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Time Capsule

July 7, 2012 1 comment

I talked with you and again my mind is buzzing to tell you what I think in the best way possible.

Did I still pursue my inner quest, to be better than I was before with you, in my worst possible time and situation?

Allow me to begin.

When it happened, it was so that I used to feel, every passing second of my waking time that I could never be forgiven for what I did.

It came to pass and along with what I felt, there were spurts of harmonic rushes, during which I denied my (in)actions as not quite guilt ridden as I thought earlier.

I would pass the buck, blame you as an equal in the robbery of the goodness in me and then would justify by claiming you to be as wrong as I was in my mind’s eye.

Nothing was wrong and it didn’t have to be that way if you could take the initiative to talk about it.

This came to pass too, I started living two lives.

One the sorry figure(only he didn’t apologize) and the other a carefree bastard(only he did not know it then).

The bastard would continue preaching what he himself didn’t believe once he became the sorry figure. The sorry figure’s life was uni-dimensional in feeling sorry. Sorry for her, sorry to himself, sorry to the world. Needless to say that too did pass and life continued to be a series of really sad phases.

It continued like that till a very real transformation happened, real in the sense I identify it most with the person I still am. This was just before everything I thought/did/felt became meaningless for 10 days or so before the sun started shining again.

We met again with other friends, for old times sake – only the current times hadn’t really ended.

Bryan Adams on the radio sang, “Please forgive me…”

We were hijacked by the moment, you were looking out of the window but I saw your face in the side-view mirror…Objects in it were indeed closer than they appeared. The rivulets of your tears matched your curls – the eyes seemed to be searching the memories going past like the trees on the roadside.

Now I tell you all this to evoke that memory with tears hazing my view.

We were discussing Dasvidaniya before that song began, how you said that it ended aptly before your capacity to take more of the implied sorrow began to fade. Just then, “…still feels like our first night together…“, faded in and we fell silent.

I kissed your hand before I dropped you home, and I held it a little tight before I let go and you said goodnight.

I remember the hopeful drive back home that I had, do you remember me telling you that?

The next day I saw The Truth about Cats and Dogs, that you had always wanted me to see.

Don’t you see the irony now about what Noelle was talking about “Did you ever look in the mirror so long that your face didn’t make sense anymore? It just becomes all these shapes. Just shapes. Not good or bad.” 

You keep staring in the mirror for hours, what is it that you look for?

Do you remember how I drew your cartoon on a paper when we met again that night and quoted the above quote.

In the car you held my hand again and life was worthwhile again…You asked me jokingly how I remembered the complete dialogues of movies…

Don’t you remember anything?

How we laughed later that Bryan Adams was such a corny excuse to infuse in us the love we really felt for each other.

How you felt cheated that I stopped enjoying the sitcoms after marriage.

How I would make genuine efforts to enjoy them but then judge them on the subtle political undertones they espoused.

How you would judge me back for not being able to laugh anymore.

Anything at all?

Alleged Lovers – Part II

March 3, 2012 5 comments
If you haven't already, read Part I before you proceed.
Ø

They were sitting on the banks of the holy river and she read out aloud from a book,

‘…The effect of cessation (ending) of breathing on the central nervous system is of considerable interest…The patient may lie in the chamber for hours without moving his head or changing position. The desire to smoke disappears when voluntary respiration stops, even in patients who have been accustomed to smoke two packets of cigarettes a day. In many instances the relaxation is of such a nature that the patient does not require amusement…’

“So that means he won’t need her for amusement if he stops smoking. But he can’t leave her, you know!” he smiled.

“And that is why he doesn’t stop smoking, for if he does, he won’t need his alleged lover” she replied.

“Look he can’t stop smoking just because someone somewhere experienced something and did not feel like smoking anymore, okay? He cannot stop smoking until he stops feeling the need, understood madam?”

“But you aren’t trying. And stop with the third person nonsense, will you? Or you don’t want to do that either!”

“That’s what he is saying; He doesn’t feel the need to stop smoking, so why does she want to force him?”

She closed the book and her retort remained unspoken.

How could she not force him when she felt it was the right thing to do? She wondered whether all their heated discussions were worth this much only. Just when they seemed to be getting head and tail of each other’s perspective in any matter, the topic was closed. The discussion was over. And there was nothing more to say. Or it just fizzled out with a joke or the awkward silence that was now enveloping her.

The overwhelming silence came and passed as the Sun shimmered on the Gangesand wind was only to be sensed by the wavy river surface. They had begun walking up the stairs that curled up towards the bustling Laxman Jhoola and their fingers entwined on the way.

“You know this German Bakery’s original name is Devraj Coffee House…He thinks it was Socrates who said what’s in a name? Socrates was right.” he said, wiping the sweat of his brow.

“Ha Ha, very funny! It was”, she yawned, “Shakespeare.”

“Well, as he said, what’s in a name.” He lit up a cigarette and continued,

“They should adapt it to the psyche of their traditions and change it to what’s in a surname!”

He made a ring out of his fore finger and the thumb and exhaled the mouthful of smoke through it.

“You know I don’t like you smoking” she tried to say it with a skeptical indifference of a cringe.

“Oh ho ho!” he puffed out, “So she doesn’t like him smoking but have no problems with others who smoke!”

“I don’t know them!” she said.

“What difference does that make?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter, I feel I don’t know you too!” and with that she ended the conversation as they took the first empty table of German Bakery.

As she looked over his shoulder to the Ganges flowing by, his eyes wandered over hers and he slightly tilted his head to the right to see if anyone was to be bothered by their love talk yet unspoken. He saw a foreign national in saffron robes, asking the waiter to get a lighter. He smiled in knowing. Now she wouldn’t have a problem with even him smoking, he thought.

Then getting back to his lover and realizing that he had upset her, he said, “Look here…look here na, the inter-caste thing is not really a problem in my family, I mean yes, my extended family will be a little surprised when they get to know about this but nothing beyond that!”

“Oh my God, I don’t care if they do, you know”, she said, “but you seem to care about that so much! Is that what is the issue here? Do we have any less problems of our own that you make more issues as you go along?”

He wondered if she really thought about it not being an issue in these socially unequal times.  Then getting a little grip on himself, he re-entered the conversation to make his case again.

“Why don’t you understand, what can I do about your father now? I can’t talk to him right away…what would I tell them I do for a living?” He took a hurried drag and continued, “ How am I going to take care of your daughter, you ask old man, I will make food in the bakery and feed her of course!”

She remained silent like other times in the past but it weighed on her mind to ask him the question that had long been overdue.

“What are you doing about your Oh-So-Great business plan then?” she had repeated the question in her mind before asking it out loud and even with much restraint that she was trying to show, she couldn’t avoid the sarcasm.

His momentum of words brewing in his mind stalled after her remark and he looked away visibly agitated.

He saw the same foreigner, who wanted a lighter was now chatting away blissfully with the woman besides him, also in saffron clothing. He wasn’t smoking a cigarette though; he had lit an agarbatti instead and fixed it in the ash tray!

A little shocked at the things not going his way either at his table or hippies-in-saffron table, he called out to no one in particular,

Ek chai laana!”

When none of his co – waiters acknowledged his order for tea, he shouted as some of the patrons of Devraj Coffee House shouted at him when he was on duty.

“How will you get customer the tea unless you listen to the customer? I pay for it; am I asking it for free?”

The mood of the morning was just as peaceful as it was everyday. The reverberating sounds of the chimes carried by the wind from the opposite bank of theGangesengulfed the moods of the people at their end – except the two alleged lovers. His mind wandered on these lines and he lit up another cigarette.

ξ

Click Part III to read the concluding part of the story.

To Do Is To Be

December 16, 2011 Leave a comment

Sometimes it seems really weird when you are all gung-ho about what is going to be your best work, you get stuck up in some sort of technicality. Like I was all charged up the last time regarding this blog that i was going to start writing and found myself caught up in the need for this english transliteration of the thoughts of my head! it was like this, thought precedes fruitful action but in my case thought precedes and is succeeded by thought itself.

So how can/do I word it?

I guess writing needs to have a motive and a lot many people will tell you that they write because they feel like it as a natural outpouring of expression. “Have a pen, will write” is the auctioned expression of “Have a mind, will think” 🙂

I guess I am caught up in this mental warp, that is my own undoing I accept, which has put such restrictions on me such as Thee Won’t Write, what has already been written by someone else before…Thee Won’t Copy..thee will be original to the best of your knowledge and thee will keep on knowing more and if thee find it out later, thee will not be arrogant to acknowledge that someone else can also be your equal in thought in some other part of the world(no matter if that part of world is where the person sitting next to you is sitting, with her head on your shoulder!), Thou Shall Not Steal, paraphrase some other noble soul’s thought as your own(even though you scored well in probability to know that he or she or it would never find it out), Thou Shall Not Use Adverbs Easily(!) to describe something that happened and let the mood of what you say express what you want to convey so as to use the beauty of the language in the best way you can…and so on and so forth.

All said and done though, I realise that all of these constraints come in the way of your writing only when you don’t know what you think and don’t really have something to say and these constraints pull you down. Being a beautiful alibi, they creep up so slowly and make you feel up to no good, so that you can put the blame on them later when you are coming to terms with the time you wasted, when you could have been writing.

But all of this changes when you really have something to say. Certain topics like religion/politics/bad governance/the whole system being unhealthy for doing what you want to do in life/love/hypocrisy/fake people/pseudo secularism etc draw out the best in some when it comes to expressing their views through the written word. And I happen to be one of them, not that I am as articulate in my juxtaposition of thoughts into words to express what I really feel on a certain topic and go helter-skelter so much so that I may come across as an extremist of political correctness and a non conformist diplomat of absolutely no point of view.

So before I digress, I would like to come to the point(!) and begin with something that this blog is going to be all about:

Since the beginning of my time in this body, I felt deep down that life was full of infinite possibilities and that coupled with the law of infinite probability(!) gave you the environment to do basically whatever you wanted to do in your life. So it’s never too late to begin. It’s never too late to be who you might have been. Obviously I couldn’t word all of this when my time began on earth but that joie di vivre and curiosity of life always gave me that feeling of freedom in my growing up years.

But here in lies the dichotomy of my life – I had been blessed with a lot of love and freedom and my share of joy and moreover whatever I thought about in life had turned out to be working for me. But but but now that I had all the freedom to do whatever I want to do, what do I do with it?

To be contd.

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