Happiness is... :-)

What is happiness? When you wake up every morning rushing to start your day, and when you go to sleep each night waiting eagerly for the next morning to come. When time flows by and you do not notice, you do not stop to judge yourself, you do not ask: 'Where am I going in life?' or 'Is this the right thing to do?'.

Happiness is knowing what you want to do with your time. In some years you will be dead. And once you die no one is going to remember you; at least, in the long run. Your children and grandchildren will remember you for some time. If you are a movie star, sportsperson or some other celebrity the world will remember you for some more years. But eventually, one day, you will fade. From all records and from the memories of everyone. So it's better to spend the time you have doing what you love doing. Do it because you love doing it and not because you may gain public attention because of it one day.

Happiness is to give your life a meaning. It's important that you are important to yourself. Because only then you will learn to distinguish between moments that count and those that do not. It all depends on how you see yourself irrespective of how others see you. What you do must be important to you, even if it is not to someone else. And you must know why it is important.   

Happiness is to find the right balance between discipline and craziness. Random enjoyment, better known as 'doing masti' in hindi or bengali, is indispensable. For you need some time when you just do not want to give all of it any meaning. This is the time when your brain shuts off, rests, waiting to get restarted; and your heart has all the fun it wants to have. Apart from these moments, your life better be disciplined. If it is not, you are trying out too many new things! Or maybe, you have not yet decided how you want to live the rest of your life. Discipline is important as it maximizes the output that you had always wanted from yourself.

Happiness is to find the right people in your life. It's very difficult to live a content life in complete isolation, if not impossible. So you need to choose the right people to be around. Be choosy about people. Because everyone is unique, in a way. You must open up to your closed ones. For they are the ones who know you and can truly point out where you had made a mistake and be honest with you. Never lose anyone who actually knows who you are and what you want in life. Because people such as them are hard to find.

Happiness is to accept who you are. With all your superpowers and pitfalls. Because if you cannot accept who you are it just means that you do not yet know who you are! There is an old saying: "if you truly want something with all your heart it will definitely come to you!" This is always true. If you ever happen to wish for something and yet not get it, review yourself and you will see that you had never actually wished for it dearly enough! Do not compare yourself with others, as it is not their life you are living, and neither are they living yours. And do not cheat yourself. And you can only achieve all of these once you learn one of the greatest gifts of all - to forgive yourself after you had made a mistake.

Happiness is learning something new. And creating something new. I wanted to tell you about 'Maslow's hierarchy of needs' but you can always Google it. Everything changes. And the world around you adapts itself to all the change and accordingly evolves. Creating something new - a new idea or a new piece of art, a new strategy or a new way of looking at something centuries old - gives you a chance of leaving behind a part of you that is going to be there even when you are gone. It is not a rare feeling. It is similar to what people feel while giving birth to the newer generation.

Finally, hapiness is knowing that you are happy. It is a positive feedback cycle. It's like a candle giving light without losing any of its own. There is nothing called 'conservation of happiness' in this world, i.e. your happiness cannot be at the cost of someone else's. If it is then it is your selfishness instead and is definitely not something to be enjoyed and to be proud of. Happiness is a special feeling. And persistent happiness is a very rare feeling.

So, to summarize, what is happiness? Happiness is something that brings a smile. If not to your face, at least to your mind! It makes you content and at peace with yourself. To define it more precisely, it is that after which everyone in this world is running! Incidentally, the feeling of happiness is more rare, sought after and fundamental than any other feeling ever known to mankind!  :-P

অসমাপ্ত কবিতা

Wrote a poem after a long time...can't even call it a poem..some words scribbled down as if oozing out of free association.

 কাল রাতে অসংখ্য নক্ষত্র উঠেছিল 

কালো আকাশের বুকে। 

আর সাদা পায়রার মত ভেসে যাওয়া 

মেঘের ফাঁকে দেখা দিয়েছিল 

এক টুকরো চাঁদ।

কখন  অজান্তে, কোন ছায়াপথ ধরে নেমে 

তুমি ছুয়ে গেলে আমায়,

আর আমি না বোঝার অন্ধকারে 

খুঁজে পেলাম হাতড়ে, শুধু  

এক রাশ শূন্যতা।

তাই তুমি রয়ে গেলে এক অসম্পূর্ণ স্বপ্নের মতো,নির্ব্যক্ত।

The Nihilist

Human personalities are built on beliefs & experiences. When a baby is growing up, he hardly has any experiences. So he relies on the beliefs instilled into him by the people around. But as he gradually experiences life over the years, some of these beliefs get modified, distorted or even utterly removed. He questions them,  criticizes them, bends them to their limits, until he can see the juice inside.

There is a saying, that a beggar cannot be a hermit par se, as he had nothing to leave behind. It requires the strength of leaving behind kingdoms of power, wealth and fame to attain the state of The Buddha. Similarly, it takes a huge strength of mind to leave behind all of these acquired thoughts to be like  a baby, born without any conscience, any belief, any morality. Like a mother, he must bear the tearing agony of giving Birth - of Himself and cut the umbilical chord of his previous self created out of others' thoughts. He must start with Nothingness, then be Full and to learn to let go all of it to embrace Nothingness again : to become The Man of Experience, The Nihilist.

When in fear, when in despair, when in joy, a man requires to cling onto something, a security that assures them a hope of redemption. A person, a god or even a belief. The Nihilists remain utterly alone, in the soul-sucking Black Hole of misery. Drowning in the spiral of his thoughts, the only thing that he can hope for is channelizing it. Creativity is the only thing, that can put a carpet on all the blood of his soul. The excruciating pain comes out of his creations, where the joy of giving birth immerses all his senses and gives a shape to his abstract thoughts. A sculpture where he puts all the truths- uninhibited, uncensored. It is the shape of his soul at that point of space-time.

The Nihilist is utterly confused. His mind fleets over thoughts, conceptions and theories. As no two experience is exactly the same, his theories evolve in every moment of his existence. But he is a human, he has his emotions, and at the same time he denies them, he denies all of them. The confused soul lives a life of two people, burning himself and everybody around. He burns in the fire of his experiences & thoughts. In his world of void, there is to water to pour over his burns, no words that can soothe him, because what he needs is - to experience it through his senses.

But, it is this Hellish Fire that defines him. It is this fire that burns him only to keep control. The mind would implode, as there is nothing within to support the gravity of his Being. Floating on the fine line between void & completeness, the Nihilist draws nectar from both these worlds and keeps the fire raging.

This is the story of a Nihilist.

Poshyo

 

This post was published as a short story in the online magazine Palki.

Apoptosis

Trudging along the grey lane

The system stares me down; rough disdain...

I avoid the gaze, go into the center

“Yes Ma’am, I am aware of being on probation

Today I’ll surely try to work hard and fair.”

------------I fail another day

Yet again get the "Mediocre" label

And get out.

This will be another long walk home.

My musings befriend me yet again...

Self-dignity slain

                         Ripped asunder

 What does my role sustain?

 Bounding-off from one blunder to another?

Our well-oiled community surges to perfection...

And yet, units like me stall the scend...

They say,

       Ages ago Bumblers were allowed to thrive too!

Archaic, inefficient!

To think of it-- everyone having the right to Life!

Preposterous.

                    Debris breeding all around,

And nothing to weed them out?

No wonder that world collapsed.

Perfection whirls all around me; Supreme society

Each speck has a measurable contribution--
                                        self-worth, self-dignity

The complete community!

But ...what contribution have I?

Using the benefits, yet returning none

Other than denting the society's pride...

A cripple; by Charity am I run...

What right do I have to continue?

To feed off the commune and yet make it lag

A lowly parasite, I prey on my brethren's toil

And all their support goes to naught,

As I fail to deliver yet again...

A miscarried living-unit!

Self-disgust. First Phase.

What to do now, How to atone?

The only tale I have spun

Is of a failing act!

Never won from a gamble,

         Never converted a chance gifted...

Don’t I care? Of course, I do

Why would my diseased presence

   Sully the community’s attainment?

Non-contributing units are liabilities.

Disposable. Self-analysis. Second Phase.

My final chapter should be nobler, I rule

A prouder tint amidst the shamed grayness...

Self-reformation. To be still useful. Desperately.
                     Third Phase.

As I slowly shift into senescence...

I set the expiration machinery in action

Deft removal of a defunct unit.

        Thoughtful deed relaxing the community burden!

Self-effacement. Neatly programmed, skilfully done.

                                          

                                                   
Thus comes the phase of the close.

Roommate

Dedicated to Vivek & SFTH; ...finally I wrote something after a long time!

Being roommates with someone is not easy. Often you do not get to meet the person before you start sharing a room. With sharing a room comes sharing personal space. And doing that is difficult with strangers. Knowing someone takes time, and circumstances often do not allow you that much time; in many cases you just assume that the person whom you are sharing a room with is accountable enough to be trusted with basic things. You just assume that your roommate must be as vulnerable and insecure as you are when he comes to know that a stranger will be sharing a room with him. I met Madhav like that. I assumed a lot of things.

I came into the institute as a first year graduate student and was allotted a room in the students’ hostel. Classes were held in the department which was less than a kilometer away. I had my own bicycle. I used to wake up early in the morning and go for my classes. After spending the entire day in the department, burdened under loads of homework and assignments, I used to return to my room only late at night. It was the first time I was living in a hostel. 

Madhav was already living in that room for last one year without any roommate. I came to hear that his previous roommate requested the hostel office for a single room. Getting a single room was not easy in our campus. Not that the administration didn’t grant any but it was mostly the senior students who were preferred. So I didn’t have a choice. And Madhav was in his second year. 

Madhav was not happy to see a roommate when I moved in. He didn’t say anything but his reaction was transparent. I didn’t like him either. He was weird. He had long hair and no one knew how many times a month he used to put shampoo on it. His clothes were far from clean – the reason, as I later figured, was his reluctance to wash them by himself. He would be in the same clothes for days and would visit the laundry only once in two months. He didn’t speak much. Often would ignore me when I tried to talk. And would suddenly start discussing things when he saw me do my assignments; he had two subwoofers plugged into his laptop and I didn’t have the slightest idea how they became active only when I tried to focus on my studies! Because of him I tried not to come to room on an evening before a test. I found the library more comfortable. In a way, that served his purpose too; that would give him enough opportunity to smoke ganja.

I didn’t know about this habit of his at the beginning; he used to do it when I was away. Later I came to know that he had his own group of friends who considered this pastime with passion. I came to room one evening and saw him smoking alongside three of his friends. I didn’t even smoke cigarettes so the smell of weed suffocated me. Madhav welcomed me with a grin, “You came early tonight! Done with
your studies?” “Ya!” I said, still standing at the door thinking whether to enter or to go to the library.
“Hi Gokul!” his friends greeted me, “Want to join us?” “No!” I said. “I don’t like that smell” is what I wanted to add but resisted myself from it. Madhav caught that I was feeling uneasy. He blew a ring of smoke and said, “You see, it’s not good for the mind; it messes things up here”, he pointed at his head, “Particularly not good if you have class in the morning!” “I have a mid-term test tomorrow”, I said. One of Madhav’s friends was clearly embarrassed, he wanted to leave. Madhav calmed him, looked at me and said, “And not at all good if you have a test in the morning!” “I don’t want to smoke!” I said. Madhav grinned impishly and reiterated, “I meant passive smoking is not good if you have a test tomorrow morning!” I had to spend the next three hours in the library that evening before it closed at eleven o clock. Fortunately when I returned that night the episode was over. The light of the room was out. His friends have left. Madhav was asleep.

Smoking weed inside campus was obviously an offense. But some people used to do it, and with enough caution, they succeeded. Nobody complained to the authorities mostly because students who practiced it made sure that it didn’t disturb anyone else. Madhav didn’t have that concern however; not at least with me! Some residents of the hostel told me that he did weed quite regularly and that his earlier roommate had complained against him, so the hostel authorities gave him a separate room. Madhav had got a warning; things became a bit serious and he had to quit weed for weeks. That was one year back.

Sometimes, to know a person, you need to know his habits. I came to know Madhav’s habits, and thus him. But, seldom, it would seem that he didn’t like some of his own habits! At times he would sit and brood quietly in one corner of the room, refusing to talk to anyone. It would then become clear that he had several grievances about his one year stay in campus.

The mid-terms had started and I was somehow managing to cope with the dual pressure of academics and my roommates’ tantrums, when, suddenly, one evening, I saw him packing his bags. I asked if he was going somewhere. He told me that he was going to his home for three days. Madhav was a localite. The news came as a relief because it meant that I could study in my room at nights. And the fact that I won’t be welcomed into the room by that persistent smell of weed for 3 whole nights seemed so enthralling!

However, the happiness didn’t last long. That night, as I fell asleep, I was woken up by a murmur! Somebody was whispering to me in the dark. It took me a while to realize that it was Madhav! “You came back!” I said, surprisingly. “Yes!” he said, “The house was locked. Seems like my dad went somewhere. The surprise visit didn’t pay off!” “Of course!” I thought; “So why did you wake me up?” I asked. “Gokul!” he said, “You were talking in your sleep!”

I was taken aback. I tried to summarize the situation. Madhav goes to his home, comes back, knocks at the door and I wake up and open it for him (none of which I remembered) and then I go to sleep again, and Madhav also goes to his bed; and then, it is me who wakes him up at the middle of the night –doing what! I never spoke in my sleep.

“You are joking or what!” I said. “Joking!” he sat up on his bed, “You were shouting, I couldn’t sleep!” “See, Madhav!” I said, “I have a mid-term exam tomorrow morning! Let me sleep!” “You let me sleep! I am tired” he said, “All this journey to home and back! It’s you who woke us up!”

That claim was preposterous. I didn’t remember a thing. It was obviously not possible to know what really happened. I rather thought Madhav was up to something. His suddenly cancelling his home trip itself gave off something suspicious. “What was I talking about?” I asked him. “Don’t know”, he said, “I could only make out that you were shouting: Baba! Baba! Ok it’s over now. Let me sleep man!”

Baba! Why on earth would I be interested in calling out to my father at the middle of the night? Was I having a dream? I remembered my mother used to tell me that I used to talk and laugh in my sleep when I was a child. I spoke gibberish mostly. Not for long intervals; intermittently. Madhav could be right! But he could be pulling off a prank too! There was no way of knowing. I stayed awake for a long time trying to figure out what the truth was. Eventually I fell asleep.

Next morning I woke up late. I looked at the watch and made out that my class had already started! Fortunately the exam was scheduled after lunch. I hurried.

That night when I came to room Madhav was not there. It was already eleven at night. I had another class-test the next morning. And this time it was in the first period. So I had to get up early. I deliberately kept the door open so that Madhav doesn’t have to knock when he comes. I fell fast asleep.

I was startled to hear someone laughing at the middle of the night! I woke up instantly. It was Madhav again. He was laughing madly and rolling on his bed. It all irritated me to my core. “What is it?” I asked. “Who is Priya?” he asked. He kept on laughing as if someone has given him nitrous oxide. “Who is Priya?” I said, “How do I know? Why do you keep waking me up like this every night! I told you I have my mid-terms running!” “Manh! You should listen to yourself!” he was still laughing, “You were proposing to some girl in your sleep!”

Now that was unbelievable! Not because I couldn’t talk in my sleep – I was not really confident about that – but because I didn’t know any girl by that name! I quickly went through the names of the girls, in my mind, which I had come to know during my two months stay inside campus and none of those matched with Priya! “Dude!” I said in a cold tone, “I do not know anyone called Priya! You were dreaming!” Madhav stopped laughing. He stopped it very suddenly as if he really got serious. “What did you say?” he asked. “It is you who is dreaming that I am talking in my sleep!”, I said, “Could you not do this for the next couple of days please! I have my exams scheduled in the mornings.” “I am dreaming!” he hissed, “You say it is me who is dreaming! I can’t sleep because of you. I also have work in the morning; I also have classes to attend. All these two months it was okay but now as you have your exams going on, don’t know why, you are under a lot of stress. I can see it! It is you who didn’t study! It is you who is conjuring up odd dreams in your head! And not only that, you are waking your roommate up – regularly, at the middle of the night – and on top of all that you are not ready to admit that you talk in your sleep!”

I felt a bit scared. Not that I had doubts in my mind on whether I actually did it. I didn’t! It’s tough to say whether I spoke in my sleep. Not only me, but if anyone is accused today of that kind of a crime, I am sure, they will face tough times answering themselves. No one can ever be sure. And sleep talking is not that rare too. Many people talk in their sleep. Mostly children do. But some adults also do! It’s not like a rare disease or something that I needed to get worried about. It was a common thing. But this time, I was confident that Madhav was lying. I could have said something maybe, but in no way I could have uttered that name Priya! How can I say someone’s name in my sleep if I didn’t know about that name in real life! And that made me feel scared because I was certain Madhav was up to something. Either he was dreaming about all this – in which case too I needed to get worried because he was waking me up every night, mostly when I had my exams in the mornings – or he was deliberately trying to mess things up in my head before my exams. But why would he do that?

“I have never known anyone called Priya!” I told him, “Why are you doing all this?” “You are crazy or what!” he shouted, “Why will I do all this by myself? Unless I really wanted to get rid of you; and for that, now I think, I have to go to the hostel office and lodge a complaint against you!” His intentions were becoming clear. So that was what Madhav wanted! He already had his previous roommate complaining about him; and from what I could read, he never liked roommates! So now if he could make up some story about my sleep-talking, maybe, the hostel administration would give him a single room! In a way, that was also what I wanted, to get rid of him; but through this way the administration won’t come to know about the truth: that it was me who was going through all the pain of sharing a room with Madhav. I had to do something!

“I don’t believe you!” I said. “What!” he sounded bewildered. It was the middle of the night and the lights were out. Whatever I could see of him was a shadow. And all this time that shadow was lying on his bed. This time it sat up. “Tomorrow night I will take a video with my mobile phone!” the shadow hissed, “And I will show it to you! And then, I will go and complain against you!” “Do it!” I said, “And please, I have a request, do not wake me up at the middle of the night to show the video! I will rather see it the next morning. Not that I believe you will actually have something authentic to show me!” “We’ll see!” Madhav murmured, “We’ll see!”

Next morning I woke up well past the time of the exam. That was the first exam I missed. I ran to the class. The professor didn’t allow me to enter. He said he will talk to me later. I didn’t have all this planned! I made up my mind that tomorrow morning I will go to the hostel office and complain about Madhav’s late night tantrums, and of course about his smoking habits. I was just waiting to see what video he gets! 

That night I came back early. And as always I didn’t see Madhav there! Three days in a row! Why is he regularly coming so late at night? Mostly he used to be in room from evening itself, smoking pot. Maybe I was right! He was really up to something; deliberately doing it to disturb my peace of mind. Anyway! I didn’t think much about it. I went to sleep. Fortunately I didn’t have any exam next morning.

Very oddly indeed no one woke me up that night. I woke up very early next morning. I presumed it was around six o clock! I woke up and smelled weed. My eyes searched around the room till they eventually found Madhav. He was smoking in the room early in the morning! I wanted to ask him to stop but somehow my tongue got stuck. I couldn’t speak! My head felt heavy. I felt drugged. Madhav looked at me. He was looking like an animal. “I was having a light fun with you!” he said, “But I never knew you had such dangerous plans ahead.” I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. I tried so hard to talk but I could not. “Not that I was lying about your sleep talking episodes” he said, drawing a chair near to my bed and sitting down on it, “But I never thought of really going and complaining to the administration!” He took a puff and blew a ring of smoke at my face. “I underestimated you, you are dangerous!” he said, “You know what could happen to me if you go to the administration complaining about my smoking habits! They may throw me out of the institute! I will be finished!” He was smoking too close to me. I felt very uneasy. I wanted to get up and leave the room but, surprisingly, I couldn’t. My body seemed stuck to my bed with glue and I couldn’t even move a finger. I was so sure Madhav had drugged me! 

“This is what you said last night!” he took his phone out and brought its screen near my eyes. I couldn’t turn my head. I was paralyzed! He played a video. It was dark and I could hear two voices. I couldn’t see anything, no one could see and make anything out of that video; it was pitch black! One of the voices was Madhav’s. He was the one who was talking less. I heard another voice and I was confident it was not mine. That voice was murmuring something regarding lodging a complaint for smoking weed. It was unclear, discrete and intermittent. I wanted to tell him that it was not mine and in no way he could prove that it was mine! 

The room was filling up with smoke. I could see the door being slightly open; it was not locked. The windows were closed. My eyes and lungs started to burn. It was a horrible feeling! To get stuck to your bed early in the morning by some magical force, mutely watching your environment turn hostile. I wondered how he could have drugged me while I was asleep! I didn’t know if he practiced other kinds of drugs but I heard there were people who would inject drugs through a syringe! I didn’t know if Madhav had injected me with something. Or did he really? What was it? Could it paralyze a human body? How long will it have its effect? Will I be paralyzed all my life? Was it toxic? Was he trying to kill me? I could make out that somehow he knew about my plans of complaining to the administration. But would he really try to kill me for that? Or was he in his senses after all? Aren’t people supposed to do all sorts of crazy things under the effect of drugs?  

Madhav smoked weed by taking the ingredients in a paper refill. It looked like a cigarette. Now he put it in my mouth. “Smoke!” he said, “Smoke and tell me how is it.” I couldn’t move my lips. It was horribly bitter. I wanted to cough but somehow my body didn’t even allow me to do that! “How can people pass remarks about something that they haven’t tried themselves!” Madhav was clearly resentful, “You smoke and then go to the administration to lodge your complaint. I have had enough of you.” I was chocking. And I felt so much out of breadth that I was certain that my lungs would collapse.

I don’t remember how long it went like that but eventually I could really move! I could cough out loudly and move my head around the room and could see all its corners. I was not paralyzed anymore! And I saw the windows open. And I saw Madhav, sitting patiently on that chair, most probably waiting for me to wake up. He looked different: slightly decent. I presumed two hours had passed. 

“I’ll kill you!” I told him. They were the first words I could utter after a long time. I was sweating heavily. “What!” Madhav said, “Why?” I could see Madhav in nice clothes and it looked as if he had shampooed his hair after a long time. He sat in that chair looking questioningly at me. The room didn’t smell of weed anymore. The fan was rotating wildly above my head. I looked at the watch, it was ten!

“Why do you want to kill me?” he asked, “Are you all right?” “Why were you smoking in the room early this morning?” I sat up on my bed. “Who? Me!” Madhav looked stunned, “I just returned from my home. Whom are you talking about?”

I saw a bag with him, the same one he had left with three days back. I wondered why I didn’t see it in the room all these days! My head felt very heavy. My limbs felt weak. It was as if I was recovering from some fever. “I came in around 8 o clock in the morning”, Madhav said, “I wondered why you kept the door ajar! I saw you sleeping, with that blanket on you, and I found you moaning in sleep. It was as if someone was chocking you. I thought you were having a nightmare or something!” “What are you talking about?” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. But he did look like a different Madhav! “I thought of waking you up”, he said, “But you didn’t wake up! You were in deep sleep. Your eyes were half-open. And you were making funny sounds. It was a frightful sight!” 

It took me a while to float back to reality. I didn’t tell Madhav anything of what I thought happened. It was not necessary for him to know. I made out that Madhav was not here for the last three days. Some of our neighbors, in adjacent rooms, told me that they have heard me talk at nights. The door was always open! Some of them tried to peep in to see whom I talked to but they said they didn’t see anybody and further they couldn’t make out what was I saying. “It was all gibberish”, one of them said later, “Don’t worry! It’s not a terrible disease! It’s called somniloquy. Google it!” I tried my best not to let Madhav know anything. He asked me a lot of questions and would often make fun of me. But he couldn’t find out regarding that hostel-office complaint thing that I planned in my dream. I never complained against him.

Later that day, back in the department, I googled sleep-talking. I found something called ‘sleep paralysis’ as well. They also had some videos on it in Youtube. I wonder if that was what I experienced that morning when I tried to move but couldn’t. The websites talked about thousands of people having evil hallucinations during sleep paralysis. I didn’t know if I used to have such seizures when I was a child, my mother never told me about them! She only mentioned about the somniloquy part. My head felt light after a long time. Everything started to make sense as I searched for an explanation. It was as if I was waking up from a nightmare.

Being roommates with someone is not easy. Sometimes, it’s only after you had taken an initial step towards understanding your roommate you come to know something unique about him. Something that matters, and, in a way, affects you too! That Madhav smoked weed with his friends sometimes in the room affected me. I compromised by escaping to the library. That I had these somniloquy and sleep paralyses episodes frustrated Madhav. It was not as frequent as his smoking trysts; I experienced it much less when the mid-terms got over. Sleep paralyses would happen to me about once a month; the sleep talking was slightly more frequent. But I got a feeling of what it was like in the real world, when he really heard me blabbering in sleep and saw me having seizures. He didn’t wake me up, and also didn’t really care to take a video. He also never complained against me. He found a way out. He used to put his earplugs before going to sleep; it became a habit for him.

VENUS...

Dedicated to: ..shuvro; who never read my posts!! :(




"I wonder whether he sat down on his knees.."
"Oh yes! He did", Jiah chuckled, "He was always like that. You wouldn't believe it, ..there were so many people at the Railway Station that day; ..and they all looked at us! It was so embarrasing!"
"What happenned next?"
"Oh nothing! I told him to be a proper fellow instead and to get me a ticket, my train was getting late." She paused. "And then I told him to cross the main roads properly while he would get back home, ..he was in a daze, ..you'll never believe it, all his chivalry vanished", Jiah chuckled again, "He nodded like a child!"

"And did you never feel bad about turning him down?"

Jiah blew a ring of smoke. "I never turned him down. I asked him to get back home properly. I never say a 'no'. It hurts people." She paused again. "And now I wonder, whether he at all knew that I smoked", she smiled, "But I remember having cried that night."

"Why?"
"You and your silly questions", she said, almost in a scolding tone, "Imagine what he would have gone through!"
"You didn't love him Jiah, did you?"
"Not at all! But how could that stop me from being a human and feeling for another? ..I never saw him again. Hope he is all right."


That was Jiah.
We had met two years ago. She had mailed me once regarding a few paragraphs of one of my short stories that had got published in a daily. And since then, she have gradually grown into a very close friend of me and my wife.
She was always there to help you out of an emotional trouble, to offer you a support whenever you needed it. ..To listen to your problems.

But she was terribly messy with her personal life. She lived alone. But almost always was attending to a thousand peoples' problems. She knew when the milkman's son would be needing money to buy his school books, she knew which girl had had a break up and how the situation could be handled, she even knew when the neighbours' cat was expecting.

My wife would laugh at the fact whenever I told her that Jiah needed to improve her lifestyle.
"Why don't you men leave us as we are?", she would laugh and remark, "You'll never understand why we are the persons we are!"
She'ld always validate Jiah's point.


True.
Who were men to understand women?
Even trying to solve Goldbach's conjecture was easier..

Maybe, women like Jiah had no anchor in their lives, ..they floated on! It was as if they preffered remaining unhooked by a commitment.

"Why don't you marry?", I'ld ask her.
"Marry whom? You?", she'ld casually remark with a wink.
"Well, ..there are so many men waiting out there for you!"
"They need a wife", she would reply, "Not me!"

"Don't you feel lonely?", I would ask.
"Oh, you see, I've so many things to do", she would jumble up her words.
And then she would suddenly grow silent and would cry...

During her solitary hours, she would sit down and dream. Her eyes would be carrying a vague, distant expression, ..signifying as if they looked at a place far from the cries of this ailing world.
She painted beautifully.
And I'd also seen her write short lyrical poems of one or two lines, in her personal diary, ..which she never showed to anybody.

When I had once asked her whether she had ever fallen in love, she looked at me and smiled.
"Well, I would have told a lie straightaway, ..but as this is you who's asking me, I'ld preffer to remain silent."

And that was Jiah.


She even slept with men.
People who knew this, called her a prostitute. But she always shrugged her shoulders. It was as if, somehow, she knew what she was doing and why!

You just had to go and ask her. You just had to tell her that you needed her for a night; ..that you needed a companion to cry to and to share your pains with.
First she would hit you back. Next she would avoid. Then she would try her best to make you understand and see reason. And finally, when you've got her convinced, she had no way out.

"I don't think you do this for personal pleasure?", I would ask.
"Oh yes. Absolutely. How can you stand seeing a person in pain? And that too because of yourself?
I am happy. And I am happy about the fact that I make others happy.
There's no rulebook to follow when you live your life, is there any?", she would sarcastically remark.



And thus she moulded herself to minimize a thousand peoples' pains; ..she gave away her lunch to a beggar, ..she carried grandma's basket to her doorstep, ..she managed to refuse a hundred marriage proposals with a sweet smile and without saying a 'no', ..she gave away her body to a hundred alcoholic men...

And thus, she was nobody.
A non-existent entity, ..lacking any defined shape; the spontaneous flow of Life, lacking any perticular direction.


But she was also the ocean to which all the rivers in this world emptied themselves; ..blue-green waters. That sucked you in and drowned you if you dared to fathom its depth.



I had slept with her, too, once!
I was heavily drunk. And was perticularly tense owing to a personal problem. My wife was out of station. And I went to her apartment to speak out my pains, ..I needed somebody who would simply listen to me.
And I never knew when I had broken down crying.
And she took me in.
I cried. At her lap.
She nursed me, all night. Without even asking what had happenned. As if, at her depths, she knew exactly what was disturbing me. And make no mistake, I saw tears in her eyes too. She was just pained to see a human being crying so helplessly!
And I never knew when I'd got physical!

The next morning, when I apologised heavily, ..she smiled and cut down my embarrasement by saying that it was all a dream that I had dreamt.

That evening, she visited my house to dine with us. She chatted the whole evening with my wife in the kitchen. And completely ignored me, due to some odd reason.
"See!", my wife would jokingly remark, when I would try and talk to Jiah, -- and she would grow irritated at that, -- "How you men disturbed us when we would care to spend time together!"
"Absolutely!", Jiah would chuckle, "All of them are so disturbing", ..without even caring to look at me!



And when I would grow frustrated at her floaty lifestyle, as she was one of my closest pals for whom I cared so much, she would cuttingly reply, "Stop penetrating at my private affairs. That hurts." And her eyes would suddenly moisten up, and she would grow all quiet.


And then suddenly, after a brief pause, she would laugh and say something like, "Actually, to tell you the truth, ..I am quite callous and brittle; ..and I am confused and indecisive too; ..in most of the cases I don't know what to do! And think about those good men whom I have brutally refused all my life...", she would gurgle up laughing..
...But never did I fail to see a shimmering teardrop, at a corner of her eye, when she ever did laugh out like that!


And thus, the list of her negatives went endless...
She knew each of them.

And what would strike me was whether this simple and apparently brittle girl knew her positives!

..that she was a perfect friend, a fantastic listener, a great nurse; ..a girl who was so blessed with such deep understanding of the human nature and its pitfalls...
..somebody whom everyone around her loved; ..a woman whom some of the most dissatisfied men in this world hated!

..the Giver,
..of Satisfaction and Happiness to a thousand Seekers,


..that she was Venus,
..the Eternal Symbol of Love, Beauty and Wisdom,

..of Tolerance and compassion;

..of The Feminine;

..that she was the eternal symbol of The Mystery.

Memories last forever

In this journey of life ...you meet with so many people...some stay with you forever ...some you leave behind...some disappears suddenly......but all these people make you truly what you are.But as they say memories last forever......

When I was a kid, I had for company all the books I could possibly read then...my dreams...my superheroes....And oneday I met with this skinny girl .....she had boy's cut hair with specs ..and looked just like me...scared...She was our neighbour sort of...her maternal Grandma lived besides our apartment.Though she was 1year junior to me ,we stuck up this unusual friendship....we both of the same kind chose to visit each other's Neverland together.

I still remember they had this huge mango tree in their garden and we used to climb up that tree to show heroism to others.Everyday we used to play together.....and eventually our mothers had to literally drag us back to home....

The best thing we liked in our make a believe plays was that of Dark room- it was this abbreviated version of Haunted houses.And this was somewhere we would be best at.All we used to do act as if it was this stormy night and we two,along with her baby brother went to take shelter in a house,which would eventually turn up into a haunted house....We would be sleeping and then there would be disturbances...Ghosts would chase us...one of us (usually the baby brother would be the bali ka bakhra) would come under the spell of spirits and turn one of them...and we bravehearts would finally save him and us.This paly was so realistic that one night while playing this we really thought that there was someone in the room!!

We would be culturally inclined too and we had arranged successfully twice a Rabindrajayanti programme in our respective home.We did two plays of "Hassya koutuk"of Rabi Thakur "Chatrer pariksha " and the other's name I've forgotten but it was about stealing of eggs.we even made two little boys dance to rabindrasangeet(it wasn't Rabindra nrittya by any chance)

So we had this beautiful childhood together but somehow after I passed out from school I lost touch with her.All I knew about her that she was studying in Shikshayatan college.But a few days back,a local friend of mine told me that my first friend's life has been destroyed by a motor accident in Bangalore...she went there for reviving her life's aspirations...but it was shattered by a man made machine......she's no more now..................all that remains is the ugliness of her death...the opain ,the tears and some memories..................I wish like we played in the Darkroom game,I knew some magic to shatter the spell that has separated her from our world......

Her name was Dorothy Bhattacharya ,my first ever friend ,forever and eternity........................

Coffee talk

A group of alumni,highly established in their careers,got together to visit their old University Professor.

The conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life........
Offering his guests coffee,the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups-porcelain,plastic,glass,crystal,some plain looking,some expensive,some exquisite -telling them to help themselves to hot coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffe in their hand ,the professor said:"If you noticed ,all the nice looking ,expensive cups were taken up ,leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.It is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves,that is the source of your problems and stress.What all you really wanted was the coffeee,not the cup,but you consciously went for the best cupsand were eying each other's cups.

Now if life is coffeeand the jobs,money and position in society are the cups.They are just tools to hold life ,but the quality of life doesn't change.Sometimes,by concentrating only on the cup ,we fail to enjoy the coffee in it.So don't let the cups drive you.....enjoy the coffee instead....."

Removing Myself

I'm very sorry to declare that, I'm removing myself from SFTH...as I don't wanna be a part of this blog anymore.... I'm really running short of time for blogging these days... & I don't wanna be a passive member.....but I won't stop giving comments...

Sorry to Vivek & Subhro....

Finally the blog has started working again ,
finally !

I am My Happiness

Unfortunately, one of the biggest relationship mistakes also happens to be one of the most tempting things to do if you are in a relationship: Making your partner responsible for your happiness and blaming him or her when you are not!

It is a little scary to listen to many of the most popular songs on the radio. So often, the message is: You make me happy; I’d be lost without you; you are my world, or other, similar types of messages which take away all the power and responsibility to make yourself happy and put it on someone else. Wow! If you think about it, that’s an enormous amount of pressure to put on another person. It’s like saying, I can’t always be happy myself, but if you're going to be with me, you’d better make me happy!

On the surface, this concept seems rather obvious, but how many of us really do take full responsibility for our own happiness? How often do we say to ourselves, ‘Why can’t my wife be different?’ or ‘It makes me so mad when my husband acts that way’, or ‘I’m stressed because my husband works too many hours’. When you examine these (and thousands of other) very common statements and thoughts, it becomes clear that they suggest, however subtly, that somehow, someone other than you is responsible for your happiness. The thinking is like this: If only he (or she) were different, I’d be happy. They have to change. Not me, no way. It’s them! We’ve found that if you believe that the answer to your unhappiness lies in someone else’s hand, you’re in for trouble. Even if they manage to accommodate you with occasional changes, you’ll come to rely on these changes for your continued happiness. Eventually, you’ll be let down and will be discouraged. You’ll be left with that helpless and dependent ‘It’s his/her fault’ feeling.

Source: The Times of India
Date: Sunday, 25th March

Parole

Every time I insinuate your head from my shoulder,
I quiver.
Parts of me juddered to a halt.
And almost immediately, I resent the insinuation.
In your lambency, I coerce my eyes to drown themselves
In the tempests of people
Far from your eyes,
Which I will not see for a few moments from now.
I filthily institutionalize my love,
That namelessly arose nascent
And slid secretly into a void in me.

It is as if
I am growing a plant of love on you.
You would take care of it, yourself;
The blood, bones and light, you’d give these all.
And yet, I believe,
As if my entirety was growing on you,
I tend it in ways that I believe will help it grow.
And when people come by,
I drape it with an opaque cloth.
I’d be scared;
What will they make of the light?

Far away,
When you and I can love without a care,
I will even marry you.
I will smother your hair with love.
Afternoons and evenings will never malinger.
There will be things to do.
I will never need to lie.
You’d never need to pucker your face.
I will even kiss you,
Even think of making love to you.
And on the trail of fluid fast,
In an iridescent, unbearably light tear,
We will paint auroras and cycloramas,
And daub our paper hearts with flimsy crayons.

Let’s go there, you and I…

Silent Nights ..

One of my Favorite Christmas Carols .
Enjoy ..
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas !

ILLUSION???

Once
On a evening
Indolence hold my hand
And took me
To a dark land….
It asked me to believe;
And I saw
Flowers in a dozen…
In my mind
All of a sudden…

And
I started my journey…
Leaving my root…
Behind…
So free
From mind…
But not blind…
With trust
In my heart…
With chances
Of getting hurt…

I……
Saw a spin on path
Lights gone…
Lighter…
Closed my eyes…
No roses were there
Only another twist
On the path…
I……
Left my desires
Only dreams came
With me…
On desert…
On lonely path…
In search of light……

The search did seem
Meaningless…
Suddenly…
With a fragrance
I found a pathway
With a new beam of ray…

You….
Were standing there
With stretched arms
Full of warmth…
As if you crave
All my pain
On you like rain…

That moment…
Mesmerized my thought…
When I felt no hurt…
And found my head
Resting…
On your shoulder…
So happy
Felt like dying
I couldn’t…
But crying…

City of Angels !

Host is a ghost

Ok guys, I'm not telling a Horror story...but this thing that I'm going to tell you is ultimately lead ro a Horror story and I know that very well.

Well we the 3rd year Psychology hons student of Gokhale college are going to do a seminar on the"Methods of Abnormal Psychology" and my dear friends wanted me to have a taste of the "bamboo" and they have chosen me as the host for the whole thing.Now my friends those of you who know me very well knows that , I've got a very bad habit of laughing all the time,as I'm in any "Great Indian laughter Challenge" ,with the most awkward bodylanguage one can have!And of all the people me being chosen as the Host is nothing but a sign that the show is either going to turn into a circus or a Laughing club!

I requested my friends so very much but they are such a "dhabba"in the name of friendship that they are unwilling!So there's not much option for the Host,but to turn into a Ghost on that day!Aye!If I find anyone just smiling at me,do you know what will happen?I would burst into a bout of laughter madness and everything would be worse than the messes made by Uncle Podger!

Oh I do hope that Mamata di saves me on that day and call for another Bandh or else .............My last rite is all that will be left!Oh do pray for me!

Salaam e Ishq ~!

Lovely song with lovely pictures !
Salaam e Ishq o Meri jaan !

Surrogate Mother

Come dusk,

I slither out, bloody and new,

From ruptured umbilical cords,

Thrust out of vaginal walls.

By chance,

My infantile senses

Are intact and enthused.

Naked, I am fed

With shapes, smells, sounds, swarms and sensations

From the juvenile night’s bosom.

And every sense grows

Into a child’s sense.

Prowling into the night,

My meandering feet and childish fingers

Feel the bodies

Of fellow creatures of the night;

Other moonlit children.

I search each eye,

Each body

For a similar mark.

Flaccid, I stumbled into loneliness.

Shards of pain appear in my pubis

Curled, blackened and clustered.

Char my face, in pencil mats

Muffle my voice, low as night’s humdrums.

My masculine senses

Heave windows open.

Naked bodies sway

To the song of the night,

Emanating new shapes, new smells,

New sounds, new swarms and new sensations,

A strange new dusk spawns

Inside a warm bowl.

The possibilities in a strange new dusk

Smiled on my naked body,

And upon my genitals.

Ungarbed, I quivered in the cold.

I need a bosom

And a shield of hair.

Sexually excited, I masturbate

Into a stranger’s bowl.

I masturbate.

As I unfold myself,

I shrink.

Every span of skin

Forbears growth.

Every breath coalesces.

Every tress of hair

Sprawls a tiny sheath.

I coagulate into a new, cold sperm.

Quivering in the cold,

I swim up

To a stranger’s egg

Waiting to divest myself off my senses.

By midnight,

I ripple into a stranger’s womb.

In the day,

I float in saps,

Inchoate and unmade.

My body sprawls itself

Into an unrestricted expanse

And I grow without a center.

My fetal heart feeds

On strangers’ day dreams.

I collect the waves of myself

And prime them into an infant

With new skin.

Bringshu ihare koy...

Chobi dekhe bojha jaye je pete pete eto soytaani??!!