In Response

A dirge is only for the weak hearted
Those who have given up on the song of life
It’s not a song for the one whose soul still sings of light
Whose words still make grey skies seem blue
It’s not our time to give up my friend
But to continue in this battle of hapless souls
Because somewhere out there
There is a light that says
The sun still shines for you

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Just a Rant

There is this weird heaviness I feel. Like something’s not right. Like the cover of darkness is slowly sucking me in, one breadth at a time. There are good days and bad days and I’ve lately been riding this wave where I’ve felt happy, been content with what the universe was providing, accepting things for what they were and moving on. It wasn’t a sense of elation exactly but it was a sense of peace with what was going on and what was to come. You know that sense when you know that even though times are difficult, things will fall into place. And then I don’t know what did it, but somewhere I lost that peace again. I don’t know if it was personal relationships ( or semblances of relationships) that got my mind in or generally what was happening with the world. This morning as I scrolled through news feeds, all I saw was these angry rants about Trump, angry rants of Trump supporters, the Delhi air forcing people to leave the city, the endless queues outside banks and ATMs and people scrounging around for a basic semblance of life. And it just made me want to crawl under a cave and hide till the world becomes normal again. I hate this feeling- this utter despondency at the state of the world and not being able to do jackshit about it. Aarrggghhhh lets hope this passes soon and there is some method to this madness which will emerge soon and reinstate our faith in the world.

Things to remember

These are some lines I read online and most of them touched a chord and said things I have wanted to say for so long. None of these are mine and yet somewhere someone was looking into my soul and putting them in words. I just wanted to capture them somewhere so that I could go back and read them and re-read them and know I’m not the only one who feels this way. So here goes:

Credit: http://thoughtcatalog.com/pearl-cabiluna/2014/01/10-things-i-want-to-tell-you-but-cant/\

1. “You wouldn’t open the car door for me, or usher me to the passenger seat but I understand that that is just who you are. You are not the gentleman type who’d overwhelm me with your decency, but I know that you wouldn’t hesitate to drive me home at two in the morning just to make sure I’m safe. And you are best like that.”

2. “Most nights, I just feel a little contented that I could be the friend you can go to and talk. But some nights, I feel like leaving you and not caring about what you’d think about me leaving.”

3. “Everyone tells me it’s never going to be worth it, that this love’s never going to be mutual. That the best way to not get hurt more is to let go sooner.”

4. “I once wished I was her. But I wouldn’t be this close to you if I was. I wouldn’t know you this way if I was in her place. Or if she does know you that much, I wish she considers everything that you do and tell her special because I consider everything about you special and again, it’s unfair. You are unfair.”

And the one I loved the most:

5. Know that I am always here even when we kiss and you imagine I was her while I imagine you are mine.”

Where am I…and where do I go?

I often meet people who ask me where I belong to…well thats easy I say to them…Kolkata- thats home for me…no but where do you actually belong, they insist… and I think hard for the appropriate answer and I say…well, Bangladesh…if you have to be very very technical.

For me it’s very difficult to pinpoint where I belong- what I really call home- what was home and what is home now. I grew up in Kolkata- south Kolkata to be precise. But Iv always been told by my dad and paternal relatives, that we are originally from Bangladesh and thats where our roots are. Even my mom’s family is originally from Bangladesh and now when I think of it, Iv often heard my grandmom saying that she would want to breathe her last in the house in which she was born- apparently that still exists and one of her nephews live there. To me, Bangladesh is really abroad- a land I cant even imagine I can call home because I have had no association with it, even in terms of a visit ever.

Iv lived in Kolkata for 25 years of my life. I have my family there and so does M. We have some of our very close friends still in Kolkata. For M, there is really no city he associates himself with anymore. He was born in Chennai, grew up in Hyderabad and Bangalore and moved to Kolkata when he was really at the age when teenagers start hanging out with their friends for movies, coffee etc. Also being the introvert that he is and having two other siblings, he never made any friends by the time he came to Kolkata. Most of his friends today are friends he has made much later in life and not in school or college. For him, his childhood has memories of him playing with his cousins and siblings. He often talks of Bangalore and i can sense that nostalgia in his voice when he regales me with stories of how they used to play in their bungalow gardens there. Thats possibly the only place he wishes he can go back to and the only place he can call home. I, on the other hand, make friends wherever I go. Even though they might not be really close, I am a more sociable person than M and can mix much more easily.

We moved to Delhi about three years back- actually exactly 3 years back to the date tomorrow. I moved out of Kolkata and pulled M with me, not because we got better offers in Delhi, but because I  needed to get away. I need my space from people and surprisingly enough, from my family. Iv had disastrous relations with them at some point in time and for me getting out and being in touch from a distance was the only way out. I did it and I liked it. But like every other thing in life, this also has its major disadvantages and I couldnt be there by my dad when he breathed his last. By the time I reached, it was all over. Ever since dad, Iv been thinking whether it makes sense to go back and be around mom, not because I need to…but because she needs me. I know that…but going back to the city I left for good just doesnt feel right anymore. I have been dilly-dallying with this thought for some time now and everybody who knows me closely enough has completely warned me against it because they know that I need my distance to be sane and calm.

For me now, packing to go home for short visits is fun…is refreshing…is nice. To be pampered and spoilt, to meet old friends over a beer, to visit some places I used to love. But Delhi is home…where I belong…my own house…my own bed…my own space…atleast till the time I dont run away again.

Edited to add: Now when I read this post, not a single line makes any sense…so just in case anybody else other than me is readin this, please pardon the incomprehensibility of the post.

Platonic Infidelity

The other day we went to watch Luck by Chance- not to see the movie…but to see Farhan Akhtar of course!!! And while we sat there, two women, stuffing our faces with popcorn and drooling over FA, there appeared the Italian God, also known as Hrithik Roshan to blow us away. I didnt know who to look at, who was better, who was hotter…FA or HR. And I joked that this was the height of platonic infidelity…drool over one man and admire another. And while I sat there and watched the movie, this thought stuck in my head forever. 

Is there anything called platonic infidelity? Does it ever happen that your first love continues to be your first love, no matter how old you were and no matter how trivial it was? Is it possible to love someone without even knowing or even caring if you are loved in return? Is there anything called unrequited love? Is there any need to be loved always? Does reciprocation mean you will love a person more or can you continue to love without even thinking what you are getting in return?