel a lot better about myself and the idiosyncrasies that I have. And yes, I am not a dying species. There are people out there who struggle with the same questions as I do and maybe they are way forward than I am because the show started somewhere in the 90s.
The show deals with lives of four independent women living in New York and their relationship tales. And trust me, I am not the only sucker for deconstructing every relationship at every possible opportunity. Also to add, I have come in terms with the fact that all that’s beautiful is not supposed to stay forever, and one does not have to forget to forgive! It is absolutely normal not wanting to get married and at the same time craving for it when the whole world is heading to the isle. It is ok to be judgmental but it is important to know when to let go of ones boundaries.
I guess over the past few days it was quite marvelous to have come in face to face to my secrets and getting all the skeletons out of the closet. As it is important for me to have the good professional impression, I have never cared about what the world thought of me and that’s ok. Most importantly I am/have been cheap and shallow at times. So what….I am human.

Every other moment I find grappling with my logical self, intellectual self, sexual self and emotional self and that is ok. The fact that they are raging against one another is ok. It is not important to know when it is right and when is it not right in a relationship all the time. Its ok to make mistakes, and maybe repeat them but I am glad I am not denying it to myself anymore.
I must confess with most of the friends around getting married and having babies it is quite difficult to not be a part of and ask myself what’s wrong with them but at the same time loving every minute of the wedding bells and pregnant buddies! Of course the question also is pointed at me and mostly people think I would be the late marriage kinds (btw if one is getting married post 30-for a woman it is late as per Indian Junta standards!!!) but the fact that I am still trying to accept marriage as an institution I better start telling the world that it is a mammoth task!
As much as life is what happens to you when you are 15 and trying to learn watching stars and this perfect guy tells you that your eyes speak even when its dark and you never acknowledging the relationship coz you are never supposed to have an affair (that’s coz it’s a girly thing to do) and life happens when you ransack a rockstar’s folder to find obscure lyrics and plunge into a passionate romance and then life also happens to you when you are trying to find space in a pub and a sweet guy tells you his wine secrets and you discover that maybe a lifetime together is not such a bad idea, maybe you could live together with someone and not feel claustrophobic 90% of the time…..but all of this need not be constants. As seasons keep changing, so do people and emotions.
Maybe there are no right guys, right answers, right moments and all you have to do is to speak your heart and have no fear even if it is echoing the most illogical thing.

The 25th year of my life has been rather very interesting considering I have learnt so much about myself and have finally kinda made up my mind. I am ok with the fact now that I cannot do a routine 9-5 job and consider that to be settled, I am not the kind who understands money, I am not the kind who can stop desperately hoping that there is something interesting happening in everyones life and they need to realize it, I am not the kind who has the speech prepared for the red carpet. But as of now I am happy to have taken this break where I did nothing but read, write and watch films. I was happy to be home, doing patchwork on the quilt. I am trying to overcome the fear of being alone, I mean not having activity to do all the time! I am getting comfortable with the fact that I can be very unpredictable to myself that I can also survive without a support system (But that I need to know my support system is there!). And that all of us have secrets to ourselves and even if they are bloody painful it is an experience of a lifetime.
I am happy to have decided to study a little more and comfortable to have come to terms with the fact that I am not financially independent yet.

I was quite disturbed with illicit affair between friends and they cheating on other things in life but then over a coupla months I realized that there are too many roads, too many detours and a lot of people may not have had the opportunity to not do it coz it was not right. Now when they are faced with so many choices it is perfectly normal to have made mistakes, or maybe they are not mistakes at all. It is an expression of liberation, of letting go of the Right! There are perhaps no shoulds, woulds, coulds. In real life when you fall down, you get up, buckle the shoes and walk again.

In my little world, the few people I live with, I have had a transformation in relationships with them because of priorities, family, marriage, relationships…blahblahblah. But now I am not scared to lose them. Though around me I obviously could not think of more than two guy friends who would remain single when I would be 35, and it could lead to serious crisis then but that’s too far away. I am just twenty-five. I falter between wearing the heart on my sleeves and letting the same heart beat to the rhythm of this one special guy, I often get a funny feeling about being with someone for like 2 years and at the same time enjoying the seemingly single status. Not to mention the few tears shed over how pathetic it can feel if someone x,y,z tries to push me through the wall coz I sometimes also enjoy being seemingly single! But one has to realize that there are walls one can push and some you just cannot.
Just yesterday me and this special friend were discussing as to how well we have done this time in the long distance mode, we have had tiffs but no serious fights! But I know that those end of the deal kinda fights with everyone has brought me very close to people. As of what I have experienced there is lotz to cherish even if in some love-hate relationships you end up expressing your adulation to that slightly special and yet not special person through these passionate fights.
But unlike an IPL (Indian Premier League) series where you fight against your own mate, fighting in relationships does not have the umpire and that often leads to fouls and hitting below the belt. Consequently one of the two is usually hurt much more. But as I look back just to my fights with x,y,xy I cant help but wonder what were we fighting for?
As of now I want to bask in the path traveled towards self actualization.
At the end of the day I am glad that I can still come back to my family after months of raging war and not even tell them how special it feels to have them in my life.
It brings a smile on my face to think of a few friends who just make me feel secure in my world just by giving me the warmth that they know me.
I can’t expect to get everything from one man as much as I cannot give it all myself but be comfortable with getting different things from different people because that’s what is called being Alive!

8th May 2008, Kolkata
12:07 hrs

MICROSMS YELLING IN SILENCE

What has gone wrong is still unknown.
Being homebound all I can say is, I do not have stories anymore. I have run out of them.
I feel inspired but they do not inspire me to make the breakthrough and the series of events has helped me to reach the point that I am jinxed.
But when I am unable to sort the causal effect I am perturbed with the smoky thought that once upon a time I loved my home, no matter how difficult it was I always ended up smoking a few puffs in the canteen or down the oly stairs and life would be back to being simple.
Have I outgrown the love? Have I lost touch with reality? Or the aspirations have taken the humane being out of me?
Never did it become a shame to admit that life is mediocre, it’s a simple living, drinking moments, staring at the sky and weaving my dreams. Often when I encountered reality I faltered but I was happy with the learning it offered.
The simple pleasures of walking from school, bunking tuitions, playing pool for hours and then be penniless. All of this was adventurous. How was I perceived never made any difference. I was happy being a little off the track; often wondering how would it be if I could be a woman like the others around; and enjoying the moments when a few special people made me feel the instincts. I fell in love with history, poetry, literature and different kind of people. It never needed to be recognized. I was happy knowing that the love was an inspiration to my own self. I grew up, fell out with friends, moved to the capital but it was my love for home that I came back (not to mention that women all around also made me chicken out) and then restarted another chapter called college. The three years just zoom passed and now it seems I was dreaming with eyes wide open!

There were these bouts of running away from home, to the mountains, to the sea, but I always cherished coming back here, to my nest where I woke up with no worries. I walked to the bus-stop and took the most crowded bus because I was always late and never needed to think about the crinkled clothes. There was no fear that time was running out, I was happy knowing I had all the time on the face of earth to create the ladder that would take me to the moon. I never had to keep the reins in hand. Could get sloshed and make a fool of myself. I could say anything and not worry about repercussions, I did what I wanted, and I rebelled but never had a heavy heart. I could lie on the Presi grass and say theres a world beyond this and I will take you there, get happy with a heartfelt ‘close dance’ with friends or sleep in the green room behind Derozio coz I was stoned outa my senses. I fell in love and out of it because my heart felt so, there was no calculation or speculation. I could say I wanted space, or wanted attention and the crime comrade ego would never seep in.

But all of this seems to be having disappeared. And to the extent that I keep hunting for them and they never seem to be coming back to me.
I am a perpetual moron and nobody seems to understand that.
I have no faith in words and nobody seems to believe that.
I am grey for months and nobody seems to acknowledge that.
Every moment I am made to feel like an absolute jerk (and these days I know I am one)
I do not have the opportunity and means to run away and complications seem to be the way out of inner turmoil.
The other day I described the phenomenon as the disease I thought I would never be infected with – Attention and Occupation seeking syndrome (read acute disorder)
I do not blame the disease. For I have never been not occupied. I always had some micro clue of how life will unfold but now I seem to have lost the enthusiasm for the same.

A geographic location was never an issue. I know I can stay anywhere where there is food for thought.
My home was always inspiring. Every where I would go when I came back, the city seemed to welcome me back with all the warmth. The Howrah bridge was a sheer delight. I never complained of the busy, polluted, roads. I saw the potential of recreation in them. The potholes seem to have stories of disabled administration. Poschimbonger Rajniti (the politics of West Bengal) was something one would look forward to. From Trinamul’s Mamata Banerjee or one DYFI calling for bandhs every fortnight seemed ok. It was a free democracy and it was a form of protest. I never thought it led to a day’s loss of revenue for the government of the state always had enough to cover up. The Bangali Adda was a sheer delight and I did not complain of the hours of human power it wasted.
I loved Tantra, I loved Someplace, I loved Park Street or the delights of Rabindra Sadan or Indrapuri Studio. I loved the hustle and bustle of either Gariahat or DumDum. I loved the solitary revelations beside Outram Ghat, I spent lifetimes with people I have not forgotten in the boats. I loved the regular rockbaji that randomly turned into long drives/rides by the Kona Express highway.
Now Tantra is disgusting, Someplace has become less of a music lovers paradise and more of a hep place to be,Peter Cat never has place, Radindra Sadan is always crowded, Garihat and DumDum seems to be more of an ordeal. Outram Ghat is frequented by all and sundry, rockbaji is not expected and the people have migrated. Even Kona Express highway is polluted!
I loved the crows and the sparrows that frequented whenever it was breakfast/lunch time, as if they were part of the family. I do not appreciate that anymore. I loved walking on my own through the lanes of the good old city but now the fear of being noticed and perceived have gotten a better of me.
The sense of never having enough is always taking its toll, right from the kitchen to INOX theres seems to be nothing exciting. The world is very small and every corner I meet people whom I do not feel like talking.

I am defying the laws of nature. (And not by choice, but by compulsion)
I do not feel attracted to anyone/thing anymore.
There’s is no gravitational pull and I am too lazy to say hello to the sunshine every morning. As much as I would hate myself but an ace critiqued friend’s words come to me more often, “I am disappointed with people, I know I have a lot of expectations from them” and when they are not met, I feel futility of existence. But here the story is more dismal.
I am 24, I am unemployed and broke and suffering from small intestinal cancer that has led me to superimpose restrictions of severe forms. I am confused about love, companionship, commitment etc. and do not know yet if I should give up satisfaction for money or money for satisfaction. Not to forget that right now I do not have either.

Of late I have realized that the only true companion in life is definitely nobody but Cigarettes. It is the only thing that does not seek long term anything. The more you inhale (u can read suck) the lesser it grows. You do not have the fear like in the case of unprotected sex, no issues about condoms, contraceptives or waking up to find you got sloshed and therefore horny and ended up in bed with the most unlikely creature of the human kind or the fact that you end up feeling that you want to be with this person for the next however number of times you have sex! Both of them are not just injurious to health but to mind, body, heart and soul.
As I write this I am atleast feeling good about the fact that sex is not the driving force as of today ;)
Coming back to cigarettes, they are very human in attitude but personality wise they predefine liberation. They die hundred deaths yet remain equally desirable. (And if not anybody else I know one Dumbhead is very disappointed to know how I feel about the lifelong companion.) But that is so true. Almost ideal, it does not expect and it does not raise expectation. How I wish the component s of the same could be transformed into something real! Wishful thinking. But atleast cigarettes make me think, I mean they try and stir something that I thought was dead for a while now.

So the synopsis of the story is there is no story anymore, and if I do not discover stories ahead I am going to rust, then will be infected by fungus, then will smell awful and then will be discarded. My dreams will die an untimely death. I do not know what can I do to keep them alive. All I know is a story has to be born out of nowhere and head to the Oscars. I will be the pathfinder and the one receiving the trophy, who said imaginations need to be real? Or who knows when reality seems like imagination.
The moron still is grey and hates making exceptions for smart ones!

2nd October 2007
16.49 hrs,Kolkata.

The Inspiration from the Idiot Box

There have been days when I have religiously watched the Idiot Box from 11-5,just like a working day and therefore this is an ode to the Idiot Box!!!!And definitely somethings that I thought of while I was watching it.

Indian Idol,one of the classy reality shows......the nicer part of the show is-there is no melodrama, the "gurus" do not promote their fanfare and films, it is not about a war,or propagating everything else but the essence of the contestants. Indian Idol is about young talent fighting their way through to carve a niche for themselves by becoming 'Bharat ki Shaan'. The look of the show is sleek and hats off to Sony/Meditech for the packaging. Its like a Nokia/Hutch ad.....a set standard maintained. And where there is someone as revered as Javed Akhtar and as upfront comments about understanding the psyche of the public,gender discrimination,regionalism......actually however much there is entertainment, the reality shows (if they maintain to keep up the standards)is actually a reflection of lot more than what catches the eye!The TRPs speak different languages in different mediums but I guess there s a judgement that I want to pass;This show keeps up the vision of exploring a singer who has a future to look forward to the rich musical saga of India.

And then I have to talk about this film I saw today,on the Idiot Box......Sunyo-e-Booke (zero in the chest-thats the exact translation) as u watch you realize its about a complexity of physicality between a newly married couple over the woman not having perfect breasts.
The story is of two artistes who fall in love and get married and on the first physical interaction the man feels cheated about the wife not having perfectly shaped and full breasts. He thinks he deserved to make an informed choice. The woman on the other hand had severed terms with her family to get married to this guy and she feels that she never thought it would be important to the same who said that the body is just the shell and Soul is the real identity. So there is arguments,set of ideological and creative clashes. The couple separate and the other guy who was not as good an artist looks through the skin of the woman,marries her and happily has a family with her.

The last scene was rather arty.
The Digha/Sankarpur Beach;the better artiste at his work and he encounters the child borne by the woman. And eventually the family. The woman still softly speaks words of rebuke and moves on the new path of emancipation. The man apologizes that drove me almost to believe that maybe he would live forever with the perfect breasts he wanted to caress but his instincts then have now left him with his awesome artistic abilities but devoid of real love and companionship.

It opens the several chain of thoughts, of physicality,sexuality and the mirage called perfection. It is probably much more than just a man-woman phenomenon, an artistes aspiration of love making and his frustration of discovering reality. Is there an absolute? Is it just about what lies beneath clothes?
From a personal standpoint life is not as complex as human emotions and as I received and sms the other day of silicon implantations, Viagra and questing the thirst of lust....hope we do not forget that the penis and the vagina could not have communicated had there not been the first spring tale when we met, when we first held hands, when we first kissed or when we first felt butterflies in the stomach to realize that Love knocked on the door.

To the ever raging debate of Love and Lust..someday,someway.

August 5th 2007

Abortion….whose right?

A sudden call post my most sober birthday this year left me numb! I had no inhibitions about anything at large I guess till I let the news sink in. ‘I do not how it happened….I missed my periods, kinda had a hunch something was not right, aby, I am pregnant.’ With my limited knowledge and the sense of sanity the obvious thing was ‘what r u waiting for? Abort the child!’ No, I was not coming from the angle of single woman, unwed mother. As much as I knew her, she was too preoccupied sorting her own life midst various questions of transitions; so getting another life to live midst the smoky march mayhem was out of question. And the ever important question of the resources of raising the child….where is that coming from? Love, care etc. etc. I understood. But not the equation of buying baby food and getting the child a comfortable childhood that most of us have had was not in the mathematical purview.

She did not wait for these explanations, she just said, ‘I have to go for my sonography….will you come along?’ Immediate question ‘that’s ok but the Man ran away?’ The self proclaimed believer of ‘I am the captain of my soul’ replied ‘no…he is a man, and though he knows and is being there, its in me aby, the faceless life is a lil more than a week, it’s a concept but a man is created in a way that he will not understand’. Well at that moment I could intellectually debate the concept of fatherhood and its importance and the whole cycle of nine months where the woman is bestowed to bear another life and that probably made men so insecure and the cycle of oppression of women started, I decided to be there by her. We went for the sonography…. I did not know the progression of technology to that extent where a few weeks old life is also visible. All done and the date of 17th March fixed for the abortion, we returned to our nests.
Later I found out the guy had not called all day to find out how she was. He assumed he could come back home and check on her, he candidly said he just did not find time. I thought probably that is why men never have had a womb!

I cannot even imagine the concept of unprotected sex. On principle I am not comfortable reaching the stage where I have to abort baby who is a fall out of passions of youthful time; and but sometimes some things just are not ideal. She brought to the foresight the millions of questions. And I almost lived through it with her, what overrode everything else was the guilt and aspect that she never thought she would abort a baby because it was a result of lust! I kept wondering how would be the feeling to know that there is life breathing inside you that will take shape to be a complete human being. How it must feel to know you can and are procreating! Like a novice I could only tell her ‘remember our summer vacations, we used to spend the long afternoons trying to get the first poetry right, or the first painting picture perfect? And the numerous papers, ink, colours we wasted to get exactly our imagination right in reality? Maybe it is something like that….She looked into nowhere and said…’I wish I could enjoy procreation because motherhood as I have heard is an experience that is life changing’. For about a week we struggled to get emotions in place. At several points I felt as if the silent voice was within me and not outside me, she was laughing and tears rolled down, it was most precious tears, she would wake up in the middle of the night, stare at the sky talk hours about the conflicts and practical considerations. For her it was a silent killing of a concept, midst the madness this film buff continued saying ‘Ray had ET as the concept, Spilberg created it, the concept did not die aby’. ’Here the concept is just dying when it even does not know what a concept is!’ Often these interactions left me speechless and I vowed to use contraceptives. Its not about not trusting the man you are with, it is about the concept whose inevitable death under such circumstances would scar me for life!

17th March 2007, at 11.30 we reached the clinic. The concept of comfort had almost vanished for her because of some emergency her doctor had to rush back to Chennai. So it was just another doctor doing her work! The two brave souls were waiting outside when one young guy came with his partner, made her sit and said ‘this is the solution to your problem n my peace’. It shook us up but what the heck….an interesting life with new experiences none the less. Oh lest I have forgotten to mention both of us buddies are too good at acting super cool babes!
She entered the clinic….the process….that I don’t want to recall. It was as much as I wriggled in pain; and I know some of it will remain forever.
In the evening I had called her….she was stoned, it was over and she just said ‘aby, the funeral is over but they will never sentence me, they will ask me to live through it’.
She wrote to her guy….’I am sorry we lost our baby’.
I wondered does it affect men, how and if it does how do they cope with it? Is it as big a loss as it was for her?
Don’t get me wrong I am not drawing sex differentials! I am just curious.
And if there is any one of u wondering about the anonymous ‘she’,lets say she was as good as Calvin’s Hobbes, my alterego!

20th March 2007
23:37 hrs.

The Tale of the matchbox

A very old friend announced her separation. The irony is she always wanted to be a homemaker, wife and mother. And she did fit the role to the T. Spoke to her only to discover she has learnt the hard way to lead a life single and rocking. I guess I will have to be upfront and say that’s the spirit of celebrating womanhood, celebrating life. I was happy with her thoughts for her future, I was happy to know she was ready to rock, to face it with all her might. You have a long way to go buddy, dun give up!

Another old relationship is in town, I guess we were friends too! This dude is set to start a new chapter of his life Post the fame of Fame-X. Meeting him was fun, the old memories of living in oblivion and never understanding the complex aspects of mundane-ity. I guess we were too occupied with each other then to lend anything else an ear. But there was a sudden discomfort in him that’s troubling me….maybe too old to be forgotten, too new to explain. In the process when I realized I was basking in the glory of my today, he seemed all the more surprised. Well often quirky things tame the wild west wind.

Mumbai is the place to be! But exactly living without a home is a funny thing! It makes you feel vulnerable though shrouds the insecurities of being homeless, these days I come back to a space that is perhaps the most comforting zone but the sense of ownership is zero. It hurts the superego but compulsion is the mother of tolerance and I guess that’s the why for the other person lending the shoulder seems ok midst the clouds of ego. The good part about it ofcourse is understanding ways of life and operations, for future reference, just in case. But patience has never been good friends with me, so I really do not know till when can I hang in there, maybe till eternity….. Lost the thought, seems very complicated!

Met two well established independent women today, meeting over wine seems to be the way of life!
One lives in with her partner for the last 12 yrs and another one is too stylish to be 40 and gives all credit to being single. They seem to be very happy about life, about their freedom. I am allured again, not that I need to decide tomorrow but ya being freeeeeee has its temptations. When 31 friends are getting married this year, the good thing seems the double income that makes life so easy in a space called Mumbai, or maybe the security of being married but trust me….being legally single is just about perfect! The physical drive is not the reason to be married for sure, long live the flings I have lived when I was wild (ok dun read it wrong, I dnt miss it, or lets just say the one man has a plethora of temptations to offer;) ) How I wish I can still pass my life as perfect as my dream, when after a pack up I am swept off my feet into a Merc and I land up in a glass house on the mountain top overriding the sea and have a cosy evening with the someone I love living with followed by barbeque, some whisky and wine and friends making merry all this while.
Crossroads…yet again. How I wish the rhetorical question of what next had an answer and the matchboxes would not die young because it ran out of match sticks.

19th February 2007
21:33 hrs.