Another Day

27^th February, 2015.

Hello my readers, I hope things are pretty good for you people these days. Blissful, sunny and full of dream sequences. As for me, well, I am typing my occasional rants here, which is suggestive in itself. I am trying to do be as human as possible, and maybe inhuman in other aspects.

So, after being phenol poisoned 2 weeks ago, rendering myself too weak to do anything (no, I did not drink phenol on purpose, but shit happens…), I was confined to my rooms. Though I did went to sandcastle for once (I will post about it later, those who doesn’t know, it is my roof), but I knew later it was a bad idea, dizziness is not a good combination with heights, it magnified the problem. Well, after puking a little blood, and infested with meds, I was left to do only a few things. Reading books, brainstorming three stories in my register, reading some blogs, some being too intimately close which took me back down the amnesia lane, and re reading some emails. Well, my physical anomaly didn’t bother me as much as my heart did, or does, but then, I cannot help it. Some wounds are too deep to be healed, regardless of the same old line “it is a phase”. No it is not just a phase, people do not understand it, and I don’t expect them to. Humans or most of them have a tendency to leave things behind, labeling themselves as pragmatic or rational, sometimes emotionless if things go out of hands. Well, I am not going to talk about it right now, I am in no mood. I don’t even know why I am even typing this; I guess it is due to the lack of people to talk with, and since I am hardly missed by anyone, I assume or rather hope that typing things will make things easy. On an emotional register, I am doing what I was doing in the years of 2011 and 2012, it isn’t easy, but I am being persistently sent down the road I chose to leave. To being invisible and a stranger face in the crowd.

But let’s leave it there for now. After two weeks, I finally went out. I was weak; I almost fell twice on the road itself due to that, but I survived, or just was lucky. Oh, by the way, do not, I repeat, do not try to taste phenol, I didn’t do it just because I like experiments, it was an accident and I am yet to find out how, it doesn’t tastes good. Where was I? Ah, yes, out on the road. I was to meet Dishant for some errands, which didn’t happen, and as per the norms of his life, he left to meet his better half. Eh, well, I am happy for them both, atleast for the reason that I was able to help them out. Being on the road always gives me clarity, and things to ponder over. Though a weak mind isn’t always helpful, but it doesn’t stop me from observing people. So many things! Like the mangy dog that barked about, the woman and her child, the fitness freak with bulging muscles out of his puma t-shirt, the dried eucalyptus leaves near the college wall, or the old rickshaw driver with hopeful eyes, looking for someone to hire him, the girl with a red and blue bag, blue top, black jeans and pink slippers at the bus stand. I observed them all, well, I think I might have gave some of them a creepy stalker look, provided the fact that I need a haircut, a shave and the weariness to fade away, but it was better than the four off white walls, the radio, the bleeding phone and my constant, hopeful vigil for any buzz or ring, only to be disappointed. Why does it have to be like this is a question that doesn’t let me be stable. For someone else, it is followed by an answer, a stupid and simple void of any warmth or empathy, “sorry”. Anyways, I found myself in a cluttered, disorganized road of Malviya nagar, pondering over the uncertainty of the events that has been following me since the 6 months, and the uncertainty of my own self. I mean, for how long am I to get this much lucky? Surviving these? Today it was phenol, and a freak accident, tomorrow it will be something else. Even more, I don’t care if I die, well; I am certain that apart from my parents, my brother, those two stupid guys Dishant and Veenu, maybe Shiv none will ever miss my presence around, I only fear about losing my sentiments for all the things. Especially after a broken assurance that was made to me long ago. Another human behavior I found, they will always break promises, well, nobody wants to be there for anyone but self. Do I sound too cynical? I don’t know. After all, sentiment was all I had. Uncertainty is a big opponent to hope. It will just make you lose kindness, love and other subtle things. Once uncertainty resides in you, it just takes the trust out of you and nothing will be decisive enough, pangs of doubt will ponder over. I was once there, I know this, might be more than anyone, and it is not great thing to boast of. But then, as I said, I am being persistently sent down the road I chose to left.

Coming back to home wasn’t a great difficulty, even with the persistent blackout and dizziness; I managed to get home safely, without dying or ending up in a hospital. What really was difficult was to type another text and hit the send button when I couldn’t even think straight and focus on anything, puking yet another time. I needed to do it; I am bound by a promise I made. I guess it doesn’t make any difference to anyone. Promises are an old notion, a burden to heavy these days for some.

Well, I am way too tired. Some meds are just for my sleep. Heh! My brain will sleep, but what about those faces that I saw on the road today? Or the strings of words and sentences in an inbox on the internet and phone? Those with the wishes and those with a plea? Jalaluddin Rumi was wrong once I guess… “Break your hearts until breaks open”, it doesn’t just opens, it becomes shards of broken glass, injuring everyone.

I am calling it a day. It is just another day. I need a strong solution of caffeine.

Regards.

Ability

14^th February, 2015.

Hello there, my virtual readers from the digital plane! Happy February to all of you! Okay I can’t do it any further, this unnecessary verbose of dandy jolly conversation starter. I haven’t been a good conversation starter anyway, isn’t one of my skills. I’d rather just get on with my rant, and as per usual conditions, you’re free to choose; keep reading, or indulge yourself in a blissful act. I’d advise the latter one.

Speaking of skills, I really don’t possess one. I mean, I know people with unimaginable set of skills, like there’s a guy, you give him a canvas, a paint brush, some colors and he will give you visual treat, there is another guy with the same sort of talent, only with a camera. Then there is a guy who writes and is raw in his expressions (or so he says and I really cannot argue). Then there is this girl I know, actually two of them who are far much better in writing than me and sometimes I thrive to be like them, one of them was my inspiration behind the creation of this page, both of them can draw, both have amazing voice quality and are amazing singers. I on the other hand am just a bag of old boot (I don’t even know what that means but it has a ring to it). Yes, I lack skills. I can’t paint, sing, play guitar, or table or any other musical instrument whatsoever and you possibly cannot say that these are good writings. It’s a load of crap most of the times.

But if I were to boast of something, totally random stuff, I’d say that I have an ability to listen. Not just hear, listen. Paying attention to whatever the person I front of me is speaking, and getting the necessary things differentiated from crass things. People these days don’t listen, they even don’t hear stuff. Well there are two reasons which I can think of! One, you cannot hear anything if you’re deafened by the earphones all the time, and two, people don’t have time for anyone else’s drama, their bed of bliss and blanket of apathy in their rooms of self-center-polis is way too much cozy. Well I am not saying everyone is like that, it cannot be like that, there is a balance of things, but to be frank, that’s somewhat the truth I see out there.

Well I am not here to reprimand anyone of them, I mean it is their life to decide, they can play poker with it for all I care; I am here to speak of myself, and maybe boast and brag! As I was saying, I listen. No, I am not that bearded guy under the banyan tree with all the solutions to your queries before you get that idea, but yes, I do have that ability. In recent times, when I was not so invisible to people (believe me, when you leave for college, you are bound to get noticed) in college and made ‘friends’ I came across situations that would’ve been a dire enigma to me couple of years ago. There were situations, dilemmas, conflicts that were unwanted and unnecessary to someone. I was somehow able to help. Not directly though, I don’t take matters in my own hands, they are unstable like that anti-matter in universe, I just listened, and may have presented a solution (mleh, I talk like I have averted world war three!).

Well, to say that I listen won’t be an overstatement I suppose, I don’t talk much. I have been accused of being too secretive about myself, not talking much (recent meetings at saraswati pujo might be the incriminating evidence!) and more importantly, not emoting myself. A couple of nights ago, I was told that I am too stupid, I feel things way more than normal but I emote even less than a spoonful. Might be true. In contrast to those disadvantages, I listen. And not just that, I let myself get dragged into certain matters and events that shouldn’t be my headache. I do that for another reason. I will talk about that later. The present question is, or might be, why do I listen? Well, few years back, there was a person with a strange kind of question. Or questions to be precise. I call that the ‘pebble theory’. During that time, when I was being asked questions and I was answering them, I asked the person why me? Since the person had a plethora of friends, closer than me, why not them? The answer was simple and sufficient, “you listen without asking too many things”. It was sufficed. All I ever did was just listen, and if I thought it was necessary, I presented an answer. I don’t know if it was of any help or not, I never ask that, but it gave me a personal satisfaction. I can’t explain what. Then there was a time when two of my friends had a huge a fight between them. Logical thing to do would’ve been to back off from a couple’s fight, but no! I was a dumbhead then too, to be dragged inside that crap storm. Both of them had something to say, and I was the only mutual factor between the both, so I did what I do. Listen, and if possible, gave them some food for thought. Ironically, that same scenario happened again, between the same bloody people. Eh well, some stuff never change.

But this ability that I speak of does has its own price I assume. There is always a price for everything, and you just have to pay it. In my case, it is the affinity I have with being damagingly blunt. If I listen, I speak in a perspective where things have to put in their original terms. And I really cannot sugarcoat things, making it even worse. Well, if there is a “problem”, there will be an “answer” and it might not sound too good. Applying that theory, I always am able to get an idea of the psyche of the person who’s talking to me, at times I get a character sketch about them and that becomes the price. People don’t like it when you sketch them. There has been countless times when I was accused of being obnoxiously judgmental who knows nothing, rude, a person with half truth and everything else with imaginations and at times inhuman. There are people who don’t want me near them because I do have a penchant for being an utter bastard, or so they say. Can’t blame them. Well, if you had the ability of reflecting the truth, being unable to lie, unable to sugarcoat stuff and being unkindly blunt to people who ask you to solve their “problems’’ or just listen to them, you are bound to get accused like this if you can’t lie. Funny thing is, these accusations hurts for some time, and then you get used to it. That and being hated at times. But I still have that soft corner for them, and I will always listen to them, their soap opera drama, and maybe keeping their secret safe, for it comes with another bonus. Well it ‘came’ with a bonus, for I don’t know if there will be anymore of that. This habit of listening or keeping stuff made me a “living diary”. That was the highest honor I ever got, for I doubt that many people have a living diary.

But there is something I don’t appreciate much. Gratitude towards me. I mean, yes I might have made one feel better, may have given a way out, must have showed some consideration, or as some said once in a blog that I took a person back to the origins of knowledge and belonging, to the diary writing, but all I did was listen to whatever you said. It was you, who took the step necessary. All I did was listening and answering and sometimes reprimand. Thanking me isn’t necessary; I did nothing for that matter.

If I had to make a list, I can’t, but I did have some unique kind of speakers. Drunken speakers, broken ones, confused, lost, the just-want-to-say-that type of speakers, the late talkers, need of counsel, silly advises and others. I can’t remember all, but I remember the conversations between us, me and them.

So, there, I might have only one ability, or skill that I can boast about. I listen. I always listen even if I don’t want to and if it needs to be a secret, I keep it. I listen whenever you (whoever needs to speak that is) want to say something. I am there for you I guess. It doesn’t matter if you are drunk, not drunk, feeling too low or too high; if you just need to talk, talk! Let some steam out. It is far better to talk, rather than just keeping it in, forming a cloud that never rains. I am not saying that you have to do it; all I am saying is that I am here. Yes, I might be rude to one if he/she is being stupid, I can’t shut myself off, but let’s set it aside for the moment. I will be there one need to be listened. Well, I don’t have that luxury, to speak, but then, we can’t have everything. So i will rather do what's best in my ability, listen.

Regards.

P.s - it is not late I guess, so happy Valentine’s Day to all, hope you had a good day. To the couples have a great life ahead, and be with the person always, it is the only thing that will ever matter. To the others, be still my hearts, and keep hoping! Okay I need to go now; cough syrup for a whole day makes you irritating high! Ta!

                                                                                                    

Mother!

3^rd February, 2015.

If dates are of any significance, I’d say there are only a few dates which I care about. I will quote them out later just because I want to prove a point, but let’s just talk about this date for now.

My mother, Mrs. Chandana Bhowmick nee Kabiraj, is the strongest woman I will ever know. From being a girl, to a woman, to a wife and finally being a mother, I am not unaware of her life and of her aspects, which always had varied. Now I know that everyone sees their mother as the favorite person of their life, I might say she’s not my favorite in any manner. Nope! Not in the least. Why? Because if I say she is my favorite, I will have to put her into comparison with other people, it is the basic rule of favoring something or someone. Based on qualities and attributes, we will compare between two different individuals and then will conclude with a result, which I am not going to do with my mother. No! She is not my favorite because she is incomparable with anybody. None can be actually compared with her, in aspects of personalities, her exploits before her marriage, post marriage, on the time of my birth (unfortunate) and which is still going on. She had led an amazingly adventurous life, which sometimes seems eerily unbelievable. I mean, who would believe that she actually met mother Teresa when she was 5 or 6 years old, who carried my mother on her lap? I didn’t believe it! Not for the first time, actually. Or it seems too unbelievable that she survived two times from being struck by a lightning. There are more stories like these that she occasionally shares with me, but they are not the things that makes her, “her”! I have seen her at times when most of the people break, she stands still, calm and determined, at times of trouble, she’s the voice of wisdom. She cares more than it needs to, shields me from everything that comes my way. I mean, how many mothers are there who will call you after every half an hour when you’re out? Or when you’re half an hour late? Not much I guess! It is not that she is a control freak, though it annoys me at times, but now I know why she does that, or perhaps it’s an educated guess. I think it is due to the stop events that I ranted about in my previous blabber.

Then there’s her extremity that makes her my mother. If she loves someone, it becomes her duty to love them, be there for them no matter what! And that basically includes my few friends, who had the unfortunate misfortune to meet me and be my friend. Sometimes she even forgets that she is my mother not theirs and acts as a second mother to them. Promises and commitments are not just some words in a dictionary and certainly not some shackles and bounds, which are to some. She is the one who taught me the reason we love someone, and the reason why should we promise and be there even if they are not. She taught me that if I give my word, be it any word, from the slightest help to the ultimate promise of staying beside a person even when they don’t need me, I shall fulfill it. She told me that when I promise someone, I actually have their faith put on me, and it is a sin if I harm someone’s faith, the person will not trust anyone anymore if do those. She is old school, that’s classy if you ask me. I too try to do that, promising and stuff, and in the process I have been destroying myself, hurt and pained. I guess, it is like mother, like son! She can turn intimidating and formidable if trifled with. Well, I have seen  her in both ways, and I really don’t want her latter part to come out. And then there is her outspoken attitude. She speaks, and in a way that it might inflict slight discomfort to people who can’t handle truth, and she doesn’t care. Then there is this, that, the other things that makes her apart from everyone. Sure, she maybe is not that much liberal, if being liberal means letting me loose like a godless bull, allowing me to do shit things, I know of some people who do that, but it might be her restraints on me that made me this person, who writes, emotes and maybe romanticize things. She taught me not only to love but to never lose hope, never give up because it took a little longer than it should, because eventually, everything returns. Things and people. It is her hope that makes me hope and stand my ground.

I never told my mother that I love her, not for once. And I might not even tell her that. But she knows. She always knew what I feel, I fail to do that.

  Sometimes I feel I am not a better son, my brother is, maybe, but not me. Not a better son, not a better friend, definitely not a better lover and as a person I am a horrid existence. Regardless of that, I know she is there, the strongest and wisest person I will ever meet. Well, probably because she is an idiot! It runs through my family, stubbornness and being stupid, keeping promises, loving people and what not. I have been told that we Bhowmicks have serious issues, but then, people will never understand and especially no one will understand Maa,  because if I cannot understand her, and if my father has stopped understanding her, amazed by her powers, I have serious doubts about everyone else. Just a note, if anyone of you do have the fortune to meet my mother, I must warn you, you will be filled with so much love that you’ll want to replace me with you! I know that and I do not exaggerate, it is crappy!

I will just conclude this by saying, Happy Birthday Mother! I am the luckiest person alive! And I just want to be your son, here, there and in every world possible. Be awesome!

                                                        the woman! (and not so special guy)

Regards.

P.s- I said I will quote out the dates I hold dear to me, well, here goes, in a chronological order-

03^rd February – maa’s birthday

06^th February,2014- there was a book fair…

16^th February- Doc’s birthday ( i remember, see?)

12^th march – yeah well, how can I forget this? love it, hate it, this date will be the best one...

28^th June, 2014 -  well… a message.

7^th august- Dishant’s birthday

27^th August- bhai’s birthday

21^st December- baba’s birthday (I will talk about him too, in time)

22^nd December-2013- went to mehrauli for the first time…and a birthday…and too many dreams.

Well, these are some of those dates! I don’t know why they hammer my head though! Cheers!