A Christmas Love Affair.

Just spent one conscious Christmas away from home. Yes I was cribbing again. Christmas here is just not Christmas. Or maybe not the storybook Christmas I am so used to. No carols, no candles and no glittering lights on the horizon. Just plain annoying drum beats which some tone-deaf fools deem fit for all occasions and Santas so stupidly dressed, I actually want to hit them!

Yet perhaps this year's Christmas was actually able to do much for me. It was this year that I started believing that special things do happen on Christmas (anyday ,actually. I am just trying to stick to my storybook obsession) maybe if you have been miserable (or good!) all year long.

Luck appeared in the form of a potential trip one night. I was not really excited as I was faced with the prospect of spending it with virtual strangers. But hey...when am I ever the happy optimistic beam of sunshine?

Started out at dawn on what was to be one of the longest journeys of my life. A few hours into it though, I was actually laughing more than I had anticipated yet did not want to believe enjoyment was so close at hand. But the company was too hilarious (in a good way) for my shell to seem a very tempting attire. Beautiful roads, promising company and one maggie-point later I was making my way upwards to a foster pine storybook chapter again.

It was all that an ever cranky me could wish for. Cobble lanes coloured red and yellow with shed leaves, small wooden houses with flowering gardens that looked like they were painted on greeting cards and people sipping steaming beverages in a calm sunshine...these were just the beginnings. Smiling fortune took me to stay at a place where wooden cabins with fireplaces (though some did not work) awaited me. Beds with two quilts which still did not manage very quickly to keep the chill out. Wooden swings meant for drinking tea on while watching pink horizons after sunset and old English lamps lighting the driveway. Yes it was like the old Christmas stories.Fluctuating voltages and hot water timings were just part of the charm.

Then what? Days were spent walking on trails, trying to trek while falling on fellow brave hearts (read:blunt heads). Evenings were spent working up appetites sitting on those darn slippery slopes and then satisfying them by eating like starved maniacs. But ah! the nights...playing badminton (in my case, watching others play) and then sitting, gossiping,laughing around bonfires,with music to complete the picture. How can you describe it? Charming...that is the only word.

No it will never match up to what could have been and what I still yearn for (Shillong!duh!). Call it a small summer or rather winter affair. The kind where the heart prods the butterflies out of their hibernation,just for a while. The kind where strange unknown feelings are simply communicated by sight and smiles. There are blushes and inexplicable sighs. But that is just it. It lies somewhere between "nothing" and "something"...the "perhaps something" maybe?

All said and done the storybook was there to save Christmas. Yes I know it will not always be there. But maybe it will? Its nice to believe in Santa. He is a pretty happy guy and that is something to admire, especially for people like me. Why? because I am back but I am still smiling about it...like you always do when you remember such strange "affairs".

It was all old storybook and given the timing, maybe even poetry. And this time is unforgettable, perhaps this will explain why...

"And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me...."

-Pablo Neruda (from Poetry).

Just Read will ya?

Scarred by the slick blade of cowardice...
Indifference is cold;silence:sneaking frostbites.

Love's wrath is torture...

Love's disgust-the Fallen Angel's* legacy:
His hopes of rights betrayed-hell's pain.

Feel raging questions in your body,
Black blood of punctured trust in your veins.

Oh claimed "victim", but of the self
Deception is your skin,
Compulsion?But choice of the same.

Trust not your features for
Your very air screams "illusion".

Note:Fallen Angel here is an allusion to Lucifer, the angel banished for wanting equality with God and eventually turning into Satan.

HAIR TODAY...GONE TOMORROW.

I just had a true moment out of freak-ville about an hour ago.My apparant mundane day was suddenly punctured by an sms from a friend of mine back in Shillong. She messaged me to say that a classmate of mine, or rather group member passed away today. forgive the language, but my first reaction was "WTF!"

This girl,P was always a strange concoction to me. Its not like we were close or anything but i met her practically everyday of my life for twelve years. we made the journey from 2+2 to theorems together. That is why I guess i freaked out. For an hour I was expecting someone to call me and say,"it was a joke, a dumb one at that". Now, its almost as if she has simply vanished. poof!

P was not known to be the most amiable of people. Thank God I never faced her wrath. not directly atleast. Some friends of mine had their frowns against her. The reasons were classic silly. As a kid she threatened a friend of mine saying her father, who is in the police, would put her whole family behind bars if she did not let her go ahead or something just as stupid. Then I heard something near to that same nature happen even in high school. But these were things to be laughed at. I do not think anyone hated her. no,she was just P...ridiculously funny that way.

In the later part of high school, she got obsessed with straight hair...in fact most people remember her now by how obsessively she would keep ironing her hair...so much so that it almost looked starched sometimes. The only time she was rude to me, she even came and apologized. I remember meeting her on the road to some destination to another and doing the same old "How have you been? where are you now and blah blah..."'always walking away with the picture of her hair in mind. infact, once I met her when she was returning after getting something pierced or while going to do the same. In my head I said "oi."

Last I met her was at a friend's place on new year's eve last year and I remember running away after hugging her because she seemed distinctly high. Had a laugh about it many times afterwards. I guess that is what I took for granted would keep happening for a long time to come...not getting high, but meeting people from the past who come along and reaffirm one's faith in the absoluteness of a childhood gone by.

Now, strange things keep coming to my head...I can still see her in her blue and pink ghagra, getting ready to do a dance no. on teacher's day. same function, different song and attire in class 9. I remember pulling off a silly play together with her in the 10th standard. I remember her missing her chair and falling down in Geography class (7th standard)...the teacher saying that it is dangerous to pull someone's chair and then laughing herself.

It all seems like a sick joke...I just visited her profile and ironically, it says "live life king size" and her status,which i suppose she wrote when she went back after her holidays says "back to life".

P, I do not want to lie and pretend that we were great chums and so i am feeling bad. It would be snubbing your memory. But truly, I am feeling bad. I know their are sadder stories by far, but I wish you had gotten a longer shot at life..We all expect to pull off something education wise, get a job, get married maybe and while we grow older, run into each other now and then to remind one another of the past, a sepia tinted childhood maybe, that we share.

P, I am really sorry for anything mean I might have said to you or about you. You must have done similar things but you and me both know that they really do not matter. I know you must feel bad but try feeling happy about the fact that you have lived your life in a way that today someone as detached from you as me is remembering you and wishing you would come back.We have done cooky things together...like ten people descending on one plate of pav bhaji at N's place. Yes, I remember going to Shillong peak and the school picnic together. no, we were not great friends or anything, but we were always nice to each other. At least you were to me and I hope I was to you to. You were part of that crazy gang, that crazy time. And so, maybe it is not of much importance to you but that way, you will always be part of my memory of a very special time. And you know what? I still remember you sitting next to me in moral science class in 6th or 7th, lending me a pen (maybe it was a pencil?) from your purple disney box. I think that is my best memory of you. We did had better times, but that one was just between you and me.

Strange, but I still feel like I will run into her in Shillong again next time and she will say "what?you heard I DIED?", and she will laugh her signature laughter. stranger still, but for someone who I thought never mattered to me much, I sure remember her laugh. I hope I do always. I am still wondering what she is feeling right now. because i know she is out there somewhere...her hair now in absolute perfection i hope.why is it that she seems more human to me now that she is "gone"? She is special to so many people. She must have touched her share of lives. I wish I or someone could give credit to all her special moments.

For all my batch mates:we were born at pretty much around the same time. we began the journey of growing up together but what we should remember is that we will not end it in the same manner. So to all those in my batch...those obscure to me and not...its been fun,quite great actually. thanks for being born when you were.

Mmmm...Is a title compulsory?

I struggle to string words in verse,

So they would want to read.

Then do I really believe in expression?

Or make my pen puppet to please?

...thought ripple after of an hour-long class of Sidney's poetry.

R.I.P.

What a city this is...sweat, prickly heat, con-men(auto drivers), dust, disease(malairia, dengue...and the latest swine-flu phenomenon)...full of possibilities. These things get to me so quickly even after a year. Even a few nights ago i was reduced to tears, begging for electricity and some rain. God gave in, thankfully. Sometimes, I cannot bring myself to believe I am actually here and my life as little as 2 to 3 years ago seems so distant,like someone else's. Yes I am a cry-baby and these things hurt:- This dislocation and suffocation, the knowledge that maybe all this is really worth nothing, the haze that forms in front when I try to think of what lies after, the constant longing and fear of never going home for good one day (please do not give me advice or a "you will adjust". Its irritating and I know that speech by heart (hear it maybe is...?)).

Yet somethings hurt more. Or do they? Tell me, how would you feel if you knew you were failing as a human being? How would you feel hurting those who love you, in full knowledge? How would you sleep, if at all you would, knowing that you are doing things beyond the very scope of forgiveness itself? Then do you justify it all by telling yourself, and all that you never had a choice? And yet people do these things. But one of the worst places to be in is to watch your own friend or loved one go down such a road.

Dear F, I have tried and tried very hard to help you. But today I doubt you want it. You have single-handedly made a mangled wreak of a very precious life. You have hurt and hurt very badly a bunch of people (me included) who have wished you luck and love. You tell me about your remorse and I wish to believe you. Imagine that! I WISH!

Before you get all defensive, let me remind you that you have not really left people with many reasons to believe you. You have spent so much time lying and concealing, you have forgotten what you look like. And you have also forgotten that some people who like me, have spent so many years with you can see through your lies too easily. Sometimes when you make your excuses, they know and they do not tell you. But they know. I should think that would shame anyone enough. Darling, you take people's intelligence (or rather the lack of it) too much for granted.

Hurting your close ones so is not an accomplishment. But you just do it over and over. For what? I really fail to see. Then you tell me about the art of appreciation? You, who failed to appreciate a loving family and doting friends? Who never could appreciate what she had been blessed with? Who could never value those who accepted you despite of your inconsistencies? You and teaching appreciation? Sad.

I have not forgotten what you used to be, though you seem to have. I have not forgotten that you were someone I wished I could be more like. That is why I tried so hard to still see good, some good in you. But today I think that maybe, just maybe you are not, never were what you showed the world. No, for once I do not think you were a victim who did not know what she was doing. Maybe you are just that selfish. Maybe it does not matter to you how many people you bring to tears or how often. Maybe? you decide.

I know this anger is temporary. I know I will feel guilty for even feeling like this and that I will want to remove this before you read it (if you ever do). But I will not. Just to remind myself of this possibility which I dismiss always too eagerly. For it is very hard to accept that one's own close friend can compromise on the Rights and Wrongs so easily.

You say you are beyond redemption. But I think you just want to be. Because no one is beyond redemption. It's just hard to clean up your own mess, isn't it? You complain of your hard path ahead. But maybe you want to wlak it just the same. Why? For self-glorification? To massage your aching insecurities? Yes, your reasons seem just that shallow. So don't you ever comfort youself saying you do not have a choice (because you do) or that your reasons are any better. Because God knows its wrong and always will be. Today you think that love, trust and faith are expendable. That is a very low place to be indeed. Look into a mirror and see what you have become.And like HP had said...try,try for some remorse. real remorse.

On a lighter note: S*2, its very sad you chose to go so far away for career concerns (how horribly grown up!). But I miss you a lot. I like it too as thinking of you reassures myself of some sanity in this world. Take a hug then, won't you?:)

Cab-Ride Chronicles.

Hello to all.....if anyone is out there still.

I'm back home for my vacations and I do not miss delhi a bit. It is not that surprising considering the content....the pollution;the noise;the huge aunties with enormous behinds;the disgusting,omni-present,ever-commenting bunch of ugly men and most of all,the mind numbing,body drenching heat. what a package...sensational.

I do miss my friends,teachers and classes.But...ah that has pretty much nothing to do with it.

I do a lot of random things these days...butIi love this randomness.like waking up with nothing to do...its not a bad thing all the time. Then there is reading. After a long time its not because I have to and not with deadlines buzzing around me. Evenings in coffee-shops with good coffee that does not burn my pocket, without the vat monster looming near. Staring at the hills at night and taking cab-rides just for the fun of it.

Cab-rides can be very entertaining. There can be a lot to learn as well. For instance, the other day, I was on my way back home in this cab with a bengali family of the Ma,the Pa and the kid. The kid is probably in class 3. From now let I will refer to him as AK. I will explain the meaning eventually. Note:all my lines take place in my head...where else?

AK:Ma, are we stopping in the bazar today? Will you buy fish?

MA:silence.

ME:blank.

AK:Dad, I have school this saturday. Oh and i have to meet the principle reagarding some errand he was mentioning...

PA:ok,ok. sshhhh. Keep quiet.

AK:...So I think i will have to go early...

PA:Why can you not keep quiet for a bit? I do not like talking in taxis.

ME:?!what in the world does that mean?

Then PA starts talking to his wife. More precisely, bitching about someone to her.

ME: Idiotic wart! Has time to gossip loudly, but will not listen to his son.

After a while however, the resilient kid talks again.

AK: You know we had that test today and we got back our papers in the afternoon itself. You know my classmate...so and so (I do not remember the name)? He gave a blank paper! He had not written a single answer.

PA:(disinterested)...so?

AK: But how could he give a blank paper? He did not know a thing!

PA: Was he not away for the past couple of weeks? So maybe he did not know.

AK: So what? We got 10 days to study for it.

PA: Yes. So may be he could not or did not study.

ME: oh both of you shut it!

AK: I studied for it everyday for 10 days. (with sick pleasure) And finally today it happened! he could not study for a single night? and he has no shame handing in a blank paper!

ME: Stupid kid! So bloody typical of those irritating ones who would ask everyone else at school what marks they got so that they could compare and gloat. Idiot.

PA: Ok. fine.good.

silence.

ME: Oh God! please do not let him open his mouth till I am out!

GOD: (smirking)...Yeah ...sure.

AK: We have been told to take Rs.16 each to school tomorrow.

PA: (suddenly now, with renewed interest). Why?

AK: They are making something with an NGO group and they require materials, I think.

PA: I will call and find out.

AK: call whom?

PA: (with all the air of a CIS agent). I will call someone.

AK: You can call the monitor...he has to collect it.

PA: Why should I call the monitor? As though he will tell me, andIi will give my money away.

ME:Which hot spot do you think your dork of a son will go to with 16 bucks fool? There is a lot he could do but he aint the type to be invited.

AK:I told them that you all do whatever you want to. But I will not ask for any money. I do not want to have to do anything with all this.

ME: Wait. did you not just do that?And that brave speech? Yeah! sure as hell you did that. You probably get thrashed by the geeks of your class.

MA (finally): He never talks this much with me.

ME: Oh. Sad. but atleast someone is sane!

MA: He is always quiet. God knows why he keeps rambling when you are there.

ME: what? She is proud? God help this wierd herd. But then with a kid like that, I do not blame her.

AK: Ma, you will not buy the fish?

MA: No.

We reach. I get the hell out.

Yes I know the poor kid was probably running for some attention. But can we not just indulge in some plain old gossiping for once without thinking about "the beyond".

This past year has been anything but a blur. But I have learnt to appreciate somethings...like randomness and cab-rides.

Oh and AK stands for "Annoying Kid". Big Surprise,no?

P.S.: I was not trying to listen to their enriching,deep conversation. They were just too damn loud!

DREAMS, REALITY AND YOU....

 Though most of what I write is personal stuff the following was quite a personal experience. By personal I mean heart-felt and important to me that way. So this one is even more so.

 Every one who knows me knows how I rant about going back home. But I have always dreaded something about it....Being the last one to come away so far, I have witnessed the scenario as it used to be say a week or two before any of my sisters were due to come back....Mum would start shopping for all things she imagined they could  possibly need and she would keep telling me her plans about which fish to make in what way they liked which they could not get otherwise. Time was spent literally counting the days left. 

  So now you have probably figured out my point. But I want to say it anyway so...I also wanted to go home to someone waiting for me....someone who would smile at the thought of it, would fuss over my putting on weight or putting it off....whichever. I did get all of that...there were aunties enough for that. But honestly, I wished I could see Ma doing all of that. I  wish I could see her, hug her, and just now that she is as happy as I  am.

  What I dreaded was the hurt of knowing finally that I would not get that...not then,not ever. Yes it is pretty obvious from here itself but there is a comfort of illusion which once you get used to, is pretty hard to just cast off. But all I had to do was not let myself think about it...as always. But it was always in some corner of my mind, tucked under a sheet of seeming nothingness.

  

   Then, suddenly, out of nowhere I had a dream yesterday. My sisters and I went home and there She was,waiting. She hugged me, smiled that smile of disbelief I know so well. She talked, She fussed....did everything i had hoped for. then at night when everyone was getting ready to sleep I was told that She would sleep alone. I  refused and went to sleep by her side. I held her and asked her what she does all day alone in the city. I talked of college, of people and every stupid absurd detail. She listened. I could tell that she was sad. sad because She was alone and sad because She wanted us to stay but She knew She could not ask.

    

      This sounds like an ordinary dream and it would have been just so. Except for the fact that it was so real. When I held Her, I could actually feel Her skin, smell Her like I have not done in ages. Even in my dream I new that all this was temporary and so did She. It was almost as if She had come just so I could get what I had wished for.

       

      People will call it an illusion or some such technical nonsense. But for me, it was a wonderful realization of knowing that even when I do not pray for things that i want because they seem so pointless, someone is listening...She is listening and for Her what I want is still important....that She is still my Ma who knows what Her kid needs and when.

 

       Sometimes I imagine talking to her over the phone and sometimes i imagine her talking about me. I used to believe that with the end of a place and of a person alike, all possibilities of making new memories end. But now I know that this possibility goes on...and that is very important for people like me who, as Amitav Ghosh puts it "have no home except in memory".

      Ma, my coming here needs the validation of knowing that you are happy and proud . Because I so wish to do that. Every good grade on an assignment, any good comment given....and I wish you would be around to listen. But now I know you are listening and thankyou for letting me know that.

    I miss you. I hope you do too.