You Show Me Yours, I'll Show You Mine

[timelines are inconsistent as I started writing this last Tuesday, but had to put it on the backburner]

Damn, I am pissed! Wanna go spitting venom!

So, Bozo pings last night (the other names that come to mind for him, are too obscene). I was working, I was sleep deprived, I was not in the best of moods, and lets admit it. Bozo aint really one of my best friends. Not even by a long shot. But inspite of this bad chemistry, I do the needful. I feign enthusiasm. I ask the usual questions. The expected, non funny jokes. The whole works, you know. Expecting the conversation to peter out, for lack of things to say.

And then, right out of the blue, Bozo drops one of his trademark bombs. One, he knew, would make me flinch! He asked me about, The Book!

Men express their love for women, in various ways. Some do it with flowers, some with gold and diamonds, some with songs, and some with letters. I did mine, with a short story. Well, that's me after all. A small note was too small, and the whole I need to be heard and understood thing, was running too high. So, I ended up writing a 40 some page long story, to tell her, how I felt about her.

Ofcourse, today when you look back at a lot of things you did in your past, they seem incredibly dumb and silly and stupid. But back then, they were probably the right things to do. And even today, if I could turn back time, and do the whole thing again, I think I won't change it a bit. I'll do it all, just the way I did it, the first time round. And because, whatever I wrote in those pages, was something I really felt, I am not even embarrassed of it. But, it was very, very Personal!

Yes, I might laugh about it. Yes, I might write a blog post with all the ugly details. And yes, I might even dedicate an entire chapter of my autobiography to it. But that doesn't mean, that I will let someone like Bozo ask me about it, dig in for some juicy details! I could so visualize that smirk on his face, the irritating slight nodding of his head, that retarded, lopsided grin, suggesting that its only fair that I give him the details, because he wasn't stingy with his, when his flirtations with Cupid fell flat on its face!

Wait a second, right there! What is going on? Have we gone back to the days of our childhood? The whole, I shared my toffee with you, so now you must share yours with me? Go get a life, Dude. Didn't you know, RD always cheated in those games, as a kid. And this was not acceptable. Not with Bozo. No Sir. Not At All. Some things are just not acceptable.

For all those years, that I had to bear with Bozo, I did it, in the stoic manner, a Bong in Calcutta bears with the heat, the sweat, the pollution, the crowds, the roaches, the flies. What cannot be cured, must be endured. Though, my contempt, my disgust for him, would often surface, I think, given the circumstances, I did a decent job.

But that was out of compulsion. When you live in a tightly knit community of college kids living just outside, its not wise to be too overtly discretionary about your choice of friends. But the same doesn't apply now. I don't have to take that shit anymore. If I don't quite like hanging out with someone, I don't I need to force myself to do it. If I find someone obnoxious, I don't think I should be polite and nice, just to be social.

Anyways, this incident raised a number of more serious questions. The answers to which, can only be found, on further introspection. Will have to wait for another post.

Goodbye Geetika

.H called on Wednesday. In a quiet voice, he told me, that Geetu had died. Monday. Hung herself.

And just like that, all of a sudden, Geetika walked out of all our lives. Just like that. No teary eyed good byes. No hollow promises of keeping in touch. No gradual acceptance of an uncertain future. She moved out. Just like that.

There are a million thoughts, running all around, crazy, in my head. To even try and write them down, would be insane. I wouldn't even try. But more than anything else, they will be a disservice to one of the most cheerful and brave persons I have ever come across. How else does one explain her child like excitement when we carried her, (Yes, literally carried her) inside, whenever all of us would go out for dinner! Or, her clicking away to glory, when she was totally covered in bandages with alot of irreparably broken bones!

Brave. Cheerful. Enthusiastic. Fuck-The-World-And-We-Shall-Rule. Creative. Dreamer. Yes, Geetika. These, and much more, are what we will remember you by.

I am glad that I got to spend some time with you. And I cherish those moments. My only regret will be, that I could not be next to you, when you needed a friend. And no matter how hard I try, I cannot change that. But I do hope, that the day we meet again, I will make up for it. I swear, I will.

And though we wish you goodbye, you will remain in our hearts, forever. May you find the peace, you sought all along, my friend. Goodbye Geetika.

Another Evening At Cassa Rommel

This was my second evening at Cassa Rommel! And like the first, there was good food, better liquor, and some of the best singing and guitar playing that I have been around, for a while. From Rabindra Sangeet, to Dylan, to Floyd. But the most popular numbers were the timeless classics by Anjan Dutta. It was wonderful. To relate to the emotions of someone, and to voice them, in tune, is a wonderful feeling. I can't explain it, really. Maybe, you need to experience it, to understand it.

Of alot of things that we spoke of, what really got me thinking, was the discussion that we had, on the fatalistic attitude of people. How, some of us really ended up celebrating the pain, the melancholy in our lives! It was true, I admit. And yet, it was sad. It was my second evening there, and like the first, I was vividly visualizing her, through tightly shut eyes, while we were all singing along, to AD's words on Love won and lost and its memories, while Rommel strummed his guitar. And though, the memories hurt, really hurt, I didn't wanna stop. Just didn't wanna stop.

There was solace. There was relief. There was a sense of solidarity in the realization of shared pain. There was a temporary haven, away, far far away from the constant pain inside. There was a gentle warmth, a comforting cocoon, in the company of people from a past not so long ago. A shield from the cold loneliness inside. And there was the faint taste of wild, wild hope. To sweeten the bitterness of reality.

P.S. Got a really good collection of AD songs from Rommel. Next post on the lyrics of a song that really got me.

Broken

Can't really remember when was the last time, I felt so desperately, so totally, so completely helpless! I really can't.

My computer's broken, so can't work, can't play, can't LIVE.
My bike's broken, so gotta resort to cycling to work and back.
My cycle's broken, so gotta walk/hitch a ride to work and back.
My peace and calm at home's broken, so I feel miserable, even at home.
My work life's broken, so the best I can do is to bear with it.
My personal life's broken, so there is no peace within.
My finances are broken, so there is no refuge in gormandizing.
My sleep's broken, so I can't run away to my fantasy world.
Pretty much everything I can think of, is broken in my life, as of now. Pretty much everything.

But I guess one of the things that isn't broken, yet, is my Will. My will to wear fate out, and force her to my terms. What isn't broken, is my Dream. My dream to be the man I want to be, to do the things I want to do. What hasn't given in yet, is my Faith. My faith, in the ability of the man in the mirror, to bounce back from the lowest lows, in the worst of the times.

But I wonder, how much longer, will they stand...

Scared...

Must have had a bad, bad dream. Woke up with a start, and out of the blue, for no apparent reason, this song by Ark, was playing in my head. Checked the time. It was just a shade past three. And for the next half an hour, or so, could not get it out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. Especially, these couple of lines :

Aajker raate tumi onner hobe,
Bhaabtei jole chokh bhije jaaye.
Eto koshto keno bhalobashai, eto koshto keno bhalobashai...

Translated :
Tonight you will become someone else's,
And even thinking about this brings tears to my eyes.
Why is there so much of pain in love, why is there so much of pain in love...

Can't explain it, but since then, I can feel this little dark, gloomy corner in my heart. I wonder, how painful it must be, to so helplessly love someone, that you just can't stop. And yet, never ever have it in your destiny, to be with her.

Come to think of it, I guess I know how that feels. A long time back, rushed all the way back from Kolkata to Bangalore, just because the woman I wanted to be with, but was giving advice instead on being with another on New Year's Eve under the mistletoe, was starting to take my advice seriously! (Yeah, I know, I am messed up all right). I remember feeling anxious, helpless, disgusted with myself for being such a coward. But above all, I remember feeling very, very scared.