Learning not to care...

“Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts.”

This line suddenly inspired me a lot (this is nothing rare, much of what Rowling writes causes inspiration to soar through me as I keep admiring her inexplicable understanding of life as a whole). Well, anger is something that eventually dies down, until and unless you are hell bent on keeping on dwelling on it till it consumes all of your peace of mind. Thankfully I am not as foolish as to hamper my own well being that way. I did think of writing a mail to my ex colleague couple telling how saddened I was that they kept me out of their reunion…I wanted to mix a little taunt in it as well, mentioning that at any rate she does listen to things I tell her in anger – she ended up giving “keep it up” cards to teammates, perhaps for the first time in her life, after we had our showdown regarding her inefficient managerial techniques (where I had particularly pointed out that she never appreciates people, perhaps because she holds herself in too high esteem, and the next day I’d walk in, I’d see the cards with almost everyone in the team)…so is the case with her reconciliation with her husband, probably my words had finally sunk in once again, when I had said she’s obstinate so beyond repair that she can’t see her own good. I also wanted to say how happy I am for the kid (whose godmother I am supposed to be). But then what is the point showing my scar to people who don’t care?  They will probably have a good laugh if I bare my emotions to them, as it is quite evident that they don’t intend to keep any further relationship with me. So gradually I turned my mind from the incident and my anger died a natural death.

Then came Friday, and I was never so tired. I have been reading till 3, 3:30 in the morning and then trying to reach office by 11, what with the rain, and the regular confusion about what clothes to wear, and buses that are too crowded, and autos that refuse to go to my destination (though in all practicality – public transport in Kolkata is far better than in Bangalore, because a. I need to travel less, and b. they cheat lesser here – I’d have written they don’t cheat, had I not discovered this curious 50 paisa coin in my wallet where the minimum change there’s supposed to be are 1 rupee coins – means someone has obviously handed me over lesser change than was due), I get dog tired by the end of the week. I moved on to the auto stand instead of waiting for the bus, because I wanted a seat and I wanted to get down midway to get some junk food. I felt I won’t be able to live another day without some junk food to fuel me – it’s been ages since I have been having pure home cooked food – I am not habituated to live that way for the last ten years, you see. There was this fussy lady you know, who kept asking where I’d get down. Not quite sure of my plans yet, I replied in a dreamy voice (much like Loony Lovegood) that I’d get down either at stop A (the junk food stall) or stop B (my house – in case I turn a health freak at the last moment). As the auto sped on, my inclination towards stop A kept increasing (old habits die hard) and finally I decided. Just when I got down there, the old lady commented quite audibly (much like Kreacher would mutter about mudbloods and blood traitors) – “but didn’t she say stop B…” – and my temper overpowered me once again. I calmly paid the fare and then spat out at her – why on earth do I need to explain to you where I’d get down. Her daughter retorted and asked me not to talk with her mom like that, when I shouted publicly (for the second time in a week) – “she is the one being hostile without a reason”…and I was quite breathless as I reached the food stall. I was still red in the face but I had this satisfaction too, that I haven’t taken down unnecessary taunts silently. I was happy that I retorted and gave back the right kind of treatment such people deserve. It was entirely her problem that she didn’t care to listen to my whole sentence and deduced things from the end part that she heard, but if she chose to express that in a scathing way, she would be getting back the insult in kind.

The attendants at the food stall were extremely accommodating. They gave me a chair to sit as I waited for the food, and I gradually calmed down. The trick about dealing with bitter experiences is to let them drain out of your system. Now that I write about it, only a feeble imprint remains of what I felt originally. And as I reached home and we served ourselves yummy Chinese food (Fried rice, noodles and chilli chicken and garlic chicken as side dishes), seeing the happiness on my parents’ faces, as I hungrily slurped the food, I realized why these petty things shouldn’t matter to me. I have come back to stay with my family, and that is what should count – I should learn to ignore the troubles I face. It is but temporary – it has arisen primarily because I had not been exposed to the mediocrity of the average Bengali population for so long. Like I said, they lack civic and social sense, and they can’t grow out of that precisely because a huge chunk of my race pathetically lacks ambition and risk taking abilities. They are in essence quite similar to the other people I have mentioned in my blog earlier, who suffer from the “frog in the well” syndrome. They exasperate me, but frankly I would gain nothing from this frustration. Instead I should rather concentrate on the large chunk of worthwhile time I get for myself, the liberty, the spacious house, the doting family, the reasonably good work. Definitely more positives than the apparent negatives that thwart me, right?

Discovered that a colleague in the university knows astrology. Apart from bringing up loads of memories of my best friend (I used to talk to him incessantly about astrology, which he really knew well, and frankly most of his predictions have come true also), whatever she said didn’t really have any effect on me. For example, she said, I am mostly going to settle abroad and there is very little chance of me staying in Kolkata (so many other astrologers have said it as well), said I have good chances at arranged marriage this year, if I chose to try, and said I am most probably going to have a girl child. I was laughing about it later (though that seems a most ungrateful thing to do, given the effort she had put in to study my horoscope). About staying in Kolkata – who’s going to stop me if I myself don’t budge? About arranged marriage, thanks but no thanks, if I have decided to be myself and live life my way, I am not going in for a marriage of convenience. As you can see, I have become even more revolting and caustic tongued nowadays, so better not stretch my tolerance limits with an apparently unknown person. And, ah, about the girl child…how I have always wanted her, but then my best friend means a lot to me till this day, probably he is the only person I love selflessly, apart from my immediate family – and he was the one who made me believe I’d get a boy child. Over so many years I have learnt to accept it so well, that I don’t even want a girl child anymore. So you see, finally it is all about what you chose to believe in, and what you decide. It is all about what you earn through your deeds, which is so magnanimously called as Karma. We also discussed adopting a child and such things, our thoughts kinda match cause she’s also an unmarried girl little older than me. But after all the discussions, I went back to work with a rather empty mind, with no impact on my mind whatsoever. I don’t need much forecasting in my life anymore. I won’t say I am not afraid about the future once in a while, but I have learnt the “we’ll have to deal with it” attitude pretty well it seems…

To reiterate…“Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts.” In my case, Dumbledore has been my life itself…so the lessons have come out all the more strong. Yes, I break down at times, but I can do a “reparo” thingy quite quickly and efficiently :D :D

P.S: Reading so much of Harry Potter, I often think if this habit of writing is in a way my own attempt at creating horcruxes. May be I want to keep parts of me hidden in these entries, so that I can live forever through them. And in a way, they are the hallows too. My invisibility cloak (hides me while I can pour out my mind), my elder wand (I win lost battles because nobody can stop me from unfurling the truth here) and my resurrection stone (my blog is the only true witness of my earnest attempts to live on, however much death like situations are imposed on me).