The "don't read" entry...

The bloody memories maul me and cradle me at the same time...I talk aloud about my cooking adventures with Anand, with the beauty parlor girl. In my mind I scream to tell her, about him. I can't. Any girl would know the bonding with her beautician. It's got to be there, along with a certain amount of trust, because she's trying to bring out the best in you. So, she knows about Anand, she knows of my uneasiness about arranged marriage, and my fondness for coffee and sweets, she's seen my sneezing fits and knows how at times I cling on to my inhaler for dear life, and after a while things get back to normal. That's about all that I can divulge about myself, I am not permitted to talk about my best friend.

Whom to tell and what to tell. Kaise batayun aur kisko batayun? I long for the Swades song, Aahista Aahista...somebody please put me to a dreamless sleep. I can't take this load of overpowering memories anymore. I have always been very fond of the Rukmini tale...she wrote to Krishna to come and marry her, and Krishna obliged. He wanted Indian girls to have the right to choose their spouse. I sit and think of the story and remember that he had taught me the word polyandry. Polygamy I knew. To think of it, what is there that he didn't introduce me to. My first Mills and Boon to my first porn. Don't think that it was something intentional. He'd tell me everything. You know, I installed this new version of Media Player and it came with some hardcore stuff. I listened, and simply told, is it? Can I get the version please...mine doesn't come with the stuff. And I'd watch the "stuff" at night...of course we won't discuss it any further...we had plenty of new things to talk about everyday...I don't remember him reacting much to this other self of mine, except once when I was reciting to him all the bad mouthing I had learned till date, and he couldn't help saying "it sounds strange coming from you"...

So, as hell stands or breaks loose, I haven't forgotten a wee damn thing about him, all these years whenever I've felt like having a laugh, someone's sang in my mind "হাসালে তুমি মোরে" in the tune of "কাঁদালে তুমি মোরে"...way he used to sing to me, and the stupid me never realized that I am carrying him in my mind all the time, every moment. I went into relationships after broken relationships, he got married, we stopped talking, but I have never stopped carrying this overload of his memories. I have a very precious zip file which doesn't open. I had set some password to it that I forgot. It has a notepad file where I had scribbled something. It was way back in 2007. It had his photo with his daughter, and the photo of bossie, both taken from Orkut. I wish I could read that notepad file now. I get strange wishes, which are basically attempts to know how far this dates back to, and what took me so long to realize this huge chunk of truth about my own mind? What am I? Had life not brought about this final forever kind of alienated existence, I'd have never realized what's actually there in my mind? And I had all the clues, all the time. Can someone really be so dumb?

This entry has the kind of intimacy that I am not comfortable publishing. But I'd publish it in protest. There was a time when I'd write things, make him read them, and won't need anything else in life. I don't have a fallback option these days. So public it is got to be, my plight. Like I said, he used to share everything with me once upon a time. His friends, who were ex lovers, embraced in the wake of a freak accident. He felt strange that they did that...he debated with me about what makes people deviate from protocol. You know what? It is all probably my mistake, but you too gave up on me. Now, do what you think is correct, else it's high time that I too give up on myself.

I hate it. I ran away from everything and was happy in my solitude. I forgot the memories I wanted to forget. But where do I go now? I can't run away from something that's part of me. You know the tragedy? Even if I say in frustration, "Arrgh, I don't love anybody on earth", I remember that it is something he had told me once when I was bickering with him.

The Christmas miracle...

Yesterday was a page straight out of some comics book...but first things first.

I went into a strange mood after the last entry. Felt as if I have nobody in my world. Here I know people who are enjoying every moment of their lives, as if they are having a marathon of parties, and are mobbed by friends, and here I am, living in an island as if. I kept crying, kept listening to songs, and finally fell asleep. For once I spared myself from reading on those awful psycho story books.

Work was hectic and meaningless as usual. When I finally reached the car, dad was inside and on the phone. It was a cousin brother from my messed up family, in fact my favorite brother after the one that died, but I have willed myself not to remember any of that. I had this well made up frown on my face, as if accusing dad - why do you need to speak to people who appear once in a blue moon? Dad of course couldn't see me in the dark and happily kept on giving directions to our home...and then he gave the phone to me. It was my uncle, after more than a year. And he, the eighty year old gentleman, gave such a hearty laugh on hearing my voice, that I had this realization for a moment that even I can be this precious to someone.

The brother episode turned out to be the perfect eye popping event. Me and the girl in my team often behave like cartoon characters to show our surprise...as if our eyes are popping out. Last Monday, it seems some elderly professor commented - "ok, so it was her birthday yesterday, that must be the reason why she was looking different today, she was looking so pretty..." - she heard this and couldn't wait to tell me, and in no time we were doing our eye pop act and laughing aloud...

So then my cousin brother came up. Dad took the car and fetched him from the bus stop, and I willed myself to act a bit. I bent to touch his feet, and he was like...you need to get married to do that...and then he went on to reminisce...how long would it be? We both agreed on 20 years. He's met my parents several times in between, but not me. The memories got stifled. Memories of his tall profile as he stooped to enter through the door, he running his bike with lightening speed as I clung on to him for dear life, the hero of my childhood. And then the eye popping moments started. Somewhere in the back of my mind, rested the fact that I have a brother who's a big shot in the army. I let it rest well, like I do with most of my relatives. How does it matter that I have illustrious relatives? I have a sister who's a top academician in the state, but nobody knows about that and we are not in touch, even though we work in the same university campus. Yes, I have that kind of a mental block.

The brother settled down on a chair, (we still don't have a sofa...I am planning to delegate the interior decoration to a colleague) and we offered coffee. He refused and as if he's just casually mentioning it, he said he's a cancer patient, so he has a lot of food restrictions. Dad just stretched out his hand to touch him, and there was a tumor on his back. He showed his bullet wounds, the operation marks on his spinal cord, talked about a spoiled liver and having undergone a bypass surgery, and don't be mistaken, he never seemed to be complaining about these things. He was speaking as if these are regular things in life.

It was the house I grew up in. A house which is locked up now and being contested for valid ownership in the court. The same house where this same brother once told me, you can argue very well, you should have been a lawyer. I never told him that protesting against wrongdoing has become a way of my life. And now as I sat there listening to him, I understood how it's the same blood flowing through our veins, the same respect for God and the same hatred and disgust for negative things. And then the comic strip moments started. I have a brother who's a top guy in the army doesn't matter to me. I have a brother who has killed 14 terrorists by slicing open their neck in public view does seem like something. And if this same person is a cancer survivor then it matters all the more...I vaguely remember going to sleep in my childhood thinking about his brave deeds, the Mast Gul attack where he was a part of the team, and he'd seen his batch mate being shot to death beside him...

Suddenly happiness welled up inside me. He said he needed a cigarette. "Are you permitted to smoke?", I asked. "No, but I am very happy today", he said...and I walked with him on his way to the bus stop without caring a fig for the acrid smoke of nicotine. The bus had come, but he decided to touch the feet of my dad yet another time...so the bus started moving. He did this army acrobat and jumped onto the stairs of the speeding bus. My superman brother :)

I finally met the lady doctor who comes and feeds the strays in our locality. Have been hearing about her from my neighbor, met her today. She looked angelic as we exchanged notes about our fondness for dogs...

So, in hindsight, I have a dysfunctional family and quite a dysfunctional life, that's true. But I am still connected in a remote way to that family, we have the same values and the same never say die attitude, even when we are almost dead, is also a fact. That I keep meeting good people in life is another fact. That I can probably go on waiting for that person whom I once called my best friend, and if we ever meet one more time in this life, if I happen to walk with him, the nicotine smoke would fail to bother me once again, might turn out to be a fact as well...

We, all of us, live in our own islands...lonely lost islands...but that shouldn't stop us from being hopeful...

স্বর্গের দেবতা...নাকি হাত বাড়ালেই বন্ধু... :)

At times I think I shall stop writing about my dreams. Stop writing about anything for that matter, how I feel, what is going on in my mind...become that edgy zombie who just gives furtive glances in the hope that somebody thinks she is alive after all, and then, being let down, closes her eyes in pain.

I looked so pretty today, that amid 24*7 work that organizing an international conference generally means, when I hurriedly stepped into the rest room just to tie up my hair, I kind of gasped at my reflection. And there's supposed to be no joy in my life. Lot of stress, yes, but no happiness whatsoever. Mom's not well, the maid has burnt her hand, and my picnic trip had to be cancelled because of the reasons mentioned above. At night, after a long and tiring day, I just look on blankly at the UB Reader, mostly with burning eyes, and hardly manage to read a few pages before I fall asleep.

Then what keeps me alive, what makes me look beautiful? Just the curious dreams, like the one which I had this morning. I don't know what work I do, it is a complex with a lot of buildings having dome shaped ceilings. A very rich place, I guess, and a high security one over that, because a lady (who seems to be in the support function) sends a security guard on an errand, and is amply scolded by some senior staff - "you have any idea how much we pay those guards? They should never be sent away"... Well, amid this setting, I seem to be the only idle person, apart from the gentleman who sits with me. We sit all day, huddled together, often we doodle on some random exercise book, and chit chat on meaningless things. I get this sudden urge to tell him,  "tu mera hero (you are my hero)"... I create a lot of suspense and say, "now I am going to hide a top secret in my next doodle, and you are not supposed to look...", and then plan on drawing something elaborate, where these words can be hidden. But I catch him looking on, and stop midway and scratch up what I have written so far. He gets to know I am angry and tries to seriously close his eyes. But my courage is all gone, I just write his name this time. I nudge him to open his eyes, and he throws up his hands in exasperation. That's just my name!...he exclaims. I keep blushing...

I wrote something like this the other day, as a message to my university seniors, whose smoking habit makes me sick to my stomach... " Dear inconsiderate smoker, I was born a non smoker and so were you. It is a matter of choice that you started smoking subsequently. Don't blame it on the regular stress that life subjects you to...or for that matter your addiction that you can't overcome. I accept it as your choice that you can't give up on this habit. But at the same time you should also accept that smoking in public is prohibited in India. I SHOULD NOT be subjected to the stale air you breathe out. I respect your right to smoke. You should also respect my right not to passive-smoke. "

I was sighing to myself, to think, she is head over heels in love with an apparently non existent person who used to be a chain smoker when she knew him.

I told you I must stop writing. Life has become illogical. This can't be written about, this is utter madness. But please, before I die, can I just have one more walk with him? Holding hands, all wrapped up in colorful woollens, just as dusk sets in? Please God, just do this much for me, life would then not be such a terrible, pathetic waste...

Doesn't matter...

The first half an hour was traumatizing. I hoped and prayed and cried. Some things still manages to disturb my balance. Like, if my student doesn't call me on teacher's day. Or if my (lady) best friend doesn't call me just as it turns midnight and indicates 20th December. I apparently hate Facebook but in my desperation I just thought maybe someone will see the notification and wish? Someone, anyone - just so that I feel better? But there was no one. I kept listening to "tum saath ho" from Tamasha and kept shedding silent tears. I told myself that I am a selfish girl and often overlook birthdays, there's nobody except my brother whom I call at midnight and wish happy birthday, that too not every year. I thought back and probably could recollect some other instances, but every time I had to make an effort to remember and wish other people on their birthdays. Apart from my immediate family the only birthdays I don't have to make a conscious effort to remember are...what? 3/4? And I hardly wish any of these people, haven't wished them for ages now. For some of them I don't even care, for some I celebrate in my mind. But I am sure there's no one who celebrates my birthday in their mind.

Forget it, the office people did come and sang the birthday song and gave me a couple of gifts on the 18th itself. Mechanical though it was, it was still a pleasant surprise. I need a warm bath and then I'd simply go to sleep. For a hundredth time I wish that there was no 20th December, there should be simply the 19th and then the 21st.

Bliss...

Kolkata might not be the Kolkata of our childhood, you might not be wearing anymore the kind of sweater I remember you in (red, full sleeves, with a spiral pattern), but the Kolkata winter is still magical and I am sure you still get very boggled down when you catch cold (and blow your nose in a tiny white checkered handkerchief). I am sure I won't find these things charming had it been anyone else. But I love everything that I remember about you. Can't tell you how lucky and fulfilled I feel. Happy birthday countdown begins for the self obsessed me, who, in her small life, has finally cared for someone else. The sapling didn't die because we didn't care for it at the same time. It has become a full fledged tree. You know what? The damn thing has become an overwhelming rain forest :)

There were some wilted flowers from the bouquet I had got for mom. I cut them off and rearranged the flowers that are still fresh. Is that called ikebana or simply being in love...when you simply must create beautiful things, in dreams and in reality...

P.S. - "There's something different about your looks", he said one day.
"What is it? ", I asked.
"Chin line, you've got a distinct chin line"...
"What does that imply?", I asked, all naive and curious and excited. He always had that effect on me.
"Means you've become more determined"...
I remember the exact spot on the road where I stood with him, waiting for the bus, when he told me this. Everything about that road has changed since then. I still visit that road once in a rare while. The bridge which was still getting built...is old now. I do understand the theory of relativity in a twisted way. Also why time is the 4th dimension...why Rose said to Jack in a broken, choking voice, "come back"...and I daydream...in this strange city called Kolkata, amid layers of surreal wintry mist...

Uff...

Today was a really happening day, after a long time. I was once again getting accustomed to the boring monotony of my life, yesterday, as I was on the verge of finishing yet another book, my head and neck started hurting badly, and suddenly I told myself that it wouldn't really matter if I finish the book today or tomorrow. I felt sick. I was tired fighting with myself. There was no way I could reach out...

Today was mom's birthday. So I decided to do some long pending household tasks, mostly for myself, not for her, but in her honor. Minor tasks like refilling the hand wash and stashing a new bin bag in the garbage can. While I did that, in the back of my mind it went on that I need to finish the book. But that would have to wait as yet another of my মামাs decided to arrive at our home. I got busy talking to him, made coffee for all of them, and was amply pleased when he admitted to my grandmother that he really likes me and thinks I am special. Yes, I talked to him about everything on earth, and I know these things because I keep reading, and I read so much because I have nothing else to do. Get the irony? Didn't tell him though. He asked me if I have any void about not getting married. I pretended to be the brave girl, "no, I am just worried a bit about dying alone and being pitied", I said. I saw him off, came up to my room, and finished the book. No reaction, no pondering, I started reading the next book. When it was 4 o'clock, I took my bath, pulled on a jeans and a regular loose top, and accompanied my dad to big bazaar to get grocery. Earlier they had two hours free parking, now it's reduced to an hour. It needs meticulous planning, fighting with the crowd...and I managed it once again. Bang on, payback points collected, free calls recharged. We moved on to the florist, and the take away shop. Ordered in tandem, to save time. Here the food got packed, there the bouquet got prepared. Hurried home. Fed the dog. Quickly tied a saree. Put on some eye makeup and an elaborate bindi without thinking much. Rubbed lipstick on my lips. Asked dad to take a photo. Reached the marriage venue. More photos. Food. Cracked some silly jokes. Everyone laughed. Wow, look, I am socializing. Came back home. Regular chit chat with mom. Helped granny to bed. Came upstairs again. Couple of official mails, couple of Facebook posts. It was then that I noticed. My friend who was supposed to get married today. From usual girlish inquisitive nature, I looked for the groom's photo in her profile. Don't ask me if I had faint hopes of seeing my best friend in one of those pics. Because I didn't. I saw the groom though. Sad kind of fat person, I knew it is wrong but still couldn't help wondering why she married him...before I'd get back to the story book, I decided to write about this.

PS - What I love about my best friend is that he hasn't changed a bit from the college days. Why, I could be his aunt :( But jokes apart, I am losing weight slowly but steadily. One problem that I discovered is that I am really not attracted towards him in the wild sort of way, really, you may laugh, but that's true, in fact our sheer familiarity comes in the way probably. Whatever, like he used to say in college (funny how it still reverberates in my ears), he can, (or, in those days, he could) create attraction between any two people...so I guess that won't be much of a problem so long as he looks like he did...
Cut, cut, cut, but thank God I'm in love with him, and not keen on marrying anyone else, thin or fat. All I wish is that I get some respite from the story book thingy, psychological thrillers, grrrrrr :( :(

PPS - The Jiah Khan story brings back horror to me in unspeakable ways. But she died, and I am living, and I don't know if that in itself is a crime...

The time travel...

Booking Clerk: Yes ma'am, how can I help you?
Me: I...want to book a ticket...
BC: Sure, past or future?
Me: (waving my hands impatiently) Past, past...who'd want to go to the future?
BC: (surprised) That's what most of them want, apparently...(after some thoughtful pause) So...when in the past?
Me: 1998? Wait, can I specify the month?
BC: Yes, you can even specify the exact moment - but that would take us at least 3 months to fine tune the program and err...that'd be expensive too...(suddenly apologetic) I didn't mean...
Me: To say that I look poor? But I do, I am not a rich person...but you know what? More than that I'm restless. I am so restless that if you don't know the spelling of restless you can look at my face and learn it...
BC: (to himself) Probably she's crazy too, must have been freshly released from the asylum...
Me: (louder and more impatient) 1999
BC: Pardon?
Me: One ticket to 1999 please...
BC: For how long?
Me: Pardon?
BC:  (irritated now) Ma'am, just how long do you intend to stay in 1999?
Me: Excuse me, I am not returning back...
BC: Lady, surely you know that that's not allowed? We have to maintain the maximum allowed population at a given point in time, we need to stay invisible and we cannot impact history. These are the three basic rules for time travel in the past...
Me: Then I would be just a spectator... Can I... Can I not even talk with him?
BC: With whom?
Me: My best friend.
BC: (brooding a bit) I am sorry... must have died young... 1999 is just 16 years back... I have to hear such things every single day - devastates your life in a single moment no? Such untimely deaths...
Me: (in a suspicious voice) Who died?
BC: Your best friend?
Me: (angry now) Who on earth told you this? He's very much alive...
BC: (in a stupid voice) Then...why do you want to time travel to talk with him, you can just call up, right?

Feeling happy...HAPPY!

So...haven't been so involved with a movie for a long time now, couldn't even understand well whether I like it or not :) but good or bad, I shall always watch Imtiaz Ali movies... Rajeev Masand's review kind of sums it up perfectly...one reason why I respect him as a reviewer, poor thing felt so emotional you see...

http://m.ibnlive.com/news/movies/review-tamasha-is-an-uneven-film-it-oscillates-between-inventive-and-indulgent-1169530.html-1169530.html

As for me, well, I feel quite crazy and extremely happy. I am continuously listening to "Heer toh badi sad hai ji" on repeat mode...it is such a unique song with such a lot of appeal..."Tum saath ho" had affected me in a different way, but even that goes non stop - my old reverence for the unassuming God of music called A R Rahman :)

So...Heer toh badi mad hai...she ended up doing some research - our Heer wanted to understand some things ;) How many times and in what way is her "he" mentioned in the blog by name, and in what context? ROTFL I am with the results... 5 times only in a span of 9 years - so much consideration na for someone's best friend? But considering it is a not anymore existing friendship, for 10 years now I guess, the things I have written in those entries kind of told me that I am actually not being very mad. I guess for the first time I have listened to my heart. You see love is not quantitative, it's always qualitative...and talking about quantity, what about those where his name's not mentioned, yet he features as the hero?

Can I not find out that blue or brown diary where I'd written him that letter? It'd be such a pleasure to relive that day...and how soon can I leave Kolkata? It doesn't seem to be a safe place for me anymore... I haven't been so happy in ages...it is just not me to be not complaining, not whining, not struck half dead by tragedies...all I am doing is to fly around like a fairy who's sprung new wings...

PS -  There was this guy in college whom I used to call my childhood friend. The guy had been my next door neighbor but we spoke for the first time in college. In our childhood we probably had a fight or two, but never even talked to each other, let alone being friends. So he was exasperated with the idea of being my childhood friend. Thank God it is not that sad a case with my best friend :)

PPS -  Well, in my attempt to understand how exactly I feel about the movie, I practically read up all the review links that came up in Google. Most of them are pompous, half hearted reviews with lame observations (1 song went on for 4 years it seems)...at length, I guess I feel almost like what Masand felt. Honest guy that one, and really understands movies.

Freedom...feels good...

How I love the Kolkata winter...who won't? I mean which moron on earth won't? If only I'd know the difference between push and pull...and right and left, sigh, sigh...I always seem to get mixed up about that :( In the interval during the movie I had come out to drink some water, and then I couldn't open the door with all my might. And then I inquiringly looked at a gentleman there, and he, trying his best to suppress his chuckle, said, it's PULL ma'am :( :(

I won't talk about the movie, I'd talk about the freedom. Freedom to go watch a movie early in the morning, and then take public transport to reach office. Oh, how good does half a day's release from monotony feel like! Oh, how lovingly I breathed in the diesel smoke...and then, then, when a couple of buses had screeched to a halt in the bus stop where I was waiting, and kept saying...saying...you know... শ্যামবাজার, খান্না...why, I could hardly resist myself from boarding the bus. I hate to feel negative but I have to probably repeat to myself, that he is NOT interested...but right at that moment I felt so happy hearing about that destination, in the softly embracing winter breeze, that for the first time in my life, I took out my tab in public and started writing this entry!

The movie was, good? Not extremely good, actually...self actualization could have been shown in a better way...but, you know what, my...he...was like that, used to be like that...it kind of saddens me to imagine him going to the office everyday...or doing any routine job for that matter...my...he...doing a struggle for existence is really hard to imagine...

At least I felt good after a long time...though I felt that Bangalore theaters were better, there were some hooligans in the theater, no...really, not a joke...those college guys who go for the cheapest show to make a lot of noise...they targeted a couple too...who went and complained, and a guy from the management came up and gave a lot of sermons to them, which didn't improve the conditions much...in my experience, weaklings don't like to be admonished, and make even more protestations, but that was ok...I didn't need to be afraid of anybody. I was telling myself, not unkindly, so this is life, watching romantic movies alone...because real romance won't happen in my life, and I can't ever let go of its hope and settle for cooked up thingies...I am better off being lovelorn than being in an arranged marriage where the guy just might turn out to be like my very worst nightmare...and anyways, even that's not gonna happen as I am too old...this is the birthday month remember?

Walking in chappals :)

In an altogether happy mood that I am experiencing these days, I want to write here "all is well" :)

As I said, it'd have hardly mattered whom my friend was marrying, but still had she married that particular guy who I know is worthless, I would have probably felt guilty had something gone wrong in the future,that I refrained from telling her the truth. But it is not that guy. Thank God for that...

This friend of mine is a really good girl, only I have never liked her for a strange reason, she got into the college through management quota...her dad had nothing to do with the management though...you know it's the usual route of paying money for her admission, because she had a rich dad.  And my dad used to really struggle even to pay the legitimate fees for the regular seat I had got, which was hardly 1/20th of her expense. She was just rich, very rich - and that was my first realization that rich people get things very easily even though they don't always deserve those.

So you see, now that I am rich too, I know that money still can't buy everything. Those dark resentments of childhood have almost died down. I can't act, so had she been marrying that terrible guy, I still couldn't bring myself up to saying God bless and all, but this time I did. I have always been transparent to her, have always told her openly how I feel about getting a seat through money and not merit, and she has feebly tried to argue that she'd gotten chance in one of the best private colleges in India, had a valid rank there, only the communication got goofed up a bit and she couldn't get admitted there in time. Well, seeing that she's done quite well for herself afterwards, I just let go of my ego and reached out for her friendship...

Am I going to the marriage? No... I don't want to compromise with my unsocial mind set. And I don't want to meet my best friend through a situation that I have brought about. If it ever happens in this life, it has to happen naturally, accidentally...

Had the two chappal dream :) chappal you don't know? Cheap sandals worn by the bengali intelligentsia (ROTFL) I am so sure that if we ever meet and rediscover each other, we'd walk for hours in our chappals, his black, mine red...(it's actually mom's...I buy slightly more fashionable shoes these days)...

Oh, how my heart melts off like ice cream at such thoughts of him :)

Oh oh and oh... I am finally going for Tamasha tomorrow, early morning show, then I go to office from there. Can't help, that was the cheapest ticket. Going alone too, probably the first time after ইতি মৃণালিনী...just had to give in to this craze amid this ongoing romance :)

Waste not want not :)

Tell you what, it is an absolutely...crime (not very comfortable using that adjective here...just read between the dots, won't you?) to read a JK Rowling story without paying for it. Well I always make up for it later, read the Harry Potter books also as ebooks first, and later bought each one of them. I even bought a poster book of the chamber of secrets... Casual Vacancy, then the first two Cormoran Strike books...Bombyx Mori :) you know what? Dad had a silkworm cocoon - he'd given it to me - he's this textile engineer no, even used to have his personal jute field in the college campus it seems, one he was required to take care of - learning to cultivate jute was part of the syllabus...only he'd hired a guy to do it for him...

Have spent sleepless nights reading the book...time now to get some long awaited sleep. A complication came up in the morning though...a friend from college wanted my mail id so that she could invite me for her marriage. Now from dependable sources (let's admit facts, from my own ex-boyfriend from the college) I know that she was scheduled to marry that...you know...(why on earth do I feel like swearing so much soon after I have finished adult books by Rowling?)...well you know whom...what the hell, that worthless rot from Mumbai. So, complications, complications. But see if someone’s happy marrying a rotter, does she need my advice? And as to feeling bad, why should I? I can remember my stupidity, curse myself a bit and be done with it. So, I guess I should share my mail id after all. It might or might not be the same guy, hardly matters. People do get compatible with strange people, I don't need to interfere. Wished her well and that should be it.

Well, that's not entirely it, right? :) there goes again - the pink bubble of unforgettable romance...she's late for office and starry eyed, she starts thinking, he'd be there, won't he? They've been colleagues...in fact the dream I had once of meeting him in Europe, that was through some twisted logic of my imagination, because of this girl only. She was in Europe for a long time and they worked in the same company! Because my best friend you see, is not a guy who'd ever leave Calcutta...he'd be fish out of the pond...it was just my romanticism, because I loved the cobbled roads when I was in Prague, and mingled with that were memories of home food we ate in a small Indian food stall in SG, that I had that dream - to eat with him, to walk with him...

God, what mistakes we make in our childhood. I met the guy, was like his shadow for 3.5 years, he even went on to admit to me that in his entire life he's only met one girl who fitted all the bills, and I admitted to him that even for a moment though, I was simply sinking in his love while he kept scolding me for showing off, and after all this I kept bugging him day in and day out to get things right with that stupid ex-boyfriend of mine. Don't get me wrong, he's a good person, this ex guy, one person who's cared to stay in touch, but, my God, is he prejudiced? How could I have ever been crazy enough to want to marry him I don't know. And the Mumbai guy. I accepted his proposal in order not to hurt him, and then he said he didn't like me enough to...to...forget it. I have been stupid all my life and I really deserve this lonely life. No man, I know I'd never meet him again. I shouldn't...I don't deserve to...