So...we'd discuss these movies...Ijazat was his favorite...then there was Sadma...from these two examples only you'd understand what kind of people were we...
Like I said, I have never watched Ijazat, neither will watch it ever. His story telling is enough visualization for me. But Sadma I did watch, and it was a harrowing experience. My entire interest in man-woman interdependence stems up from watching Sadma I guess.
With a hurting head I was wondering about the peak of madness that characterized the last couple of weeks. What did I expect? It'd all end in a fairy tale? Actually for a day I was indeed in a utopia. I could feel the surge of intense joy that should have been our life. I could feel the palpable excitement. We were free, as if. And then reality struck. I don't know in what way it might have struck him. But I discovered my helplessness when I couldn't bring myself up to tell my parents and brother that I have got back my best friend. Imagine the guilt. Then how could I face the world?
Over that the last mail went unanswered. Not exactly unanswered, he asked me not to call him, he will call me later. And I can't explain the restlessness that followed. I felt like an addict, who's being denied his share of drug. And that's when poetry helped.
3 days back I had got a strange mail from one of my friends, asking for a poetry sharing initiative. It is a chain mail where you get back some inspiring poetry / quote...I had thought I'd write back saying I don't want to participate. But suddenly tonight I saw this opportunity in a new light. You write a mail, yet you don't really write it. My agitated mind got a lot of peace in thinking that I'd get to read some inspiring stuff, and if he cares to take this forward, his friends will see our names together. A good way of telling the world, and a guilt proof way too...
To what extent would I go to keep my bubble alive? I shouted at my parents - unable to find out our old notebooks where we used to scribble nonsense...it's been 14 years. Who'd explain it to me - I flared up like a tigress, sneezing in the dust, "if Anne Frank was born in our home - her diary would never have been discovered, and if Jibanananda Das was born here, his poems would have been sold off and transformed into paper packets..." :(
It was difficult though to find 20 friends to share the mail with. But thank God it was not a job search, so no ego was involved. At last I was happy to discover a healthy mixture of friends from all the stages of my life so far - school, college, University, my different jobs, my on site roomies, some stages overlapping with others, e.g. college friend in the same University, or friend from my first MNC who joined my second MNC at my reference. 20 friends, the best friend included. Best friend who seems to be just another friend...
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