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I am sick of being sad...I am mad at myself for letting me be so melancholy for so long. Saw a setting sun the size of the millennium ball yesterday;shored up my mood considerably. Examinations underway, I have decided to not be sad. Its just not worth it.

The elections are underway here in Bengal and its huge fun. I like it almost as much as music. Mamata Bannerjee, me on my bed with Pakeezah plugged into my ears. Wouldn't have it any other way.

Channels have cried themselves hoarse over the past three days at how strife torn Nondigram registered a 88% turnout and Delhi clocked a placid 45%...the awakening of the masses, as they put it.
A man of seventy woke up at seven after a tiring day in the field the previous day. Tired but determined to register his franchise, he walked to the polling booth in the oppressive heat that characterises rural Bengal nowadays...walked back home only to find out his home gutted by fire,"accidentally" set on fire by "alleged" political goons. He stands outside his home with not a straw in the world to call his own. He cries, buries his face in his hands and you zoom into his now dead face to listen to his hollow, unsteady, almost suicidal voice while you ask him,"So, did you vote for the CPI(M)?"
From the comfort of my bed, I watch them. I have the luxury to contemplate. They don't. They are far too busy seeing their lives go up in smoke. Or like the distraught lady in Asansol who kept asking every passer-by,"Ami Ghashphool-e vote dilam bole eta holo?"..."Did this happen cuz I voted for the flower?". She is too busy crying, you see, to take part in our hoopla over the success of elections in Nondigram.
2009 has seen violence erupt in several parts of normally peaceful Bengal,with scores of people dead, houses gutted, lives shattered.People too scared to step on the village road cuz they're sure to be shot in the open. Or, as the Election Commission puts it,"Isolated little incidents of violence".
My friend consoles me, says the local committee of a certain party will disburse money to these people once the elections are over. He says it will never come out in the open...so its alright I guess.It shouldn't matter.
My largest democracy in the world marches on. As Lata Mangeshkar puts it," Yeh chiraag bujh rahe hai, mere saathe jalte jalte..."
I am feeling really cheery today.

Just a day...just an ordinary day

The person who has been responsible for my Love's physical survival is dead. He passed away last night. He messaged me at 3 while performing the last rites. I was sleeping.

I couldn't bring myself to utter insincere words of consolation. Instead, for the first time in 4 years, I prayed to Jesus for a man I never knew.
He was my Love's doctor.


All day today, I wanted to hold his hand...he seems broken. He doesn't admit it, he doesn't cry, he is busy being a man. He'll be here tomorrow.

For about an hour today, all my jealousy, my insecurities, my grudges were replaced by this hollow voice, this weird unstable feeling of absolute helplessness...he says it hasn't sunk in yet. It seems surreal.

I have been trying to empathise, to share the pain but all my efforts seem cosmetic and I am afraid he knows it too.


Its a still summer night now and after a long day he has finally drifted off to sleep. I however find that useless banter is of much help...I am having a mock fight with a feisty friend and I see its working. I am not better, I am more diverted. Tinkling laughter, my own voice, is shocking me...after all that has happened today.

I thought of writing this out in better words but this is all I can manage...I hope to see him tomorrow. I hope to have him with me. We'll go out for dinner. The days will roll on. Without him.

Haven't been in the mood to write anything for quite some time now. I am not depressed, perhaps in love. "In love" sounds very very tacky. And I hate tacky.

At a play yesterday, something quaint happened. A friend called me up during the interval. She was outside the theatre. Went out in search of her; met the guards outside. They enquired if I had vacant seats beside mine. I nodded. They let her in...told her to go enjoy the play. The perks of Kolkata.

I am not upbeat, hence I type this out very very fast, cuz I am sure I will lose the will to type in a matter of seconds. It has happened quite a few times over the past few days.

Something is changing. I am very aware of that. I am not sure if it is a good thing though. 3 months remain of my teenage. I will be turning 20 this fall. I will miss this age.
I know it has neither been a tumultuous ride nor have I really "grown up into a man" over the past 6 years. I wasn't a normal teen and so probably I won't be a normal adult. I miss being young. I miss going to school. I miss open spaces. Huge expanses. Roads. Cows. I miss eating in. I miss the person I was.

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.