I finally realized why Tom never wins.

A friend who was crashing with me over the past week has just left. Missing him.

Stressed to the T. Watching a lot of TV.

Am feeling very very insecure about my relationships now. Maybe I need to rethink stuff over. Still officially single though.

On this day.

Its strange how you can misjudge people. And circumstances.

I have not had time to post anything last week because of that. The fact that people kept changing in my eye. The fact that though the world didn't go Topsy-turvy, it did change in little subtle yet discernible ways. In ways it will never be the same.

I just came across an old orkut profile of an old friend. I never knew him in person. I never managed to know him. And though I know Face book is more fashionable now, he is lost and I miss him.

As I type this out, an old friend who I thought had grown distant I.M.-ed me . She asked me if I wanted anything from Bombay where she is now for an internship. I feel warm.

Discussed terrorism with 4 unknown people in an auto. An old lady smiled at me. We agreed that though India had its share of problems, we indeed are glad to be alive. As she put it, "Beche toh achchi."

A person who everybody told me and still tells me is bad, is not so bad. It is like the culmination of a great film where you don't know what to think cuz what just has happened is much too grey. I remembered all the reasons I liked her. Though she was a bad teacher, probably, she isn't that bad a person. Stayed up with us unfed, had her lunch with us at the end of the massive event we were organizing, smiled, didn't let us go hungry, didn't force us to hurry off without finishing, thanked us after it was all over and waved goodbye cuz she had to go to a wedding; with a twinkle in her eye.

Someone else isn't so nice after all. I apologize for being cryptic but I think if I go into greater detail, I shall remain bitter for the rest of the day tomorrow. And I have to spend three more semesters with this person. Its not just that my opinion of him has altered, it is that the person has fallen. In my eyes. In others eyes. In ways I think irredeemable.
I am not merely hurt. I am probably not that hurt at all. I feel vengeful. More than ever. I am forcing myself to be vengeful. I know his interests will not be harmed as a result of this and so he won't bother. I know he won't care. He is much too cold. Someone had warned me before. How I wish I had heeded to that word.

Back from Delhi. And exhausted. It was fun because I knew I was coming back. Home. Kolkata.

Walking down a road at 4 in the morning in the biting chill can be uplifting. I saw people in new light. Sometimes what we project ourselves to be is not really what we are. Old friends or dusty memory or 7 pegs of whisky is perhaps what it takes to bring us out. At 4, I realized wild partying intoxicated teens aren't demons. They are perhaps better people than us.


A friend loves babies. I hate them. I love him.

Inhaled more smoke this time around than any other past trip. All sorts of drugs went around. In the haze, things became clearer. "Living your life" isn't such a cliched line after all. The problem is, people tend to get lost in the haze. And I am talking not just about the "addiction". I am talking about themselves.

I am glad to be back. Kolkata lets you be. Delhi made things clearer. But it takes Kolkata to have a clear eye.

Compy

Sold my computer today. They disconnected every little part and detached it from the body and lay them on the dusty floor. The cables strewn across the floor, the monitor black and the speakers looking mangled, it was the final hour. Eight long years had passed with numerous mess-ups, innumerable crashes, millions of curses hurled at the now black monitor, lots and lots of thumps and slaps on its metal body.
The final piece has been removed now. I am moving. And moving on. My new home has no place for the old junk. Its someone else's junk now. A new history is about to begin. I can almost hear the weird noises it used to make when starting up...and I know its all in my head now.

Kharagpur Diaries

Looked at the sky for the first time in months. On the way back from I.I.T. Kharagpur, on the highway. Walking at 11 in a slightly tingly chilly weather. Trucks lined up for as long as the eye could see, for miles and miles and miles and a small tea stall with modest stocks of biscuits.
I had stepped out of the car cuz he insisted. It was he who had suggested the road trip. And shelled out the money. And grumbled half the way. Albeit cutely.
We looked at the sky together tonight. And as I looked at the stars that twinkled almost too beautifully to be true, I whispered to him something. I told him that everytime you look at the sky like this, you get this flutter in your heart that tells you that The Lion King could be true.

He agreed. And while the traffic petered out under the fog that had so suddenly descended, I found a friend beside me. And somebody much much more. Who had made me see the sky.

Gaza

Do we care?

2007

People tell me its important to post on the new year. I never could understand how to celebrate the dawn of another year. I still can't. I spent the day in a zoo and the night at home. I didn't party. I didn't want to.

On my first day at college, I had made a friend. He was shy and seemed intimidated. He seemed dazed. I liked him. We talked. We liked each other. Though I steadily made other friends and many many more acquaintances, we still walked back from college and talked to each other. We watched films together. At times, while walking on a sunny afternoon on a deserted pavement, I thought perhaps this was what college was about; sad at leaving my school, I thought this was the bond people talked about. This was growing up.

It was a Wednesday morning. I was late for my classes; at the foot of the college stairs, I met him. He was heading in the opposite direction. I waved, he responded. He was beaming. He came up to me. I was perplexed; he had got through another college and this was his last day in college. He seemed happy. I seemed happy for him. We promised to be in touch. I watched him walk away. Then I rushed to class.

For a year and half, I didn't recall him. I had thought of writing something else. He just came over me. For the past half hour, I have been trying to remember his name. I can't. His face is hazy. The only thing I do remember are his glasses. Am I sad? Not really.

Have a great year everybody.

My very merry Christmas

I was sifting through my Christmas cards today. A big yellow plastic folder which tumbled down from the top shelf of the cupboard and caught my attention. For years now, this has been a private ritual. I never gift people cards on Christmas; I buy them for myself. Cards that I receive are only appreciated if people don't defile them by scribbling their inane wishes on the beautiful artwork.
Over the past decade, I have built up an appreciable collection of what I think are some of the most beautiful pieces of work I have ever laid my eyes on.
Every year, for about 11 years now, the week preceding Christmas has always been filled with trepidation mixed with a sprinkling of joy and expectation. The new fir, the smell of the fresh green leaves, the holly, the tinsel, the big fake gold embossed bell that shone much too brightly to be real, the puffy Father Christmas and the tiny sprigs of mistletoe; everything topped with the cake from the best bakery in town and the best cards collected from every possible outlet in town. It was almost magical.

I am busy now. Went to college today; worked; drank some coffee; talked to friends; discussed strategies; planned my day tomorrow. I call it "Christmas Shopping" now. I can't fit in my schedule tomorrow. I still haven't bought a card. I have given up on the cake. Its too much trouble anyway.
Just for a moment today, while I picked up the big yellow folder, I imagined what it would mean not to grow up. Then I realized there is no going back.

You the Freshman

We have been inactive. Active again. Then again dormant. Much like the society we live in. We have struggled. We have tried to do our best. And we have failed. Or have we? I really cannot say.

Christmas is around the corner and  cases of euphemised "Fresher initiations" must be on the decline. People are on the verge of ending their first semesters in their respective institutions. Six months in an alien land; Six more months to move on to being seniors.
There is terror around us and we are inclined to blame. It is quite possible, perhaps even logical, for you to dismiss this as mere farce. Why bother now when cases are low? 
Because this is not the end. It will begin all over again. And it will be you, the fresher, who will be the perpetrators this time. You will use the same excuses you thought were unjust; you will discuss with relish the acts of "manliness" you will inflict upon the newcomers. You have already started planning, haven't you? You can't wait for the second semester to end. You first real bout of power. Shelley was wrong I guess. It should have been "If spring comes, can winter be far behind?

Terror at my doorstep

The feeling has changed. From disbelief to disgust. The terror and sorrow that has engulfed me is now replaced with shock and despair. I am amazed at the reaction of people. Sane, educated, enlightened people.

There is a lot of anguish over inaction. People are vexed at how nothing is being done; how everything goes back to square one a month after the massacre. Hence they wish to blow up Pakistan.

Friends of mine who were staunchly against the American policy of putting its own national security above the lives of millions now vociferously demand that we carpet bomb our neighbour. To us, action connotes one word and one word only. Pakistan.

So we are ready to turn a blind eye to the fact that every time there is a terror attack, there is a intricately woven indigenous terror ploy. We are ready to ignore the fact that there are people within our country who wish to kill us. We are ready to brush aside the fact that we don't provide our security personnel with even the bare minimum when it comes to protective gear.
Because we want the terror to end. The youth of India cannot tolerate such anarchy. Hence the time is ripe for a decisive blow. To culminate the problem forever. Raze Pakistan to the ground. Never mind the millions who would lose their lives on both sides of the border. We don't care about civilian casualties, do we? Let those darn Pakis die. Who cares? What good has come of being civilized?

And so protests go on. The government plays to the galleries. Hardens its stand against Pakistan.

And I sympathize with them. With the "youngistanis". With everybody who wants Muslims flushed out of this nation or wipe Pakistan off the face of the earth. I sympathize.

Because its easy. Its easy to project our "Policy of zero- tolerance on terror" when the only thing that we have to do is build up troops along the border and escalate tension. Its easy to give a clarion call to the youth to organize themselves as an army and march onto Pakistan. Its easy to say killing Muslims is the solution.

After all, why would we want to end the deep religious divides in our society? Why would we not want a sectarian society? Why would we wish to stop the ghetto-fication of particular communities? Why would we want to stop people from becoming terrorists? Why would we want to stop the polarization? Those are difficult things to do.

The rot has begun. We cry for a tough anti-terror law and don't give a hoot about the possible persecution of certain sections of the populace. We say they deserve it. So a man who lost 6 of his kin shouldn't feel helpless when his only surviving son is picked up for questioning and tortured. Its all in the name of India.

For a moment now, let us stop kidding ourselves. We don't care about loss of life. If killing a million Pakistanis sufficed, we wouldn't hesitate in lynching them. Very soon we wouldn't care about India as well. We call for a war. And we dress up in khadi and give speeches on the Second day Of October.