I am angry. Not a proper day to be angry, I know. Durga Puja
is about to begin, and I am going to take the delivery of my car tomorrow. I
must be extremely happy. Then what went wrong, that I stayed up till 4:30 in
the morning today, cursing my fate, and feel morose and let down? Well, it is
the sheer amount of injustice I have to bear in life. I don’t visit Facebook
because it affects me in a very bitter way. But these days, because of the
ongoing agitation and festive season, and to check this curious message from a
junior in my college that he has apparently seen me on the roadside and called
out and I couldn’t hear him…(and to top all that, Avik da’s accusation that I am
missing out on the several poems he’s writing on the occasion) - well, I just happened to log in. And it makes
me sick to see everyone having a life, having a husband and kids and roaming
around and shopping and cooking, and then doing their jobs (dancing, singing,
teaching…whatever)…and here I am, having a life devoid of even the smallest bit
of joy and hope.
And then to add fuel to the fire, I had to discover that TDS
has been deducted from dad’s new FD account despite timely submission of form
15H. I felt like killing myself for not noticing it earlier, for as it is,
today is Sunday, and tomorrow I shall be hugely busy with the car delivery
formalities. Over that, tomorrow is the last working day in the university as
well. We have planned a team lunch (ever heard the term his his whose whose or
tera tu mera main? Well, don’t wreck your brains, it is just contri lunch, in
India we have several names for it, the above two are just examples :D) Just to
prove my point that I am not always this heartbroken, good for nothing person,
let me tell you, it is I who put forward the idea of wearing saree on this day.
It is just ushering in the festivities on one hand, and then, come on, 29th
September 2014 is going to be a milestone in my life. I want to look my best
when I’d finally be getting my car.
And there lies the problem. I cannot probably wear a saree,
get all decked up, and visit that stupid bank with that good for nothing banker
in it, who rejected me. If you ask me, it was a totally bad idea to open an
account in that bank, nothing has gone right ever since. The guy must have
screwed up parameters so that the tax exemption flag is not getting set (he did
put my birthday in my dad’s date of birth field). Now 29th, no way I
am going to see his face or even talk to him, I do not want to contaminate my
greatest day. And 30th is the half yearly bank closing day, and
mostly the tax transactions will be
closed on the same day, i.e. they cannot be reversed later on (as per whatever
I know of banking). Well, private banks might cheat, but they are not callous
like nationalized banks.
It could have been solved if my dad had volunteered to go to
the bank and discuss the stuff tomorrow itself, but no, he has his trading to
do and must leave early. You see, only I am this stupid idiot who leaves her
job and career and stays at home begging for work for more than 5 months and
then is forced to settle down for a contractual job, and then stretches herself
to the maximum extent to buy a car, and then this wardrobe and show case we
wanted for a long time (just the sofa remains now) – trust me, I have reached
the credit limit of my credit card for the first time in life. But of course
how should that matter, how can I expect the least bit of cooperation on this
account? Why should anyone else budge from their personal work to do a favor to
me?
And man, then I get this nagging question in my mind. Nobody’s
gonna care for me when I grow old. It is always going to be this lonely existence,
just finding pretexts for staying alive, without ever actually having a life,
because I am shy and I can’t reach out and over that I am this perfect snob. I
really miss having that one person in my life, who will hold my hand and say,
come on, you have worried enough, just take a short nap, I shall put the rest
of the things to order. I just hate being so lonely, hate it to the core…
My life is just not supposed to change. Not that I don't work hard enough to change it - imagine me a year back, and look at my condition now, at least outwardly, the hell and heaven difference is entirely my doing, only I know how much I have struggled, but that's just it. The struggle is so fruitless. All it will achieve for me is a way to breathe without choking in tears. It won't let me live and God won't bother to make my life easy or care to add some real meaning to my life. I can't dream of my own future (except a helpless one where I am destined to die alone)...
You know...I always had this fear. I didn't want to achieve the last bit of materialistic ambition. I really don't have anything else to live for.
नसीहतें अलग, I am allowed to crib in my own blog, I guess. I don't care if you call me an incorrigible romantic fool. Go ahead. You definitely have all rights to your own thought process. As much as I have the right to be angry. It is one thing to face a hurdle once in a while. It is another thing to struggle with every small thing in life. Exactly the difference between, "life is not always fair", and "life is never fair".
I really feel lonely, as if it is not autumn, it is winter already...
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