The hardened soul...

You thought I love you? I thought you do...
Both felt misleading is a great virtue.
Despair killed one more love impromptu.

The last two weeks having been extremely hectic, as sudden as skyfall, today I find myself completely idle. My grandmother was an early riser (I used to sleep at 3, she used to get up at 3:30 - hence my famous saying that you'd more or less find somebody awake in our home at all hours). Anyways, she seems to have imparted her habit on me - ever since her demise I haven't gotten up beyond 7 (major thing for me because given the slightest chance I'd happily sleep till 11)...

So I decided to look back at the last turning point of my life. At Facebook. Being this typical unsocial being, it is not easy for me to like FB, but I don't dislike it as much as I used to. The addiction increased after a real friend left me unexpectedly, it intensified soon after I got a virtual friend. I am not a popular person, so people hardly like my posts. It was as if my one way dialogue with him, aided by my imagination. All because he called me beautiful. It was a different story when I was actually beautiful...even 5 years back, when I still hoped that my wounds might heal. He said this at a time when I had lost it all. And I could perceive life seeping back in me, like magic, that transforms the autumn leaves and bring about a green tinge on the shriveled branches. Maybe it was short-lived, but my God, wasn't it beautiful! Yes, that was the turning point till the time my grandma suddenly decided to bid adieu to her cosy little world. And his life transformed around the same time. Expected too. Whose life doesn't change for the better? Except perhaps mine.

I happen to take everything in my stride. Like when I lost around 4250 bucks - most probably the money was stolen during the busy time we have had during the funeral. Most probably by the same helping hands at home who we trusted. But what's the point in cribbing? I let it go...I have also considerably lost my focus. I get baffled easily and lose coherence and continuity. On the other hand - I am a hardened soul. Seeing someone die, the rituals, the visit to the crematorium, the last rites and inviting people for it...they alter something in you permanently. I am no longer scared...neither do I hope or pray fervently. I just want it all to end, and end soon...

Poetry, identity and identification...

I don't know what has happened to me. Am I behaving like a show off? I guess not. Because then, I would be posting all the pics of mine which I discovered while creating a collage of my grandma's photos. That's not the case. I didn't even post the collage. But I can't suppress the urge to post my poetries. Not all of them (I write scores of useless poems for my niece everyday) - but for example, this one.

PS - I don't know what this madness is about people shouldn't be able to identify me from my blog. What if they do? I am not secretive and I am not ashamed about my foolishness, the tragedies in my life or that my life is a mess right now. Neither I regret the fact that I trusted people or dreamed impossible dreams. Still this picture is an attempt to mask the words published elsewhere from Google's attempt to connect the dots. Yes, I am aware of OCR as well. Who cares. As it is, the recent huge inflow of traffic in my blog is supposedly from some crap site. I have no idea who put my blog's link there. So basically things happen, I don't want to stop that course even if I can. 

Selfish...

No, I don't really love anyone. I am finally a real zombie. I know not how to love. Moreover I don't even have that fear factor of loss as well. I have been extremely apprehensive about death so long. Now that I have met death face to face, I have learnt that there's no point being wary of it. I can't escape my fate. They talk of sand that slips through one's palm. Everything on earth seems like that.

Yes, I wanted life to follow a certain track. I wanted to live a romantic life. I tried to create my bubble and live in it even though the world tried to coax me out of my illusions. And now I have accepted my loneliness. Everything, every damn thing that I ever cared for has to be snatched away from me and that's the only truth of my life. Without any exception.

I have never dared to dream like this. With no hope of the dream ever coming true, I went crazy. Probably because of his own way of thinking which made him my mirror image. It was easy for me to live life for a bit. Even when I had to face death so suddenly, his presence made it easier for me. His antics made me smile even amid this crisis. I felt that long forgotten sensation of intense joy. And now it is lost forever. I just felt him, not the real him, he was never there anyway, but the pseudo him who I had started believing as my lover, simply walk out of my life. Probably he merged with his actual self to live his own proper, everything-in-place life. He's just not with me anymore. Nobody will understand this earth-shattering grief in my mind for a virtually non-existent being. No key would fit in that can turn around my life. Try as I might, it will just degrade and degenerate. There's no respite. I have tried my best to keep myself strong, but now I can vividly see that one corner of mental asylum where my life's going to end.

The first sneeze of love, 

Your first thought of me, 

And then I realize , 

How soon love dies. 

Depression, suppression, 

Superstitious oppression, 

My sorrow shouldn't enter - 

Your realm of glee. 

Your happiness should avoid 

The darkness in me. 

Today I simply mourn the extremely promising life I could have had. I don't know for which fault of mine I lost it. All I know is I refuse to struggle anymore for that tiny bit of happiness that will never come.

I am sorry I can't be happy for you. I never really loved you right. I loved that soul within you that's lost, like me. Now that you'll live a nice normal happy life, and you don't really need to inculcate that sense of loss, I feel lonely again. Call me selfish...I don't mind. Actually, I don't have a mind anymore...

Actually...and I am writing this because in my imagination you read my blog, you are indeed a wonderful person, the fault is with me (like you say). I tried to dream about us when both of us were in a hapless condition. But I simply don't have the strength to weave yet another far fetched anecdote of you going on loving me even when your circumstances have improved. Why should you? All of us crave for better days and we should wholeheartedly enjoy them when they come. You shouldn't stay stuck up with me, not in these good days of yours. When my own grief could have given me some way of consoling you in your dismal state of mind, I had some remote role to play in your life. Not any more...even my imagination can't be that irrational.

PS - I am not that much selfish, am I?

Cremation...

This is difficult to write...I can't bring myself to describe it. I shall be truthful and neutral like always. I was frustrated. I have been frustrated for a long time now. Forever I have hated the fact that people at home keep saying that there's no money. All the time - when this is never the case. There's ample money at home, just more mismanagement than organization. Yes, if you want to blame me, I was tired. I felt lazy and dazed. I am running about all the time. With a very disappointed and depressed mind. It's difficult, trust me.

Saturday evening was like this. I don't know what happened with my temper. It's only that I have promised myself that I won't be stopping myself from doing anything I wish. So I wanted to post this.

Just a casual conversation I had with my niece. But I got scared. Writing about poetry might cause people to suspect the identity of the person I like. That was the first stress. Mom's cribbing about money was the second one. That dad had asked the FD agent not to come home and give us the due money was the third. And dad always barging in my room and calling me even if I would be asleep was yet another stress factor. The already rare self control was shattered. I shouted, I broke down, I made a mess of myself. My grandma asked me what has happened, why I am behaving like this...I shouted to her that this is something she should ask her daughter and son in law. I didn't know then that this would be the last ever time I would be speaking with her.

I went for the rehearsals and came back. I gave couple of biscuits to the dog. Then I went upstairs. Dad came up to call me for dinner. I closed the door on his face. I ate a cup of yogurt and two chocolates. I went to bed. I told myself that the next morning I'd attend the rehearsals and then go over to the mall. Have dinner, watch a movie. I won't inform anything to my family. Just like Piku, I shall spend a day with myself. I dozed off thinking these things.

When the phone rang I saw the time as 10:35. It was mom calling. "Drama queen", I thought to myself and disconnected the call. My rehearsal was due at 11. "I am late as usual", I told myself and was about to get up, when there was loud banging on the door and mom crying like a maniac..."your grandma is no more". Everything else seems like a picture now. I went down the stairs and from the staircase I could see grandma sitting up in her usual posture. I said, "mom, what are you talking, she's fine"...I went near her, saw her breathing normally. Her body was warm. Only her face tilted downwards and her tongue jutted out. I went on calling her, embracing her...she didn't answer. She kept sitting in that position, and it really looked like a frame as a cat sat facing her, on the boundary wall outside her window. Both of them sat facing each other, one barely alive, the other basking in the sun. It was actually 6 o'clock in the morning, the watch in the mobile had somehow shown me the wrong time. 

The doctor came. He referred to the hospital and refused to take fees. We called the ambulance, took her to the emergency ward, still having some hope, transferred her to the neuro ITU, the senior doctor met us and crushed our hope...and I thanked him for not mincing words and baffling us, we called the relatives, she went on fighting till two more days and let all her near and dear ones see her breathing one last time...and finally breathed her last. I consented for the mechanical ventilator, I signed and took custody of her dead body. My first visit to the crematorium, knowing the rituals, doing them, wondering that some people even have this kind of a life as profession, and finally seeing her body being engulfed by the fire. Collecting the ashes and accompanying my mother to throw away the last remains of her. Making arrangements for her last rites. Everything's a first for me. The so called non existent relatives streaming in and some of literally running the show was a surprise event. The cooperation extended by the hospital was another wonder, in these days of health care being a business...but all these things apart...this entry was all about the unspoken truth. If grandma left because of my whimsical nature, I begged forgiveness from her in front of the entire crowd that gathered during her cremation, and I am telling the truth here too.  The son I lost, the husband I never could have as my own apart, I am losing the few people I really treasured. I don't know how I shall deal with the ultimate loneliness, but that's perhaps the only true constant in my life... 

The impact...

Here's to the evening when you gave me my new original idea of a story - a story so unique and futuristic that I may never be able to write it...

You make me whole again. You heal me. You make me a crazy confused teen. You're my bubble in the truest sense. Because you make me dream impossible, jerky, never before dreams. You fuel my imagination. I can think of a different world, a world devoid of prejudices, where people are willing to help without any apparent benefit to themselves, a world full of the joy of giving, where open minded people like you and me can live with more contentment. And then my imagination runs wild. What with these incredible things you read, I feel like a grown up girl for the first time in my life. Man, I become the fairytale princess only because you exist. You are my fairytale prince. Just a mirror glass separating us. And then they tell me it's all a story...

The ordeal - again

Every night I try to watch a movie and every night I fail. I can't watch new movies. It seems too strenuous. Romantic movies - may be I could watch. But not serious movies. I don't have adequate strength of mind to watch them. I am half scared of taking more tension or watching people suffer.

Same with story books. I can't concentrate. Just think - my favorite past time has now become a thing of past.

What do I do in my leisure time then? Browse Facebook. Yeah, the much dreaded FB. Just to know what he's reading...I get familiar to everything happening in everybody's life (except for the 6-7 people I have managed to block). Don't think I am in love with him. No, I am not. It just feels blissful to read things he likes. He's got a quaint sense of humor - I find myself laughing.

I have noticed something. Whenever I feel terribly bored, I happen to think mostly about three things...

1. বহু যুগের ওপার হতে - and the character of উল্কা in it, particularly the scene where she sings তুমি এলে না
2. When was the last time you did something for the first time - my bossie's tagline
3. Following my bliss - Namesake (I don't remember the story, just the phrase, and if I remember any story vividly - that's almost always Hema and Kaushik from Unaccustomed Earth)

My whole life seems meaningless today. How long can I fuel my life with madness alone, when there's nothing concrete...

I did tell Ananya that day that sleeping provides a good respite from depression - when you sleep you don't feel anything...but no...even that's not easy to practice.