Shady delights.

It is really hot in here. The kind of heat that secures you in a vice-like grip leaving you feeling pretty much worthless all the time. This is also the time when people start behaving mostly out of character.

That day I spotted S in a veritable rage, stomping on the ground, hurling the choicest abuses and what not. I was momentarily confused and then she grabs hold of me, launching into a litany of complaints, refusing to let go of my hand all the while. I try to placate her by saying things- half of which I didn't obviously mean, managing to calm her down in what seems like an eternity.  I then hug her tight, transferring some of the clammy, slimy heat onto her rather becoming petite frame which results in her dissolving into tears. Now, S is hardly the kind of person who is erm what to say..so superfluous with her emotions. She is either mostly cool and composed or blurting out the most outrageous statements that would make us all collapse in helpless laughter. On one such occasion, she had mentioned " I can tolerate villains but not dumb people ". A minute late, we were all (including her) clutching our sides, giving in to fresh spasms of laughter. She is adorable that way and most of the time she makes real aww-inducing comments which make everyone dissolve in a puddle- even the hardest of hearts. There is factual proof to certify this which I am not going to disclose here obviously. However, this heat can bring out the worst in even the most 'awww-worthy' person. There was S bawling like an errant child, complaining about uncharacteristic gusto about pretty much everything- from the insurmountable heat to the covert danger of being too nice to people who take you for granted and the sudden overwhelming rise in the number of hypocrites over the years. She is an observant girl by nature who loves to take credit for noticing things that you and I would probably pass by without so much as a nod. But S is not to be taken lightly. If she complains about the sudden, overwhelming rise in the number of hypocrites over the years, I suspect she has her reasons and should not be brushed away lightly.


I am nearing the end of my 5 yr long affair with JUDE now. This relationship is clearly very much over and now we are just stretching it. Nothing is more painful than a relationship that has run its course and you are still somewhere answerable to it. However even the most devastating of relationships have room for small mercies.  So there it was that day- my small mercy which made me consider- maybe my relationship with JU still has something left to it.

So I was walking down the long rambling road that threads past the much undignified Central library and snakes deeper into this lake-side of sorts. This part of the campus is offset by an eminently inedible canteen on one side and rows of trees standing up like sentinels on the other. Now this part of JU is specially demarcated for lovers. After sunset, hidden by the gathering darkness, on your way to the women's hostel one always runs the risk of running into couples in compromising positions; of entwined bodies erupting into soft shrieks and gasps of teasing laughter and groups of people drinking behind the clump of trees or probably rolling hash joints with a speed and dexterity that never ceased to surprise me.
 It was nowhere close to sunset that day which was a relief.

So I was on my way to the godforsaken place that is KMR or the administrative building which single-handedly can cause nightmares in every JU student. You are not a JU student if you haven't ever experienced the trauma that is KMR. KMR is an institution in itself. It does not seem right to talk about KMR in a divisive way, The KMR experience is something that I would never even wish on my worst enemy and I am not exactly what you might say, a benevolent soul. now figure.  The name itself "KAY- EM- AR" has a forbidden ring to it.

So on my way to the "KAY-EM-AR", I was naturally seized by thoughts that made the bile rise in my stomach. I could also sense the fear that was clenching the insides of my rather weak heart as I incessantly kept on talking to myself, making a valiant attempt to assure myself that things will be alright and they cannot possibly screw me in the last semester. I was nearing the Mechanical building when I saw one of the street urchins that regularly haunt the university campus, scrounging about for scraps of food. My heart went out to the little kid. Now I do not believe in giving money to them as 5 yrs in JU has knocked some sense in me that the money given to them serves a more sinister purpose than buying them an afternoon meal.

So I retraced my steps, went back to the canteen and got the little girl a thali which had rice, fish and some 2-3 curries to go with it. I gave her the thali, smiled at her, and went on my way. I did not want to wait there to see her eating it.  However, she started to walk beside me, clutching her thali, and started jabbering about the heat and how she slept beside the lake, the night before.  IT suddenly occurred to me that she in her barely there clothes was freer than what I could ever possibly be with my university education and all. By then, her spirits had soared which was quite infectious and I found myself worrying less about the KMR debacle.

She spotted a dog that was lying a bit ahead from the Mechanical building looking all woebegone and emaciated in the heat. Both their eyes lit up as they saw each other and I saw the most beautiful drama unfold before my eyes. She hopped towards the dog, kissed his forehead while the dog happily started circling her feet. She then laid down the thali before the dog. Both of them were soon eating out of the same plate.  I watched them both from a distance. I did not want to disturb them.

This stayed with me long after I had got back home that day and I suddenly did not feel like complaining about JU or the heat anymore.

The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind

There is a certain amount of madness in the air today- that kind of madness you would associate with a mad girl's love song. What is it about the mad girl that renders her version of love, a convincing degree of singularity?  Is it because she is not exactly capable of loving in the conventional manner, you know the conventional manner, where the woman expresses her love and in most cases is loved back in return? The usual drill follows, laughter at the silliest joke possible, tears at the slightest reproach. and then the never-ending fights and days of silence. There is a sudden intake of breathe and a even more sudden burst of clarity, the illuminating kind and the resourceful individual that you are, you are already striding towards the exit with a vengeance that would put even the most committed cynic to shame. Of course, there is a certain amount of melodrama involved in this elaborate charade of love. It is supposed to be that way after all. What is all this brouhaha about love if it is not dramatized enough? what is the purpose of a love story, if one does not shed copious amount of tears, ranting at length about the absolute inefficacy of a love story?

And then there is the ,mad girl's love song- when it is not exactly laughter and tears but fire and ice of the most tangible kind. When you see love course through your veins, burning you with a degree of conviction that would put sanity to shame.- the insane, reckless abandon with which you see yourself burn every moment, every second and you still don't want to back out.

and there exists a very thin line, a small glimmer of light between this kind of love and that. Of course, there are armed sentries posted at every corner, silently waiting for you to take the plunge.

Not again.

These days are a mad jumble of highs and lows, spent in a reckless almost bordering on irreverent ,lassitude. I really do not know where to place the comma accurately so I chose to so arbitrarily.You have every allowance to read this as a  valiant attempt to dismantle Order and embrace Anarchy.
I do not know what i want anymore and this is a very scary, unsettling position to be in. I feel strangely anchorless and devoid of any coherent emotion. Everything seems oddly syncretized together like all the minerals and nutrients so effortlessly packaged in one tiny capsule promising cure for a dozen ailments. Everything seems to be striving to find some semblance of Order against all the jarring disorderliness. Being a literature student , i could locate all this hybridization of emotions with obscure theories like Globalization and Acculturation and feel strangely competent and secure in my resourcefulness. Of course, all of this is utter crap- the sheer naivete of an urgent desperation to reclaim one's dwindling Self-belief. I have an exam today. This should explain the desperation of using heavy sounding jargon-realities of which doesn't really live up to all that eloquence. okay, all this act about Globalization and other such cultural nonsense was just a note to Self to get back to what I should really be doing at this strange hour of the morning.
Everything seems predictably silent at this hour. There seems to be Peace, rather some poor substitution of it. It all feels so despairingly delicate and fragile like thin shards of coloured glass that prickles when you accidentally step on it but crumbles under your feet. Poise or the lack of it. This Mind is a curious tangle. If I were not Me, I would have loved to inspect this Madness with more clinical precision.  It is strangely heartening to see how I can make such a fetching display of my Ignorance with such casual disregard. And the best part is there won't be too many people reading my nocturnal rantings, so i can afford to duck and silently creep away with some dignity intact. Not that I care much but one must always put up a  Show and it is only much more convenient to pretend to care, to glaze one's meaningless monologue with some semblance of  normative behaviour.
In other news, Love and Life makes for an extraordinary pair. Both can be transmuted into the other with such simplistic resolve that it almost becomes an oddity to talk about such fancy words with that convincing degree of reverence intact. Life is one big never ending extended joke. You just need to figure out how to laugh at the right moment. Love makes that laughter so much easier.

i can't help but crack up inside as to how dreadfully impersonal and vague i can afford to be on this blog.
On second thoughts, I wish i could really write about things that really matter.

zzzz..

There is that familiar feeling of lethargy sweeping over me, even as i settle down rather recklessly on my desk  to type this out.  But today, there is a purpose to this rambling. I am not going to rant about my sedentary life for a change. This life which is eminently magnanimous keeps giving you chances at redemption. Some are agile-running along dexterously from one check point to another while others saunter lazily down the hallowed lanes. They are the passive bystanders in this spectacular event where the more agile ones continually keep goading themselves to Victory.
Nonetheless even these anonymous bystanders ambling along at their own leisurely pace get a chance to salvage their ephemeral sense of  Self. After a series of missed chances and inability to comprehends targets, one day, just like that one ends up hitting bull's eye.
 Of course, it has to happen when you least expect it, when you are prodded into believing that it can never happen. It is particularly important that it leaves you shaking in utter disbelief. It is next to impossible to reaffirm a dwindling self belief in wake of full consciousness. This reaffirmation steeps into your being rather covertly when you are overtly assured of  impending failure.

Nothing at all.

Another year gone by. in a flash. sublimated  into tiny sparkling beads of angst and apprehension-irrational joy and wanton sorrow. sense and senselessness.yearnings for the warm sanctity of familiarity. this soul craves too little and risks too much.need to believe, hope and fight.

give me the reassurance that you will be there without my having to demand anything at all. that you won't leave me again and that i don't need to cry again and again. that you will understand and accept the imperfect me.this tired, fatigued Self seeks regeneration and a little bit of accommodation.give me the reassurance that we will survive all the turbulence and emerge stronger in Spirit-just like before.give me the strength to believe that you will protect this, no matter what vicissitudes fall upon us.let me hold on to the faith that our connection will ultimately validate and transcend all differences and disagreements.make sure you say all of these with your air of clinical precision intact. don't falter in speech.that would kill me.
if my words mean anything to you, i would not have the necessity to speak, the urgency to write.you would just know irrespective of my having said anything to you.

okay, i realize none of it really makes much sense.but i honestly don't care what does. so there.

Blah.

There are certain excesses I wish I could dispense with, to commensurate a mythical Balance in my Head. Too much of reading  and fantasizing about contrived, plotted situations hinders you from thinking and enslaves you into simulating what you know is not your thought,your word,your belief. It impinges on your moral sanctity and lays siege to your Intellect. You are actually a harlequin in a greater pantomime that is beyond your comprehension. You vicariously lead an existence which bemuses you into believing that you are a prepossessing interlocutor, contending big, weighty questions that have the immense potential to change the contours of the universe.
Of course it is all happening in your head- to assuage your dwindling self belief and ephemeral will power. There is a greater drama going on there that you are obviously not aware of. You are cuddled into believing you are destined for something great when the internecine forces are vying with one another to corner you at the next signal. Haha. this is the moment when you look all smug and say "i told you so."


There is a test today at precisely 12:50 pm. of course, too much of reading has caused this epiphany.Need to go and sleep.

Something that rankles deep down.

I was recently talking to this perfectly, enterprising departmental senior of mine who had shifted to Delhi and had lost a miraculous amount of weight.  Losing "miraculous amount of weight" almost gives out the essence of him severing chunks of flesh from his corporeal self. It does sound gross but this is the first impression i got when i suddenly chanced upon him yesterday. Now, i have been obsessing bout losing weight for some months to no avail. My sedentary state of mind, much to my chagrin, does not quite allow the notion of hyperactivity. However, i was not going to let this chance go before finding out what 'miracle' made him lose weight so drastically. So our seemingly innocuous and banal discussion started on this strain and drifted completely into uncharted territories. There were a hundred things racing in my mind at the end of it-things that i did not tell him or anyone else. In response to my question of what 'miracle' had made this seemingly impossible task  possible, he had responded by how he has developed this habit of going for long walks and also how he has been running regularly-yes, right in the midst of busy Delhi streets, jostling clueless pedestrians, upsetting vendors,  eve-teasers and such likes.
He was also kind enough to suggest that now since he is in Calcutta (till next week) and we are practically neighbours, i could accompany him while he is walking/running. Now my eminently enterprising senior had bailed me out of sticky academic situations in the past, had patiently explained abstract concepts  and  critical, literary theories over telephone, had solemnly endured my relentless idiocy during long, never-ending bus rides from Jadavpur to salt lake and had also kindly escorted me to British council and American Center because i wasn't comfortable travelling alone.Of course things changed after he shifted to St Stephen's for Masters, For one, i only go to British council and American Center on Saturdays when Ma is at home and the car is therefore available. I am still not comfortable commuting alone.
Okay, so obviously i agreed to the plan-the running and the walking that is but something else nudged me at the back of my head, something that had been suppressed( or at least, i thought so) but reared it's ugly head again. I was silent.What bout when he was not here? what bout when he is back in Delhi?
It really isn't easy to figure out, why this unnecessary thrust on always having to have some company or other while travelling and why this stress on always having to be chaperoned by someone physically superior. Why this unflagging, almost dogged necessity to be always surrounded by people you know and people you can somewhat trust, if one hasn't ever experienced what most girls tend to experience, when they are barely mature enough to understand, to what extent things can actually go wrong with them.
As a child, i always loved walking.Alone, that is. I still do, somewhere i want to believe.
So i would disappear for hours at a stretch.No one worried because they all knew i was responsible enough to not stray too far and be back home before it was too late. i would disappear, armed with a book and an ancient Walkman.I never cared bout the way i looked.Uninhibited, i was always eager to discover unfamiliar paths to house my own imaginative world, peopled with 'my people'. i would aimlessly wander down meandering, pebbled roads that drew up dust as i uncouthly stepped on the frayed edges, discovering covert ribbons of thin,ephemeral streams.yes, places like that did exist in Salt lake of my childhood. i would marvel at my discoveries with childish enthusiasm, coloring my imagination with fragmented, disconnected characters from my books that inhabited these hidden nooks and crannies.Ecstatically,i would trace patterns on the wet earth, fumbling about for lost treasures and surreptiously hidden clues.There would be a spring in my step as i would joyfully find my way back home after a hard day's work.
Matter of Time. The bubble had to burst. My idyllic world had to come crashing down.
i was twelve. i hadn't done well in my half-yearly exams. Ma had been shouting for the last two days. I unceremoniously banged the entrance door and departed, fuming in anger for one of my favourite reveries. By then, there weren't many new places left to be explored. The foundations of City Center, Salt lake had just been laid, so that entire area was in a veritable mess. I still marvel, as to how that pile of rubble of my childhood managed to look so sophisticated later on.

i was walking down this deserted stretch near GD block, when i felt something brush past me. Shock and humiliation took over.The culprit whispered something unintelligible in my ears, I couldn't figure it out exactly but it did sound humiliating to my childish years.I started running. He kept up with me and brushed past me again. By then we had entered the main thoroughfare. Before, i could scream he dispersed into oblivion. i still remember his face and can probably recognize him, if i do happen to come across him again. There is unfinished business to take care of.
i remember feeling dizzy, my heart pounding  as i desperately ran down the streets.By then the initial wave of humiliation that had previously taken over had conglomerated into a pool and settled down at the base of my stomach. There was a queasy feeling, as raw anger and humiliation overlapped and rose up my throat. I felt my fist clench and a feeling of helplessness take seize.i entered the safe haven of my room and dissolved into tears. Ma thought, i was merely upset bout my dismal results. i remember not being able to behave normally for days.i just hated the sight of the boys in my class.For all i knew, they might grow up to be as reprehensible as that stinking man in the deserted alley.i was also new to the school at that time and had already been labelled as as a snob.i could not really figure out what had exactly happened with me and why it had to happen.i was too young and i wasn't aware of adult words like 'molestation'. i did not have the courage to narrate this incident to my mother, fearing she would never let me go out alone again.i myself did not have the courage to venture out alone anymore.
Everything changed since then. i became inhibited, more conscious, started taking my mother's warnings more seriously and began dressing in loose, ill-fitting clothes.I would be scared to make eye-contact with people when i was out in the streets and would quietly finish my work and run back to the shelter of my home. Over time, i had this select friend circle comprising mostly boys. Friends who were more like brothers. Their protective presence was like an aegis, shielding me from roving eyes and groping fingers. Of course, there have been more incidents like that one as i grew up but i also became more mature and learnt to handle things on my own.
Now the idea of walking alone, brought this painful memory back again. i was just twelve then. My childhood had been nipped into the bud. That initial wave of humiliation stills exists when something like that occurs.I always believed that my diminutive, childlike appearance would protect me from such incidents but i have been proven wrong time and again.Today something rankles in me, when i remember this incident, not just the filthy nature of the act but how inevitably natural it seems in our present surroundings.Every girl has to experience something like this at some point. It is terribly wrong and inhuman. It just makes me helpless as to how distorted and convoluted the perpetrators of such acts are.
Twelve is too young a age to be initiated into this cruel jungle and gain access to the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again.