Blessed - A visit to the Dargah.

27th December, 2013.

Hmm… this is odd. Really odd. This is the first time when I am sitting in front of the screen to write something, yet I am at loss of words. I have no idea from where to start and what to say and I guess raking my brains won’t do any good; still I’ll try my best to summarize the stuff.
The day, as usual, was void of any decadence. Well, that has been the story of my vacations for like a decade, so no complaints there. Well maybe one, as I was hoping for some decent fun. But as it always happens, my phone never rang, no messages, no one to visit (ah, my naïve hopes, can’t leave them, can’t live without them). Even the slightest insinuation would have been enough, but then, I can’t force people to come over, or go out, or talk…so, yeah.

It was this evening which turned out to be unexpected. I had no plans as such, so after the tuitions were over, I went out to pick my brother up from sheikh sarai. Half an hour of walk was fine, especially when it had rained and the chilly winter breezes with faint petrichor was overwhelming. I was there by 8.00.

Now, area of Dakshinpuri has not much to see, except the dargah of Chirag-i- delhvi.
On our return from sheikh sarai, me and bhai decided to visit the dargah for irrelevant reasons. Neither of us had any idea or plan to go there, it just happens to be on the way to our home. The decision was instantaneous.

Nothing much happened there, nothing unusual, we just entered the place, which was deserted by 8.00, just a couple of dogs, a guard, who was more busy in warming himself by the bonfire than guarding the gate (can’t blame him, its Delhi winter!). We bought the ‘agarbattis’ and the usual things and did some prayers, I myself asked for some forgiveness and prayed for some tolerance, I don’t know what bhai asked for. We never ask. And after 10 minutes of stay, we left for home, only with a cat accompanying us to the gates of the dargah.

I do not have much of faith on gods, the only gift which I am yet to get. But on my way home from Chirag Delhi, I felt particularly…blessed!! I don’t have any idea why I was there or why do I feel like that, yet, I have a certain belief, that Nasiruddin Mahmud Chirag e Dehlvi was watching, he heard me. Maybe, he can solve the restlessness or, just show me a way on how to. I any case, I feel strangely calm…WHEW!!!!...

                                        not much of place i agree, yet, it is more than anything.

                             i dont know why bhai agreed all of a sudden, maybe he needed this too.

                                                         Dargah of Chirag e Delhvi.

Ghost of Christmas Past

23rd December, 2013.

Two days to Christmas Eve. I do not have much inclination towards this festival, as there is nothing to do more than buying a cake for family, greeting friends, and probably because me and Santa has some unresolved issues, but that a different story. I ask, he does not respond, and the world goes on, anyways.

Now the strange thing is, whenever we think about Christmas, the first thing that pops is an image of a huge cathedral, decorated with festoons, and stars, and a big Christmas tree, a Santa  giving gifts and stuff to kids. My image has the same story, but is more vividly highlighted with a small conversation that took place almost 6 years ago. And it has become an involuntary tradition for me, going back to the date. Although the conversation does takes place at a church, it was in the summer of 2007 or 08 when I was in Bandel, my father’s hometown in west Bengal, way far than Christmas.

That year, we (my family) went to Bandel for summer vacations. Now every time I visit that place, I make it a point to visit that church for unknown reasons. I just go there, spend some time alone adoring the 200 years old church and find a solitary peace. This conversation took place on such a day, when me, bhai and my brother in law visited there. They went in and as usual, I lagged behind looking at things with the same awestruck manner that I do every time, when suddenly an old, croaked feminine voice calls me from behind- “any spare change?”

“ Me, turning to find a wrinkled face, ragged clothes a frail body- ‘sorry?’

 Woman- do you have any spare change, son?

Me- (staring for a moment)- yeah, yeah. Here, (handed her 30 bucks that maa gave me)

Woman- oh god bless you son, bless you. People toss me a coin or two, 30 bucks?

Me- yeah, well, I have plenty. By the way…that god part…I don’t want to sound rude but, I don’t believe in your god. Not even on mine as far as they are concerned.

Woman- oh…Why?  You don’t have faith on god?

Me-  no. what is the point on having faith on someone whom you can’t talk with? Faith and trust needs to be build, isn’t it? I asked for so many things, none of them were responded. They are not there. I lost my existing faith on them.

Woman- oh child, that is a serious accusation you made on yourself. You see, you don’t even know, yet you believe on god.

Me- I don’t follow…

Woman- you said you don’t have faith on god, yet you just gave me the money you had, without any second thought, because you believed that I need that money. You build your trust on me without thinking. And you had faith that I am not going to deceive you.

Me- that does not proves that I believe in him.

Woman- no, that means you have faith on people. And god resides in us all the time, so you do believe in him, but you don’t know it yet. It will take time, but you will find your faith and your peace. I have this much faith in you.
And even if you don’t have faith in him, he has his utmost faith on you. He knows you won’t let him down. And he loves you. Here, take this (hands me a tiny bracelet with a cross on it.).

Me- why?

Woman- keep it as my blessing, son. Consider this is my faith on you that one day, you will know that your grudge against him was meaningless and his works are mysterious. And when you find a person on whom you can put your faith, give this cross to him or her. Put your faith on them, you won’t be disappointed. Goodbye child, you need to go, and find your lost faith.”

And until this day, I have that cross with me. Maybe it is time to give it someone else. Thank you woman, for at least trying to restore my faith.
Thank you for keeping faith on me.
Merry Christmas to you, wherever you are.

Some Burnt Ink

Maa has this peculiar line of investigation. Moments ago, before I sat down to type this, I was watching the telly, bhai was in tuition and baba was busy in his works, when maa came to me, in her usual manner, humming and old song ( mayabono biharini for this instance). She pulled up a chair and sat by my side and then laid some burnt pages with ashes on the table. I knew what I was in for. She started interrogating me and I answered as a convict. It followed somewhat like this-

Maa - Explain?

Me - (letting a gush of breath out) where did you found those, maa?

Maa – in the dustbin, a careless job on your part… what are these anyway?

Me – those were the last existing pages of my diary from the year 2008-09 and some entries from 2010.
Maa- and you burned them?

Me – yes.

Maa – I know it is your private matter, but I have to do this. Would you tell me what were in those pages?

Me – there are 10 pages on the table, 20 sides to be precise. Those entries were from school days. Almost every single significant incident were jotted down on them, especially concerned with my involvement in some silly class fights which turned out to be nastily emotional and sentimental in certain aspects. and some things which I felt towards my friends…

Maa- (her eyes fixed on me, head tilted) I see some sentences written in columns, like rhymes.. what…

Me – (keeping silent for a moment, staring at the pages with burnt inks) those… are my initial poems maa. I wrote some poems in those years. 2012-13 are not the first years of my poetic works.

Maa- (bewildered) you never told me you wrote back then!!

Me – no one knows…well, until now. And I did not felt like telling anyone. They were not even worth reading. Just some stupid verses which I…

Maa- so… why burn them?

Me- (I looked into her eyes. Questions. Like I am a total stranger to her today.) maa… I…its nothing, I just…

Maa – (her voice was…) why?

Me- (resigning) okay. Because it was enough. I am, or was not a habitual diary writer. Whatever I wrote, whatever I created, they were just memories today. Those dates in those pages, they did not provided me anything but a weary smile, true, but at the same time, they stung me. Whenever I read them, they took me sliding in the memory lane with fogs. All of my friends are there, but I can’t talk to them, I can’t change the mistakes I made, I can’t amend the feelings I hurt. I try to hold them, but thin air is all I can feel between my fingers.  The old smell of dried ink and damp pages, they mean a lot to me, but I guess it was about time when I set them on flames and set them free.
There is no point of keeping such memoirs with me maa, they are woven in my brain in such fine details that I can revisit those days at any given moment, but keeping those pages is like keeping a ghost with me, who does not mean any harm, but it’s a ghost all the same and is bound to haunt me… and as far the poems are concerned…they were causing me more damage than they were meant to. I read them again and again, trying to find out why I wrote them, or who was or were the reason behind them, but the only thing I found was a thick fog around them. So it was time to burn it. All those memories will be with me forever, yet they will be far enough from my reach. And before you ask, no I was not romantically involved with anyone…as it seems, that particular event is never going to occur… romance and love runs away from me like a child from a monster. I cleaned out my closet and buried the skeletons who came out...and it has cost me a certain amount of peace.

Maa kept looking at me. Then, putting her hand on my arm, she smiled, scraped the pages and crumbled them into her fist, throwing them in the dustbin. Her eyes said, “your secret is safe with me son..”

A Curious Case of Lost Curiosity.

13th December, 2013.

I have a question for everybody... For everybody…when was the last time you asked your father, or mother or anybody elder, the most simple or seemingly stupid question?
Like, why are the trees going back when your car is moving forward? Are clouds are made of cotton? Do fairies exist et cetera… may I take the liberty to answer on your behalf? You stopped asking such questions when you grew up, when you put your first step to adulthood and start thinking that these questions are more childish..
Funny isn’t it? There was a time when we all flaunted the answers amongst our friends “did you know…?”

I had some errands at c.r. park, and usually I prefer to take the scenic route. As I walked, I happened to stumble over a man and a boy of 5, most likely his son. I never pay attention to such things as usually there is an earphone plugged inside my ears. Unfortunately, I missed my earphones and as it happens it made my day.

The father and the son were conversing something that won’t mean anything to anyone, but for the boy, it was a matter of a grave interest indeed… I do not know what the query was, but I overheard the father trying to make a point… “So you see, the little kitten was singing, we both saw her with his mother didn’t we? All the cats sing in the dead of the night, that is there way of praying and thanking god for the lovely night they has been bestowed with…” afterwards I passed them and went ahead, but I learnt something, or may I call it a revelation.

When we grow up, we start losing our innocence and the queries... the curiosity fades, replaced by something more irreparable. None of us are bothered anymore with asking seemingly simple questions. We are so much consumed with conundrums of our lives, that we don’t have time for simplicity. The more complex the things are, the questions are, the more important it becomes, and we lose grip over what really does matter. We are so much busy making things complex that we are far far away from simple things, which suddenly springs up at times, making us quiet uneasy in dealing with. And at times, we are disappointing the younger version of us, as their questions are simple; so simple, that we face intolerable hardships answering them, disapproving them as stupid and idiots…are they really idiots? Or the joke is on us?
Somewhere between childhood and growing up, we lost something that will never be found again.
our curiosity got lost.

Regards.

River and life.- a travel journal entry.

11^th December, 2013.

I never look back into my diaries...as a fact, it is only this year when I actually kept a regular diary; I tried to maintain a diary before, but usually I ended up throwing them away. Silly..! Finally I overcame the fear, and started writing whatever I felt like writing.

But I still never look back into my diaries, for I feel that once I’ve written something out, there’s no point in looking back…it has been said, done ,felt already. It’ll bring the old memories back only, and nothing else. What is the point of feeling the ink again? Yet today, while cleaning my bookshelf (I do that whenever I am bored to the center, which is always), I flipped through the pages of my diary, and stopped at an entry dating to 1^st July 2013. I was in Bengal during that month, on my escapade from the mundane dull routine of existence. This particular entry was during my trip to Diamond Harbor.

“1st July, 2013.

In an attempt to breathe out the city of Delhi out of my lungs, today I went to Diamond Harbor, delta of the river ganga and the sea. Bichchu dada was my guide there; he knows that place inside out. This morning he woke me up, told me to get ready; we will be visiting a place. And told me to take my camera with me. I had no idea of our trip until he purchased 2 tickets to that place. He said, and I quote, ‘you need to breathe, and nothing can beat the Harbor.’

The train journey was as same as ever it has been in west Bengal. Crowded, loud, full of different emotions.  The trains in Bengal never disappoints surprising me with its constant and yet ever changing style and affairs.

We reached our destination at the given schedule (another amazing feat. They are usually late on both arriving and departure). From station, the harbor is half an hour walk, and so we walked.. I like walking when I visit new places, to feel the newness of an area, I’d advice everyone to take a walk.

Now, whenever I hear the term harbor, the 1^st image that pops up is of a crowded, wet, area, filled with people and void of any silence as such. How wrong I was.

This place was feebly crowded, not much of a soul was in view. Dada picked up a spot far from the noises around, pulled out his phone, and with a gesture of his hand shooed me off to enjoy.

Diamond harbor is one of the calmest places I’ve ever been. Being an aquaphobic, initially I was restricted to myself, but something happened, I left my left my shoes behind, and sat down with my feet in the water. Heartbeat came down to normal, breath became free. The cold waves playing around my feet, the wind brushing my skin, the wet scent of soil and water filling my soul, intoxicating me and the sun kissing the horizon; my mind was as blank as a new sheet of paper. 

I could not, as a fact, I did not wanted to think of anything. I left everything out of my mind; friends, families, and things I love, people I care about. I was absorbed, overwhelmed with the setting sun. I could feel my heart beating in a slow pace after years, and I know it was longing for something, which I guess I would never know what. The roars of the waves crashing on the bank subdues every other sound, I couldn’t even hear my own soul. It deafened me to point, where the only sound remained was of the prevailing silence, or maybe it was the only sound I cared about. The air caressed my skin, played with my hair like a mistress who you know will never be yours. For 3 hours, I was not even aware of my own existence, let alone the world around me.

 The sun which drowned in the horizon, darkness fell and took all the gloom to the abyss.

The rest is easy to guess I suppose. We took the train back to Baruipur. The cold wind of Diamond Harbor evening through the train window kissed me goodnight. I returned with a blank soul, now daubed, smeared with an entirely new color…” 

Grey Ash.

9^th December, 2013.

It has been 8 or 9 years since my last cigarette. It’s a crystal clear memory. I was in school and some of my pals decided to have a good time smoking during a free period in a summer afternoon…teenage years has a tendency to lead people towards some vices. Me not being any different from my equivalents, decided to try it out. I wasn’t a stud in school, yet I had a few good people around me who did care about me to a considerable extent. Naturally, I was reprimanded by them, following by a promise not to smoke again. Until this morning, I have resiliently kept my word, but I guess…

Last night, I couldn’t sleep. Well I have been through sleepless night before,but this was different. For certain people around me, I have made a special place in my heart, and usually, if I am not in a very bad mood, I always try to be respectful towards them. Yes, maybe I sound totally rash and harsh at times, but I never foul mouth or perverse my mind towards my friends. That is a heresy to the people we love and respect. But last night was like a match stick to gunpowder. Consciously, I never disrespected anyone; I have that much control on me.

So as it seems, my endeavors to be respectful is being taken for granted, for the first time, I was accused of perverting my feeling towards the person I adore the most. What hurt more was that I was accused by that very person. If I’d been slapped in public, it wouldn’t matter, you know, shit happens!!  But this? Was I this much stranger? has everything about me so distant and vacant?

It almost instantly set my breath, brain on fire...a strange kind of anger and a feeling of hurt erupted. After all this years, this was what was awaiting for me…heh!

It was around 1.30 or 2 in the morning when I picked up Brida, a novel by Coelho. Irony of the situation, a gift from the same person. I’ve read it 5 times, but now, I was just hovering over the words printed. A page after pages flew by, but I couldn’t make out what was the magus saying, what was Wicca teaching, what Brida felt… nothing. My brain was blank. By the time I finished, it was time for my brother to wake up for his school.

I needed some time alone. Bhai left for school. After an an hour or so, I excused myself from my house, went out on the streets and brought a wills flake. I was breaking my promise.

My rooftops provide me an enormous view of my locality, acting as a place to seek solace. Lighting up the cigarette, I started reminiscing stuff from past…where did I went wrong? What did I miss? Any clue that would help me, but in vain I searched. The magus was still with me, enjoying the Delhi winter sun with breezes, but I was so lost in smoking that I ignored his lesson about life, about everything he taught me. I had heard that a cigarette helps in thinking. I was ready to try anything. I was ready to break my first ever promise.

Each time I let out a jet of smoke, I found myself more deeply strangled in the past. Each time I tap out some ash, I saw my best endeavors burnt in a shade of grey. And not to my surprise, I was enraging, to a point of screaming but restrained. A cigarette can be related so much to a current situation. It was like watching a self destruction. The smoke was boosting my temper to a more dangerous level.

There was ash around my feet and the cigarette butt was still between my fingers, in its last flame, almost burning my fingers. Who cares? When rage and hurt comes, a physical pain means nothing. Stubbing it out, I stayed on the roofs for 2 solid hours, gazing over dakshinpuri, wishing if i could fly somewhere and then,finally retired to my rooms. Maa did understand something was wrong, but did not ask what. She respects privacy. She never pushed me around asking what took me 2 hours on roofs, just once she asked if everything is alright? I lied. I lied saying I am okay. Certainly I can’t pull her in some matters.

But the cigarette didn’t help. I still am looking for answers to my questions and seeking something to mend my heart I guess…maybe the magus can help...

Regards.

p.s. - I did called my old friend, telling just about the smoking incident, promising never to touch cigarettes again… respecting promises is worth everything. And i will respect it. to the end.

return

9^th December, 2013.

Before anyone of my precious readers starts bashing me as to where I have been, there were exams going on..so I really did not had much time write..and to be honest to you guys, there was not much..so here i am on my knees,and am asking for apologies unreservedly. Now, one can ask what happened after my previous blog…it did not turned out as I expected…but that’s another story…

in light of recent events, I must say, this month ,this whole year actually, is one of the strangest. Not just strange, many new revelations and desires, and stuff like that came out. I am trying my best to keep up the pace with days and their consecutive events occurring.

I always had asked for the stagnation to fade away.. I am always bored and angry, but this vicissitude that is taking place is both overwhelming and awfully painful to bear.

But I can assure myself with one thing that, I can bear this… I believe there is hardly anything that can actually bother me; especially after what happened last night I guess…

Anyways, I guess I’ll try to be more frequent here..

Regards.