Becky and Ben

Dear Becky,

You are a wonderful person. Beautiful. Flawless. Perfect in every way. The past 8 years have been the most memorable years of my life. You have loved me like no other, cherished me, uplifted me and been with me through everything. Seen me through my highest and my lowest. You have managed to replace every shade of grey with the most delighful hues. You have given me all my dreams and then turned them into reality. Only you could have turned every impediment into stepping stones. Oh Becky, I doubt if there is anyone out there who is as passionate, as determined, as phenomenal as you. Yes Becky, phenomenal is what you are. There is nothing that Becky Lewis can't conquer. I must be, no, I am the most fortunate man alive to have you choose me. And be with me and love me all these years. But there is just one problem Becky; I don't love you. Truth is I never have. I have just been telling myself that I do all these years. But I suppose in every man's life comes a time when he can no longer lie to himself. And I suppose that time for me has come. I don't love you. The very thought of another moment with you makes me want to hang myself. Because it would be better to die than live this suffocating, asphyxiated existence that life with you has translated itself into. Your perfection, your passion, your determination and your support, all of it, is stifling. You are stifling Becky. You smother me. Your love is exactly what a dispassionate, tepid, shallow man like me needs.But its exactly what I don't want. I don't want your love Becky. I don't want you. I'd much rather live an insignificant, meaningless, aimless life without you than spend another moment of this madness mired in words like love, support and encouragement. I am aware that in another year from now, 2 at the most, I would be living a life no more meaningful and exciting than the guy with the newspaper kiosk 2 blocks from where I'm writing this letter. I will have no dreams, no rainbows to chase. Nothing and no one to stir me, fuel me, motivate me. And that's exactly what I want Becky. Dear Becky, you have given me everything and more. I just ask you for one last favour. Please leave me alone. Go away. As far as you can. Disappear. Die if possible.

Forgive the brutal candour.

Thank you but no thank you.

Ben.

Today

Today is a hot day.Well, not really. Just a side effect, I suppose, of the fact that Cafergot almost killed me. So, today I know what staring death in its face literally feels like and that a lot worse than that feeling is when that stare lasts as long as 45 minutes. Today I know that I will not be able to deliver on my promise of "THE" book. Ever. Well, not ever but definitely not by the New Year. Today I know that even though that book is the furthest thing from being "much awaited", it is most certainly one of the most important things to me and even though my failure to deliver by the scheduled time is inconsequential to the world and will fail to stir even a single leaf, it is of immense consequence to me. I also know that this major failure (in my eyes) does not make me a lesser person.
Today I know that the neurosis, for all practical purposes, is gone, is healed, has ceased to torment. Not because of some great drug or therapy but mostly because of my acceptance of it. Today I know that the moment I chose to live with it harmoniously( like people do with the extra hair sticking out of their ears), it ceased to torment me and we became friends. Today I'm happy because I have learnt that there is absolutely no need for me to try and improve upon my below-average people skills. Today I know that though A claims to love me unconditionally, it is actually B who loves me unconditionally without ever having made such a claim. Today I know that are exactly 2 people in the world who see any hope of "the" book ever becoming a reality. Today I know that the hope and faith of just 2 people is not enough motivation for me. Today I know that you have to 1st believe in yourself before you can expect anyone else to. Today I know that I can count on my fingertips......the number of people I love who love me back in equal measure. And the fingertips don't include both hands. Today I know that it is highly unlikely that I will ever put on weight before I hit menopause. I know that I could be wrong about that but that too is highly unlikely. Today I know that I will never be able to figure out why it is that everyone I ever knew or know was under the impression that I would either become a rockstar or an activist. Today I know that I lack all degree of determination and passion for most things in life. Today I finally feel that there is nothing wrong with that. Today I know that things and people that are out of the realm of my control no longer upset me or cause me anxiety. Today I also know that 99% of all things and all humans and everything else between heaven and earth are out of that realm. Today I know that I'm crazy about my husband without thought or agenda or expectations. Today I know that the mere possibilty of the fact that someday my mamma wont be around is enough to make me want to die. Today I know that the colour white suits me far more than black. Today I know that my entire sanity hinges on 3 people. And that I can never reveal the names of those 3 people. Not even to them. Today I know that you can have more than one best friend. Today I know that even though my existence has been nomadic since conception, there is no place I love and yearn for more than North East India. Today I know that there is no community, class or category of people anywhere in the world that I belong to (barring geographical and socio-economic of course). Today I know that my crystal ball is intact and infallible. And that I still am the beholder of all the tickers in my universe. I also know that you have no idea what that means. Today I know that even though I thought I have great potential for drug dependance, the truth is I don't. I just learnt that myself. Today I am thankful for the first time for the gift. The gift that I always resented and thought was a curse. The gift of the ability. The ability to maintain 2 parallel conversations. One with the person in front of me and the other with myself in my own head. All at the same time. Without any effort or confusion. Today I am thankful for that because today I know that it doesn't mean I'm insane. It just makes me super cool like those characters in sci-fi movies. Today I know that I'm happy and very content. Today I know I am my greatest friend. Today I know that I don't like people who gloat about their international travel experiences. I also know that Indians do that more than anyone else. The gloating, that is. Today I feel beautiful. Today, I am writing after a really long time. Today, I am proud that I'm thick skinned. I'm proud that I dont care that most people find me arrogant, self obsessed and unfriendly. Today I know that I'm none of those things. I'm also proud to be a self proclaimed misanthrope. Today I know that my misanthropy is their fault, not mine.Today, I know that I'm an awful writer. Today I know that though I'm not much good at most things, it doesn't bother me anymore. Today I know that I'm unique in my own weird, out of place way. Today I know that I will never try to change myself or be who others want me to be. Today I know that I will always be what I already am and have always been. Today I love myself.

.............

And then she says to me, "Hush, listen..you know how this works, don't you!..."

Oblivion by Bernice Raj

Each passing day
Shift I back and forth
'normalcy' to the absurd
Questions to the answers
Crowd to the alone

 

Details,do i care?
Yes..should I?
But no audience
No judgement,no applause,
No scope for repair

 

Pretence,the facade
Illusions,make belief
Cease for a moment
Breathe! Breathe!
Here..Put this on
Fits with the speech

 

Torpid,Decaying
Slowly fading
Yet....

The charm remains
I'm 'known' by you
You 'Know' me

Oblivion
Do i care?

 

I Bid thee...

'unknown'
I Bid thee farewell!

 

 

Ouch!

Off late, a lot of my posts seem to be touching some nerves that weren't meant to be touched..

And hence, the sudden drop in comments. Complete silence has befallen this little, insignificant molecule on cyberspace. Ideally, my most recent posts would have invited a lot of comments and views given their content. But nope, this time around, its added insult to injury or so it seems. It doesn't seem to matter that most of it is fiction mixed with some reality and vice versa about random tales I have heard about people in a different universe. The offended choose to insist that it is indeed ALL about them. Its funny how different people, complete strangers to each other, are all absolutely convinced that each of these posts is entirely about the one complaining. And none of the self proclaimed "victims" of my malice are even aware of the others' existence...

Jeez, talk about being ridden with guilt and insecurity.. But mostly, talk about being self occupied.

Sigh. People. Moments such as these make me think of Somerset Maugham and all his wisdom and insight about people. Of course, I lack all literary prowess and thats why he was Maugham and I'm just me.

Hidden treasure

Its changed me. And its an ongoing process. This treasure inside me.

I hate sparrows. Always have. They make this constant,irritating chitter and they nibble on everything in your balcony.But for the last 4 days I have been watching this mother sparrow and its young one on our terrace. The li'l one can't fly yet, it just keeps hopping all over the place while the mother comes and feeds it every now and then. Something about that baby sparrow exudes restlessness. It seems to bother its mother more than most baby sparrows do. I say so with confidence because I have often watched sparrows in the past as they chew away and destroy our plants and return undeterred no matter how much you try to frighten them and hence, my resultant hatred. But this particular one seems rather disinterested in nibbling or the usual activities. All its been doing is distressing its mother. Its very evident. The mother has been as facilitating as she possibly can but I suppose she could take it no more when she finally decided to abandon her young one yesterday. She never returned. And all of yesterday the tiny little deserted bird has been hopping and chittering without ceasing. But all of this "was". This morning I found it dead on my balcony. Dead from fatigue, dead from abandonment. Ordinarily, the sight of a dead sparrow would have given me much joy but not today. It has depressed and scared me no end. To know that the cold, uncaring heart of a mother is enough to kill a young,tender soul. And then there was the movie "Grand Canyon" last night where Claire has sleepless nights after she discovers a deserted baby under the bushes.

Its difficult to explain really. I can relate to Claire. Things distress her. The state of the world and the depravity, the nonchalance. And yet that baby renews her hope even as it gives her something more to worry about. Like Rob Thomas sang, "All night Hearing voices telling me That I should get some sleep Because tomorrow might be good for something. I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell I know, right now you can't tell. But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see A different side of me."

But yet, amidst all of this conflict in my head and heart, that treasure, that little bundle inside me right now gives me this peace and sweeps over me with inexplicable love and anticipation.

Yes, my child to be, you are already changing me, confusing me, exhilirating me, distressing me, all at the same time. My already mangled head, for the 1st time, is looking forward to every part of this new conflict.

Because I love you already and love understands no reason.

Revised Edition

Someone I hold in very high esteem has given me some advice. Turns out, I have mentioned my age far too many times across various posts in this blog. It seems like I'm trying to almost rub it in? Well, I did that because I believe that understanding something in the context of age adds a whole new dimension to the experience. A 9 year old's response to witnessing a murder would be very different from that of a 32 year old. Nonethless, I have decided not to mention my age anymore.
While I was going through each one of my posts to figure out how many times I've made mention of my age, I happened to read "Mutant", posted on Friday, November 23, 2007. And I realised that I need to make a few very significant changes to my views expressed there. I could have edited that post itself but that wouldn't do justice to the fact that I really believed those things when I wrote them but have changed my mind since. A garish eye opener in the time that has elapsed between November 23,2007 and now.
Following are the revisions in my views:
1. The women are not necessarily stifled and suffocated. If anything, they have more opportunities here than anywhere else to express their "skills" and "talents". On most days its bordering on cabaret performances.
2. 85% love the fact that they are living the life of a page 3 wannabe. I had overlooked the fact that most women everywhere, by nature, would give anything for so much glamour.
3. 95% don't mind that all things formal translate into a saree.
4. They also love that the partying, socialisng and things begining and ending with the letter "A" are neverending. Its the ideal place for cut throat competion while you get also get to look drop dead gorgeous at the same time.
5. The ass licking will never end because the lickers love the ass.
6. They will all crib all the time about how much they hate it. But make no mistake, its all a superbly executed act. They love doing all of the above and if possible, will create more "avenues" for healthy interaction or was it cut throat competion or perhaps outlet for projection or whatever.
7. You must watch and guard yourself at all times from them. Its a gruelling, ruthless race and we all know what the prize is.
8. I'm digging my own grave by saying all of this.

So, as I learnt, I'm a misfit and I'm probably the only one who feels suffocated and stifled. But I was born here and I will probably die here. The sound of the bugle in the wee hours of the morning and the mangled mahindra jeeps and the spirit of the selfless jawan is what will keep me here. That's what brought me here in the 1st place.

I know I sound like an absolute hypocrite.

P.S. The only thing I seemed to have judged correctly back then was the fact that it is indeed, nothing short of a feudal set up. Only difference being, the peasants in this case adore tilling the land round the clock. The fruit, oh well, we all know what it is.

Stuck

I miss my room in that red building. I miss it in winter. I miss all those autumns and winters on weekends where the whole place would be empty and I would run down to catch that last plate of breakfast before I would come back up and have a hot, hot shower before 9 am. I miss walking down that beautiful boulevard with that glorious winter sun in my face with that last hint of fog before it completely disappears at 11 am. I miss meeting her on that crowded bench and just talking. I miss watching and imitating those giggly, mindless women that walk past us. I miss watching movies with her. Walking around aimlessly in Sector 18. Those chicken rolls just outside the gate. Dancing to the horrid bollywood music playing in the background as we would walk down that slope of sector 18. I miss socially embarassing her. I miss those getaways to that pastry shop next door as that lady would waltz in and ask the guy behind the counter for her favourite chocolate MOUSE. I miss laughing our heads off as we try not to choke on our truffle cake.
I miss her. I miss those winters from that red building.

And I also miss you and how we were when I was a part of that red buliding. That one glorious winter and spring. I miss your messages on my phone on those cold mornings under my quilt. I miss that 1st coffe with you down the road past the two red lights. I miss holding you as we thundered through traffic on your machine everyday. I miss how you smelled for the 1st time when I sat behind you and tried to keep from freezing. I miss the endless cups of tea we had at that little run down tea stall. I miss being the 1st and probably last girl to ever dine at Shambu's dhaba. I miss how Shambu always knew that you would ask for an extra "makkhan ki tikiya". I miss feeling extra cold with you everyday when we would cross that particular stretch on Ridge Road. I miss you wearing your windcheater the other way round so I could shove my hands in and feel warm as we rode on your bike.

I miss me in that red building in winters. I miss waking up and washing buckets full of clothes for hours. I miss watching One Tree Hill on my 14" telly. I miss walking down to Gole Market to buy toiletries. I miss walking down there for a haircut. I miss Sunday Mornings where I would run up and down the stairs for breakfast and then hope to get hold of that last bit of hot water for a shower. I miss doing all of that in a tearing rush to make it to church just seconds before 9 am. Oh I miss those services of DBF. I miss their worship. I miss the discipline and order there. I miss haggling with the autowalas over 5 bucks. I miss buying chappals from Janpath. I miss just being alone, with myself as I meander through countless bookshops with a cup of hot chocolate in my hand.

And then I miss that other world. I miss waking up and seeing the entire valley from my corridor. I miss the cackle of those geese. I miss listening to the Lohit River gushing past the bedroom window. I miss all those faces. I miss saying "Tagra Raho" and meaning it. I miss that little tin church. I miss their beautiful soulful Mizo voices as we would sing our hearts out. I miss those services that had no order. I miss that I was one of them. I miss that feeling that overwhelmed me when I finally knew where I was from and that this was home. I miss my people. I miss the convoy we travelled in. I miss the incessant rain. I miss that they loved me and I loved them back so effortlessly.

I miss that both these worlds, of the red building and my roots by that river in the opposite side of the country co-existed. I miss it so much. All the time. Everytime I lie awake in bed.

I have been everywhere and nowhere until these two worlds happened to me. I have had wonderful, glorious times everywhere but they all seem unreal after these two worlds came and swept me away.
I never knew that fond memories could be so painful until now. As my heart quietly moans to be in those two worlds again, it has to learn to accept that it can never be.



And then she, from that bench, said, "Hard to understand how a part of us can just live and carry on,actually thrive on the fact that somewhere,somehow we are stuck!! stuck on to things that make the present just fade away sumtimes...stuck on to things which just come alive when everything else seems so dead...stuck on to things which give us wings when others just pass us by...stuck on.....Painful as it is....i live by the sound of that laughter.....laughter that just echoes in my ears...i live by the memories so alive in my head...sometimes i fear they may spill out into real characters....i live because i know that someday we'll be sitting here again..just to start off from where we had left..not once feeling the absence of time gone by..so i choose to be stuck to this world in my head..i choose to bring it to life...i choose for now to let the tears fall.i choose to live and relive what we share.....i choose to be stuck.....as i sit on that bench..................now alone..

I wonder what you , with your turned around wind cheater and they, from the river, will say.