I-err-Love-err-You...

Every girl practically dreams of this day. She hopes. She waits. She wishes.

So what is it like when "the guy" finally takes your hands in his, looks into your eyes, draws you closer and says...

I never knew this would happen to me. And this fast. Sometimes you are so surprised you don't know how to react and sometimes you are just so beyond surprised you simply don't react. I'm not sure if I should use the word 'embarrassed' but that's just how I felt. I could feel my cheeks going beyond a blushed-pink. I'm sure they must be red. An embarrassed red. And my eyes must have surely betrayed me. I'm not sure...

Well the toughest part is to withdraw your hands (the ones he's clutching tightly). Actually no, the toughest part is to look away. Something, I was pining to do and which I eventually managed to.

The guy had chosen just the right time. There were fireworks, some soft music behind (which I just can't seem to recall), the beautifully illuminated college campus and a crowd which didn't care who was in love with whom. They preferred to leave us alone. Not a much desired state if you ask me. I'd never felt more uncomfortable than this. Well...finally the official proposal was over. The guy was done with his going-down-on-my-knees-for you. Thankfully.

And who so ever thought getting proposed by someone is a dream come true let me tell you darlings, there's more than that. Trust me.

You actually have to give the poor chap an answer. That is a 'yes' or a 'no'. And that's the worst part of it. Lame and cliché excuses like I-err-need-err-some-err-time won't do. And the look 'this guy' had on his face, I'm sure he would have either killed himself or me if I dared say anything like that.

So how I actually wriggled out of the mess is a story in itself but what's worrying me is I someday have to come up with an answer. And that'll hurt. I don't know what lies ahead.

But hey getting proposed ain`t that bad. And the best part was,

"Take your time...think over it..."

And after I had just managed to blink and steal in some air,

"So...tell me fast what have you decided..."

Pehchaan

Aisa nahi hai ki khud ko pehchaanti nahi. Aisa bhi nahi hai ki khud ko pehchaanti hoon...
Naam hai. Chehra hai. Kya itna kafi nahi hai...
Chaaro aur ek kohra sa nazar aata hai. Kohre ke us taraf ek shor sunaai padta hai. Is taraf sannata hai. Kisse zyada darr lagta hai, yeh ab tak samajh nahi paayi hoon.

Kahaaniyan ab bhi likhti hoon. Kirdaar bhi wahin hain. Un main bhi khud ko paaya hai. Un main bhi khud ko khoya hai...
Kahaaniyon ne kuch sikhaya bhi hai. Aaj jo itni badi badi baatein kar rahi hoon. Mere puraane pehchaan ka shayad naya hissa hai.
Akeli nahi hoon. Bheed hai bahut yehaan. Akelepan ki chaah hai...
Yeh raasta bhi mujhe pasand nahi. Waqt bhi shayad thoda naraaz hai...
Manzil tak pahuchne ki jaldi bhi nahi...
Kya karna hai shayad yeh maloom bhi nahi.
Par thehraav ke liye koi jagah nahi meri pehchaan main. Paristhitiyon ko badalna hai. Aage badna hai...

Dheeme paanv tumhe aate sunaa tha. Aahista aahista wahaan se uthh khud ko jaate bhi suna tha.
Khat tumhaare saath nahi ab mere. Saath rakhna par chaha tha...
Manzil se tumne mujhe milaya tha ya mere manzil ko mujhse cheena tha...
Sitaron se aaj bhi baatein karti hoon, pata hai...
Ek se toh pyaar bhi ho gaya hai. Miloge usse kabhi toh jaanoge, tum jaisa woh bhi bahut saare sawaal poochta hai.
Par mere pehchaan ka hissa to na tum kabhi the na woh ab hai...

Dost mera badlaav se darta hai. Badlaav shayad mujhse. Dekhona shayad isliye kuch bhi nahi badla.
Wahi kalam. Wahi kaagaz. Wahi khayal. Wahi kami...
Kehta hai itna kya sochna. Kehta hai apna khayal rakho. Shayad darta hai ki badlaav kahin uske dost ko bhi na badalde.
Samjhaaongi kabhi use bhi...
Abhi mujhe kahin aur jaana hai...
Door...
Bahut door...
Haan...theekane ka bhi to pata lagana hai...

Aisa nahi ki khud ko pehchaanti nahi. Aisa bhi nahi hai ki khud ko pehchaanti hoon...

Old ties...

This one's for my buddy (Reema Bhattacharya). And the exclusivity factor predominantly prevails.

That little talk with you I never believed could do wonders. And to think of it we literally spoke after months. And we talked and talked. There’s something about old buddies. And that something is a lot.

And I’m sure if we were to meet now after some years, we would absolutely take it right from here. Like we always were with each other. And what’s strange is we are always with each other. And we defy the distance norms. And laugh at those who lose at its expense.

Loved you and always will. You are that one person in my life who makes me believe that it’s not a lonely world. Not a lonely day. Not a lonely night.

(As mentioned above this post is meant only and only for Reema Bhattacharya. Worthless and unrelated comments are vehemently uninvited.)

Bong Connection...

I am not a Bengali but Calcutta is home.

Barman is my family name. So people are like,

“Barman?? You must be bong!!”

“Tch…tch…actually no…”

I might originally be from Uttar Pradesh but Bengal is where my roots lie. I speak Bengali as fluently as my Bong friends do. My best friend is a Bong. And if there were some pre-requisites to qualify as a Bong, I would have far cleared all of them. I’m a complete Calcuttan.

Music and literature is profusely stuffed in its distinctive panache, here. And this city is politically charged to the core. Every one has a political opinion. And Mamata Banerjee is one crazy lady. When she’s not too busy yelling her lungs out in Singhur or some such place, she indulges in her favorite activity-calling bandhs. No here in Calcutta we do not need a substantial reason to call strikes. We just do it. Just like that. And the Supreme Court doesn’t care bother either.

Matter of fact I hail from a college which lives, dreams, speaks and breathes politics- Presidency College. It’s totally soaked in politics. Or should I say choked…err…

I think I actually got to know what Calcutta really was all about only after college happened. And with college so much more happened. “Communists” is what they call themselves. Che is who they worship. The liberal interpretation of Marx’s comments is made a tad too liberally here. Most don’t know what State is all about. They have no idea what a communist society even means.

It’s just cool out here to wear a Che T-shirt and proclaim yourself Communists. So when I asked a senior to tell me something about his philosophy, all he could manage was, “Che is my hero…”

Your T-shirt told me that already. Bloody fakers!!!

But not all are thus. Some know what they are doing. Some understand. I think most of them should do a little bit of exploration for themselves and then talk about Che and his philosophies. And if they really are as intellectual as they pose, I think they can give the environment a break by relaxing on their cheap ciggis…

The canteen seems to be a far cry from a conventional college canteen. At first your eye brows spring up on seeing the place, and then you get curious and mostly succumb. The crowd if not interesting is queer enough. It’s dark inside and mostly smoky. I don’t need to explain why.

I don’t think I can immerse myself into all this. Not this way atleast. I don’t believe in Communism. And I don’t understand State Theory. And I don’t fag.

The College needs to wake up and realize that there is more than simply dragging the autonomy drama. Anyways they have already lost on the autonomy thingy and even partial or complete freedom seems a distant possibility. In the mean time they can atleast take the initiative of clearing the mounds of garbage in the College campus.

Sorry, but it’ll take some time before I can point to the building above and say it loud without any inhibitions, “That’s where I belong…”

Lost...

I’ve been rummaging around for a while now. I’ve lost something. And astoundingly, this new-found Absence is benign enough to calm me and wholly fill me up with serenity.

Losses manifest into answers, similar to the manifestation of sufferings into wisdom. Wisdom brings in tact. And tact is the weapon to prevent the next loss.

It’s all about that little loop. Its intransience brings in faith.

Faith restores the yearning to live again. To win and lose. And lose some more to finally win. Continuity is all it needs. As innate as it may seem, it’s the most implausibly achieved attribute.

As long as the loss paves the way for a sufferance which rekindles tolerance, rummaging seems worthwhile.

So, I’ve been rummaging around for a while now…

Happy Birthday !!

It’s the Happy Birthday today.

This is what The Telegraph had to say about those born on the 30^th of October:

“You are more intelligent and curious than ambitious. Your independent and rational mind is hardly ruled by emotions alone. You are good at reading people’s nature. You are scared of loneliness, and conceal emotions. In love you are an idealist.”

Hehe…no comments. :D

Happy Birthday to me!!!

“But I couldn’t respond. My culture had taught me all the wrong things well. So I lay completely still, and gave no reaction at all. But the soul has no culture. The soul has no nations. The soul has no color or accent or way of life. The soul is forever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moments of truth and sorrow, the soul can’t be stilled.

I clenched my teeth against the stars. I closed my eyes. I surrendered to sleep. One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.”

Shantaram
Gregory David Roberts.

Reply

Dear R,

It’s startling how someone tip-toes into your life and then makes a thundering departure. And yet you simply cannot fathom the reason for it all. You ask yourself if this is the end, you wait for something to turn up, in any form, in any way, something, anything…

You wonder if this was the pre-assigned termination to what seemed like an eternity.

You look back at all that had been and is no more. You feel the emptiness within; you find something stark about the entire set-up. You blame, you curse, you try to hate, and you undergo anger, frustration. Everything eventually fades away making way for your present, for your today, which looks back accusingly at your past.

Perhaps, what remains behind is a loss which only time can take care of.

They say to open the door ahead you have to close the one behind.

No matter how new the New may seem; no matter how familiar the Old may be. You ought to accept the conclusions.

You can live as a zombie for a day or two. You can cry into your pillow for a night or two. You can not really feel good about yourself for a while. You can ask everyone to get lost. You can…

But one fine morning, you will wake up, smile to that old fact, and gain normalcy just as miraculously as you had gone insane…

So just hold on.

Love,

M

[This is for you R. Your call really startled me. And a lill bit of it is for me as well.]

Discontentment galore...

Economics tells me man always wants more. I couldn’t agree less. I guess the most natural human behavior is to be discontented in every walk of life. Take me for instance; I am unhappy with every possible thing around me. Actually ‘unhappy’ could be replaced by a smooth ‘dissatisfaction’.

There’s dissatisfaction with what I do, where I go, who I interact with, the people I live with, the people I love, those who I hate…blah, blah, blah…everything seems to be topsy-turvy, everything seems to be ‘not fine’.

There’s this discontentment chained to my views, my hopes, my dreams, my desires, my convictions, my promises…making me weak, hollow…small.

If the discontentment could have been restricted to my higher self only, it would have mattered less. But even the usual regular affairs seem to be imperfect.

So when my room-mate asks me if I feel lonely without a steady boyfriend, I foolishly grin and say ‘not at all’. How preposterous of her to even ask a question like that. Or when another friend intellectually remarks that,”you don’t need a boyfriend or girlfriend to discover happiness; it lies within”…Oh yes, sir! It certainly does.

Or when every morning I lazily pull on my old jeans and try compensating it with a new T-shirt, there is dissatisfaction even in this meager action of mine…Nothing seems good, nothing seems perfect…oh yes, quite obviously I miss my metro and have to take the one which brings me to my class a good 10 minutes late…this time my Professor is dissatisfied…

The ridicules that life has till date offered me, my destiny is dissatisfied even with that…

If I was to deeply analyze, I have this feeling that I most probably will happen to ascertain that I’m actually not satisfied with my own self. Maybe not satisfied with what I have made myself into today. Maybe not satisfied with the decisions I have taken. Maybe not convinced about the fact that I’ll some day undo my mistakes. Or maybe, have been too lazy to pull myself up to actually do my job, the one assigned to me.

A sad life it is…actually no, a discontented one…

Boohooo…. :(

Starting out...

The morning is supposed to herald the day. It’s supposed to signify. It’s an initiation.

So is the start of one’s life. What exactly is the start of our life? Which phase in our lives can we coin as ‘the start’?

Is childhood the start? Is it the adolescent age or is it the emerging new adult? Or is every turning point in our life, a start? A rising….an upcoming?

Which is the optimum time to start out? To say to ourselves, “This is it!”
Is it a predetermined occurrence or is it by default?

Does one wake up one fine morning and say,” Today is the day!” Or is it an eventual progression? Does one personally notice this transition? Or is it absorbed unwittingly?

Can one do much to start out phenomenally? Or does the conventional Destiny intervene here as well? Are there starting out philosophies as well?

Does a lame start necessarily indicate a subdued road ahead? Is a phenomenal start so determining? What if one starts out late and lame? Is he/she ruined? Does it indicate an end to all anticipations after that?

Do we all have an equal footing to start out from? Are equal opportunities meted out to all of us? Are some of us deprived and some buried under the heavy gratitude? Is there any sign of consistent individualism in deciding one’s start?

Is this justified?

Will I ever have coherent answers to my questions?
May be…may be not!