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.

 

PAINT ME SKY-BLUE!

Happy ....Happy and HAPPIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! That is me after so long. And its all because I'm back home. home as in shillong...my shillong!

It feels as if after ages I'm breathing. And I'm not breathing in smoke. fresh air...oh the feeling!And the water? pure water which does not stink of chlorine. water that actually tastes sweet. who cares about malls and multiplexes? this is pure bliss for "small-town" me.

On my way back I felt quite frightened actually. I was scared that I or the place or both had changed beyond repair. But no...It's still the same beautiful city where everyday white clouds make new fluffy shapes, where chinese food is real, where the winter evening air is full of the sounds of christmas carols,where shopkeepers and cab-drivers alike wish you a happy christmas and most importantly its where i belong.

This place is sacred to me and as it expected i cried on my way back here. But it was simply too much, I was just too happy to see that everything is still how i remembered and dreamed about all these months away.

Maybe people think I am obsessed. But how can i help it? This place is has just the right air,water ,sunlightr(=life) and its just the right "size". I thought I would kill if i heard another "oye yaar" or"hainn?batao?" And now I'm here and its just how its supposed to be. All my months away feel like a seemingly never-ending dream from which i have finally awoken. It just does not feel as if I really had been away anywhere.

even though i know i must leave again and that it will all but slice me up, I am happier now because I know that no matter how long I am away I will always come back and I will always "belong" here. I'll always come back here...where you can see the beds of the crystal streams and where the sky is the most brilliant blue...just like colour of the the sky-blue crayon children colour with. Its when I look at suchthings that i know that if god is an artist, (a messy one too with paint marks on his face, fingers and clothes alike) SHILLONG is one of his favourite canvases.

And for all those nights that i will be away, this i what i will feel for my obsession or my home...whatever YOU please...

mukhtsir si baat hai...tum se pyaar hai. tum pukaar lo,tumhara intezar hai...

JAWS...

cybers are so expensive!so i'll get to the point...for once!
I have not watched anaconda or sharks or any such movies. I do not even watch horror movies...well except for the recent drona which had me in splits.I never had any longing to excite such emotions in me. But life is strange...it gives you what you never asked for. For now, everynight i live in fear. every creak of the door,every flutter of movement has me cowering. In this I am not alone. Me and A live in constant fear of....the cousin S.
As a child i would love listening to stories...especially verbal ones. still do. I would love listening to people indulge in nostalgia about their first homes, schools, trips, and so on. but turn those people into one annoying, seemingly foolish inspite of the all too fake air woman, relating the same stories (which are mostly about the armed forces) for the nth time with unrelenting ,undaunting zest all adds up to "heeelpuh!!!"
Try as you can...you cannot avoid it. its everywhere. sometimes you can listen to a story for the hundredth time and it still sounds nice. Its in the way its told. When this woman tells a story of something that happened as recent as today you feel like running. but you cant and you know that since this is recent you will be hearing it atleast three more times before the week ends.
why not just say "shut it?" well its part of the forced obligation of blood and also of the knowledge that your other sister will not approve (outwardly).
let me relate some instances...havin somehow partially managed to tune her out I am safer than A. so one night in the sitting room I and A are chatting. S emerges out of her lair and starts again. I pretend to listen and I cant tell if A is stupid enough to be genuine or not. fast forward...two hours later A is cribbing. She tells me I fell asleep listening (not) and left her all alone in the field. I say "Eh!well"
another day I come home after A. She tells me of her horror. She was all alone in the house with the Shark. Everytime S came out of her room A pretended to sLeep in whatever position she could manage. She kept thinking "do something...anything...hurry!"
one day we try to use assignments as an exuse. and FAIL!. the excuse that is.
one evening S calls me to her room. I take a phone and go. after fifteen minutes, A calls...from the other room. I pretend and get the hell out!
I am standing in my room and A tells me S is comin. I know its too late to do anything. A says"what do we do!what!" i say "uh uh!" and close my eyes pretending to sleep...standing!
so this is what we do now...pretend to sleep . its not that bad really. Because if she starts telling her story, that is how you are going to end up anyway.
often after going through this ordeal, A asks me "why?why her?why US?why?" but there is no answer.
to day in the Amitav Ghosh class, we discussed a portion where he talks of the fear of the unknown and how that can be the scariest. It is similar with us...we know we cant get away always. but the fear that arises everytime she emerges...the questions..."oh no!wait maybe she wants to use the bathroom,maybe she is going to the kitchen,Oh God maybe its storytime!"...the unknown....and now I have to go home.Gulp!

A Memory...

A weekday morning in my life dated anywhere between 5 to 10 years of age.its a weekday and I am home because i finally managed to get sick and bunk school,or somehow or the other, school got cancelled...

i wake up rejoicing my one morning at home. I do not know why exactly, but I love spending my morning hours home. and I know that today no teacher is going to bore me, neither are any of my pesky classmates going to irritate me. Its a morning at home...my home. My morning...and everything else that follows.

Someone makes me tea. I sip it with an indescribable relish. Then, I play or watch t.v. and try not to compromise any moment of that morning as I know I will have to tomorrow.

I watch as everyone leaves and I see Her preparing to. She is in the kitchen making lunch and other such things. She then comes to the bedroom and makes herself a paan. I watch as she piles one ingredient after another with utmost precision. i decide I will steal one after lunch today and beg for one on Sunday.

She is washing utensils now. I go away, knowing it will be a while till She can get them to shine and keep at it till She does.

She tells me to get her things in the bathroom. I sit on the bed and watch Her browse through Her sarees wondering which She will wear. I hope She takes one out with red in it. I have always associated itwith Her. I do not know why though...

I look at the one She has laid out on the bed as water splashes inside the bath. I search for a crease...none. I look at this which will become Her. I wonder whether she is also that creaseless. I wonder whether that saree would have been so, smelt so if it had been anyone else's.

She is about to come out so i prop myself up on the bed and prepare to do what i have done so many times before and still have not understood why...

She stands in front of the dresser and wears her saree with intimidating care. I watch as she makes the folds which sometimes look like they have been measured for accuratness. She lets loose Her hair. Her long black hair...that which i will always associate with womanliness,beauty and grace.

But I know She is going to tie it. I wish She wouldn't. For once I want to see Her like that. I say "why must you tie it?" She says "it's too much of a bother. it gets in the way." I wonder if letting yourself loose and free gets in the way too. And if so, then in the way of what?

She then puts cream on her face. There She is rough. I say "softly. you'll rub your face off." She makes an expression that says "Eh?"

I do not always say such things for fear of a scolding. I just do when i feel safe for it.

She applies lipstick. I had been waiting to see whether it would match her saree today...that same colour. But somehow, it always does!

Then She does what i am most eager to see. with an end of Her comb, she applies that red coloured powder on her forehead. a bit and absolutely neat. Later i would come to know it is called vermillion. But i never felt it does the colour justice.

She smells of cream and something else...something completly Her own...sorry, i mean completely Her. And i will not forget that fragrance for a very long time.

At last She applies petroleum jelly on her hands. I look at them...they speak for themselves. The right one...the cooking, cleaning one...a little buised and tired looking. the homely one. the left...the proper, elegant,slender one...soft and graceful...the one that lives outside the kitchen. and She is unaware that Her life can be told by those hands...

I wonder how She never notices me staring at Her. Then i think She does but does not understand it...its ok I decide. I don't either myself.

before leaving She gives me a list of dos for the maids. She tells me to eat on time and that she will call. As She leaves i want to say "have a nice day", "take care" or "bye" even. but I cant. and She cant either. I hate it. I always will.

But i know She will be back. In the evening..a little tired and hungry but still perfectly...mmm...Perfectly Her.

I know it will take longer this time around and that I will be the one coming back this time. But still I will find Her as She has always been...perfectly perfect and perfectly Red...as in beautiful and with a spark that is Her own and complete.

I dont know how many eighth of Septembers i will have to endure. But be sure I will think of You...that day and all days.

I know all you readers will get tired. but its just my way of horouring her memory...so zip it.

You and Mocha...Ah!

All you readers are pathetic. Horrible. one comment? Sickening. You really know how to take all hopes out of a blogger and kill his soul! Well not exactly. But you are pretty bad.

I am 19 years old and have not one romance to speak of. O!boo!hoo! even my sister(s) have never asked me whether i have ever had the slightest bit of interest in anyone. But...ah...there can be other aspects of your younger sister's/brother's life too all you eldest and middle concieted brats!

And today i feel like writing something to him. (its a HIM...there i hope you all are a bit relieved). Before your eyebrows start skipping, let me tell you i am not talking about a boyfriend. I do not have one. Rest assured. This someone i am talking about was a so-so friend many years ago and now resides in pluto for all i know! And no, I was not in love. Not even in lau. It was a kind of awkward "heh!heh!" time during which my brain's processing level was even lower than it is toda...and That, ladies and Germs, is saying something!

Hello Baldy(no that's not his name. Its what i used to call him. short for baldemort. And he was not bald either!). How are you? Where are you? Are you alive? Yes? good! No? Eh!well...

I give a high place to the institute of friendship. So i will not insult it by saying that we were friends. We hardly talked and our time together did not even last a year. But during that time, now that i look back, i realise how stupidly happy i was, and i never knew why!

True, we did not talk much. But for whatever time we did, you let me be me and a lot more than that. As for me, my non-existent virtue of patience would emerge when it came to waiting for you to stop screaming and come to the point. Never had i enjoyed fighting with someone as much as i did with you. And i do not think i will again.

I let you know how annoying you were and how very stubborn. What i did not, however, was that you were adorable and sweet to boot. Sigh.

It was all very sweet and nice. And naive. Actually, I did not realise what i had or could have until long after the end. once a tubelight, always...anyway.

Had the ending been abrubt, it would have been better. But i guess we just let distance and time, or rather the lack of it to get the better of...whatever it was.

I wont say i miss you. Yes i do think about you sometimes (obviously!). And surprisingly, its the obstinacy i miss most.

You act as if the fact that I still exist does not register in your mind. And suddenly, out of nowhere,as subtly as you can,you let me know that you remember. And even more surprisingly, i do not mind...well not that much anyway.

I know its stupid, but i wish you would come back from wherever you are. Not so I can have the romance of a lifetime, but because you are you and and that makes everything seem so much...um...well...chocolate like.blush.

You are like that one wonderful cup of mocha I had some many ages ago on a rainy day...not perfect...but bitter and at the same time, with a wonderful warmth and sweetness that completely took me in. I have had many mochas since then...one more exquisite than the other, but none that was so...enchanting.

Well, that is as much as I can tell you here. Wasted effort...you hate reading,I know. Take care and grow up...but not completely!

And as for you horrible readers, I have no wish to disclose any identity whatsoever. Do not guess. And ask? Yeah right.

Another Message...

Just so all of you know, I am turning 19 this Sunday. This is the first of my many birthdays away from home and friends,so just wish me. Even if you do not want to....just do it huh? Just comment a "Happy Birthday". Man! What I have to do to get comments! This is another "for someone post". And if i decide not to mention who, here and in future posts please do not call me and ask me to do so...there is a reason why I do not mention it you know! Its been years since i last saw you... and yet i just saw you last night. When you left, i thought i would eventually stop thinking of you someday. Actually, i was afraid that i would. But it seems that the more you dissolve into my history, the more i feel you are a part of my "now". Earlier this month i saw bits and pieces of my childhood and not too long ago memories walking out of my house. Yes, it was painful and i did cry and did not bother to hide that. It was a pain so great in its intensity, that i felt it physically. It was not the kind of pain that comes along too often. Maybe because if it did, survival rate would be much lower. And yet, it was familiar. I had felt that way before...when you left. I said "I'll see you" to the streets on which i learnt to walk, because i could not bear to say "goodbye" and because it gave me a hope of returning. Kind of in the way i never let myself say goodbye to you and did not let myself hear it either. I would stare at the lights on the distant hills and the smell the pine trees and try to capture them in me and pray that they would stay fresh until i came back. i tried to steal that sensation of warmth under a quilt, and the sound of the soft pitter-patter of rain on the windows in june. i walked on those sloping tiny roads and let myself drown in the air so fresh, I could swear there were dew drops on it. I let myself cry while i saw the sun set on a pinkish-orange horizon till the sky became the richest blue. And i could hear the promise of warmth, security and belonging being made to me. Had i known that i one day would have to let you go as well, I would have done just that. I would have drowned in the sensation of holding your hand as we walked along those very streets, of feeling each hug and living it. I would have devoted my listening skills every time you had something to say. I would cry in your arms just for the pure comfort of it. I would have tried cooking at 8 years of age just so i could see how you liked it. I would have started writing years ago, even more nonsensical, so you would listen, and i know you would even if it was horrible. I would have asked you all those questions i never did. I would try to know you.....the foundation of my being. And i would have told you about myself. You probably hate me now. I know i can never be what you would have liked. But just know that i just went along on the only road i could find. I have made my mistakes unknowingly and sometimes not so much. And I am not done yet. But i will have to make my own mistakes right? Maybe you would have wanted me to. There is so much i want to do and i will do. I just need to know that you are there because sometimes you seem so far off. What I am now and what i will become may not please you or me either. But just remember me as i was when we started out. The one you loved so much. Some regard me as "too soft". And i regard them as "too hard up without reason and proud of it". But deep down i cannot just let myself be. I do not know if i need an approval. But i remember what you used to make me feel like......that i can be whoever i want and that is ok with you. I want that. And i believe you will always give me that. I have, i guess searched for your replacements. A stupid thing because that does not exist. I can never look up at anyone the way I did to you. Neither can i love anyone the same way. I know we will meet agin one day. Just hug me when we do. It has been far too long alrerady. I dream about that day, that feeling of that reunion sometimes. And i crave to go home because i know that that is the closest i can come to it in this lifetime..........the sound of the rain reminds me of ur embrace, the air carries your scent and the sunset brings back that old feeling of knowing that you will be home in sometime. I miss you DAD and i love you. P.S.:This was for my papa,as in father. Clear on that i hope! This cafe is hopeless so dont mind the errors. the keyboard is dying.

Messages

So i changed the layout of my blog. Yay!!!! well...not so much.

Shifted to delhi one day ago and I am not excited to say the least. So I have recently earned a new name "The Cribber." I am very sad about leaving home and so my next few posts will most probably be about shillong and home. I hope no one minds. But if anyone does.......eh! well bother.

My last few days in shillong were spent packing and so i did not get to do any of the things i really wanted to. For instance, i did not get to say a lot of things to people who by now must have gone off to heaven knows where. So that is what I will do now though again i know more than half of them will never read it. But if the number of people who read my blog was a condition, I should have stopped long ago.

Dear Ps, too much of straightening with an iron will one day ruin your not so great hair. As it is, sometimes it looks like the end of a formidale broomstick to me.

Sb, though i pretty much do like you, it is my duty as a friend to tell you that over the years you have become filmy and are not showing any signs of stopping. But please do. Oh and plastic earrings whoch match your clothes are not "Oh My God! Wow!"

Fg, I know you are brilliant, but you can also be a crashing bore! stop being mean when its not really needed and stop grinning when you are trying to look cute. You don't!

Oh El, i know you do not want to be, but you are one of the sweetest people in the world.

Lj, i don't like you! i never said i did and i do not know why you seem to think that i do but i don't! you annoy me! other than that I am sure you are great! Its just I don't want to know.

Ms. K, heaven knows why you had so much faith in me. It is pointless. But thank you for it. It was nice to think someone did and still does...I hope.

Sir S, I think you are great. Its just that i feel the same way about your subject as i do about gas.......not good.

Ms. An, I love you...I do!

Dear Ja, you are talented and have a lot to offer. So stop calling yourself stupid.

Mo, I pray everyday that you come here. I have told Santa too.

Dad, you have spoilt me. But i love you for it. And for everything about you. You are one of the most missed ones. The next time i see you, I am going to squeeze your cheeks so hard!

Oh and Un...get some therapy. And by that i do not mean a bodywash.

Well, that much for now. And my dear "silent" readers, cut the silence. It wont kill you to comment. If it did not kill you to read, commenting will not either. Trust me.