My masterpiece :)

Words I have learnt from him - funny things like throwback and friendzone. However much predictable and "like everyone else" he might be, he's given me new things. I am this girl who's inquisitive by nature. I am not biased, usually, and I don't get influenced easily. But I strongly discriminate between my likes and dislikes. Suppose I like someone, I don't really like the second one and I am neutral to the third. I will read a book recommended by the first and the third, but would wait for other reviews before I go for a book recommended by the second.

There's quora to begin with. Nah, he didn't introduce me to quora. I came across quora while researching dress materials for tropical areas (yeah, having lived in a plateau most of my adult life, the heat and humidity of a tropical city near the sea is torturous). But he definitely encouraged me to write my first answer on quora. No, it didn't go viral, in fact it didn't receive a single upvote...(I am not even sure how this upvote thingy works on quora). In fact I doubt if he has even read my answer. But that's one thing to begin with.

Then there was my second chess win against the CPU. The first time I won, I was extremely bewildered. I got very attacking and switched off the tutor. Day before yesterday when I won for the second time I was very very angry with him. Here he calls himself honest, and yet he freaks out at honesty. I was attacking again. No tutor, once more. I know how to do things on my own. And in no time the CPU gave up. No, I don't love playing chess. But when I win I kinda like that feeling of winning. I take screenshots and feel happy.

The last thing on the list would be (because we won't talk about poetries and neither would we bring in football - which I genuinely feel is that crazy game where 20 people run behind a ball) - how I met your mother. Now, see, I don't like television. I belong to a different era. It's not that I don't watch serials - I used to watch the old Doordarshan serials, both Hindi and Bengali. There was a time when I religiously watched Shaktiman and Om Namah Shivay. I was a mere school going teenager then. Afterwards came Tum Bin Jaoon Kahaan - till the storyline took impossible turns, এক আকাশের নীচে and finally গানের ওপারে...but no, I was never addicted to television series. I did watch 24 - the first season, but when I missed the second season I didn't feel too bad. And Friends? Hello, I hate that false laughter coming from the background. I can laugh without being prompted, thank you very much. But then, this name itself is romance personified, no? So I was kinda "God help me" but not really surprised when I found myself reading up the wiki entry on how I met...Pathetic? I couldn't agree more :( I have often found myself engrossed romantically in thinking about how we met. Do you ever realize, when you meet your person for the first time, about what you are going to experience?

The other day he came to office. We were casually discussing things. I said I have no idea what I would be doing next. "You'd be writing a travel blog...", he prompted. I was surprised. I slowly asked him, "you mean to say that you are suggesting an alternate career for me?" I knew what was going on in the back of his mind. He just wanted to know whether I like traveling (because he doesn't). I assured him that I am also not very fond of traveling, it mostly happened as part of my job, but yes, I enjoyed whatever little I traveled. He once had a strange status, "I don't want to go to any of those 10 counties". Well, I have been to exactly 10 countries incidentally. Nowadays? He dreams. He feels that's the only right thing to do. As if I do anything else. Told you he's my reflection...

I feel strange at times. This was not supposed to be life. I had my own set of tastes and preferences. Beautiful cars, Van Gogh pictures, Algebra books. O Henry stories. Yes, curious choices for a girl, but I had my own world once. Nowadays my world means waiting for the next tragedy to strike, and dreaming these impossible dreams to keep myself aloof during the time in between. I am afraid of posting this entry. There's too much information on him. What if he reads? Huh, my best friend (the lady) doesn't ever care to read it. And I expect he'd ever find time. I know a dream is just a dream. He just keeps me going - not exactly he, আমি আপন মনের মাধুরী মিশায়ে তোমারে করেছি রচনা।

I don't tell anybody, but these days I am too scared of an imminent death. Not only that my body is showing signs of decay, my life itself seems quite directionless. Not that I want to die. But when did I want any of these? Shall I ever create a masterpiece before I am called away? Or will I just stay addicted, in order to ease my pain, while I am here? Which interpretation of my love story would survive?

Old songs and brooding...

The problem in my life is that I have this sane head on my shoulders. I am impossibly analytical. In fact, if truth be told, I am quite an asset if you consider my executional capabilities. I have made this assessment in a very neutral manner - in fact way I am suicidal about my career and reluctant towards finding an alternative, I often reflect that if I stop working then it'd be quite a loss to the offices that require management skills. But that is not why I sat down to write.

I feel like talking about the song "আমি হৃদয়ের কথা বলিতে ব্যাকুল, শুধাইল না কেহ..." from the standpoint of an introvert. Doesn't an introvert need to speak out what she has in her mind? What was my mistake in all this? I was initially doing just a social experiment by being a bit outspoken on FB...who asked him to step in this? And now, this extent of addiction later, he wants us to stay aloof. When I can barely survive without reading the things he reads. And the things he writes sweep me away, yet I can't respond. I am not allowed to be the mad girl, I am supposed to retain this head on my shoulders and not let my heart flutter.

But then, if I think calmly enough, it's all my mistake. I mixed up reality with imagination. I deserve to suffer because I did that. But won't he pardon me for this slip? I wanted to keep this to myself. But look at what's been going on. With every step I thought that this is the worst that could happen this year. And I was mercilessly proven wrong. I know that this only is life, and I am living just to die this slow and excruciatingly lonely death. But I clung to this bubble because I didn't want to die as yet. It was just one or two small instances of expressing myself. I cannot lie. Doesn't he understand this much?

It doesn't help. Eating out, buying expensive dresses, pretending to be on top of the world. Because a world doesn't really exist for me. It is just me behind closed doors, shedding silent tears.

I was happy to have built this bubble with my once upon a time best friend. Then I did that mistake again - of mixing up reality with imagination. And he destroyed my bubble in the most rude way possible...and yesterday, when for some reason he chose to surface on FB again - I realized that I am not attracted to him anymore. I can't love people who have hurt me.

You used to make fun of me and my taglines. You understood they were for you and did nothing. But you made sure about telling me that you've read each and every one of them. And after you got married, both of us stopped writing taglines for gtalk. I still remember things you told me. Not to nurture expectations in my mind...I don't. Not to follow any bliss for too long - I, bossie, have finally realized, I am not supposed to have any bliss, my bliss doesn't lead to peace.

The Demonetization Demons...

On my way to the office, I was keenly observing ATMs today (for survival reasons). Is it normalcy that most ATMs have their shutters down during peak working hours, and others (rather proudly) display a "No Cash" board? ATMs are supposed to be round the clock machines to begin with... How many small shops, (and big shops which wouldn't accept plastic money earlier), cabs, autos and more importantly ambulances have migrated to the electronic system since 9th November? I have a Rs 2000/- note. I give it to my vegetable vendor for the fresh vegetables I have just bought from him (hardly worth Rs 80/-) and demand "change". He glares at me...trying to say - stay hungry, stay foolish :( Ah, till some years back, I used to complain about the BMTC conductors not returning change of 1 or 2 Rupee coins... A PM (you may read as project manager) is supposed to take responsibility if there is any failure in project execution - instead of saying that he has dared to do something, that others before him wouldn't dream of doing. Forget execution, where was the planning? Who am I to say this? I am a common Indian who's suffering, and who has a logical mind that's not easy to influence with emotion/sentiments/drama. I am a project manager myself. I studied management. And I know the software based banking system like the back of my hand. Who are you trying to fool? I miss Raghuram Rajan :( PS - Make defense service compulsory for all Indian citizens, if patriotism has to be mandated (apart from spending money on tall flags). Many countries already have that rule. Don't create soldiers out of the commoners at your own whim, to cover your follies...

Passion and fall...

A song is no song till you sing it...
It's hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain...

You've written this against my tagline...

10 years - of playing that game, and losing everything that I ever believed in...and then this happened...

We would only hold on to let go.
The last leaf...
May be you should fall because that's what rivers do.

Oh, it's just your romanticism. These are just unrelated thoughts from two unconnected minds. Right?

Fall? Where? How much more? Haven't I already sunk deep enough? You inundate me...in dreams, as I fall asleep and as I wake up...

Don't write things so beautiful,
That she falls from grace...
O poet, this girl is such a fool,
Your wordplay gives her stress...

Stress reminds me - (because chess rhymes with stress) - yesterday I watched a beautiful movie on the French channel that dad watches - the man, he plays chess. He teaches the game to his (supposedly) cleaning lady. The lady goes on to win a championship and travels to Paris thereafter. They speak in E4, rook, queen and stuff like that. You should have seen my expressions while watching the movie. Ah, passion. And he thinks nobody ever had a crush on him...

May be I don't count. I am old. Gives me such a heartbreak...

Happiness and otherwise: the toggle mode...

Yes, I finally discovered that happiness has its own language,  but unfortunately I am so busy today that I have no time to write about this. The other day my music teacher, who is also my friend, was telling me that her riyaz is her bliss. I told her that mine is the few lines I manage to write when I feel overwhelmed...that vent of expressing myself is my bliss.

You know why I love him? Because he knows the contradiction in me. So full of life, yet so lifeless. And hopefully, unlike the previous men I met, he doesn't judge.

But all good things come to an end. And in my life, quickly. So however much happy his presence makes me, I can't let it become a habit. And the goosebumps that his thoughts give me - I can't ever dwell on those thoughts.

Finally, this is my life. Burning eyes. Coaxing myself to sleep. A dreamless night. Leading to yet another routine morning.

Sunbeams and uncertainty...

I rather like such situations when I switch off the Internet. I do this usually in the extreme cases. Like, there has been a major goof up or breach of protocol at office (by my seniors or juniors of course - because I can't do any mistake, can I?) - and I write a letter in protest...very angry but citing ample logic in support of my point of view...and it is obvious that if my demands are not complied with, I'd think of the obvious next step - resignation. It's not easy for a workaholic to face such an uncertain situation - I switch off the Internet to relax. Thankfully I have usually got very understanding seniors at office - they value me as a human resource. So when I switch on the Internet next morning, in trepidation, more often than not, a positive response is waiting for me.

But this time it is about love and closure. Because I loved someone, and now I am coming out of that phase. No, not because he has not treated me well, like the inhumans I usually happen to meet. But because I understand the impossibility of the relationship and also because I kind of know, by my strong sense of logic, that he's not interested in me in a way I want. But I can't just let go of my romanticism just like that, or for that matter, my ego. So I try to say a feeble good bye to him and also try to pretend that he's been no one special, I talk like this with almost everyone. Also, in a cryptic way I want to tell him that I am not a person who can hide truth easily, I have been following him and observing him. And then I switch off the Internet.

Good byes are difficult things. I break into tears as I tune in to some favorite songs - and finally the "I like blue" dialogue. My favorite dialogue on earth. I forcibly fall asleep and then wake up a the break of the dawn. My room is getting flooded by sunbeams. I switch on the WiFi dongle. Still I don't have courage enough to switch on the Internet on my phone. I banter a little with my parents, call up Ananya and wish her good morning and then drink a cup of coffee. I concentrate on writing this. The morning vendors are describing their various wares. I have always been in awe of the underprivileged people, mostly because of the sheer amount of effort that they put in to sustain themselves. I am not a morning person - in another half an hour I will start feeling sleepy...and believe me or not, I have a two page to-do list. Why is life so painful yet the sun so warm and comforting?

Memories and bitterness...

Memories are tricky things...you feel you are storing them for future use, often put in a Herculean effort to arrange and organize them (e-memories or otherwise), and yet, you seldom revisit them, because life moves on, and when you do, you simply feel a pang. Like on the night Nikhu passed away, I felt so extremely restless that for the first time in ten years I went to the Gmail label colored pink and named after my bossie. I just read one letter, his last day mail sent to the SG team, which he separately forwarded to me, and one chat log. I couldn't take it anymore. This man loved me. Yet he's nowhere. 

Meanwhile there are different memories too. The ones that go undocumented. When we found Nikhu too weak to move, I was running from pillar to post to save him. My dad was unperturbed. He firmly carried him to our home (Nikhu was a big healthy dog), wrapped him up and made him a bed, asked mom to boil water and fill the hot water bag, and all the time kept talking to Nikhu. I could only hear excerpts while running around. "Will you die, Nikhu? You don't like to live with us anymore? You don't like us anymore?" It was heartbreaking. My dad says that when Kutu died, the day before she had given him a pleading look, trying to say - please take care of my puppies. Dad had cooked for all of them and fed them three square meals a day as long as they lived. While they lived, they were well fed. And happy. 

Nowadays we have nothing better to do than lament. I badly long for a few words of comfort from the man I love. His philosophical mails. I need them. But I can't ask. I have myself closed the channel of communication. Disha does comfort, she's such an angel. But I am just afraid of loving anyone anymore... 

My baby boy...

There goes my poetry skills,
There goes my lisping,
There goes my sugary chirps,
Nikhu baby is sleeping...

He won't be able to wake up ever,
He won't once more be able to sing,
He won't be able to charm back life
In this almost zombie thing...

I lost a son to medicine,
I lost one for the lack of it,
I don't get why the world goes on...
I don't like God a wee small bit.

Bring it on...

Well - I declare war with God. All these days he has given me a terribly painful life. And I have been like - OK, give me all the pain you want - you keep my family safe and healthy. And now - I have stopped being so meek. Bring it on, all good. You are not capable of anything. You are as helpless as I am. You cannot make any difference in my life. Nothing. You can only take away whatever little I have, and You do that.

Nikhu was a part of me. I have lost my son one more time. My immensely handsome son. End of almost two years of motherhood. My baby boy left me all alone...now, frankly, I don't dread anything anymore. Like I said, bring it on...

Warmth...

As I grow older, I learn to seek happiness in the most insignificant things. Like getting up wheezing on an early November day, 6 in the morning, and feeling the chill in the air. Opening up the windows anyway to let the feeble sunlight come in. And then finding the shawl and wrapping it around myself for the first time in the season. Ah! Warmth...comfort and all that signifies the role of wool in winter. Feeding the dog. Dog's being lazy. He won't get up, I only kneel down and lean in to take the biscuit to his mouth. Dad's shaking the shiuli tree. Flowers come down, but not as plentiful as before. They will be offered to my grandma and her Gods.

For the first time in my life I have understood it. Dream but don't put a precondition that it will be fulfilled. In fact be sure that it won't. Still be happy that you are able to dream...

Sanity

Baby, I am going to inject some sanity in you. Because, this, what you are doing to yourself, is harmful. You call it your bubble. But then you start trusting the make believe world. You think of reciprocation. Which is not possible, at least in this case. So, please for the sake of God, forget this. Come out of this madness. Even the booking clerk was more real than this. Rito was more real, he spoke to you and ended the relationship on his own accord.

You have chosen your miseries. You have to live with those. Conformation is not your strong point. You have to bear the consequences of having chosen a life that doesn't conform to the society's norms. But don't even dare to be this kind of a non-conformist. It won't work out and the mess would really weigh on your well-being. Resort to the break up song and break up with your fantasies. Don't bother to delete these recent entries. Let that be your only consolation. If someday he reads them, he'd call you mad and heave a sigh of relief knowing that you broke up with him.

And then I'd get drunk and keep walking on the roads at night. I once called him in the morning. Not morning, 11-ish. He must have been sleeping. That sleepy, grumpy tone of his voice still rings in my mind. And I am asked to differentiate reality from imagination. Reality is that I am depressed - and when I am depressed I stop taking care of me. I haven't taken a decent bath in the last two days, I am not going to the doctor when I know that something is seriously wrong in my system. What more can die within me, after what I have already killed, and I can never bring back? Yes all that is reality, my reality. And his reality is that he is the kind of person who'd be able to love a girl like me. There's no imagination in that.

A girl like me, but not me. That's called irony. Welcome to India :)

The acknowledgement...

I don't know what I am writing and why I am writing. I am just going mad with this "new guy" in my life, and my extreme childishness. God knows what I want to prove. God knows what he wants to prove. I am happy, I am angry, I am lost. And he, apparently, seems to have similar mood swings. Or maybe it's just my imagination. Over that ADHM. My God, KJo, why? What was going on in your mind when you conceptualized the movie? See, I am not calling it good or bad. But KJo and I are virtual thought buddies. It is difficult to see him as confused as I am.

It was in Delhi, on the Saturday when I read my paper. We came back to the hotel dog tired. It is usual that whenever I go to Delhi I am bound to get a toothache. Probably because I eat too much. But that's besides the point. Have I ever mentioned here the broken tooth, the one I broke when I was 17 years old? I refuse to get rid of it till I get married (I already have one tooth plucked out, not another one before my marriage). So I live with that broken tooth, and a subtle threat to my life and well being. So, I could understand that something has got stuck inside the broken inner wall of that tooth, and I was trying to bring that out. Finally I gave up and dozed off. When I woke up, it had come out by itself...through some magic. It was a coriander seed. My first bout of "it's a sign!"

The second bout came at 11:59 pm of 29th October. His mail (last of those philosophical mails) came in and I won my first chess game with the CPU, almost at the same moment. It was uncanny. I got entirely dumbfounded. At times you have to stop yourself from pursuing things that you want to do. I too had to opt out. Who knows how far things would have got? 

What's friendzoning? I don't know. There are so many new terms in use these days. I get to know about most of them from (as usual) things he reads. And at times I am left thinking for hours. He says such strangely mature things at times. How this guy became the person he is? How he developed this thought process? Such original and unbiased thinking. 

Yes, I am in sheer, disastrous, devastating love. Yes, I have our moments and chuckles. Yes, I want to die. Because I recognize him and can't even acknowledge that...