a note before leave

25^th January, 2015.

Yesterday was saraswati pujo in school of which I had no intention to attend, but some serious persuasion was able to make do otherwise. I might have explained what is it in one of my previous blabbers, so I hardly think it is necessary anymore. Or perhaps I do not want to indulge in a long, arduous anthology about one occasion, there is a plethora of information on the internet, you might as well use that instead of looking for porn or cat videos or stuff.

I have learnt something yesterday, death is always around us! (before you read further, my stupid blog followers, no, I am not having suicidal tendencies!) Watching us, smirking at our futile attempts to conquer her (I say ‘her’ for a reason, read the sandman by vertigo comics) and when it is time, she will grab our wrist, and will lead us out. To speak more logically if i leave the romanticism out, imagine sleeping one deep sleep, and multiply it with infinity!

 I might just know it better than most of my friends. Though I really do not want to insult those who had “near death experiences” by stating a false comment, neither do I have the intention to initiate a stupid sense of sympathy among anyone for me, I shall say, I too met death. Though there was no humane personification, no black top and jeans wearing punk girl was there, no one smiling at me, but there were a series, which I call “stop events”, when I almost died. And if I believe my mother, it started when I was 4 days old. Since then, there are a number of “stop events” and I remember them chronologically. And since I am typing shit, I might as well let it all out.

I know my readers by now might have already gone “aawh shit! Again?” and must have moved on to other greater things, but do wait and be still my hearts; I might not get to say it again. I know this too that an auspicious occasion as saraswati pujo and a horrible truth as death are really not something one might relate together, but sometimes, some revelations are too random.

Chronologically, I was 4 days old and my parents had to make a journey from my ancestral home to my mashi’s house, 80 kilometers away. A night time journey in a taxi on a road to nowhere, it was my first meeting with death. I don’t know what happened, my mother refrains herself from letting the story out. She just smiles and changes the subject. Secrets she holds in her bosom, it reminds me how strong she is! But I can assure one if asked, color drains from her face when she tries to remember that I almost died.

It was some summer; I was like some 5 or 6 years old. Watering the garden plants with a long green pipe and jumping around was all very fun until one jump became fatal. Next thing I remember, my head is stuck to an open window, red warm blood gushing through an open wound, I was shouting in pain until mother came running. Faint memories of my mother crying and begging for help, her sari turning red, a bearded doctor approaching with a crooked needle is all the fragments I get in dreams. And that similar accident occurred again, at the same house, same window almost 5 weeks later. The doctor was amused that I lived this time.

Villages in west Bengal are a hub of small ponds, thus the people there are basically water insects. They know how to swim before they know how to speak (a bad example, I apologize). My father did too, and had a fatherly expectation that I will learn swimming as he did. He went crazy when I wasn’t resurfacing. It will be suffice to say, drowning clears your head. It makes you blank and you feel like floating into an endless after your lungs are filled with water, it is painful though.

I was playing with my pals in my locality, running wild and stuff kids do. While playing it is normal for kids not to pay attention, I didn’t paid attention too. It was a bloody bike that skidded after hitting me blind on the streets. Well I was lucky again.

Apart from these, I was electrocuted twice, had a fatal fall, had constant blackouts on the road for a while due to a nervous issue that led to some serious problems, got high, maybe it was opium or something, a muddy ball that tasted like dirt, I was walking alone and believe me, if you are so high that you don’t see an oncoming lorry, you’re marked for death, and are damn lucky if you don’t die. Well, these were some stop events of many I had encountered. The last one was on yesterday, when I was returning home. I won’t tell you what happened, let it be for sometime else.

This brings me to the dots I want to connect between yesterday’s pujo and the accounts I just typed. I am in no position to ascertain or predict when will be the next ‘stop event’ happen for obvious reasons, and whether I would be able to say this or not again and the pujo ‘stop event’ was more like a calling bell. I might or might not die soon and I really don’t have much expectation on people turning up when I leave. As I said, I wasn’t going to the pujo but there are some idiots around me who mean something to me. I met them yesterday. Two of them are bloody stupid bitches and are adorable. Then there is this old mate of mine of whom I talk not-so-often I met after almost 8 years (not counting the other meet, it was slight and irrelevant), along with his better half (no pun, she is better than you, the balance of yin-yang is complete, not to mention you guys are adorable). He was a complete wise arse but even more, a greater friend.

So, here I am, raising my glass to all of you who read it now, for I may not will be able to speak again. To you all, I thank you. To Dishant and Veenu, for acting like those elder brother and sister to me which I never had. To you, my mate, for getting me out of bullshit storm or at least trying for make things passable by your practical mind (reminded me to find my coldness back again) and congratulations to you and your better half once again. To you, dear doctor for standing with me hoping (no I didn’t forget, I can’t forget anything) and understanding stuff. And to all others who had the misfortune of meeting me.  It is perhaps of no use to speak of certain things right now, and I know somehow that there is a major chance that my death will hardly bother anyone in particular, but thank you anyway (again, I am not going to leap off a building or ingest pills or slit wrists). I might love you all, but don’t hold many hopes!

I wrote enough! Now I need a bloody coffee! I think my readers are tired too! go watch some cat videos or the girl with amazing eyebrow talent!

Ta!