Angst

Every breath I take, every move I make, anything I do, I am constantly reminded that even today I am no better than a residual part of this world. I am not the mainstream, the core, the Man. I am a woman and made to feel the misfortune of being the Y chromosome each second. The society, the family, the religion, the school, the law, all tell me that I am meant to be possessed, exchanged, brutalised, sympathised, deitified, but never regarded equal. This is not my world, this is not my country. Everything belongs to them, the MEN. Then why should I respect and love them as fellow human beings? As per their rules, I should not. But I dont resent them or their freedom or their privileges. Because the pain runs too deep and too strong to indulge in thinking about that section of the population who can only sympathise while secretly they bask and gloat being our masters still. They want to protect us. We are not weaklings who need protection. What we need is for them to realise and accept that sex is just a natural phenomenon and not a mode of segregation. And women, for once, just once, stop treating men as your crutch. You are not a marketable commodity, who is owned first by your father, then your husband and then your son. You are a human being. Wake up and stop revelling in the fake sense of being the deity or goddess. You are not. You do not have special powers. You are made of flesh and blood and to survive, your battle shall be way tougher than that of your male counterpart. Its not feminine to be docile and coy. Its inhuman to subjugate yourself and the whole society to an unjust system just because you decide to look away. Stop living in a fool's paradise. Stop being at the receiving end from a society so lopsided, that all it could manage to describe our kind was a 'wo' prefixed before MEN.

A Wish

If wishes had a will of their own, I would be teaching English in my Alma Mater, Carmel School, Digboi, to a likely bunch of eager girls and bored boys, discussing a poem like Walt Whitman's "O Captain, My Captain" and what does the poet signify when he addresses the Captain as "My Father". Then, I would ask if anyone was aware of the meaning of "Elegy" and I am certain, someone resembling the young me or the many literature loving batch mates I was fortunate to have (mostly girls and few boys, a mystery still), would spring from her seat and with a glint of pride and sense of achievement, explain to the class what it means. Some of the boys, in the meantime, would have sketched a fascinating pirate ship, just in an attempt to evade questions on the poet's reference to the misery and pain during the American Civil War.

The English literature and language classes were perhaps the brightest part of a regular school day for me. The discussions, the teachers, the enthusiasm to discover a new word, the essays that allowed us to go on flights of fantasy, those ominous workbooks which I would diligently fill without any care for meals and sleep, all those and more ignited that never to be satiated desire to devour books, reading anything that has semblance to the written form and feel a mental orgasm each time I walk into a bookstore, library or even get near a shelf lined with books.

The desire to go back to those classrooms and share what I learnt in my time always lurks in a bright corner of the heart. Maybe some day this one from my bucket list shall be fulfilled. Till then, I shall be picking up the old text books to read those scribblings in lead adorning the pages and as was always advised, "read between the lines".

A Saturday (Aug, 18, 2012)

There are certain times in a day when we just indulge in some verb instinctively. Like yesterday, I decided to meet my estranged boy friend. He is no more a boy. He is a man. The hours of iron pumping have transformed him into some kind of a gentle giant. Nature had been kind to have bestowed him with vertical growth pattern. And a pseudo Gym God has turned him from a Bag of Bones to a delectable PIECE OF MEAT n MORE.

So we just decided to meet. Began on a precise, business-like manner, with exchange of texts discussing the time and place to meet. I was nervous, wary, unsure. But the overwhelming feeling was that of ease. I was bored sitting at home, doing nothing much and this was that tiny window to just take a break from boredom.

Then it hit me hard that, well , we are not hitched anymore. So that brought me to the next most important question, i.e "What should I wear?" It was a difficult choice. Deciding what to buy, what to wear is perhaps the toughest, at least for me. My head spins, I feel like fleeing the scene. It seems as if the clothes would attack me any moment for picking one over the others. They look ominous. And yesterday this struggle increased manifold.

So here we were, not together any more, but Oh I am so still in love with this guy. Should I dress to kill, or should I dress to care the least? Would a little bit of skin show be casually mixed in, or should I just try the docile look and so many more similar questions were bubbling to the surface of my fashion Consciousness. To dress 'PLATONICALLY' is like walking on thin ice, that too bare feet.

Nevertheless, I did wear clothes, something which would in no way heighten the sizzle we had so long shared. Nor was I dressed to kill any sensory joys. Phew! I though I balanced it well. Did not really get any feed back from the Beef Cake to substantiate my claim. Its just presumption for now.

Then we met. And like always, I was awestruck by how beautiful he really is. Handsome may be the favoured word, but then I am gender neutral with words and with mostly everything. Back to the beautiful face. Yeah he looks very good. Girls, friends, any one who is looking out for a hitch may consider him. No, on a second thought you may not. Till its not the final moments of goodbye, I would like to keep the pleasure of staring at that face as much as I can. Time flies so fast.

It was time for my nasal sensors to go on an overdrive now. The He smell. It filled the space of the mid-sized car. I kicked myself to stop the stream of not too saintly images from flooding my head. Okay that was a mistake that I made, because I thought I had done well in the first few minutes of this meeting. I was a fool I realised each passing moment of the 'getting together.'

How on earth did I forget, he smiled a lot and most of the times it reached his eyes and very often it could cause severe damage to hearts, eyes etc? What the hell was I thinking and why did I even trust my super human powers to stay all sorted out and calm when such a potent and dangerous mixture of elements was sitting so close by? How on earth did I forget, he was my boyfriend not so long back and the effect he had on me?

But I had promised myself, I shall behave well and keep it together. "So how have you been?" he asked through his smile. "Sad" I muttered within. "I am good" was the more audible reply. I was feeling good seeing him after a long time. But pain is a tough turtle. It is tough to break, its slow and it almost always refuses to leave.

Incessant talking, I decided was the only way out to prevent my heart from escaping through my mouth or tears escape the eyes. So the motor mouth was back. We kept blabbering, laughing and jesting around. I wondered, whats going on in his head? Whats his take?

We discussed how the breakup has affected us. It seems he found solace in repairing the bathroom and making it wife-worthy. Well, for the teeming million or the huge thousands who are not aware we exist, let me initiate you into our love story with the fact that he always wished to marry while I was scared of the M word. He believes in marriage, I do not. That was the point of disagreement. And my fears eventually came true. Marriage ruined our love. Yeah, we never married, but the dreaded thing has the sting of a cobra even on a casual mention. But he still wishes to marry. Bless Him!!!

Back to the bathroom-solace-wife conversation. He really wanted me to move on, find a person of my choice and marry him. Well, I always had that person with me. In fact, that moment, I was sitting alongside him and ogling at him, but moving on was absurd. Move on from what? I can move away from Delhi and his life, but move onto what? I do not wish to move on. It is not a fair and I aint stall hopping for sure. People and relationships cannot be replaced by new ones or borrowed ones, that has been a tiny knowledge I have learnt from all the death, pain and loss I encountered. I have added new friends in my buddy list, but the old ones are still there. Not a single one has been waylaid. New and old co-exist. And I like it that way. We can never move on from our own self.

His logical argument was that my parents worry, he worries and everyone else worries that I will be left alone and lonely as age shall catch on. I sat back and thought. Is it just the necessity for people that drives us to form communities, groups and relationship? Does the fear of living alone cause so much of a ripple in our lives, that we decide to marry, or attach ourselves to any living form in any manner whatsoever?

Unfortunately, right now another crises hit me and my lappy. The battery is dying and oh so fast, resembling my soon to be "ed" relationship. Also a more mundane reason is the fact I am sleepy and I would take some time out before I figure out the answer to the concluding question. So Long, dear blog diary...

We shall continue soon enough. The story of the Saturday is far from over.....

Sway, Stay, Go Away

I am scared of you; I am wary of your shadow;
I tremble at your voice; I quiver as you move the elbow.


Oh no, come not near me; you instill icy season within; 
Please do not go away, the Lonely demon lurks around.


Go away, please return soon, 
My perplexed  head cries loud, the heart benumbed.


I turn my back, you set to leave;
The space between us is but left to bereave.


We are but a widow pair, 
We move from one shadow to a corner.


Death of the song has long been completed;
Go draw the curtain, the players are long gone.


The props are lifted, the lights switched off,
The lone drunk man stutters to the next door step.


Heads drooping, eyes a shadow of grey;
The two figures walk back their mile.


The song echoes in their head;
Is it just a sea of grief, or do memories too turn senile?

Its acid inside and out

The pain is now unbearable. It will never subside. I wont let it. This is the punishment I deserve. For breaking a heart, for breaking my own life. When I did not have right to control my life, how did I take it upon myself to tear someone's life apart? Nobody can forgive me, no one should lend me an inch of their shoulder to cry on. I deserve not a single word of comfort. All that should come my way are sleepless nights, dark tears, memories that shall haunt me from here on. 


Yeah, many shall say tell me to move on and that all that happens has a higher, if not a better purpose. I agree. But this is no excuse to keep hurting and twist some relationship to a painful demise. I have done that. I am guilty of that and worse. 


I see perplexed looks around me. Nobody knows what am I trying to achieve. So what its not my heart, my emotions. But was it too difficult for me to not just take care of that heart? I let myself down. I have hurt many. I feel ashamed to utter a sorry. 


Life spares no pain. Pain spares not a single vein inside of me. 


Its a saving grace that tears flow silently. 


(this one may have typos and grammatical errors. )

Much Ado About Many Things

She came running helter skelter. One cannot run like that on Delhi roads, but then yeah that was the state of her mind and rest of the things that moment, or so it seemed. Opened her mouth to speak. Nothing apparently emerged. Only after a few sips from the tumbler was she able to get her voice and breath back. 


"Mamon Di, the ranking's not too good. I am worried I may not get a seat." She almost broke down in tears as she uttered the last few words. Lets call her "T" in order to protect her from sympathetic 'ooh and aah' and gasps. She rather get that elusive seat than our comforting words.


Six months of rigorous preparation, giving up a well paying job, so much for that seat? Is that reasonable? Our rationality will vehemently shake its head in disagreement and disapproval. But would she have done anything lesser to get what she ardently wanted? No. Neither would anyone with a strong desire of want. Like an Italian proverb goes "Where passion is high, reason is low". And thank God for that. 


Totally incompetent to console someone, I made a few calls to people I thought would be of some help.  Assurances from some quarters kept our hopes alive for a few more days. But not for too long.


Today,  was the day when she was to get a chance to claim a seat. It was the last day of 'Counselling'. I could never figure out why was that cruel process of rejection or limitless waiting that students are subjected to, be termed so. Its perhaps a hogwash, a sugar coated poison, that allures, assures, but is in fact a weapon to mutilate the spirit beyond recognition. Anyway, she already spent many a sleepless night to go figure her status on August, 2, 2012.


But "T" did not get that One seat. Even before the dust had settled in the "Counselling Chamber", a notice read loud and clear "Admissions closed for General Category in all three centres." 


Tentatively, I texted her, more worried about the lack of consolatory words and gestures I suffer from.  Pat came the reply, "Di, Do not worry. I am fine." Was she speaking the truth? I would never know. Being human, guarantees more fallibility than we wish to recognise and give credit to.


For the last whole week, we were talking a lot. She needed someone to listen to her, reason it out with her and may be show her another option if there was. I was doing all the talking and making SOS calls because "T" and her condition reminded me of my initial days in Delhi.  I was like a stray animal which had mistakenly sauntered into the city and its much haloed UNIVERSITY. Nobody saw, nobody cared, nobody even bothered to let me complete sentences. Delhi was a sea and I was obviously drowning in the cruel madness of this place, at the least with my admission. Even to this day, the stray-ness persists.


Those were times when, admission in Delhi University was nothing like what it is today. No media mayhem, no day to day coverage or fancy newspaper articles. The only thing that the newspapers published, more as an obligation, was the cut-off list. That was it. And yeah the much debated and controversial annual article in "India Today" to throw some light. 


I just knew about 3 colleges when I arrived. LSR, St. Stephens, Hindu and Jesus and Mary. The form said there were almost 8O colleges. Some of them I have not yet located. 


Now its been a decade, completed all the courses I could think of till yet. But the struggle of that first month in this city remains etched on my psyche. Cannot blame the colleges for their nonchalance as they go about dealing with scores of students. However, all of it is such an unfair deal for the student. They struggle, they  cry, they push and pull. Yet the whole system makes a mockery of their aspirations, toil and labour. Do they deserve that? Well that I set aside for some other day.


So when "T" came to me, it was like my past paying me a visit. I wanted to help her as much as I could. It was not enough, its quite clear now. "So much want to study in North Campus", these words refuse to die. They wont, because its her dream. It may be broken, but not destroyed. 


I do not want to load her with pearls of wisdom or words of encouragement. Let her sulk, cry, wail and get the pain of rejection and dejection out of her system. It will take time for her to pick up from where she left and find a new course. But I am sure 'T" shall eventually reach out. Then failure shall not count. It never counts. And like Zig Ziglar said "Failure is a detour; it is not a dead-end street" , so shall she chalk out a new destiny, a new purpose and new motivation. 


As for me, you can find me ruminating on the fallout of a flawed education system in some lazy corner of my house.  I try to work out my confusions through this strange process of blogging. Why do I find it strange? Well another something for some other time. 


P.S - Hope "T" shall land the lucrative PSU job that has arrived in the market. 

Kavita. Just a few words really

प्यार न देखे भेष, प्यार न भटके देश;
प्यार को न तोलिये, वह है आत्मा का आदेश