.

I'm angry, and I'm disappointed. I'm sure nobody cares, and that's the way it should be. So to no one in particular, I shall not blog.

Gnnnnngggggghhhhhhhh

This has gotten monotonous. I’m sick of exams. I want to go to CP and eat ice cream. And sit in Central Park with the gang. And go to Café Coffee Day with the other gang and drink four Devil’s Owns. And I want to paint my room with two of the most important people in my life. And then make Maggi with them and go skateboarding at two in the morning. I want it to rain really hard and then dry real fast. I want to run with a friend who I’ll now never see again. I want to tell him that he’s the nicest guy I know, and that I love him dearly, and he shouldn’t go away. I want to sit and listen to all the songs on my player again and again. I want to forget its Sunday night, and my course is far from over and the exam’s on Tuesday. I want to play Scrabble with Baba, and then pound on a set of drums until I’m hot and tired and want a nice long shower. I want to get drunk on chocolate mint vodkas and then dance crazily. I want to learn how to swim. I want to listen to silly jokes all afternoon and laugh hysterically. I want to fly to Chicago to kiss my 21-hour old nephew. I want to eat Slim Jims and watch A Walk to Remember. I want to cut my hair and have them grow back in a day. I want to pour water over some dirt and make a cave-maze. I want to hug someone really bad. And go to sleep, content.






Update : I've done 11/20 things I listed here. YAY !!!!!!!!!

Sudden remonstrances,
Uttered in need
Elicit disbelief
Battered lies in a new canvas
Will this never end?
I wait, not in vain

...

Words so hollow,
That they echo in their blankness,
Unsought by me,
Uttered in vain.

Brings a lethal dread,
Of other artlessly spoken lexis
That they make one tremble
At their venomous vein.

Don't ask what's up again.

Hello?

Hey...

Oh, hey !

Wassupp ???

Oh... Nothing much... Just shitting

Huh?

Yeah, what?

Uhmm... As in bull-shitting??

No, shitting !

As in sitting-on-the-pot-shitting??

Yeah. Squatting is difficult with all this fat, lol.

Oh. Okay.

What?

No...

What??

No... It's just that... you picked up the phone while you're shitting.

But the phone rang !

Yeah... But people don't usually take the phone to the loo !

But it was in my pocket !

Yeah... But... People don't usually talk while they shit !

Oh. Okay! Click.
Beep beep beep beep beep.

Ugh.

As of today, I've decided to be less cautious. I knew that people were stupid. That they existed, and in hordes, who were mentally incapable to understand half of what I uttered (which was said out loud only for I hoped they would be intelligent enough to understand) and definitely nothing of what I thought.
I thought it was narrow and elitist of me to think people as inferior to my intellect for they probably knew much that I was completely ignorant of. Also, that it was my human duty to understand why they didn't, couldn't know certain things. To treat them kindly and not harbour any feelings of supreme contempt like some of my friends did. Even if they did not know certain things, who was I to condemn them? I should accept them the way they were, and hope for them to evolve. This was not meant to be patronising in any way. It was just something that warned be from becoming a snob, in any way.
I still believe in most of this, but I'm cracking. Too many people prove to be stupid in too many ways for me to hold conversations with them anymore. It's just the way they think, and how it is so silly that they can't even see it, that makes it unbearable for me to talk to them. I don't even know what to say that they would actually understand the same way I'm relating it. It's this huge gap that exists in our understandings that renders it impossible for us to actually converse. This has absolutely nothing to do with communication gaps or so. It has nothing to do with differing definitions. Crap, it has NOTHING to do with words at all. I mean, unless we're talking about how sunny the day is or which flavour ice-cream tastes better, I can't think of any topic where I would not be disgusted with them. Their responses are so infinitely petty and crookedly constructed that I shrink back in horror. Horror not because of their deformed thought process, but horror for they in no way were lesser equipped than me. It would have been a different matter altogether if we were taught different things and that's how our responses are so uneven; then I would reverted back to what I had always thought true. That I will not, cannot be contemptuous of them. But here, they had the same schools, same teachers, and same kind of environment where I grew. I look to them to be weighed in equal scales as I weigh myself. And find them to be this. How do I forgive them after this? I can't. I won't.




This was written after an especially annoying revelation that came while learning certain things certain people held true that made the author choke and go green, she felt so ill. So pardon her harsh tone. She was seeing red. Tearing her hair out and hyperventilating. Yes, you've got her perfectly now.

Verità infelici

People, will, always be obsessed. And i cannot be an armchair critic. It's too convenient a position to take. But can I only just watch? Can I really not do anything about it? Not even make them see it? Am I really that helpless? Or am I a victim too? Is victim the word? I will deal with this.

Chin up.

You have no idea what makes me happy. I like sitting in the sun. I like it when little kids drop nayantara blossoms onto my lap. I like listening to the parched earth hungrily sucking in the rain. And then the fragrance of the newly wet earth. I like it when something reminds me of a long forgotten incident. I like dancing in the aangan of my ancestral house in Calcutta as my old grandmothers look on, laughing. I like seeing them laugh. I like it when i accidentally catch a telecast of Burning Train on tv. I like the smell of freshly shampooed hair. I like it when Koshi bakes for me. I like it when Nisha jumps on my stomach to wake me up at obscene hours of the morning, however cranky i act about it. I like it when people do sudden acts of kindness entirely on their own. I like the taste of clear water after drinking Calcutta's drinking water. I like coming back home after staying away, even if it was for a day. I like the way Baba wakes me up, every morning. I like the way Anu's eyes light up when she sees me coming back from college. I like it when Siddharth comes running from far and catches me by the waist. I like laughing hysterically over something that only we can understand. I like the sun finally gracing us with it's presence after months of winter. I like cutting my nails. I like exhaling air that looks like smoke in winter and the way Pari says, "Your stomach's on fire, that's why !!" I like playing Scrabble. I like re-reading my Tintins. I like it when two of my favourite cousins land up unexpectedly and hijack me. I like listening to "Dekha jo tujhe yaar dil mein baji guitar." I like to see the yellow sun. It reminds me of what ma once told me about it. I like it when Dada remembers to bring the imli toffees they give you in planes, everytime when he's back. I like it when Parth calls me his shining star, however embarassing it is. I like dancing to Secret by Maroon 5 when I'm alone. I think Bikimax can cheer me up almost anytime. There is obviously more. But you don't deserve to know about them. Not anymore.

Blah blah ride.

Sitting in the waiting lounge of the Dum Dum Airport, all I could think about was how fast I could get back home. Continuous messages that I sent and received made me all the more anxious to get home as soon as possible. So in that mood, when the gravelly voice of the airport executive announced that our flight’s boarding would now begin, I seized my backpack and started walking swiftly towards the already lengthening line; I guess everyone was in a hurry. But as I should have known, some people coolly disregarded the line and flocked towards the entrance, where they were (haha) told to get into line. Their “getting into line” was shoving a few people already in the line to get into line. Ha. As a few passengers around me muttered “illiterate” and “uncouth”, all I could do was laugh. Not at them; but just at the way this woman used her bum to shove a gentleman into giving her space in the line. As the line slowly progressed, suddenly we heard a clamour of voices ahead, right in front of the line. Apparently, a group of passengers who were obviously all related to each other could not find their boarding passes. As a fat lady sat down to search for the passes in a jute bag full of handheld fans and tiffin boxes, another meanwhile took off her six-year old’s pants (he apparently had shitted in his undies and needed a change). As the next few passengers demanded to be dealt with, two men shouted out to someone “Pammi, mere paas hai !!” So finally, the issue solved, finally our turn came and we boarded the bus (with great difficulty, for people WILL trod on your feet or place their luggage conveniently on your toes) that would take us to the plane. While standing in line to climb the steps of the plane, suddenly a ‘lady’ materialized by my side and persistently egged her way in front of me, angrily urging her husband to do the same. The unwilling husband remained behind while she and I battled an entry to the plane (which I inevitably lost). Finally securing a window seat for ma, I settled down on the middle seat while I wished for a non-annoying fellow passenger. Anyway, with a rocky take-off (pun intended), I settled down to read the part of Jane Eyre I was supposed to finish. But as the smell of achaar hit my senses, I looked to the other aisle to see the Pammi’s mother-in-law (I’m guessing) opening a tin of matris and paranthas. As she passed around the thick paranthas to her sons, I tried going back to my book. But hunger intercepted and while eating cheese sandwiches and “something to munch on” (that’s how they described it), I looked around to see what was going on. They apparently had something called “Simplibid” going on, and the same group was arguing over something with the air-hostess. Apparently, they had a certain amount above which bidding took place and they were trying to argue their way into bidding for less. As the air-hostess patiently explained them that they had to abide by the rules and reasoned how they wouldn’t win anyway if they bid too low, one man hollered to the air-hostess, “Yeh dono behene hain. Inka add karke dekh lo zyaada aayega.” As she explained again how she had to follow the rules, the man commented to the man she was reasoning with, “Abbey eh toh ladaayi karaake chhodegi.” It made me angry. I could feel it coming. What did I do? I waited for her response. First she went pink. With humiliation. Then red. With apparently suppressed anger. She managed to collect the things she had in her tray for showing people interested in bidding. She put on a blank face and asked them whether they wanted their money back or would they bid. She quietly wheeled her tray away. I won’t lie. The first thing I thought was how Pari would have handled (or not handled) the situation, if it had been her. Would she have flared up, like the Pari I know so well? Or would she have managed even better?? It worried me. Which is why I related this to her, waiting to see what she would say. She was curious to know what the airhostess had done. I guess she’s as worried. Anyway. Moving on to my till now un-introduced neighbour. Oh, the horror. Sigh.

Ma has this annoying habit of striking up conversation with otherwise utter strangers. Grrr. So this guy who was sitting next to me and MA start talking. While I TRY to read. By the end of fifteen minutes, she already knows that he is the eldest of four sons and two sisters (which he, incidentally, added as an afterthought, “Oh, they, too, exist!!” Chauvinist pig.), has a wife and two kids, lives in Saket I Block, works with the Airport ground personnel (a job that his father got him, who’s a senior Airport official), likes to eat paushtic roti, plays the sitar as a hobby, has a nephew who studies English through correspondence, has a son who wants to grow up to be a pilot (have you noticed how he coolly “forgets” to talk about the females he is associated with him?), and so on… And ON. The result of which is the “poor slightly dull and mentally slow man” (Ma’s description) conveniently asks to sit in the window seat the minute Ma gets up to go “powder her nose” (overdose of Victorian texts). Bah. The SAME window seat that I struggled passionately to bag, and then gallantly gave up for Ma, for she likes them so much. And Ma let him. Aaarghh. Bloody philanthropist. ^*$@*$@*. Hmpf !

Anyway, as soon as Ma left, this (ugh) person tries to initiate a conversation with me. ME !! Robbing me of the seat and then acting friendly ! The audacity !! Grr. A few cryptic half sentences later, the thick-headed guy got the hint. Whatever. I read on.

When Ma came back, the conversation began. AGAIN. Thankfully I was no longer sitting in the middle. Phew. Soon, his bladder squeaked too. Do I let an opportunity slide? Ha. I was in the seat he vacated (MY seat, which I had graciously given to Ma, the ungrateful creature... Hmpf) in a flash. Like that. Hehe. YAY !! I rock. Lalala... *contented sigh*

The rest of the journey was uneventful. I read. They chatted. Yawn. But then, we were about to reach Delhi. Fifteen minutes, they said. As we descended from above the clouds, I could see lights. Bright lights in the darkness of night. Little squares of light. In well-regulated harmony. We went up again. Then dipped. Somehow, seeing the same lights for the second time within a span of ten minutes was more beautiful than seeing them for the first time. Ma leaned in as i squealed in delight. (*grimaces* Yeah, i squealed). That's when I felt a little sorry for the annoying man. But I couldn't very well help it, could I? (Okay maybe I felt a little guilty. Bah. Why can't we choose the genes we want to inherit??)

As impatient I was, till even a few moments back, for the plane to land, and I to reach home, I was suddenly reluctant. Reluctant to come closer to the lights I admired from above, reluctant to keep the back of my seat upright like we were instructed, reluctant to let go of the moment. But I eventually did do just that. Tore my eyes away from the window, straightened my seat, land. The landing was soft. No bumps. Kind. I wonder why people are afraid of flying. The loss of control over one's life? The height? The motion? A lot of reasons which I'm possibly completely unaware of. Fear sucks. I hate fearing things. They interfere with what I want in too many occasions.

When we DID land, everyone got up to get their stuff from the overhead cabinets... And as usual, people knocked their heads while taking out their bags, and push-push, shove-shove. This weird uncle next to me did this weird booty shake that I swear would give Beyonce a run for her money. Apparently it was to make space around him in order to lower his bag. I think I'll try that one sometime too. So anyway, while we waited to be let out (for what seemed like AEONS!), everyone just glared at each other in this really competitive way, as if daring the other to try push him/her and you-shall-see-what-happens. Someone let out a long fart. Yuck. Not in a crowded aisle, have mercy! We finally descended *phew* to wait for the buses to chauffeur us to the airport lounge. Everytime a bus would arrive, there would be a tumultuous movement around us as everyone would lunge forward to get a seat, along with their spouse/child/luggage/tiffin/bag/all-of-the-above. Crazy. Tired by now, we just waited till the last bus came, and went as dignifiedly as possible. Trodden toes notwithstanding.

We FINALLY reached the airport, finally located the belt that would have our luggage, could NOT get a trolley ("khatam ho gaya madam"), finally spotted our bags, found out that they broke the handle of MY PRECIOUS roll-on, heaved the two till the gate (there absolutely was not any place to actually roll 'em on *grrr*. And that was it. We were out. Out under the open sky, where dada smiled at us the moment we saw each other, and we were soon on our way home, bags secure in the back and us chattering away. The end wasn't too bad. But never do I travel in Air Deccan again. Blah.

There's a lot which i find myself getting increasingly sceptical of. Why is it that i suddenly see so much selfishness in most of the things people say ?? Anything which on the surface sounds selfless; is more selfish in the core than anything blatantly selfish. It's not self-introspection, it's self-love. Self-interest is suddenly glaringly evident to me from almost everything written; or uttered. Why is there a "me, me, me" in everything ?? They scream of self-centred thought, dangerous self-obsession that they just dont see. Of course everyone needs to find out truths about oneself, but that in no way needs to turn them selfish. Is it that hard to identify it in oneself ? Have i not identified it in me ? Can they not, too ? Why not ?

Aarghh

Go away
Yes you
No i'm not listening
Not indulging you
Not now
Not anymore
Go away

I'm finished
With this
With anything
You have in mind
In future
Or now

I'm tired
Of listening
Of sympathising
Of soothing

You might want it
Expect it
Like it
You,
who are selfish
Self centred
Do you not see?
Is it that hard?

You,
Who are short sighted
Who are so wound up
In your own little world
I'm tired.

I'm tired,
of you
your whims
your sudden bursts
of emotions

I'm tired
Of you
And everything else
That's connected with you
And everybody else

Who did this?
You?
Or me??
Who caused this?
You?
Or have I
Been silent too long??

No i'm not
Angry
I want you
To stop
Now
And forever.

Peut-ceci obtenir pire ??

I want to rant and break and smash and burn. I'm feeling so destructive at the moment that i feel like deleting this whole blog right this instant. And i'm doing the exact opposite; i'm appending it. Gnnnghh... I'm leaving... Or else i'll work on my unreasonable inclinations. What is WRONG with me ??

Salvo

Black little warriors
In transparent jackets
Some not so unclear
Yet always hidden
Wearing truth’s robe
Wolves in the herd
Biting and snapping
Frothing to the chin
Baring their fangs
To the stupid lamb
All in the surface
And writhing beneath
Sometimes dressed
All in white
Sometimes acting
Correct and wise
All dance to the tune
They hear
Of Midas singing
Growing clear
As the days pass by
Experience gained
But only of one leader
The other leaders unknown
Yet to see
Yet to encounter
Inevitable truths
Or paradoxically lies
Be prepared
Of many more
Still waiting
The wait is endless.
And here.