RE: "Someone" has Tagged you! :)

Im not gonna ask: how you are??? Or what (the fcuk) are u doing???

You died for me, for how many months I dont even remember. Every bit of memory erased - not deleted. Every hour of memory crashed like relentless lyrics of punk music. Every minute of agony you brought, washed away as if I was re-visiting the hospital - you forget the earlier every next time.

You were wierd - something you always claimed, but I forgot how to spell it - wierd or weird???? It also seems like you have sold your "Sense of Humour" to Warner Brothers. For the first time in the history of cinema, you'll find female comedians inspired by "Someone" - and thats you. And as a matter of (better) fact, their hips are 10 inch less than yours. Thereby compelling me to forget your girth - better for a forgotten teenage fantasy.

But why am I still lingering at your address book??? Why am I being dragged and tagged??? Earlier I've asked you to kill me. And now again, for the first time since Adam ate the apple, Im HUMBLY asking you to kill me.

Yours Ex-Lovingly
Dear friend.

PS: If Im not clear, I repeat - I DONT want to see your name at my mail box. Take Care Honey

The First Kiss

She was confused when we met for the first time.

The facile words and the imperturbable self-possession I’m now known for were missing in my instinct back then. It was a time when my not so cool sounding Hindi, Bengali and Oriya slang at my vocabulary was getting replaced by “fuck”, “bitch”, “asshole”, etc. It was a time when my mom had thrown the “boti” (a sharp device used for cutting and slicing chicken at kitchen) over my left foot for using one of them at home. The cut mark still exits – I call it a life time award and I’ve more.

She was confused and I laughed at her beautifully confused looks.

I was 16 then and she was 17 and five fingers shorter than me. Both stupid – Both insane – Both terribly immatured than the average folks. But she was my senior at school.

She had made fun of me on hearing my daily rounds around her home for the past 2 years. Her birthday, the date her mother died of cancer, the date she resumed schooling and was found pretty normal and the date when I noticed her for the first time at Ramakant Sir’s tuition were in my nerves. She was dumbstruck when I recited the when’s & what’s about her.

That was the first time I heard the term “infatuation”. She introduced. And it took quite sometime to pronounce it fluently. You see, I still hadn’t mastered the subtle art of approaching older women. Never really understood how to put the whole one little bunny over the bridge, and then hide it below the hedge and lastly pull it out by the evil bit.

I made fun of her when she asked the meaning of “fuck you” to Bala, talking next to me. Some girl - not so divine and not so graceful, abused her and she didn’t know the meaning. That was when we first talked. We had become friends instantly and very much inseparable. We were together when we first climbed the 7-storeyed water tank, when we started developing this new hobby of hiking to unknown lands, when we first smoked the full cigarette, when she tore her bra while hiking (oddest day of my life so far), when Titanic were screened on local cable TV, when she was asked out on her first date (not by me).

And then I decided to move to a different city for my JEE preparation. It was her farewell party, 17th February 2001.

We were sitting on top stairway of the lab building at school – both silent for over an hour. Just sat there looking at the blanked walls. It was total blank – 4 walls - 2 minds - everything within – everything around. Didn’t even look at each other and didn’t want to cry either. That was supposed to be the end of one year of a secret friendship at a township where people would never understand our chemistry.

My friends called out from somewhere. They were ready to leave for the only-seniors party. And we didn’t want them to discover us. I looked at her. And did something I had never expected to do. I kissed her, kissed her for the longest possible time. But something was amiss. She wasn’t responding. Her lips weren’t moving. I kissed her harder, pulled her closer to me – Nothing - I only withdrew when I saw her tears. I couldn’t close my eyes, nor was she. Her face was expressionless. She didn’t say anything.

Heard somebody on the stairs. And I stood up in a daze. Said - goodbye. She still didn’t say anything. I stood there for a moment and then climbed down the stairs. She was silent and also beautifully confused.

On the way home and back there I did not speak to anyone. All I could think about was her. Had I done something wrong? Had I destroyed the only friendship which meant anything to me? Had I …

I was seventeen years old. And that was my first kiss.

_______________________________________

May, 2006 - Terminal 1B, Domestic Airport, New Delhi.

I was waiting for her. We hadn’t met or spoke to each other for almost seven years. She had found me through the internet. She was in the city.

First 14 flights of the day were cancelled - Tremendous chaos and crowd. Nevertheless, it seemed worst than Delhi railway station. I was moving around impatiently avoiding being noticed by my parents and the worst follower – my sister, and was least interested in the cricket match on the television. A man walked up to me and inquired about the score and then went ahead and gave me a lecture on the importance of Ganguly in the team, and surprisingly I wasn’t interested. I nodded and smiled, appreciating his sympathy and concern for the team, while all the time wishing that he’d find a small unassuming puddle of muck and drown Chappel, Moore and himself and discuss the issue. Moved out of his sight and choose a corner beside the stairs to the Grand’s outlet.

Somebody tugged at my sleeve and turned me around. And before I knew it I was being kissed - kissed passionately. It was her. And we were kissing. She drew me closer and we went on kissing. This time she could close my eyes, so I copied. We stopped when we heard a loud applause. It wasn’t for us. Somebody had hit a boundary (maybe Kaif) and people were celebrating. We laughed. The way we used to. I picked up her small luggage and arm-in-arm we left for the lunch at Grand.

“That was how I should have kissed you then”, she said. “I hope I made up for it - at last”

“More than you’d ever know”, I replied and smiled.

Our Air Sahara flight was delayed by 8 hours and finally got cancelled when they managed 4 tickets on a different flight. We were together all through this time. And my sister was SMSing me the flight status. Later I discovered that she found us in-arms and knew what exactly to do.

Just when I left her, all the guilt that had built up over the last seven years has been swept away. I have regained a good friend. And now I know the meaning of those tears.

And I can look back fondly and say - that was my first kiss.

She works for a top MNC - happily married and plans to have a baby in the next couple of years.

C’est la vie - This is Life - And you have to take it the way it is.

My experiments with Hallucination - Episode #1

Not having a gr8 time...

Scene #1
Wife divorced - leaving me bankrupt.

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Scene #1A
Living Room

Found my son lost in the wilderness of chaos and confusion.
Me: “What are you thinking Son???”
Son: “Mom's rich. She’s better”
As usual I asked the same question,
Me: “So what do you learn from it?”
Son: “The more emotional you are, the less you live"

*************************************************
Scene #1B
Dining Hall

Me: “Wanna go for McD???”
Daughter: "New-Dad is sooooo cute"
Me: “That isn’t my concern”
Daughter (blushing now): “He HOT toooo :-P”

*************************************************
Scene #1C
Marine Drive

Me: “Atlast there is nothing to hide”
GF: "Loving while playing hide ‘n seek was more fun. Actually much more sexy"

*************************************************
Scene #1D
On phone

Me: “I’m revived”
Ex-GF: “Bhooter mukhe RAM nam!!!”
(Translated: “Ghost calling the God!!!”)

*************************************************
Scene #2
At Department

Prof: “Study hard or I’ll give you a G - grade”
Me: “But Sir, we have grades Ex, A, B, C, D and F for fail.
Prof: “Ya, G is worst than them”
Me: -----(Dumbstruck)-----
Prof: “IIT should introduce a new grade - G, especially for you. You seem to be on some mission G – Gang, Girls, Grass and spot"
Me: “Sir, spot starts with S”
Prof (confused): “No…”
Prof (agitated): “Yes…”

*************************************************
Scene #3
MOCK CAT centre
Test Ref: AIMCAT0709

Me: “Is it DI!!!! Are you kidding me???”
Invigilator: :-)

*************************************************

More or less

We can live in a house more or less,
In a street more or less,
In a city more or less,
And have CPIM more or less.

We can sleep in a bed more or less,
With the same woman more or less,
Make the same moves more or less,
Eat the same bread more or less,
Ride the same bike more or less,
And until to be obliged can believe,
More or less.
We are able to look in return
And feel that everything is....
More or less - Everything well.

What we are not able
To even, never, no way -
Is to love more or less,
Is to dream more or less,
IS TO BE A FRIEND MORE OR LESS,
Is to avert breakups more or less,
Is to cross court more or less,
Is to have faith more or less,
Is to believe more or less.
And here we risk to become
A dot in this world - more or less
More of less - Once more.

Freak'd OUT : Episode #2

SENTIMENTAL

It’s about two friends - Alex and Nola. They proved that there can be “just friends” between a guy and a gal, but also covers it with a black, very dark sheet of doubt and disbelief.

Alex went to Delhi for his high school. Nola was already in his class. They became friends and best friends for life in consequent months. Alex was all alone. Away from family and friends for the first time, he got exactly what he wanted – a friend, a family. He became a member of Nola's family. You know why? Because when Nola shifted from San Francisco in standard eight, she had just lost her 17-year old brother, who looked astonishingly like Alex. I met Alex a year after that and also saw Hena’s brother in a family photo. He looked so similar, except for the width and fairness – every bloody damn thing matches.

They were strictly “best friends”, annoying all sorts of comments around. In the meantime Alex followed to cyber cafes with his friends at hostel and soon got addicted to the new world of Internet. He also made a chat friend – Riyanka. They just enjoyed each other’s company. Nola missed Alex and their evening walks to unknown, never visited domains of the city. And one day at school, when the chemistry teacher was solving a solved example, she asked,

- What are you doing these evenings?

Alex knew Nola’s exact concern. Till this time he avoided this issue as Nola would take a promise from him on not visiting cyber cafés. But now he had no option and he never lied his best friend. Alex replied

- I’m chatting on net over some time.

There was sudden advent of silence. Nola broke it.

- With whom do you chat?

- I got a friend named Riyanka. I chat with her every night.

- "Every night???”, Nola almost stumbled.

Alex continued pretty casually, “Ya. Infact we are each other’s first chat friend”.

- How does she look?

Alex now turned towards Nola and saw those eyes, which mesmerized him for the first time. He looked into Nola’s lips and it was waiting for a reply, so he replied in a hurry

- I don’t know. I didn’t ask for her picture.

Then after a pause he continued, “Don’t worry. I’m studying hard”.

Nola didn’t talk on the issue anymore. Alex was pretty surprised that Nola didn’t object his late night visits to café. Basically she didn’t say a single word – Not a single word ever after that. Alex never heard from her again. It was January 6^th, 2002.

Till recently, I used to think, he visits his girlfriend at Delhi. Now, I know, he visits Nola’s parents. Maybe this terrible incident made him over emotional and over insecure for this world. Slightest argument with his friends makes him sick. You know what he fears most??? Loosing somebody he loves.

A terrible guilt feeling was killing him until recently Riyanka found him at an online social community, orkut.com and messaged him. Alex never talked to Riyanka but I think he doesn’t feel that much guilty after you find Riyanka at his friend list. I just pray for him, pray for somebody could understand him, whom he loves.

Freak'd OUT : Episode #1

STUPID......

Alex never ever cheated on exams. Maybe he asked a couple of answers from friends or seniors in adjacent chairs but it was in standard 7, when his nearest rival, in terms of class rank and dearest too, in terms of competition, Kumar blamed him of cheating.

When Alex reached for the final papers the other day, he found Kumar and few other friends of his were staring at him. Once Alex told me … Kumar’s friends were either whom he fed with chocolates and other shiny creamy stuff or they were failures. Big pieces of shit. Soon they started kicking and pestering his desk and abusing him. Alex could just hear “There comes the cheater” and witness a dense mob of 10 or so moving vigorously around him without touching him. When Alex asked about their paranoid attitude, Kumar came out of the crowd and showed a reference book with torn out pages. He accused Alex of cheating from the book during the exam, the other day. But Alexs' books had a mark - ALEX on the 20^th page, after his B’date. And he showed that the mark was not present in the book. But none knew about this secret mark. Soon his friends – Subhendu, Sandhya and KairV came for rescue but couldn’t control the howling, abusing and muscular crowd. Alex escaped the confusing and rushed home to pick his piece of the book. When returned, he was late by 20 minutes for his mathematics paper – his trump paper. He entered the room and Kumar and his fellows were smiling at him. Soon he realized the trick, conceptualized by Kumar to make him tensed and fragile before his trump paper. They succeeded but Alex scored a century again. That’s why when I first met him, I found him carrying his board mark sheets, his AIRs (All India Ranks) at different entrance exams and the class 7^th grade card with 100 encircled and an arrow pointing to “STUPID CENTURY”.

Freak'd OUT : Prologue

<>

STUPID SENTIMENTAL SHIT – Its how Alex defined it since he heard of this fancy little English word. And today’s diary page had the same heading. He just recalled something…. No … some things from the past and all those events flashed into his nerve cells – coagulating in pain anxiety, excitement, blushes and now…..a feeling of regret.

I found him looking into the mirror with mixed reactions – confused. What was he exactly searching now? It’s very unusual that the small 6” by 4” mirror found its owner an use after the cobwebs attacked it with fixed calculated sub-optimal mathematical game-theory equations.

I asked him, “What’s up handsome?”

And he replied – “Nice vibe"
A second later he continued - "I’m a stupid sentimental shit”

This answer was very much expected from somebody I lived with for the last 4 years. His search for identity – which he calls as his only reason to live took him to far off lands. All alone. All strange, like a new born child - everytime.

C'est la vie

After exactly 21 years, I think:

"Life isn't about keeping score. It's not about how many people call you and it's not about who you've dated, are dating, or haven't dated at all. It isn't about who you've kissed, what sport you play, or which guy or girl likes you. It's not about your shoes or your hair or the color of your skin or where you live or go to school. In fact, it's not about grades, money, clothes, or colleges that accept you or not. Life isn't about if you have lots of friends, or if you are alone, and it's not about how accepted or unaccepted you are. Life just isn't about that.

But life is about whom you love and who you hurt. It's about how you feel about yourself. It's about trust, happiness, and compassion. It's about sticking up for your friends and replacing inner hate with love. Life is about avoiding jealousy, overcoming ignorance, and building confidence. It's about what you say and what you mean. It's about seeing people for who they are and not what they have. Most of all, it is about choosing to use your life to touch someone else's in a way that could never have been achieved otherwise. These choices are what life's about."

Wrote this a year ago........ on my 21st B'Day.

Final Curse

FINAL CURSE

Painted my corpse, On the
Grave of treachery;
Puffed it with
grass and smoke;

The filthy air suffocated -
The senses;
But I could still feel you
On the bed of patience;

We knew the pain
Would follow us,
Alas it left us
with no choice...

It left us with NO CHOICE



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Want to hear the tune ???

My First Bangla Poem

I was fortunate enough to get this poem published at :
"Sristi Saptahik", Issue 1, October 2005
[Click Here for Sristi Saptahik homepage]