The calamity called death...

I have never felt so devastated in life. Of the deaths I have seen lately, most were old and frail, and ever since I came back to Kolkata I made it a point to meet people I know. I happened to meet them a while before their death. That memory comforted me.

My cousin sister passed away last night. She was what? Around 10 years older than me. This was no time for her to go away. I can't come to terms with it. I am now really scared of living. If life is so painful...what's the point of it all? How much more do I have to see before it is time for me to get out of this never-ending maze of suffering? And how can life be snatched away from someone so beautiful, so intelligent and so very full of life?

The lioness sleeps tonight... rest in peace Sejdibhai...

A book and the future...

I have been keeping away from books much too long. So I started off The Thirteenth Tale much like a zombie. I just read read read. In between Flipkart, Amazon, Times of India, Facebook, Quora...shifting like someone continuously being bitten by mosquitoes...yet I wouldn't give up. Now finally, for a flitting moment I suddenly felt that joy of reading. Like raindrops on my body, taking away the heat and fatigue, pumping new life, taking me in its kind embrace, that first tinge of excitement, of my senses and feelings returning. I am happy - well, almost :)

I shouldn't shout so much at my parents and granny. I must get a grip on my frustrations. I was extremely tired today. I was slumping down the stairs on some errand, and I got a glimpse - of me struggling with my exhaustion in a very similar way, some years down the line. Only, it'd be an empty house then. Let's not bring out the exasperation now, we can howl in the emptiness then, as much as we want...if life ever changes it will only be for the worse...isn't it?

Reading woes...

My eyes hurt as I keep reading on. The Thirteenth Tale. A ghost story. What's wrong with you? Nothing. I am a friendless and lovelorn person. Ghosts can't probably frighten me enough. But poor print quality does. Can't really help that, the kindle edition costs me a lot of money.

I hate FB. So much so that I feel like deleting my profile. I can't go on clicking like like like to things that make no difference to my life. I am being very selfish, I know it, thank you, no need to reiterate.

I discovered the sad psycho at FB yesterday. He's alive. Not sure if he found his ideal bride. But quite sure that I felt no love for him anymore. In fact he's quite some negative energy, I felt very low last night and even throughout the greater part of today.

The only happiness is about the beauty parlor girl visiting me tomorrow. Looking good is my favorite passion these days even though no one looks back at me.

Back to reading. You know what, I shall visit an eye specialist next week. Really need reading glasses for myself...

Why does the world crumble down every now and then?

The annual reunion of dad's college - the last foot tapping number. I am sitting in between my mom and an aunt (dad's friend's wife). I am wearing a pink palazzo, pink top and a pink shawl, looking great and gently swaying to the tune. An unknown lady from behind, mother of two kids, wearing a bright saree and gold jewelry nudges me. "Go and dance", she says in a good natured way, "your dress is good for dancing and you are not old like us...just go...never mind the people around..."

So I go and dance in the corridor with men and kids. I don't fit in. I feel lost. I might look younger, but I am probably as old as that lady. If Rupai were born he'd be almost 10 now. I am not married, I am nobody's mother. I don't belong to any group, this one or that...I shouldn't dance or be merry...perhaps...

Fast forward 5 months. Present day, I had gone out to get my favorite afternoon snacks. A roadside vendor is sitting with a container full of berries. He calls out to me, "বৌদি, জাম নিয়ে যান..."

I pretend that I haven't noticed him, and walk on, but I swear in my mind..."God dammit, I am nobody's sister in law, I don't have a husband..."

I am tired of this guilt and existential crisis. A friend calls. Says he's calling up all the old friends, suddenly he's remembered the old days. He says very gently..."did you notice how all the kids are growing up?" I reply with a lot of fake enthusiasm, "yes, kids grow up real fast, no?" And the helplessness and utterly dismal yet untold "stop pricking on my wounds" behind that facade... Why is the entire world crumbling down?

The madness of self-expression...

I feel mad at times. Mad, because I get wild. I have suddenly become a make-up enthusiast. I know that a 38 year old shouldn't really indulge in getting the blue color pops eyeliner from Elle 18 for herself, but the fact remains that I am still 36, at least till this December. Over that, I suddenly, on an irrational whim (when are whims rational? Sigh!) decide to buy a silver nose ring that boasts of Swarovski crystals and sport it regularly. And then if I suddenly have the urge to wear two nail polish shades at the same time and call it as my first ever nail art attempt on my feet (I did it once on my fingers when I lived in Bangalore) - would you treat that as an additional sign of madness?

The fact is that by hook or by crook I wanna stay happy. See, for a person like me whom nobody loves, it is difficult to find reasons to live. I manage to live because of Nikhu, the puppy and my books, mostly thrillers. And keep looking for more reasons, because these are not very dependable. Nikhu being a street dog, finds more happiness in street food and drain water, than the food and drink we provide him. Nikhu is the only worth mentioning addition to our family after my brother was born (i.e in the last 32 years) but still it remains a fact that Kutu decided to give birth in front of our house to a new litter (which I call a lucky coincidence) and then died within a couple of weeks and all other siblings of Nikhu followed suit (which I don't really want to remember or write down again - particularly because of the pangs I feel when I remember Badam - trying to open the door with her tiny front paws on the rare days when my parents were out and she wouldn't register the usual humdrum of our regular life - as if trying to say "hello, everything alright?") - there's no guarantee that Nikhu might stay on. If truth be told, I live in mortal fear of losing him. But when he does come running behind the car when I return from office, I find myself glowing in motherly joy. Someone's happy to see me.

What to tell about books? They are but inanimate objects - and often hurt my eyes, or maybe I am crying for a different reason? For a best friend (the lady, this time - for a change) who doesn't care. Maybe I just feel jealous that she has a husband, a child and a boyfriend too, and hence very little time for the insignificant me...but as usual I didn't hesitate from expressing myself. I feel particularly delighted in having been able to express my disgust on losing my copy of Unaccustomed Earth and keeping it with the most undeserving person, publicly. That is the thing I regret most, more than the emotional trauma the brute caused me. So maybe I am indeed very fond of my books?

I have reasons to be incoherent today. I am on the verge, and I have said it publicly - that I blog to release my angst. I am a failed person and my blog is the only place where I can lick my wounds...

Be happy with a different playmate...

Really well written and wonderful singing...loved it  

As much as Arijit Singh sings well, he mostly sings love songs and frankly, that gets tiresome after a bit - too much sugar is not good for health, I've learnt it the hard way...and Sonu Nigam hardly sings sad songs these days - not that I am all for an overdose of bitterness for undeserving people, so this was a good compromise after a long time...

 

Almost 3 months now and I have almost learnt to live without even thinking of him. Without even trying to be somewhat like my own self. I don't have time. I am running the household for the first time in my life - or perhaps reverse parenting, i.e. my parents have become my kids. No point in stressing myself further...

Only, once in a rare while, after it has stopped raining yet the sky is still overcast, I remember that it is his favorite climate, something that still manages to evoke some happiness in his otherwise impassive existence. Then, I'd catch a glimpse of four students having set up a carom board in some random tiny stretch of a corridor in front of their department, and playing with all their enthusiasm. I'd remember him, ever so engrossed in his game, during our college days. Never even bothering to look at me...and I watching the game hidden in a corner, so much of silent pride for my best friend who otherwise would be like my shadow, but has currently found some other passion and giving it his 100%...

A sigh. I would never again be able to reach out...I know that in my veins. I tried to post this on Facebook - composed the first paragraph even, and then copied it and discarded the draft. Back to the comfortable anonymity of my blog...stay happy with someone else, like you preferred...what happens to me? Don't even bother... 

That's about it :)

I think I am the greatest alive fan of Arijit Singh. Every night I get crazy about some or the other of his songs and start behaving like a real addict. I start hyperventilating for a mp3 version of the song which I can put on a repeat mode and go to sleep, else I won't be able to sleep altogether. I love this madness. In fact this is what keeps me going, total blind submission to a feeling, being washed over by it.

I have learned so much in these couple of years of having gradually given up all my expectations from life. Just going on with the motion of living life in the present. Never ever to think about the future or allow myself to dream. Mom was recuperating in the nursing home. The evening before her release the doctor came to visit her and finding us in the room, he started chit chatting. "How many kids?" - he asked. I nodded..."So, planning for kids? They will come soon I guess..." - he went on prodding. He's a gynecologist, it's a question of his bread and butter after all. "No, I am not married yet" - I blurted. He seemed almost upset.

It feels good to run the household for once in my lifetime. Though it is real back breaking work to manage office, home, a sick room (mom), an old age home (gran) and my crazy dad over that. This is my only bliss. Going to sleep with Arijit Singh crooning in my ear. If I am lucky some droplets of tears stream down involuntarily. That's about it :)

Just another anecdote...

I was dreading the the time I'd be shown my mother's innards after the operation. The story goes back to an ancient time in history, when I was in school. I was a natural genius at life science. And at the same time I was an admirer of pure science. I wanted to take maths additional in class IX. I missed it by 4 marks (don't think that the percentage required was high - only 60%, I managed 56). How I cried, howled in the school playground. Some arbitrary mom came running to me, because my dad miserably failed in reigning in my emotions (my mom has never accompanied me during the results - she's too nervous to handle the tension and assumes the worst at the very first go). Well, amid the hullabaloo I didn't even realize that I have again scored a 96% in Life Science but my class teacher did. She mandated that I take up biology as my additional subject and my father simply obeyed.

Cut shot - 2 years later. My dad is almost sure I am going to be a doctor i. e. I am going to take up biology as my 4th subject at the +2 level as well. Even I am pretty sure that if I sit for the medical joint entrance examination nobody can stop me from getting a good enough qualifying rank. And then nothing will be in my control - I have to study medicine and give up my ambition of becoming an engineer. Why do I have this ambition in the first place? Because my father's an engineer, I have always wanted to be like him. So to fulfill my dream I kill my dad's dream. I go and opt for statistics as my 4th subject. Just couldn't take the risk of becoming a doctor - I am extremely good at Chemistry too. But I am a lazy person and I hate blood. My dad's confused and hurt. He doesn't speak to me for 4 days.

Cut shot - present day. Above all other tensions regarding the surgery, the challenges of running a home for the first time, the car having been hit and sporting a broken bumper, and office work getting more complicated and irritating than ever...nothing worries me more than this custom of demonstrating the operated body parts. I will feel nauseated - must avoid it somehow - otherwise I shall be sick for days. I can't afford to be sick. Ok, decision taken, I will be the last to go after the OT door opens. By then they might have been done with the custom.

As is my tendency, and as fate would have it, I was the first to rush up the stairs, when they called us. I have become like that. I nomore run from the problem. I face it. I accept it. And there she was - the OT nurse. Explaining each part. The uterus, the fallopian tubes, the ovaries. Having drawn the images a hundred times (that was another problem, I drew extremely well, once I drew a toad so well that I kept staring at it for the rest of the exam - I always finished my Life Science paper in half the allotted time - it didn't help that I had watched The Frog Prince recently and was feeling rather romantic)...But, having had no practical experience, it was the size that surprised me. Are ovaries so tiny? Even the uterus - looks quite like the female version of an average sized penis. How on earth did I reside there in my formative months?

And there was no nausea, no reaction at all except such critical researcher like observations. I kept wondering - have I done a mistake then? Could I be successful as a doctor? Was it just prejudice without any foundation? Just a child's whim made me pursue something which was not my core strength? Well I haven't been a bad engineer. But that's usual for a performer. A good person having his heart at the right place usually finds a way to do all random things that he comes across in his life time. Should have a connection with his passion - computers in my case. But that is not the point.

Well, as the fact goes, I am currently a "not even properly employed" engineer. Mom's barely able to sit up - probably a long way from resuming her usual life. I am dog tired managing my office and the kitchen. The car is going to make me poorer by few thousand bucks, but from whatever research I have been able to do, claiming insurance would still be a mistake. Amid all this - cut shot again.

The phone rings. My friend from school, who's also my neighbor and the organizer for local cultural events.
"Tagore's birthday celebrations this year..."
"No re, my mom's getting released that day from the nursing home..."
"No it's not on the 9th, it is on the 15th. And I was hoping you'd be the MC..."

Last year I had recited a poem - and it went rather well (once again - my dad is excellent at recitation, I just followed his foot steps). Everyone in the locality became my friend and well wisher. People congratulated me while I was getting down from the dais. That was one high point in my life. But MC? It's not that I haven't organized events...I had once conducted an Antakshari in my first MNC. One Diwali celebration and a medley song rendering was conceptualized by me in my 2nd MNC. But MC of an event?

"OK... Let's do it then... ", I said while rolling my eyes and punching myself.

Just live, little girl, so long as you can...
Don't you get wet, glide like a swan.
In everything you do, add a bit of fun,
Evanescent is life, feel it before it's gone.

Once again rolling my eyes - well good night then :)