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.
No comments:
Post a Comment