Too many!

13^th October, 2015.

Yes, before anyone starts losing their minds over this rant after almost a month, I apologize beforehand. Unreserved and unconditional. The illusion of a student of masters course being all about laid back and flipping the bird (refer urbandictionary.com) is shattered like a prop glass on the hero’s skull from the movies (yes, throw tomatoes now, this can’t get any bad).  Hardly I was able find any time to sit down calmly, enjoy a cup of tea with cinnamon stick and write, most of them were reluctantly devoted to all the assignments (I need to stop mentioning them here) that needed completion before the inevitably extended deadlines. Well, we have an easygoing gang of professors.

But, as the ‘War Doctor’ said, NO MORE! No no, I am not abandoning my studies for good, don’t be stupid! I am not that audacious, although I wish I was! For now, no more endless devotion to the godless, cruel theories and ideologies. No more head ramming to the subaltern thingamabob. Let’s move out of it. Let us walk into the setting sun on the blended vista, or just dance with the fireflies, slay dragons and kiss the princess saved! Or just let it be and don’t die. Let's listen to Jeff Buckley and lip-sync hallelujah, while we see the departed making a toast to the ones who just arrived.

Let’s write a poem. I have a cup of tea right now on my bed, and I know it is as irrelevant as the fact that a duck’s quack doesn’t echo anywhere. Just wanted to set the mood, which seems to be ruined. But I can write it anyway! The poem –

                                    Cigarette and Virginia 

 “A ball point pen,

a page, white, again!

so clichéd, so mundane,

so everyday!

The page still blank, just as the brain.

Cup of tea, empty,

used as a makeshift ashtray,

the blue-gray smoke still rises from the

extinguished cheap cigarette

like a figment, like a dream; wait!

Dreams! Memories!

Things that never happened, things,

which went down in the unsaid void of infinity.

And the things that now exists duly somewhere,

on a dusty shelf, with other versions of truth.

All that was gained, the entire laugh,

All that was lost, the tears (clichéd),

Every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year

 the entirety of spent eons came back with the

silver smoke of the burnt out cigarette.

The page wasn’t blank now,

it was scribbled blue.

Just one line, a quote read somewhere, on another page,

‘life is not a series of gig lamps, symmetrically arranged – Woolf, Virginia.’

The page was all full!” – Rishiraj.

Hey hey! What do you know!  I haven’t lost my poetry yet! Not yet! too many exclamation marks? Sorry!

Well, now I must retire to my other indulgences, maybe another blog post after this, maybe nothing now, maybe later. So many maybe, but then, this might turn out good on anticipation. As one of my friend says, ‘Vorfreude’!

Just don’t forget to live… ‘memento vivere’.

Love!

Regards.  

In search of iridescence

09^th September 2015.

I actually started with an assignment, but as it seems, I ended up here! Oh well…

So how are my obnoxious readers doing these days, apart from following their heads ramming right into the pathetic perplexities of their trivial lives? Well, I assume everything is fine, provided that I haven’t got any news from the world outside.

Aaaaanywhoooo! So, I might have promised that I would be quite frequent in my writings here, but I see that I am nowhere near writing anything apart from my assignments on analyzing and critiquing the ideas of nationalism in India. Next will be providing a view on E.H Carr’s idea of human agency and… well, I suppose those are just quaint details. The days are tiring; classes are filled with sleepy eyes and sands from previous night, followed by cups of coffee and abuses against the eminent scholars who lent the ideas on various socio political issues round the world. Well, I try not to cuss, but I find vanity in that, concealing my own ineptness and inability to perceive things at one go. Suddenly, I am reminded of Kafka Diaries, where he says, and I quote “my education has done great harms to me in some respect…” forgive me if I quoted it wrong, for look at the ungodly hour, and I am still trying to figure out what am I going to write, if not indulged in the various movies (Oldboy, Chef, Dr. Strangelove and some x rated movies), when I should be actually reading.

But I would be doing a great injustice to my faculty and other things, if I say that I am not in a good position. For as much abject cynicism I try to impose on the new academia and the syllabi I am involved in, I might assure me and maybe those who are vella enough to read this that amidst all this phantasmagoria (not really) there are occurrences and events that are proving rather useful or perhaps what people call ‘fun’. Like, for example, being a member of a Literature Society, that too being a core member for the upcoming events is challenging and sublime at the same time. Wait, sublime?  Okay, maybe not, but I cannot find any other word. Try exuberant! Sure, challenging and exuberant!

What else? Well, there is another thing, a very hush-hush thing! Not an NSA level stuff, but it’s important! Or so I have been led to believe. Suffice to say, it has me made to take my old dabba camera out of the box and my writing “skills” might be put to a test. Taking out the camera wasn’t a very bright idea, some photographs can bring out things you have tried and put in a box, burying it under a willow tree. Reminded me of Gulzar when I was going through the photographs or rather one singular piece of moment captured in a digitized frame, main cigarette toh nahi peeta, par har aane jaane wale se maachis puch leta hoon. Aisi kai cheezein hain jinhe phoonk dena chata hoon! One photo and a sher… WAH! Funny how history teaches you to connect things!

So such is the banality of my trivial life. No, not trivial. I cannot say my life is trivial; it is more of a journey to an endless vista with a madman’s color palette! Somewhat like Van Gogh or Dali! (Forgive me o great masters!)

Well, before I finish this madman rant, I must apologize to an old and dear friend of mine. Why here? Because it was one of my stupid writings only which had somewhat wounded a heart, it is only better if I apologize through the same. For wounding hearts and besmirching a soul is never my intention, unlike some! So, apologies, unreserved and unconditional! And to another, have a good life, you earned it (do meet sometimes, I have something for you).

Regards my lovely idiots!

Love to all and one!

 p.s - i might write something later, something more delusional on the account of new findings and a new journey! stay tuned, or whatever!

projects : letters #9

09^th August, 2015

Letter 9

“6^th November, 2014.

Dear S__________

I’ll just get to the point, love! Apologies if there’s any mistake!

“ Taake peyechilam!

Ajana kono aaborte noy, shwopneo noy.

Taake peyechilam shonddher aakashe,

Peyechilam janalar kaanche brishtir phontaaye.

Khuje peyechilam take purono boiyer

Holoud paataye.

Kokhono shey jibonanoder bonolota sen,

Kokhono shey Browinger Porphyria!

Naa, shey aasheni cigarette dhonyaye,

Aashto na teto moder shwade;

Taar bhalo lagto naa.

Shey aashto poore jaoa dupurer rode,

Aadh bheja bikeler meghe,

Aashto, eka chhade jokhon aami

Thaktam eka. Petaam taar buker

Aalto norom choyaa.

Shey aashto aamar obaantor boka boka kobitay,

Taar maatha aamar kaandhe, aar amar kobita taar thonte.

Hain, take peyechilam.

Naam jaanina taar,

Taai taake daaktam

Bohemian bole!. ””

There! You wanted a bangla poem for you, here it is! Happy? Boddo aabdar hoyche tomaar!... (okay fine, your aabdars are basically what my poems are! You know that pretty well!)

 Please  mind the handwriting, it’s been ages since I wrote anything in bangla, maybe there are some silly mistakes.

Oh and, are you going to get bald or what? I have thought a name for you! Taklu bahadur!

It’s late, around 2! So, I will write more later!

Until 6^th then!

Love!

R.B (sign)"

regards. 

Catching up!

05^th August, 2015.

So! A long time I guess! It is times like this when I have this urge to imitate a ridiculous Hindi dialogue from an equally ridiculous movie like, swagat nahi karoge humara?  Alright, alright! I admit that it sounds stupid. How about I imitate Marlon Brando from Julius Caesar? “Friends! Romans! Countrymen…!” No? Well! (Well atleast you can rejoice that I am not dead!)

So, I assume there’s a lot to catch up huh? Let’s start from the beginning! 

There are a string of good news and strings of not so good news. I won’t say bad news because my definition of bad is slightly different from what people actually have for that particular word.

From my last blog it was evident that I was engaged in some examinations and exhaustive as they were, I am glad to inform you, my readers (if any left) they proved to be good. For one reason, I did crack the entrance for BHU, was called for admission, but never went. Why? Well I leave that to everyone else’s deduction.

The last few weeks have been really a roller coaster journey. Tiring and arduous, sometimes with a bit of frustrated dilemmas and unnecessary repetitions. Running here and there, an awful lot of running I assure you! Sometimes I had this feeling that I shall just sit on the road and ask for a lift to home, but at last, it’s over now.

I am admitted in Ambedkar University for the Masters course in history, although I was asked to opt journalism by many. Like it’s mandatory in India to be a journalist after completing your B.A degree. Well, my answer was the same and it remains unaltered! I am not gonna do journalism because I am not stupid. I never wanted to do it and there is no way in hell that I am gonna do it now! It was a fantastic feeling although, to call up my friends and informing them. Especially Trisha and Doc. I didn’t call Dishant first, I called them! So yeah! They were happy! And if they are happy, so am I!

Oh and by being happy, it reminds me, I never had been so damn happy like I was three days ago when doc called about something! Oh well, her life is turning a new leaf, for her, the skies will be bluer than they are, the raindrops will be tasting like the sweetest honey. You get the image; it will be romantic and blissful and I hope they do! So doc, if you’re reading this, my friend, I raise my glass to you! To the days to come and may they be the greatest of all! You have my best wishes and blessings darling!

On not so good news, on the polar end of doc’s new life, I see one of the closest friends being deliberate idiots and skillfully morons. Being a moron really needs a skill you know! And they are in a constant practice to prove that whatever I try to preach (consciously or unconsciously) is in vain. Love is not something you can stop feeling after one fine night. It is not like you’ll just decide that the feeling’s suddenly faded and you say your “official” goodbyes forever. I hate that kind of stupidity, i become unforgiving. If that’s not real, the love, then nothing is! Well, I have said enough and I am fed up. Really!

So, there was a lot to catch and I was a bit absent in my writings. Someone eve reminded me of my letter project and asked me to complete it. So yeah! Apologies for being shut and I will finish it. And plus, now there is everything new! New teachers, new ideas, whole lot of new souls and an awful lot of mental chaos that I am looking forward to. Fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!

So, to the new world!  ALLONS-Y!

His final wish. (9th blog story)

12^th July, 2015.

An evening of October 2076, Apollo hospital.

“Rishi…” Dishant’s frail and wrinkled hand crawled into Rishi’s, like looking for one last strength. The corner room in the hospital was one quieter than usual. Rishi chose this room for Dishant after the second stroke; he knew that silence sometimes is all one needs. He kept looking out of the window, beyond the grey skies that had rained its last drop for the day, leaving the city under a chilly air of an oncoming winter; Dishant’s voice pulled him back in the cold room. “Rishi, it’s time! I am clocking out!”

“Shut up!” Rishi said, as he kept looking out, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Dude please. Pull the plug. You were there when the doctor gave his verdict. This will become worse the further I let it, just pull the plug. Just let me rest in peace brother.”

“Chup karega chutiye?” Rishi gritted his jaws as he hissed out his reply. 82 years old, both of them, maybe a difference of a few months, yet they never ceased their filthy language when annoyed. “Captain Dishant Tomar of the Indian Air force, I never pegged you as a quitter.”

“I am not! But when you are 82, paraplegic, with just three fingers working, and has suffered two strokes along with the chances of worse situations with a limited life expectancy, I guess you get the picture of it. No, I am not quitting, I had lived my fill and I don’t want to spend my last days as a rotting vegetable with pitiful glances, no! If I die, it better be quick and fast, like I used to live in my glory days!”… Dishant stopped to catch his breath.

A night of June 2015.

The phone vibrated callously as Rishi was just going to bed. He missed the first ring, picking up it the second time. Dishant calling. 12.30 am. Naturally, if someone is calling that late, something is wrong and a matter of urgency. Rishi picked it with a beating heart, hoping for‘not bad news’. It wasn’t. Strangely, Dishant’s voice was calm and poised.

“Sleeping?” Dishant asked.

“Nah, what’s up?” Rishi replied, with a relief.

“Alright, it might sound strange, come out to the balcony and look down.”

Confused, Rishi went to the balcony and looked down; Dishant was standing under the orange glow of the street light, looking right at him. The both lived in the same colony, different wings. Waving his hand, Dishant spoke on the phone again, “bring some cigarettes and two glasses, I’ve got rum, meet me in the park in 2 minutes, and don’t ask any questions.” Dishant raised a quarter bottle of old monk over his head.

“What?” Rishi replied, still trying to figure out what was going on. It was 12.30 in morning, and his best friend was standing right down his building with a liquor bottle in his hand, that was even more confusing. “Alright wait.”

2 minutes later, both of them sat on a bench in their colony park, somewhere dark so that none sees them. Dragging on his smoke, Dishant exhaled leisurely, while Rishi, after the impatient minutes finally asked him about the shenanigans that were going on.

“Nothing, just felt like having a drink. Family is out on a trip to hometown, I will be leaving in a week, was getting bored, thus this.” Dishant replied.

“Okay, par bhenchod yeh koi time hai?” Rishi asked leaving a gush of grey smoke in the air followed by emptying his glass and refilling it with more rum.

“Nope, it isn’t, but do we really need time to grab a drink?”

“Abe Shiv ko bhi bula lete phir!” Shiv being their friend and the third member of this trio.

Putting his cigarette out, Dishant lit a new one, dreamily looking at the darkness. “Kal bula lenge saale ko; abhi, just enjoy the shit bro.”

Exhaling in surrender, Rishi too lit a new cigarette and sat back on the bench in silence… "This is good!" He said.

Apollo Hospital, 2076…

Shiv entered the room, with his wife Lavanya, who became another person to join this group. Shiv became a member of parliament after his stint with his art school took a back seat, the school which he founded and where he met Lavanya and finally, after a string of unsuccessful affairs with numerous women, fell for the woman he always dreamt of, or so what he kept telling the other two.

“How are you holding up?” Shiv asked, taking a seat beside him and Rishi.

“Hah! I can’t hold anything, figuratively. And since my time is just up, I am making some arrangements.”

Rishi left his chair and stood by the window, Shiv ran his fingers through his thin hairs in a desperate motion. “Bhenchod, phir wahi!” Shiv said. “Why are you so adamant about dying on us? Where is your thirst for living?...”

An afternoon of May 2013…

“Dude, I need to use the bathroom”, Shiv said leaving Rishi and Dishant and the dinner for the moment. Dishant and Rishi both were bashing the buttons on the playstation controller. “The third switch from right is for the bathroom’s light!” Dishant shouted. Pausing the game for the dinner, Rishi lit a goldflake.

“Kitni peeyega saale? You’ll burn your lungs before you put your foot out of college, gandu!” Dishant scolded. Rishi’s smoke intake has been increasing since the past week, and Dishant has been warning him accordingly, sometimes snatching the cigarette out his mouth and flinging it on the ground.

“How’s Veenu?” Rishi asked to change the subject. He knew that Dishant will keep talking about this.

“She’s good, and don’t change the subject fucker!” Dishant said. “Throw this one out, now! You already had burnt 4, and it’s enough!”

“Alright, alright nanny!” Rishi put the cigarette out and placed it back in the packet reluctantly, albeit knowing the fact that he indeed had smoked more than the usual. Shiv joined them and said, following Dishant, “dude really, stop smoking before you go up in the smoke.”

“Yeah yeah whatever!” Rishi placed the food on plate. Dishant’s parents were out and he invited both of them to stay over. “By the way, Dishant, did you talked to Sonakshi yet?”

“Who’s Sonakshi?” Shiv looked up, his hands stopped near his mouth with a grovel dangling.

“Oh, you haven’t noticed? There’s this girl in our college from English honors. And our dear friend here had his eyes on her!” Rishi said, poking Dishant. “Ass hasn’t got the balls to go up and talk to her!”

“Well what am I supposed to say? I already have a girlfriend! Yes I do like her, but that’s about it!”

“Well what you normally would say? You’re a talker, that’s the only talent you have that you talk, so go talk!” Shiv said.

“I can’t!” Dishant said slouching back into the sofa, “and plus, she doesn’t sees me, not to forget that I have a girlfriend now!”

“Yeah yeah, you and your excuses, beta, tumse naa ho payega” Rishi said, munching on the food.

Dishant leaned forward to eat and said, “What about you?” looking at Rishi. “When are you going to talk to her?”

“Who?” genuinely confused, Rishi asked.

“HER” Dishant said throwing a knowing look at Rishi and winking at Shiv.

“Oh no. No no no no no no! you’re not dragging her into this!” Rishi said in a mocking and alarming voice.

“Err, who are we talking about again?” Shiv asked, confused by this conversation.

“There is this girl,” Dishant took a bite off his food, turning to Shiv, “fucker has been in love with her for like a year now, and yet is stupid enough to not to tell her. And you say I don’t have balls. Bhenchod I just had a crush on Sonakshi, he has fully fledged felling of love and won’t tell her! Ab bol, chutiya nahi hai yeh?”

Rishi kept his head down, like he was focused on the chicken curry’s texture, ignoring Dishant. Shiv laughed and said, “Saale gandu. You should tell her before its way too late. You still have time!”

“I can’t! I mean I want to, really, but can’t. She’s just amazing you know. But I don’t want to lose her. What if she gets pissed off? We are very good friends you know, and its okay if I don’t tell her, in my heart…”

“Aawh shove your poetry in your ass mate!” Dishant said. “How do you know that she will leave or something? you had a vision or something? Dude, the chances are 50-50, either she will, or she won’t. Just man the fuck up and tell her that you love her, and then leave it on her to decide. If she doesn’t, it’s alright if she does, well, that’d be great too! Nothing can go worse than this!... tell you what! you talk to her, and I promise you that I will talk to Sonakshi and tell her about the thing, along with the fact that I have Veenu now!”

Rishi exhaled in surrender, “eat your food bro!” Dishant never talked to Sonakshi, even when Rishi finally gathered the courage, and gave Dishant the good news months later…

Apollo hospital, 2076.

“The thirst to live? Look at me Shiv! I cannot move, I don’t know when I am sleeping in my own shit, when I am pissing in my pants, the only thing I can do now is to look out of the motherfucking window and see the changing seasons. I was born to fly, I flew the goddamn fighter planes, I touched the skies and now I am here, an old, rotting paraplegic. You call this a living?” tears rolled down Dishant’s cheeks uncontrollably, as he was unable to wipe them out. Shiv sat gloomily, Lavanya too was unable to speak. Rishi didn’t turn towards them, he kept looking out of the window, but everyone in the room knew that he too was failing in the attempts to hold his tears back.

“Look” Dishant calmed his voice, “really, there is no point, I mean, I am happy, I have no regrets, and there is nothing left for me to look forward too. And it is my choice only, it’s not even illegal now, if that concerns you. As my friends, you two, I am asking this last favor, just let me sleep. I don’t want to be like this. Either give me my wings back or just let me sleep. Let me be in peace now. Please!”

It started raining again. Rishi was wrong, the rain wasn’t over. Not over the city, and certainly not inside the corner room of Apollo Hospital which was still quieter than the usual.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX end XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Plain Nonsense.

10^th July, 2015.

She’s finally here and she hasn’t forgotten to surprise and make me smile. Yeah, “she”, the ever beautiful nymph of my otherwise dull life, the monsoon of Delhi. Personification of something is very easy, if you can figure out the purpose or meaning of it in your life. And for various reasons, I had made it a point to personify rain as a woman with pale skin, the darkest hair possible, like the night, who gives off the fragrance of petrichor… Am I mad? Yes, in a certain way, I do possess a twisted way of thinking sometimes. I talk to myself and leave them inconclusive for some later development. Anywho, I can keep going on and on about her and it will never be enough. Sometimes I wish that she weren’t just a figment of my imagination, but then, I wish for so many things.

Lately, as I noticed, I’ve become cruel, angrier than I was before, unnecessarily. And there is really no reason to be so because that is not normal for me. A slight misstep, a slight unintended miscalculation by someone and I lose my temper. And maybe that’s good, I don’t know. Like for example, I am having this unreasonable anger against the autorickshaw drivers, especially those who are following ramzan thing. Yes I know it is a religious thing and there is this fanatic sentimentality, I can relate to that, and I don’t even care about that, but now it is just stupid. Why? The reason is I was at Malviya nagar a couple of days ago, the sun were like burning the shit out of everyone, and like everyone, I too was out of my patience and vitality. I just needed to be home. So I hail an auto, ask him if he can take me to Dakshinpuri (ah yes, we have to take their permission because they are just royalty). And he obliged too. Now, the fare from Malviya nagar to Dakshinpuri is only 50 bucks, maximum 60 bucks at most. But no, oh no, he asked me for 90 bucks! 90 FUCKING BUCKS! Why? Because its ramzan month and he is some sort of brother to me and I shall pay him 40 bucks more than the actual fare. You see, this type of stupid things makes me unfaithful to religion. And it was not the only case; even yesterday I had this same bullshit from another driver. Like really? Do I look like I will pay more than what’s actual?

Yesterday, I was alone at home and yesterday was the last day I smoked. I quit. Yeah, no more cigarettes. Not for a very long time. And when I say long, I mean well and far long, maybe never. Why? Because it’s easy for me to start a bad habit and end it too! I wanted to prove myself that I am not like everyone else, weak and pathetic and that I can control my addiction. I see people, know some of them who will always provide an excuse about how they cannot leave a bad habit. Now, having a bad habit doesn’t make a person bad, it’s just a habit, but if they cannot control it, if they fail to rise above it and end it, they are weak and uselessly pathetic. Like I can and successfully have controlled my urge to drink alcohol, even when I had too many opportunities. Does it make me better than most? Indeed! Someone once told me that I am one the strongest guy the person had seen. So, there, I started it, and I ended it, without any withdrawal symptom, and there wouldn’t be one, I know my poisons and it won’t be the reason of my demise.

Oh and, David Garrett! After Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin and Vivaldi, Ray Charles, Jim Morrison, Garrett just made my list braingasmic musicians (not that I am totally oblivious to others, but if given choice, I can spend my whole day with their music without even changing the track).

There is moonlight sonata by Beethoven, symphony 40 by Mozart, nocturne opus 9 by Chopin and la campanella (originally composed by Paganini) by Garrett. And much, much more, I am just a small audacious creep who hasn’t listened to most of them. I am starting! Amazing isn’t it? My brother says, someday, I will snap one of my brain nerves by putting this much pressure on it. I am counting on it! That would only mean that my brain had something!

Oh well, it’s raining out again. Ta!

Regards and much love!

Note to self: Remind me to complete my letter projects.

p.s – admit it, this did not made any sense, but then most of them don't!

Part 1 - Part 2

29^th June, 2015

I know the title of this post isn’t making any sense but I do hope it will make the sense it is intended to. I am writing this one in two parts for various reasons, yet I cannot give one solid reason maybe because there isn’t one. Keep reading, it may make sense, or don’t read.

Part 1 – Audacity.

My current whatsapp status reads “basically I am dying”. No, not a false alarm, I am not kidding this time. I might am dying. If not today, good for me. There is this sharp pain in my left chest area, where usually the human heart resides. No, it is not related to anything else but a critical medical anomaly, which is followed by a slight numbness in my left palm. I cannot feel much and it is warmer than it needs to be, and pain comes and goes, being unbearable at times. I have been dosed with medications and am asked to be a bit warned about anything out of the ordinary by the doctor. There is one medicine that I have to continue for a year or so, and that’s really not cool.  

But what does it has to do anything with being audacious? Probably nothing in a macro view in regard to everything, but in a closer inspection, I might say it has to be my nature. I have audacious throughout a considerable amount of time. Defiant, arrogant, sometimes self destructing and with no regards to feelings of the people who may or may not care. For example, I had an exam yesterday, an entrance for M.A in English. It was my audacity only that gave that exam, regardless of the questions which made no bloody sense to me, I mean, how am I supposed to know which style did Charles dickens did NOT used in a sentence. Who cares? But I gave the exam and I don’t regret it. Well, it’s just my nature to be so, and hence, here comes the fact that even the verdict by the doctor doesn’t bother me. Not by the least. I just shrugged and asked if I am really gonna die. Chances are slim, but I have to be careful about everything. Silly thing this heart is. Pains both ways and now it really pains like fuck. But even now, I am just laughing at death’s face, I don’t know, if I am really gonna pop off in a few months or the world have to bear my existence for more, I don’t care. Maybe bit regret, but they will pass. I don’t know if, by the time this blog is read, I will be in a position to do anything, but since I have time, I will be using it.

Defying death isn’t natural and  is impossible, but pain can be defied, and so one can be audacious enough to make snide remarks and laugh giddily. Right now, while I am typing this, I am having problems in using my left hand, my fingers aren’t moving smoothly and I am making mistakes. I am sweating as I am short of breaths and that’s about it. But then, such trivialities are just trivial. It was my audacity only when I punched a wall continuously until the skin finally gave away, leading to a massive bleeding. And it is my audacity only that I am posting the picture of it (yes, I took a snap before the fix). 

                                                        this was fun, but i was reprimanded later.

  So there, I am (probably, apologies if otherwise happens) dying of a heart anomaly, I can’t feel my left hand much, I feel pukish like someone has placed a gag inside my throat and my head spins like a Ferris wheel, while my audacity defies everything. Death’s too easy.  Not bad eh?

Now, to part 2.

Part 2 – The Green Park Girl Parable.

As mentioned earlier, I had an exam yesterday. The ungodly hour of 2.00 pm, as the sun was burning the city of Delhi, it sucked all the vitality that I might have used in other things, like porn or something. Anyways, the exam wasn’t what I must have expected, and I don’t expect anything from it anyway. The good thing is, or what makes the title, is the fact that the train from university to qutub metro is basically empty, especially during the afternoons, 2 to 4.30 or so. I was awake all the night before, gazing at the sleeping streets along with the stray dogs that were on a constant vigil, and thus as every anatomical rule dictates, I was exhausted as anything. It has been a penchant of mine; I hardly take a seat in metro. I prefer commuting while standing near the door, leaning against the glass panel on either side. It provides a good view of the entire coach and sometimes beyond.

Now, I had learnt it years ago that truth is always stranger than fiction, and I always keep an open mind whenever I am out, looking for something stranger than fiction, and I am never disappointed. But I wasn’t expecting her, the green park girl. The girl who was dressed in algae blue top, black jeans and slippers, with a beige colored bag.

Humans are very strange, and curios. Especially when it comes to someone else’s phone and text messages. Those sheer want to know anything and everything, which always leads us to peeking in someone’s phone over their shoulder. And I will admit, though I resent doing so, I too am not totally void of that curiosity. So, being ashamed now of what I have done, breaching the private moments of a complete stranger, I couldn’t help but notice one or two messages on her phone and some drops of water on the screen, it took me less than seconds that she was crying. The empty coach, a few people so oblivious about each other, no one noticed. I did, unfortunately. It’s a curse really, to notice everything that one shouldn’t even see. I did. She boarded the train from Kashmere gate and to both of our misfortune decided to sit just on the seat by the glass panel where I stood. There was this strange sadness in her visage that was visible, like she wasn’t even trying to hold it back.

I wouldn’t disclose her message, I atleast can do this for her, but it was sure that she was going through a bad separation. And when I say bad I mean very bad, and it will get worse. I know it. I have seen worse, and she not even there yet. She was typing in a furious speed, and her texts were pleading, begging and everything a desperate person would do. Maybe there was reasoning too, they do it. Humans are basically stupid enough to reason with a person who has lost all the respect, care and the love for the other one, so lost that everything the person is saying is just a poison to them. So, she was just dealing with a person who was just blind. Now, maybe he must have his reasons, nothing happens without any reason, but why shall it mean that one shall deny any explanation? And what even bedazzles me is the question that how in the name of god can anybody loose love for one. And if it was not love in the first place, why not tell them. Why take so much time, building dreams in one’s heart and then bring a wrecking ball and tear it down so mercilessly because they weren’t sure about it, it was just an infatuation. So why not tell it just when it needs to be told, why the fuck kill them inside their heart when they gave the other person all of their happiness and everything without any second thought. Like I said, he might had his reasons, but then, if you were to break that, at least meet her, talk it out, try at least to be sure that it isn’t just a momentary notion. But no, oh no, just drop a message, and everything is done, everything is at its end. A fucking message, that’s about it, it doesn’t matter after all, what the person who reads that message will go through. At least one shall have the decency. But I guess decency is just an old notion these days.

Anyways, there was a time when I really wanted to sit by her side and hug her so she knows that there is still hope while she lives, that she is not alone. To say, that it’s not the end darling, not yet, everything will be alright in a jiffy! But then, she was a stranger and hugging her like that or even doing anything mentioned above might have landed in jail for eavesdropping and molesting. You know how it works.

Eventually her destination arrived and just like the way she came in, she left the train, with her shoulders slouched as if a heavy bag is on her back. She left at Green Park metro station; the last image of her in my head will be she walking up to the escalator before wiping her eyes. I hope, (god, I need to stop) that everything is fine with you darling, you silly little stranger with blue top! The train then moved forward.

So, there, my two part blogs. God, it hurts now, the chest again and its bad and I cannot feel my leg... Need to leave. Hope my readers are good. Love you all. Goodnight.