More often than not, I regret the fact that once again I am
staying up late at night, as I’d hate it when as a consequence, I’d be late for
office again tomorrow. I also feel hugely guilty at this extreme urge of myself
to live life fully, as long as I can. I want to finish doing everything I ever
wanted to do, and I’d rather get it done sooner rather than later. Oh, if only
Rupai didn’t leave me this opportunity – I don’t know what would have happened
to me. Don’t tell that nothing can ruin one’s life, they do. I see this
girl who is working for another project in the department. Her father committed
suicide and her mother is seriously ill and bedridden. I got to know this
through a rather lazy banter on “how to lose weight” – when her example was
sited, that she used to be plump as a football and now is thin as a pencil. I
insisted to know how she made this metamorphosis possible, when people rather
lamented bringing up the topic, and said, they wish nobody to go through what
she had to. Yet, the girl still has such a lot of humour left in her, as I’d
realize before the day got over. So, if Rupai had been destined to life rather
than death, I don’t know how I’d have lived. But then I don’t know which life I’d
have preferred, this or that. May be not this, may be not this…
We have planned to launch a drama this December, and had our
first reading session today. It all stemmed from the drama I got to attend this
Tuesday, where a teammate of mine performed. The next day we’d get into a post
mortem of the roles, acting, script and direction (as all Bengalis love to do),
and we’d end up volunteering to start a project all by ourselves. There is this
other unmarried girl in the department, whom I have probably mentioned here. It
seems she has some of my own feelings about life, probably she dreads her
future too, and wants to live as much as she can now. Because she shares the same enthusiasm as me about this drama thingy. She is around a couple of
years older than me, and I find a dejection in her, which is still somewhat
dormant in me. She has excellent fashion sense, for once or twice I have found
her impeccably dressed, but I don’t know why on earth, most of the times she’d
wear drab, loose and ill fitted robe like salwar suits and appear totally
oblivious of how terrible she looks. I shudder to think that I’d ever become
like her. Once upon a time I was like that, but that was a different phase of
life altogether, and for a totally different reason. I wouldn’t bother about
how I am looking, because I was too content and assured about my relationship
with Anand at that time. I was in my own small heaven, and didn’t have any
point to prove. I loved being that way, way most housewives are, too contented
with their homely look, not having the onus to impress anyone. Alas my utopia
was not to last long. But nowadays I make sure I look good, because I feel good
that way. And I felt good about the reading session, the prospect of getting
involved in some social act, to find a deviation from my usual routine of
office, home and story books.
We read a story of ghosts (ভূষন্ডির মাঠে) and everyone was laughing their
hearts out. The girl I mentioned earlier was almost splitting her edges – I could
empathize with her need to laugh so loud – poor kid, you mustn’t have met
happiness for ages, I said in my mind. If the events of my life have left me
with anything good, it is this power to relate to people’s feelings. I can
understand, and they know I can, and that’s how I can build trust and friendship
very quickly nowadays.
Bitchy that I am, and such a big mouth over that. My
university senior loves playing music on the computer as he works, and I can’t
concentrate until complete silence prevails around me (one of the reasons why I
am at my most productive in the dead of the night). But ya, I haven’t protested
yet, for usually he plays very soothing numbers, which I don’t mind sitting
idle and listening to, with rapt attention. And today as he played নিত্য তোমার যে ফুল ফোটে ফুলবনে by সুমন I couldn't help blurting out, oh, how I love this song - I have even written about it in my blog. And no sooner than I had said it, I wished like hell I could gulp down my words, because, God help me, the very last entry there calls him a loser. If he'd find out, that'd be the end of our relationship. He gave a Google search soon enough, but I have protected my blog well, you see. It doesn't get listed against my name. I couldn't even tell myself to stop being bitchy, because I know I'd never be able to do that. And over that, God favors me in my bitchiness. Like, I didn't have any intention to boast about the tool I coded, not as yet that is, I wanted to fine tune it and spend some idle time pretending to code it (to compensate that hard work I had done through the weekend), but our professor walked in right on day 1, and I couldn't help giving the demo. He is a senior person on the verge of his retirement, so he didn't express his appreciation in so many words, but I could see he is happy, and he simply asked me to carry on. The so called "loser" was seating at the very next seat. He lamely called out to the professor, "sir, even I have built a tool". Sir saw the demo of that one too, with a great deal of impatience, and finally commented - "what is the point reinventing the wheel?" My university senior (I can't call him a loser every time, you see, it sounds repetitive and right now, it seems besides the point to try and prove a well established fact) has become a grumpy and confused sort of fellow since then. At times he'd say, oh, I'd give up web programming, every body can do it these days (excuse me, but such a loser) and today he went to the extreme. He wanted to give his tool idea (the reinventing the wheel one) to a student of his, for her thesis work - neither could he explain the thing to her, nor could he understand it himself (simple, because the idea doesn't have much fizz u see) and finally ended up asking me - what do you think, does it have any merit? I plainly remarked, when you are not able to understand it yourself, how can I? God!!!...and the "oh, I am so important" fiasco he does - it took 3 months for me to get the certificate for the previous project I did with him, only because of his reluctance. He wanted to give a certificate signed by only himself, and I wouldn't accept one if at least one university administrator didn't sign. Finally I won, and he had sign along with one of the registrars. Why get into doing such idiocy which hurts your reputation?I was all set to be utterly grateful and respectful to this gentleman, if only he was not hell bent on spoiling it all.
I am bitchy, and I enjoy it. And I can't help it if the world is like this. And, even though I am enjoying my life here, and I am happy about my decision of leaving Bangalore and coming here, I am scared about what the future might hold. Iniesta look alike is in the back burner, my drama plans, the tool development, and strategies for the software business I am planning with my ex colleagues fill up my mind. And yet, my mind becomes strangely vacant at times. Scary thoughts and stale memories keep rushing in and gnawing at me. I don't know if I can sustain any further blow. Like the cat in My Talking Tom app gets up every time he falls down after being hit, I too wish I could handle things well. Only at times there's too much gloom and I tend to lose my way. I am trying though!
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