Touche!

কিচ্ছু করার নেই

2012-01-13T14:55:00.000-08:00

কিচ্ছু করার নেই,
তুমি ইস্তফা দিয়ে দাও.
কিচ্ছু করার নেই,
বরং পালিয়ে যাও.

কিচ্ছু করার নেই,
তোমাকে তো মারবেই.
কিচ্ছু করার নেই,
জোর করে কাড়বেই.

কিচ্ছু করার নেই,
ভুল ঠিক যাই হও.
কিচ্ছু করার নেই,
মুখ বুজে সব সও.

কিছু তো একটা করো?
এইভাবে চলে না .
মাথা তুলে বাঁচ নয়,
মরে বেঁচে যাও না?

রাত

2012-01-13T10:20:00.000-08:00

হঠাত ঘুম ভেঙ্গে গেছে, নিশুত রাত তখন,
ভেড়া গোনা, তারা গোনা, এই চলবে এখন.
জোর করে চোখ বুজে ঘুমিয়ে পড়তে চাই..
মৌনী যেন গিলতে আসে, কোথায়ে পালাই!

আজ বড়ি নয়, চাই রুপকথা, চাই ঘুমের পরী,
একটু করে মনের রাশ ছাড়তে চেষ্টা করি.
রাতের গন্ধ, রাতের স্বাধ, আসতে আসতে পাই,
আর গীট পাকানো মনের দড়ির জট-টা ছাড়াই.

চাঁদির চাদর টানা কালো রাতের প্রিয়া,
বেশ, নাহয় তোমার সাথেই আজ পরকিয়া.
তোমার প্রাণে এত কথা কে জানত বলো!
মধুর অন্ধকার মেখে আবার এস কালও.

Secret anniversaries of the heart

2011-12-31T14:31:00.000-08:00

You cant reason with why certain things get catalogued irrevocably in your brain while others get no place. At least I, have no clue to this apparant madness. I am quiet frustrated because it is so. I'd like to remember certain things in copius details.. such as my own wedding. What has stuck around though is just a general idea of what had happened; largely reconstructed in current memory from photographs, videos and other recordings. And some odd little whimsical bits that's not significant. I bet this is true for many people. But dutifully, we all do anniversaries.

Somehow I feel these named days for rememberance are phony. We make ourselves rise to the ocassion and jubiliate when in all honesty its like any other day. Its hard to avoid being ritualistic about these things I guess. Hard to be truly spontaneous. Hard to make others align to the whims of your heart. So that its just easier to say, OK, husband and wife, kiss each other on new years eve, or valentine's day, or on your wedding anniversary or whatever.. so that the commitment between you is reaffirmed. Reaffirmed at regular, predictable, boring intervals. And dont complain afterward.

And then there are those things.. those sweet nothings that we remember from time to time, without intent. A stranger with smiling eyes that you haven't forgotten. A meal you can still taste if you closed your eyes. The feel from that one time in the rain holding hands with your sweetheart. Those remain with you and are remembered, truly, for ever after. Not with dates, not forcibly recreated for celebrations... just there with you, your memories, that choose random moments to come and overwhelm you with emotion.

I'll fess up as my last tribute

2011-12-17T20:16:00.000-08:00

I dont miss you anymore. And when I look at your pictures, I dont know you anymore. Your memory, revisted so many times, is at last too faint to recollect.

However... albeit rarely, but sometimes, like right now, I still cry for you.

Maybe its because I am good at feeling sorry for myself. I just have to tell me he was gone so early. I didn't even get a chance to know him. And he loved me so much. And he was so unhappy and sick in the end.. and etc. And the tears come. Dutifully. But I dont like to do this. It somehow stinks.

Sometimes there is this pain I feel when I see someone else's father hold them. Or fathers talk of their kids who are my age now. Because you aren't here to do it for me. Perhaps one never can stop grieving for some roles, you know. Dads, moms, kids, brothers.. because there's expectations. The deprived I's keep surfacing. That doesn't feel like a great way to remember you either.

You know, I've been loved by so many people. But I wasn't the apple of their eyes like I was yours (I think to myself). And I let no one ever match up to my memories of you. I think I even make you up to keep my sense of loss alive. Because really, I dont remember you too much. Strange, but true.

Would it be a betrayal if I didn't grieve you anymore?

Daisy

2011-12-16T16:13:00.000-08:00

Didn't know you were still here.
That I've carried you with me
for all these years.

This morning I knew.
For you came to me.
On the wings of a flower;
Blooming small and pretty
on the side of this road I walk everyday.
And the years fell away.

It was just such a morning.
The sun golden on the horizon.
And your eyes as red from tears.
You held me tight.
I hadn't known then..
That I'd remember you like this..
years later...

And my heart felt heavy.
With sorrow, with nostalgia;
I remembered the scent of you.
And your lubdub on my cheek.
I hardly notice it these days.
It was suffocating.
This memory of you.
For I felt locked in time.
And you lost to me forever.

You and I, we have walked all these years..
Side by side.
And you were walking by me this morning.
But it wasn't the you from those many years ago.
For whom I yearned.
We are both different people today!
Still dear to each other,
But somehow not in the same way..
Never again the same way..
And each anniversary a little changed.
A little faked, a small pretension.
But why even try for just the same?

My darling, this non rhyme;
Do you like it?
Its like it really is..
An intense sweet pain and a whole lot of other,
Meaningless meaningless chatter!

আমারও আছে আবলতাবল

2011-11-28T08:21:00.001-08:00

চেতনার রং বলল কবিগুরু,
আমিও মারলাম কপোচ পুরু.
ভালো ফালো বাসলাম নিজ গুনে,
করলাম পান বিশ জেনে শুনে.

ধিং চাক দিন রাত বাজে সুর,
রুচি লুচি চালভাজা চানাচুর.
মোমবাতি জ্বেলে দিয়ে ধ্যান করি,
আগা পাচতলা নেই প্লান করি.

ভাবা ফাবা বাদ দাও, কি হবে?
চিত্কারে গলা দাও, জোর হবে.
যাই কর, খিদে আছে ঘুম আছে,
গোনা দিন খরচের ঋণ আছে.

সত্যি কথা সবই অপ্রিয়,
ঝিমিয়ে ঝিমিয়েই মিলিয়ে নিও.
মানুষ উটকো এক জানোয়ার,
উদ্ভট স্বপ্নের সখ তার.

ধুস শালা কি কবিতা লিখলাম,
জীবনের কাছে এই শিখলাম.
মানে ফানে কিছু নেই খুব বেশি,
চেতনার রং জেনো মাংসাশী.

মনে মনে

2011-11-14T19:56:00.001-08:00

যাচ্ছ কোথায়ে?
বলছ না তো?
বেশ নাহয় নাই বললে!
কিন্তু একা তো চললে,
দেখো পারো কিনা,
শেষ পর্য্যন্ত!

চেয়ে দেখছটা কি?
বলবে না তো?
বেশ আমাকে এড়াও
ভেসে ভেসেই বেরাও,
স্বপ্ন গুলো বাঁচে যদি,
শেষ পর্য্যন্ত!

ভাবছ টা কি?
বুঝব না তো?
ওই কল্পনা ঘোর,
থাক চোখে তোর,
দ্যাখ রং টেকে যদি,
শেষ পর্য্যন্ত!

Outside in

2011-05-17T20:39:00.001-07:00

She knows. I can tell by the way she looks at me. It irritates me, but I cant do anything. I cant understand how she can act so possessive about the one thing she knows she has lost. To me. Her darling husband. Anyways, so she is now draping herself all over Amit. Not that I care. Interesting how she doesn't want to challenge him with any of her suspicions/allegations. Amit is staring into space and pretending not to see me. I know he is aware of every move I make, but this is his habitual public mask. I am quiet used to it. Poor souls, both! They should give each other up and lead wholesome lives. God knows why dont they. I've asked Amit several times how he finds the strength to keep up this game. He shrugs. I wonder what would I do in her shoes. How would I react? With spite? Magnanimity? Devastation? How? Would I leave Amit?

Would I? Why dont I? We have no bindings that either of us recognize. But I cant. And yet I dont want a future with Amit for myself. I tell myself I dont care who else is in his life. I insist to myself that I dont care who else is in Amit's life, what he feels, where he makes his stand. I insist my love for him is all just about my feelings, is all. I feel it, breathe it, live it, believe it, poetize it. My experience is not a function of how Amit experiences it, I proclaim to all willing to hear. Possessiveness is self-defense for the obsessively insecure. Its not for me.

This flagrant lack of expectation - why am I like this? Could it also be a sign of insecurity - turned outside in? How little I trust my fellow men to live up to simple human decencies! That I need this armor to survive. Eh?

Dream you back to me

2011-04-07T08:47:00.000-07:00

After you were gone, I desperately wanted to see you one more time, one last time. You see I am a creature of habit. And you just ceased to be... so abruptly! I didn't have time to prepare to see you go. If I had known, I'd still feel bad, and it'd still be hard to let you go. But perhaps not this deep regret for everything left undone, unsaid. I pray each day that I'll dream of you. To find closure for me. And to refresh my memory of you. To breathe you in one last time. You see, I can close my eyes and recall all the things we did together. But they dont have the force of reality. Dreams would feel real, I keep thinking. I wish I could dream as I wished.

And while you are in and out of my mind every waking moment, with little things of my daily life acting as constant reminders of you; you elude me in my dreams. How is it that my unconcious is so detached from what I am thinking in my concious mind! Its frustrating. I wonder why we are able to dream at all?

Ticking away

2011-03-28T22:07:00.000-07:00

The interesting thing is that we live in denial. Day in and day out. We strive to achieve security, prestige, wealth. Meanwhile, we wait our turn to die. An irresponsible divinity allows things like the disaster in Japan to happen. But people forget and continue their child's play, make predictions, nurse aspirations, produce off-springs, and lead their scared cautious lives. I confess, I struggle with whats next for me.

I went through the standard grind and invested thirty years to become independent. In retrospect, I have been lucky all this time. I made good friends, was thrilled few times. I have felt love and pain. Now, I must continue to do all this.. suffer the same joys and the same disappointments for the rest of my days, with the thrill of the firsts taken out of the equation. Sounds rather dyspeptic.

Kids are the next milestone, they say. And I sit and think, kids huh? How wonderful! I would balance the whole world of odds for it. Meanwhile I know, the only thing I can guarantee for it is death... Alas! And yet, I would anything to have a child. What selfish beings we are! The evolutionary, socio-cultural programming is overwhelming. I can scarcely fight it.

Procreation may be an emotional leap forward, but, people resign to so many vicarious experiences in life. Why not motherhood? My husband asked me if I really wanted to invest the remaining prime of my life changing diapers, literally and metaphorically as the years go by? I fought back, but not very well. Because that's an important question. Why am I desperate to sign off this hard earned independence?

I want to brainstorm what would make this next phase here on earth truly inspired. I am unsure though, if I am brave enough to act on an idea, even if something unique struck me in the head!

My morning cup of flirt

2011-02-11T22:10:00.000-08:00

A lot is to be said to start a day with a healthy dose of cuteness. Doubtless you've tried coffee, yoga, exercise.. and while each may boast its own bit of appeal, nothing quiet beats having a sweet conversation with a pair of smiling eyes to kick start your day. Happen once in a blue moon, or, often, it'll bring out that warm indulgent smile you smile only for yourself.. perhaps add a spring to your step? Get that sexy feeling you'd almost forgotten? Feel like you could take on the world? Now, who doesn't want that? Its a tough life out there. We could all use a little love!

Thank God for Girl friends

2010-12-04T10:37:00.000-08:00

Mid thirties, early forties, is a time for deep philosophy, especially for a woman. You are finally coming to terms with husbands/boyfriends, after the umpteenth fresh start (or not). Your reservoir of patience to adjust with things becomes a ghost of its former self. And with that comes a defiance of the dissenters. This is who I am, you say to yourself.

In your new role, you will soon discover, that your strongest allies are that handful (read one or two or three) girl friends who have stuck with you through the thick and thin over the years (over breakups, new romances, old escapades). They are this incredible audience that compliment you on your sexy new dress (despite the love handles), ask for pictures of your current crushes (and equanimously enquire after your husband's cholesterol levels), boost you up when you have unsavory inlaws on your hands (with special tricks she has evolved to handle her lot) and in general let you hang your hair loose (even if that is growing scant).

Count your blessings lady, because, this, is as good as it gets, ever.

Adios

2010-12-03T13:25:00.000-08:00

They traveled the same route all year. Marie cannot remember when it started. Somewhere along, it dawned on her, that, she was very aware of this particular man. They never spoke to each other. Marie just liked to see him around.

Her preoccupation, as it grew, became surreptitious. Of course, that had to be, given that her attachment was probably entirely one-sided. The quirk of his nose, the glint in his eyes, the riot of freckles on his face.. Marie could close her eyes and picture him with ease. He had a nice, clean smile, dark, mischeivous eyes. Marie would think about him and smile to herself indulgently. It made no sense to let herself carry on. But, she rationalized, it was all in her mind, no one was hurt, and she enjoyed it. So.

Duke also became aware of Marie. Its an evolutionary trait to unerringly sense when someone is attracted to you. And so Duke began to take more notice of her than he ordinarily would. He began to feel a vague sort of narcissism grip him every time they crossed paths. He began to return her smiles, a little extra sweetly, almost unconciously. It was harmless. If Marie took a little extra care of herself and imagined that darkening glow of appreciation in his eyes, no one was the worse off, for it. And Marie developed a special lilt to her gait for the rest of the day. More confidence, more energy, more motivation to live her own life.

Marie's obsession grew. Little bits of things we largely ignore about people.. all of it, got cataloged some place on her mind. Marie noted Duke wore a wedding ring, remembered the shape of it, memorized the pattern of the short scar that ran along his left arm. Marie began to know the clothes he wore.. knew his blue checked shirt had a mismatched button. Marie thought he looked particularly dashing when he wore blue. He was a software engineer, Marie overheard, when he was talking to one of the other passengers on their bus. She had learnt to pick up his voice in the crowd, without the need to turn around. What was he really like? Marie wondered. Seemed nice, sensitive, kind, intelligent.. a friend she would have liked to have.

Couple of times they got seats side by side. Thus forced into proximity, polite conversation was thrust upon them. Marie had hated the ocassions it happened. The magic of him was lost in mundane, casual conversation.

And then, Duke wasn't there on the bus one day. Marie kept looking in the hope that she will spot him. But inside, she knew she would not have missed him if he was there. And the next day and the next. A week went by in anticipation before she realized something must have changed. It felt horribly empty, and strange, missing him. Marie sat on her bus, going over the little bits of Duke stuck in her heart. The intimacy of their shared moments might have been only in her mind, or not. Now she'd never get a chance to find out. She sighed deeply as she tried to draw the wisps of her memory of him close.. memories that were slowly, but irrevocably, fading from her heart.

No time to play

2010-12-01T21:52:00.001-08:00

She was about 15 and you were perhaps a year or two older. She bunked her Saturday classes to meet with you without the knowledge of anyone at your respective homes. The pretext was to go see a movie. None of your common friends were invited along. She should have seen it coming. Movie was the furthest thing from your mind. By the end, it was far from hers as well.

She changed from her school uniform into a somewhat daring summer frock at the restroom of the subway station. She also applied some slight makeup and put on chunky jewellery. This was her first "date" after all. Something that was strictly forbidden and hence as heady as it was sweet! Her heart was in her mouth with excitement. You coaxed her along to the famously infamous grounds of Victoria Memorial to spend a bit of the morning before the movie. There you babbled an hour about how much you loved her from the day you set eyes on her! She enjoyed the attention for a while. Then started getting bored. And then her conscience started policing her smug smiles of self gratification. Ofcourse there were also the pricklings of disappointement. Really? Was this what it was all about?

Anyways, I remember this dark dingy restaurant you took her to, for lunch. Of course no one was lamenting that you had missed the movie show times. By then, your intent was clear to her. She wondered how much she would allow, never mind should. She knew she should've walked out a long time ago. Guilt roared in her ears, as did a desperate urge to be wanton. She wanted you to make the move, so that she could experience the thrill of a lifetime. You tried a kiss.. a wet, unexciting, somewhat disgusting affair. Then you crossed a line. It tripped a hardwired warning bell in her head. She finally paid attention to her screaming conscience. She acted outraged; actually maybe she was in fact outraged that she'd caught herself in this unimaginably uninspiring, gross situation. You must have been surprised at what suddenly hit. You apologized profusely for I don't know what. You should have slapped her. She deserved no less.

Were you a bad boy? Was she a bad girl? Were you both fit to rot in hell perhaps? I am not here to judge. She spent days after feeling dirty and soiled and irritated, and knew she must pretend to be shocked and hurt and outraged - that was her best guise. You spent days after trying to get back in her good books! You called and called and claimed that you'd just been emboldened by her love, that you were so sorry for what happened. But she'd had enough. She clung to her wronged woman story and finally thankfully got rid of you. You, the annoying pest of a boyfriend. With possibilities that remain unrealized to this day.

Manhour's Worth

2010-11-12T12:32:00.000-08:00

What the devil am I doing wrong! You sit there fuming to yourself. You've been wrestling with this most of the morning. Fifth hour and zilch to show for progress. You've been beating about the bush a bit, of course. Trying to tweak this and that and hope that will fix it. Ruefully you look at that umpteenth cup of coffee gone cold. Getting coffee, for you, is often an excuse to just get up and pace - not a real need for caffeine.

Jane passes by. She has announced a week back that she is leaving. You attended her fairly emotional farewell party just yesterday. Jane has always been so nice to work with, you reflect. Privately though, you are growing a little weary of smiling at her, every time you happen to cross paths, especially since that announcement. Of course you wish her the best going forward. But you, for now, feel rather "stuck". What the heck!

As you head out for yet another unnecessary cup, you wonder if you will meet that cute new guy in the break room. Nope, he isn't there. You are disappointed. And irritated, that such a thing even registers! You wash the cup, refill and resolutely walk back to your cube. I will nail this sucker before the day is done, you promise yourself.

Before starting back though, you take quick peeks at your plethora of email boxes, social network accounts and such. Although its said that the world was made in seven minutes, it is highly doubtful that you, software engineer extraordinaire, will get messages that frequently.. However, its become a compulsive behavior these days! Eventually, you run out of reasons to stall and try to refocus.

You start to sprinkle check points, or "break points" as the geeks call it, in your code, sort of randomly. And then hit go. Your code grinds to a halt at the first of these stop points. What should you look for? Which variables should you check? Your brain refuses to cooperate. You mouse over something randomly. Is this what you were expecting at this point? Who knows! You decide to go on.. "Continue", you command.

Your cell phone starts to buzz. Its your husband. You hesitate to start a mid-afternoon, what-did-you-have-for-lunch type conversation at the moment. But you remember having hoped to meet Mr. Cute a few minutes ago. You force yourself to pick up the phone. "Hi Honey!" You notice out of the corner of your eyes, the code reaching its second check point. You mouse over.. Wait a minute, why is it zero here? You are distracted and completely miss whatever your husband has just said on the phone.

"Honey, can I please call you back? I.. ah.. in 5 minutes?" "Did you hear what I just said?" he asks. "No, sorry, I sort of spaced out." You hear the phone disconnect. How rude! You feel like calling him right back to yell at him, but control your urge. It was your fault, if anybody's.

But what about that zero? Almost unconsciously, you get drawn into the problem and begin chasing the issue through the thread of its execution. After a while, that flies by, unnoticed, you see light in darkness! You think you have the bug. You fix it and start the code again, refusing to give in to the tongue of hope licking at your heart.

Aha, that worked! Sweet is the taste of victory. You try a couple more quick things to convince yourself that your problem really is nailed. You reflect sheepishly, that, it took you five minutes to solve what you spent almost five hours dancing around. Who cares! Its Done is what counts. You grin to yourself like a child. Mr Cute has dropped by with a question. You compose yourself and try to pay attention.

A little something

2010-11-03T08:37:00.000-07:00

Keith stood alone on the waterfront. The lagoon stretched out before him, lovely and shimmering in the evening breeze. The sun had gone down a bit earlier. The sky was a dull orange rapidly turning purple. A flock of sea gulls were resting some ways from him. Keith searched the rocky bank of the lagoon, looking for something.

He had been working late hours pretty much all of last month. Tomorrow he would present his findings. He felt weary. What he had for tomorrow, didn't seem like good enough. How would Sharon take this, he wondered. God knows, he was trying! An involuntary sigh escaped him. It is what it is. He purposefully started walking. He would walk up to the Mariner Point, a good 1.5 mile, and then back. That was his routine. Keith did not notice a bird start to glide alongside him.

Keith loved his walk. The solitude gave him the opportunity to brood aimlessly. The exercise helped him unwind. He never felt lonely in this desolate windy patch he walked every evening. He felt comfortable in his skin as he walked, enjoying the rhythm of his own gait. It was a special feeling. But today he was a bit uneasy. Not just because of work. He refused to let himself even think about what brought on the extra uneasiness; though, at the back of his mind, he knew what it was.

Suddenly he thought of Luce. Luce Dickson would know how to position his case for tomorrow. She always had the right words. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number. Why hadn't he thought of Luce before? The bird hovered in mid air with Keith standing below, oblivious to its keeping pace with him. Luce and Keith spoke for some time. He felt better afterward. He finished the remainder of his walk in relative peace, resigned to whatever was in store for him.

He stood a moment gazing at the now dark rippling waters, back at the spot from where he'd begun. A smile broke on his face. A bird was homing in on its favorite rock. It was silly, but he had grown used to this bird (or so he believed), perched on that particular rock, every evening. It seemed to him that it met his eyes when he looked at it and greeted him. He had been perturbed to find it missing when he arrived here earlier today. As he looked on at the bird, he felt his heaviness lift. It was going to be alright tomorrow.

Fever

2010-10-06T18:22:00.000-07:00

Can you cure me?

I will try to define my symptoms for you as best as I can. I suffer from an obsessive restlessness. The best I can call it is brain fever.

Every once in a while I feel like I am drowning, totally and completely into a sea of depression. I hang in there by a thin thread. I feel tearful all the time. Life seems like an unbearable burden. Things I enjoy lose their appeal. Its a painful struggle. I stare into darkness as I lie on my bed and feel the tension swirling in the pit of my stomach. I want to run away, only, there's nowhere to go. I do my chores, try to get by, all the time with a lump tightening my throat. Every moment that I try to concentrate, I cant, I get distracted. I try coffee for composure, but it just does not work.

And then, swiftly, the fever changes its character, like the wind.

Now, its a kind of elation, a release. Disproportionate with ordinary happinesses. Suddenly I feel all warm and glowing inside. My heart swells up with the desire to love. I see some stranger and my lips curl into a smile. Someone's sparkling eyes touch me and infuse me with promise. I feel braced. My heart races with the spicy autumn breeze. I bask in the orange glow of the sun. I can feel myself brimming with Potential. Its heady... this conviction. Conviction in my own infinite capacity to achieve, to create, to love, and ultimately to revel in the ecstasy of my being.

My mind wears me out.. I can feel the insanity in my blood.

Mon Ami

2010-10-04T17:08:00.000-07:00

After two glasses of the good stuff comes an interesting state of being, at least for me. I am not drunk, just fuzzy. The details become unimportant. That your conversation leaves me untouched, unmotivated, becomes a minor point. What matters is the softness of the music, the ambiance from the candlelight. The desire to make an effort to respond to your inane conversation diminishes.. you dont care anyway about what I have to say. I am listening in.. injecting the necessary "ahs" along, the right smiles, the right arching of the brow, and sighing to myself.. the burdens of sociability! How purposeless is it all!

No, dont be offended please. i.e assuming I have the capacity to offend you at all. I look into your eyes to connect with you, but cannot hold your gaze. You seem to slip away, every time. I wonder whats going on. Words pour forth around me, and I feel more and more isolated amidst you. Who are you people? What are you people? I screw up my eyebrows to focus my attention. Our frequencies are way out of whack.. and yet, here I am, in your drawing room, pretending. Its like my UG lecture classes. I feel like I am almost there, but I am still not able to follow you at all! I am filled with a disgruntling sense of déjà vu! Dont you ever grow tired of these simplistic lines, that provoke neither head nor heart? "Are you feeling quiet well, my dear?", you ask. Oh, did I miss a cue there? Sorry, I must have drifted off.. Sorry! Maybe I am more drunk than I thought.

You smile at our other friend. Suddenly, I envy you your camaraderie. I can see you guys have me figured out in your minds. As a snob? As a freak? The wine has mellowed me. OK, so what? I am not mad at you. The wine tastes bitter sweet. You, your clichéd points of view, your un-straightforwardness and your twisted punch lines.. you come billowing at me, out of all proportions. What would otherwise madden or even hurt, now smother me, makes me sleepy and bored. Does it even matter?

Limbo

2010-09-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

I went camping this weekend. In the wilderness when night came, countless stars lit up an inky black sky. For a moment, I wished I could lose everyone around me. I felt like even forgetting the body I was in. Other than sight, I wanted all my senses to die for a moment there. So I could focus. And drink this in.. and have it with me forever.

Despite the compelling beauty of the night, it was a tough thing to do! The smell of food distracted me... as did the voices of others busily setting up camp.. A stampede of mundane thoughts stumbled over each other in my head.. thoughts that successfully destroyed my elegant reverie.

That night, I drank a lot of wine... some Bordeaux, some Chianti.. all rich and red, out of plastic glasses. I kept singing pointlessly, till very late. It felt like I was suspended in time. Everywhere around was pitch dark. I sat huddled close to the fire for the warmth. You couldn't see beyond of two feet, if you turned away from the light. The glowing embers of the dying fire was hypnotic. Nothing mattered, but the fire, my glass of wine and the tune I was humming.

When I crept into my sleeping bag, cold and shivering, I suddenly remembered that you were no more. That I had received this terrible terrible news shortly before I came away. You, who I had grown up with, who was always there for me every step of the way growing up, who I'd lost touch with over last several years, was no more. I had no energy for tears. I just felt blank. Grief is a relief in loss. Non-grief is terrible. I couldn't forgive myself for not mourning you... and yet, all our good memories, the letters, they were all with me in my heart. I felt weary under the burden of having to go on, knowing you were no more. Then sleep came.. and oblivion.

A note to God - part I

2010-08-16T10:08:00.000-07:00

Probably since I learnt to write, I've written these to you. Mostly you've ignored them. Yet, ego never came between us. I've always despaired at you in sorrow, raved at you in disappointment, prayed to you in uncertainty and found myself able to cope thereafter.. whether you ever intervened on my behalf, I do not know. And yet I am happy to continue being with you. Much less would I afford to anyone else around me, who treated me the same.

Our relationship though has changed. And sometimes I wonder at these changes that crept between you and me. Sitting with you wearing faces of ancient Gods and Goddeses feel totally alien to me today. Offering you food and water and flowers and incense is a mockery. I cannot do it without hypocrisy anymore. It feels plain dumb. And all the slokas and mantras that I can barely follow sound hollow and stupid to my ears. I wonder at your devotees helplessly. I envy them their simple conviction. Do these words full of praises for your skills really please you !? For your sake and mine, I hope that they are wrong about you.

I think you do see that I am not exactly over you either. Not the lost sheep; only the wandering one.. But one that seeks you and only you nonetheless. But, I beg your pardon, I cannot come to you in fear. My intellect revolts against the possibility of a punitive mean little you.. I cannot diminish you so. You know, I am almost in a limbo, so far as you are concerned.. for while my existing methods of reaching out to you feel broken, I want you more than ever, need your presence more than ever more.

Why? Because I need absolutes to make sense of all this shifting pieces, people and events. An inertial frame of reference. And You, are mine. Sometimes I suspect, you are as much my creation as I am yours. And I dont fear that idea.. I feel empowered with the beauty of it. You do exist, inside me. And you are the true companion for my soul.. you and me are the true yin and yang. You are the lover in who's arms I can find absolution for everything that I am, versus everything else. You are the only one who knows me through and through. Yes, you do live in heaven.. deep in the haven of my soul.

ও সোনা পোকা

2010-08-06T17:09:00.000-07:00

তোমার আগুন ভাবন, আমার মরণ, এনেছে
সোনা পোকা
মরি ওই দুটি নয়ন, চুরি এ মন, করেছে
সোনা পোকা
রঙীন বসন, বিনা কারণ, সেজেছে
সোনা পোকা
পরাণ জ্বলন, বারণ, হার মেনেছে

কাল্পনায়ে, গড়ে তোমায়ে, ডেকেছি
সোনা পোকা
হঠাত দেখায়ে , কপোল রাঙায়ে, হেসেছি
সোনা পোকা
মুখ লুকায়ে, মধুর পীরায়ে, মজেছি
সোনা পোকা
পুতুল বানায়ে, নতুন খালায়ে, মেতেছি

অলিক অবুঝ, ইচ্ছে কবজ, ছুয়েছ?
সোনা পোকা
চোখ বুজায়ে, ঠোটে আশ্রয়ে, ভেবেছ?
সোনা পোকা
নানান ওজর, মনের খবর, রেখেছ?
সোনা পোকা
পাল্টা কবিতা, বন্ধুত্তা, বুঝেছ?

Virtuous Lady: Fast Track

2010-07-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

Renu and Ashok got married a year ago. They grew up in the same neighborhood. Ashok never dared speak with Renu in those early days. He eyed her from the sidelines and secretly crushed on her. Renu was lovely and vivacious. She had many friends. Ashok did not know how to make friends. Renu would break into giggles whenever she caught him staring at her. Then came Ashok's big break. He qualified for the joint entrance exams and got into a prestigious engineering school. Renu congratulated him with a winning smile. That was a wonderful day for him. Fate had unexpectedly catapulted his suit right to the front lines. How could Renu's art teacher ever hope to compete?

...

This morning, we find Renu sitting by their bedroom window.. Her eyes are puffy from crying. She is knitting a sweater for the son she is expecting in another three months. Her life has changed rapidly and unimaginably since her marriage.

Renu bleakly remembers the days Ashok begun pleading with her to give up school. Her college demanded a daily two hour commute. Ashok sometimes returned home before her and hated not to find her home, or when she returned home exhausted. A BA in art history is not that hot. Did she really need to complete it? Ashok was so well placed. Why would she ever need to work? Renu could do a computer course of sorts. That would give her a lot more job options she was told. Half heartedly she had agreed. The computer course never started. Before she knew it, Renu was a full time house wife. To be honest, in the beginning she thought it was fun. Staying at home and cooking interesting meals, dressing up for Ashok every evening. Having so much energy to go places and even make love end of the day.. it was exciting. It wasn't going to last forever, right?

Ashok begun to bail on their plans every so often saying he was tired, or, it was too expensive. Renu was left listless and bored, or, keyed up with a day's full of unspent energy. She grew estranged from Ashok. Her mother-in-law complained that she wasted time in front of the mirror, or with her story books and magazines. That, she paid minimal attention to housework. That, she had way too many friends calling on her all the time. Why did his wife have a dozen male friends? Why did Renu chat not less than 30 minutes at a minimum with somebody or the other whenever she stepped out of the house? Ashok felt compelled to speak to Renu about it. Renu's friends picked up the unpleasant vibes and begun to disappear.

Six months into their marriage, Renu discovered she was pregnant. Most others felt happy with the news. Her mother felt thankful that she will now have an anchor to rein in her restless spirit. Thats what a woman needs to settle her down, she was convinced. The gushing all around made Renu felt guilty about not feeling equally happy herself. Renu had tried to insist they have protected sex. Ashok hadn't listened. He coaxed her saying this was the safe period of her menstrual cycle. Renu thought they were pushing their luck being on the borderline... and so it happened. Ashok acted so enthusiastic with the news of the child. He refused to look her in the eye long enough for her to voice her uncertainties.. let alone voice options for an abortion. She seemed not to have many choices left in life.

This morning her friend Kanika had called excitedly to give her the news that she had gotten a job in Delhi at a museum. Renu congratulated her and asked for a treat. Inside she felt horrible with regret. That job could easily have been hers. She felt so betrayed. What had she ever seen in that stupid fool of a man! She had taken up knitting of late to keep her temper from boiling over. It was not good to be emotionally disturbed in her condition.

How many frogs?

2010-07-03T11:18:00.001-07:00

1. How many frogs?: Hello Again
2. How many frogs?: Playing catch up
3. How many frogs?: Chicken Or Eggs
4. How many frogs? Will you?
5. How many frogs? Get set, Go

This story is not finished... I will resume later sometime....

Turns out that I am feeling a little out of depth on the topic.

....

How Many Frogs? Get Set, Go

2010-07-02T22:19:00.000-07:00

Continued from..
How many frogs? Saying I do

Radha has been out of town for three weeks, gone for a training on the east coast. Deb called her every night as usual and they would speak for hours. For Radha, it would get to past 3:00 AM by the time she would go to bed. She could barely keep her eyes open in class.

Previously Radha loved to hear Deb rumbling into her ears on the phone. Disconnecting was a sweet torment. Already Radha has begun to wonder exactly what they spoke about in those long hours. And more importantly, how they stayed clear of altercations. Ever since their decision to tie the knot, most of their conversations wound up in arguments. Radha found it hard to let go of a comment, whichever way, without pointing out a counter logic. It was really insane. Because often she ended up arguing for positions she did not believe in. And then she would blame Deb somehow for cornering her. Unfair to the bone, I say. How can you expect someone to fathom what you really think, versus what you say you think? Once when they were not arguing, Radha told Deb that sometimes when she got carried away arguing, he shouldn't hound her with logic at that point. Deb was amused. He said that this reveals how egotistic she was. That the need to dominate a conversation was a blatant pointer to her own insecurity. Radha hated his analysis. Who did he think he was!

Radha met with her gynecologist friend, Sumitra on the last day of her trip. Sumitra was very happy with her news. She advised that the couple start thinking about conception, pronto, seeing as Radha was already 35. Radha related this to Deb on their call. Deb wondered how to tell her, that he was not interested to have kids right away. He felt they needed to reach an equilibrium between them, before the next phase. But he also did not want to let her down. He felt guilty about the way their "proposal" happened. He had been meaning to bring up marriage, but just kept putting it off, the eternal procrastinator that he was. Having lived his entire adult life in a sort of a limbo with respect to women, he was finding it hard to keep pace with the rate of unfolding events. Radha sensed Deb's hesitation and tried to stem her rising bitterness.

Deb was there to take her home when she got back to CA. Radha had been sort of in two minds about seeing him again. But the sight of him, inhaling his cologne, his presence.. melted her heart. He leaned into Radha and brushed her cheeks with his nose as he maneuvered the car back on the road. He picked up Chinese food from PFChang's on their way. By the time they finished dinner Radha was smiling happily. Her opinion of Deb had risen some notches.

Deb and Radha are due in India in a week. Deb is averaging three missed calls from Shakti a day. He has stopped returning her calls to Radha's amusement. He does not have parents to prepare for him. So Shakti has taken it upon herself to coordinate things with him and Moni, Deb's sister-in-law, who is the only female from Deb's side of the family. Moni is not happy with Shakti's interference.. but being much younger than Shakti is finding it difficult to put up much resistance. Radha has stubbornly insisted on a modest affair attended by select friends and family. They will be getting married in court and follow it up with a single co-hosted reception. Radha whittled down Shakti's extensive guest list to a few lines. Shakti was quiet offended. But at least her daughter is getting married. And Deb is such a sweet man!

Walking the walk

2010-06-29T19:24:00.000-07:00

Rupo vaguely remembers her arrival in Kolkata with Moina mashi. It was the first time that she had stepped outside of her village, Buroputi. Moina had promised her mother to find Rupo a good job that paid a monthly salary that she could send home. A family of 15 hungry mouths, her mother had been more than happy to part with the seven year old. Kalpona Sen, baromashi to Rupo, became her first employer. She was a kind hearted woman. Rupo had enough to eat, a variety of handed-down, mended, but clean clothes to wear, a place under the stairs to sleep. Moina would collect Rupo's salary of a hundred rupees at the end of each month to send to her family.

Rupo's new life was very busy. It did not leave her time to feel homesick. Her first chore early in the morning was to sweep the uthon which is a square piece of land inside of the house connecting the main house to the kitchen. Then, with the municipality water supply starting at 6:00 AM, her job was to do the pile of dishes from the night before. She would first scrape the lightly dirty ones with ash. Then she would scrape the burnt pots and pans with aluminium caps from milk bottles and some detergent. Things had to be squeaky clean! Baromashi had actually thrown a saucepan at her one time for the left over grime. Rupo learnt her lesson well. Soon she became an equal fanatic. After the washing, Rupo would fill up two large cast iron drums that stood on the side with the fresh water for use for the rest of the day. Rupo's next task was to make tea for the family. She served bed tea to Kalpona and her husband. The only son of the mistress, Pinku dada for Rupo (dada as he was three years older to her), got served milk with two teaspoon of Bournevita.

After tea, Kalpona would come down to the kitchen to make breakfast. Rupo got to eat her breakfast after Pinku was off to school and baromesho (Kalpona's husband) was off for office. She ate all her meals in a spotted bent aluminium plate, legacy from her predecessors across several years. She did not mind it. Her utensils were clean and kept in one special corner of the kitchen. Mornings were roti (bread) and alur tarkari(potato curry).. or, sometimes she had roti with a piece of jaggery. She had this with tea from a slightly chipped porcelain cup. She really looked forward to the days she got a burnt piece of toast layered with a pinch of butter and sugar. Her other chores included cutting vegetables for Kalpona to cook and sweeping the rest of the three rooms and the stairs that constituted their living quarters.

Rupo did not go to school. Kalpona tried to teach her some alphabets and some numbers on a black slate that her husband, Charon, got for Rupo. Rupo was bright but she was not a serious student. Kalpona could not keep at her to pursue her studies. After a while, the effort to educate her was abandoned. Rupo's focal interest it seemed was watching the TV whenever she got the chance. Her employers were semi-indulgent of her obsession. She was allowed a couple of shows for regulars. Rupo got really mad with Pinku because he would force her to get up and do something for him in the middle of her favorite shows. Pinku devised wicked plans to tease Rupo. She was a novelty in their house and someone he could boss around and play with. An affectionate relationship blossomed between the two.

When Rupo was ten, Kalpona went and opened a bank account for Rupo. Her salary was to be split into two parts. One part was to go to her family, and the other part was to go into the bank account to save for her marriage. Kalpona had to argue quiet a bit to get Moina to agree. No one questioned it that the little child had not once been taken home for a visit in three years.. though she continued to send her salary to them religiously! Around fourteen, a new ambition begun to grip Rupo. She had to work hard and save so she could marry and settle down. A boy from the carpenter's shop across the house where she lived had caught her fancy. He advised her to stop sending money home. At this point, Rupo no longer cared about anybody in her home anyways, so this was fine. Moina did some more theatrics, but she knew a lost cause when she saw one.

When Rupo was seventeen, something sad happened. Pinaki came home drunk one night. He had quarreled with his girlfriend because she was being very strict with him. He made a pass at Rupo. Baromashi was furious... with Rupo. Rupo cried all of two days. She lay listless in her dirty mattress under the stairs where she'd lived for these past fourteen years. "How can you be so ungrateful? Get out of my house..", said Kalpona. "Where will I go, baromashi?", Rupo wailed. Kalpona threatened her lest she open her mouth about this. "Do not lie. No one believes you." Kalpona hurried to get Rupo married to the boy across the street. The boy demanded 20000 rupees in cash. He had gotten wind of the situation. Charan wanted Rupo to take some of it out of her savings bank account. Taposh, the prospective groom, refused to let that happen. That was Rupo's money. He forbid her to give her thumb impression. Kalpona and Charan had minimal sympathy for Rupo now that this outside boy seemed to have so much influence on her decisions. Finally Kalpona agreed to pay the sum. Whatever had happened, of course she had to stand by Pinaki. But she did have a soft corner for the little girl who had grown into a woman under her roof. Besides, the money was a small price for protecting her son's reputation.

Rupo spent a few happy years in a slum in South Kolkata. Taposh was a nice to her. His sisters and mother treated Rupo well. She had after all come with a fair amount of dowry for someone in their position. Taposh had actually gone to school up to tenth standard and was considered quiet a man of the world. Into the third year of her marriage, Rupo went to get Kalpona's blessings during Bijoya. She took the customary sweets with her for her baromashi. She had forgiven them in her heart. Kalpona also received her warmly.

But things were set to change. In the next three years, Rupo miscarried three times. Her husband and inlaws blamed her for her misfortunes. The laughter and frolic was wiped out of Rupo's world. Taposh was considering marrying again and the family had started seriously misbehaving with her. Rupo came to the only mother she had known.. to Kalpona. Pinaki had been married the year before and had recently had a baby. The house was ready for another helping hand. Charan was not happy with Kalpona's decision, but agreed to play along. At 23, Rupo re-entered the Sen household, came back to her bed under the stairs. A tin door was now added to that area to give her some semblance of privacy.

Rupo was a trustworthy nanny. Pinaki's wife Nandita liked her, liked the care and attention in everything Rupo did for the baby. Pinaki stayed distant.. he badly regretted what had happened between them and felt pity for the events in Rupo's life. He also knew that he was in no position to make anything right for her... not then, not now. He would try to bring her things she liked to eat and give her a little extra money now and then. Nandita caught on and from then onwards Pinaki became even more distant from Rupo to avoid the ugly quarrels. When his daughter turned three, Pinaki got a transfer order from his company. Before he left with his wife and daughter, he spoke with Rupo "Look after your mashi and mesho." Rupo had not dared to look up at him. She had silently nodded assent staring down at her feet and cried.

Rupo has dutifully served Kalpona and Charan since. Some years ago Charan passed away and now Kalpona has also died recently. Nandita and Pinaki have come down to Kolkata for her last rites. They want to sell the house and close the chapter here. Nandita asks Rupo where she wants to go.. they can arrange for her transport to wherever she wanted. Clearly coming with them is not one of her options. Nandita is not keen on having Rupo over.

Rupo is sitting on a train holding tickets to go back to Buroputi. Pinaki has bought a bit of land with a small kachha hut on it for her, with money that Kalpona had left her in her will. Rupo is told that she is lucky to have employers that did so much for her. Rupo knows no one there, but there is at least a roof over her head, some money for food and clothes. Her brother also lives close by. He was interested in her when he heard she had some money, but after Pinaki made arrangement with the post office such that her money could not be touched except for the monthly intersts that only Rupo could collect, his fraternal interests seemed to have waned sharply. Pinaki is standing on the platform waiting for her to be off. Rupo wants to say something like, "Take care" or "Keep in touch" or perhaps, "Dont forget all about me." But her throat is constricted with tears. The train starts and Pinaki raises his hand in silent farewell. He has done all this in the best way he thought he could to make ammends. As the image of Rupo moves away his heart fills with pity and regret, but he consoles himself that she will be happy amongst her own people.

How many frogs? Will you?

2010-06-27T23:41:00.000-07:00

Continued from..
How many frogs? Chicken or Eggs

Deb froze at her question. The issue was never far from his mind these days. Deb was genuinely attracted to Radha as a person. But he had not made up his mind. Radha might want a family soon. Deb was hesistant to commit to that. How about emotional committment? Did they have enough going? Sure they liked each other, liked each other quiet a bit. But did they need each other enough, or at all? How could he know if what they were feeling now would actually last? Radha was such an independent woman. Deb felt vulnerable. How about boredom? Deb knew it would hit them sooner or later. How long can one remain interested in each other? Again he was unsure how Radha would react. She was almost too spontaneous, too gut-driven, to be stable.

He could feel Radha stiffen as his silence lengthened. A part of him was frustrated that she had thrown him the question at this precise moment. He was distracted by her proximity and he had genuinely wanted to kiss her. He was not a man who could answer in the positive just to get on with what he wanted from her right then. At the back of his mind passed the thought that she had had physical relationships with other men in her past. Why did she want him to answer this one just now? He stopped himself hastily. He was not going to be judgemental. Finally Deb said, "Would you?"

Radha had hated herself in the pause that had ensued since her impulsive outburst.

R(gruffly): "Would I what?"
D: "Marry me?"
R: "Are you proposing?"
D: "I am asking.. are you sure you want to?"
R: "Look, its ok if you don't want to."
D: "I haven't said that."
R: "What are you saying?"

Deb wet his lips... Radha felt an increase in pressure where he held her.

D: "I value our friendship. I enjoy your company. I guess I am saying I need a little more time to make you that offer."
R: "I don't have time. This has to be on a short fuse buddy. I am sorry."

Radha looked at him with mutiny. Really what was she fighting! Two months ago she wasn't even ready to be married. And now she was hustling this man. What had gotten into her! It was her family, thought Radha rebelliously. Radha was driven to almost feel like she owed it others more than herself to tie the knot and soon. But it was more than that... The weeks they had kept away from each other had been painful for Radha, more than she cared to admit. She needed the reassurance! This must be what getting on in years does to you! She closed her eyes and sighed noisily. For a moment she just wanted to forget about this discussion and lean over to kiss Deb. But she was not 22 anymore! She had learnt the hard way that getting physical was like getting drunk. It took away the pain and the confusion, only momentarily. She took a deep breath to release the tension in her spine. The chicken needed some water. She turned around to get it from the basin. Deb did not let go of his hold.

D: "Look, we can try it if you want. I may let you down you know. I am a 38 year old virgin." He finished with a small rueful smile.
Radha cracked a small smile as well. She brushed back a lock of his hair that had fallen forward, covering his right eye.. "I dont think you will let me down."
Deb caught her hand and kissed her fingers lightly.
R: "I can imagine a dozen worse ways I could let you down, you know? I dont have a great track record."
D (broadening his smile): "Yeah, I have been wondering about that."
R (trying to get over the moment now): "OK, lets forget what I said, please? If I get desperate, I might twist your arms again. But for now, you are off the hook.. "
D (refusing to let go just yet): "You really are convinced? That this could work?"
R (shrugging): "I like you enough to try. I might even be a little in love."
Deb moved his hands to cup her face. Suddenly his doubts felt foolish.
D: "I can live on that."
R: "No.. no.. we will talk about this another time, ok? I mean..." She did not finish her sentence. She rested her hands on his chest to put some distance between them. She registered that his heart was beating fast.
Deb leaned close to her ears and whispered. "Yes we can.." Radha made a face.
D: "I am suddenly feeling adventurous."
Radha shook her head.
Deb hovered over her lips, "This is unfair."
R: "Deb, step back. Now."
Deb brushed his lips on hers.

.

How many frogs? Chicken Or Eggs

2010-06-26T14:56:00.000-07:00

Continued from..
How many frogs? Playing Catch Up

Radha reserved one Saturday every month to catch up with friends. They would have laid back luncheons, the occasional shopping sprees, or massage treats at a spa. This was the Saturday for this month. She was walking with her friend around the lake at the Central Park, when they ran into Deb. The three strolled along and then sat chatting on a bench. They reminisced about the chai wala, or peddlers carrying nuts, that would typically accost them in such a setting back home in India. After a bit, Radha's friend said she had to leave because she had an errand to run. Her errand was clearly improvised for their benefit. Her eyes twinkled with laughter and Radha blushed. Deb loved to see her color on his behalf.

Radha and Deb were meeting after quiet a gap actually. She had been avoiding Deb ever since her mother, Shakti, left, after her three week's stay with her daughter. Deb was around most of the time when Shakti was here. She had made a huge fuss over him. Deb had lapped up the attention without the slightest embarrassment or protest. In turn he had pampered all her idiosyncratic wishes.. took her to malls, on drives, sometimes even without Radha. Their budding rapport had made Radha resentful. While Radha loved her mother, deep down, she looked upon her with faint contempt. Shakti had always disapproved of the loose reigns on which her husband insisted they bring up their daughter. She blamed her husband for Radha's brazen refusal to be "womanly". What man will put up with her shameless temper and energy! Shakti's heart would well up with sadness thinking of her daughter's loneliness. Radha hated the fact that her mother acted so special with Deb with the obvious hope that he marry her. After she left, Radha had been sort of cool with Deb. It made him restless and disappointed. So he had kept away too.

Their chance encounter this afternoon seemed to have cured their differences. A break from each other will often do that to you. Deb looked handsome in his shorts and tee shirt.. younger. Radha glowed from her visit to the spa this morning. They linked their hands after a while. All was sweet and lovey dovey. Radha felt a rush and hated herself for it. Was he feeling it too?

As evening fell, they returned together to Deb's apartment. Another movie night or heart-to-heart perhaps, with Deb then dropping her off as late as 12:00 or 1:00? This had happened twice in the past. Radha was sort of glad to stay away from anything more intimate for the time being. But when they entered his flat today, Deb said, "You are staying here tonight.." Radha smiled and bit her lips. She was uncharacteristically unsure. What did he mean? Was she reading too much into it? Or, did he mean just an ordinary sleep over? She wasn't sure she could handle that either. She was attracted to Deb. She stood looking at him without speaking. She was never uptight about sex. But she was looking for a long term deal this time. Deb had not offered that up, at least not yet. There were signs, sure.. but this time she did not want to be misreading them. Of one thing she was sure. She was not up for a fling.

"What about dinner?" asked Radha, trusting herself to neither agree or disagree. Deb said, "We could go out or we could cook." Radha held his eyes as she walked slowly toward his kitchen. She started to look around and pulled out pots and knives. Deb came to help. He put some rice to boil, while she pulled out some frozen chicken. He peeled potatoes while she attacked the onions... the domesticity suddenly held an exciting promise. They busily foraged the cabinets for this spice and that. Deb was not well stocked. Radha made a mental note to shop supplies for him. After Deb's part was done, he watched Radha busily sautéing the meat. He went up behind her and wrapped his arms around. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. He'd been wanting to do that ever since he caught a whiff of her spicy shampoo earlier this evening. Radha went stiff. She was torn between passion and her resolve to hold back. It was a long time since Joy that she actually wanted a man. Did she love him? She was opening herself up to another huge disappointment, said the warning bells in her head. Was it worth it? Deb didn't let her ponder the point much longer. He turned her face to his by her chin. With her head turned into his, Radha whispered on an impulse, "Will you marry me?"

.

How many frogs? Playing catch up

2010-06-22T22:00:00.000-07:00

Continued from..
How many frogs? Hello Again

Radha saw a text message pop up on her blackberry. "Good time to call?", said Deb's avatar, a hockey stick. A hockey stick?? Radha's was a frozen cherry. What does your avatar say about you? Probably that he stuck with the default. Radha tried to stop herself from over-interpreting. It was 6:30 pm. She was still at her desk. The data she was reviewing was not in spec. Suddenly the desire to get away overwhelmed her. She dialed for him.

Radha was surprized at how smoothly things had gone between them. So far. She'd always dreaded being set up like this. She'd seen other people languish for months in these conversations. Have you decided? Is it being pushy if you ask? There is this other interesting guy on my horizon. What should I do? Block him until you are ready to say no? Until you are ready to tell me that you've found someone else?

Of course, there's also the well meaning family keeping the pressure up. Did he propose yet? Why do you need to meet? ... It could get bad. Depending on how emotionally secure you are, it could get really bad. Anyways, she was in it now.

They'd mostly been catching up on each other, these past few weeks...

Deb worked for a biotech startup doing instrument design. Ten years ago he had been engaged to marry a girl for a brief period. He had been in a car accident with the girl. She had not survived. He'd blamed himself, underwent therapy.. People around him had been sympathetic for a while and then urged him to move on. He couldn't do it then. Little things like a photograph, a coffee mug, or the watch that she had given him, that he still wore.. such remnants from their unfinished relationship crowded his life. Before he knew it, ten years had gone by. Today, she was more like an unconscious habit that gave neither pain nor comfort.. just a vague bit of regret for what could have been. Deb's younger brother's wife, Moni, was the one who'd finally coaxed out of him a promise to try and look for someone... perhaps a divorcée, a widower, a middle aged single woman.. a woman. Oh yes! The yin and the yang... And people's inane belief in it as the cure all. Hard to battle such deep-rooted convictions!

Radha sat wondering what she'd learnt about Deb from his past. That he was dedicated? Or, that he refused to take charge to change course of things; once something untoward interfered? Certainly not your alpha man. Did she want an alpha man? She was more than capable taking care of herself. She'd gotten set in her ways.. a quiet reliable sort of a partner would be the sensible choice today.

Radha, in turn, spoke of her mom, of her brother Rana, impatient to get married at 27! Interesting that, knowing your mind at 27. Radha was living with her boyfriend, Joy, when she was that age. She'd also thought she knew her mind. Then Joy lost his job. The moodiness started. The quarrels became a daily fixture. Joy began to hit Radha now and then, when in a fit. Their relationship escalated to a point of no return. It was the hardest thing, to walk out on the man you had decided you were going to spend your life with. Hard to accept that it was over! Over before it begun. For women, its harder because they are programmed to take it as a personal failure. you couldn't to make it work!

Radha also spoke of her father. She had struggled hard with his loss at 22. The night the news came Radha was out with friends. She returned home dazed. Her room mate was away visiting family. Sumit, correctly assessing the state she was in, had refused to leave her alone afterward. Radha hadn't protested too hard. In the middle of the night, she had come for his sleeping form on her sofa. She came with no clear intention.. just seeking physical warmth and distraction.. unable to stand her own desolation by herself. Anything to fill the gaping hole in her heart! Their whole love making was stained with Radha's unstoppable tears. Sumit had wanted to hold on after that.. been more than willing to marry her. Radha had been appalled. Nobody takes responsibility for Radha Menon's lapses. She'd stubbed him out like a spent cigarette.

The pair lay facing the bay windows of Deb's 30th floor apartment. With the talking done, they'd both gone quiet... the failing evening light created dark shadows around them. They toyed with the stem of their glass of chardonnay... lost, in their own thoughts.

How many frogs? Hello Again

2010-06-20T17:18:00.081-07:00

Radha turns 35, this June the 22nd. She is a senior program manager at Boeing. A high energy individual, she has earned herself this title, at a relatively early age. In the beginning, she was elated with the success.. a bit nervous too, at the sudden thrust of responsibility. But after a few months.. after two well received successes.. competent handling of the occasional faux pas.. she has fit right in. She was recognized recently for her performance at work.

Radha has not married yet. This issue has become a sore point these days between herself and her mother. Always loving and supportive of whatever Radha wanted to do, her mom really had zero conception of what exactly her daughter had set out to achieve. When at 35, she found Radha unmarried, living by herself in a distant country, with several broken relationships under her belt, she was not comforted. She was pretty devastated actually. Nothing else Radha had or did made sense to her. Radha was tired of being cited friends and cousins having their second kids now, or, ex-es sporting pretty wives.. some into their second models. What did Radha care! She swam 20 laps a day, read voraciously and worked hard. She did not need anything else. Vacations went by happily unnoticed. She kept herself busy. Hung out ocassionally with few select friends.. Visiting a family with expectations that did not match her own, was becoming painful of late.

A recent irksome development was that her mother had enlisted her younger brother's help to setup a profile for Radha on several matrimonial websites. So regularly now, Radha received junk messages from random people expressing interest. Her brother was still in college and rumor had it that he'd recently gotten romantically involved with someone. His hurry in getting Radha to decide one way or another was palpable. Radha had no issues to see him married before herself.. but their mother would not agree. It was making things harder to put off. Normally cursorily perused, (more out of a morbid curiosity of what the yield was rather than any real interest).. and promptly deleted.. this morning's share of emails, had something that caught Radha off-guard.

She was staring at the photograph of a man she had recently sat next to on an airplane on a cross continental 8 hour flight. Radha had found him quiet attractive.. loved the cologne he wore. After some mutual eyeing, first covert and then pretty overt, graduating to smiles.. they had struck up a conversation. Topics had ranged from favorite authors, TV shows, to the fate of female executives in the aerospace industry. Radha had found his company stimulating. Conversation was just beginning to foray into their personal lives, when time was up. Radha had felt a slight twinge at the moment of touch down... she'd enjoyed her flight! She was probably never going to set eyes on the reason again. She'd almost asked for his number. Strict discipline had reigned her in. Now he sat smiling and squinting at her from under his steel frame glasses. His interest message said the following:

"Hey you! Remember me? Frankly, I am surprised to see you here! Pleasantly surprised. My sister-in-law, who I hope you will meet someday, sends me these daily updates from various websites on prospective brides.. and so here you are! I have to admit, after we went separate ways, several times I caught myself wondering if you were available or not.. sort of regretting the fact that I did not ask for your number when I had the chance. I am interested to see you.. And, I am hoping that my interest is not lopsided. My number here is 678 038 6129. I confess I am feeling very impatient about the delay I now must accept till I could talk with you again.
A 38 year old confirmed bachelor.. until very recently. "

Radha sat smiling at Deb Sanyal. This was a local area code too! Why the hell not? She reached for her phone and dialed the number in the message. She got his voice mail and spoke the following after the beep: "Calling occupant of the interplanetary most extraordinary craft... I felt the same way afterward. Cant wait to see you again. Radha."

.

You cant beat the heat

2010-06-17T02:33:00.006-07:00

Aj kagoje berieche Deepa-r chobi. Victoria Memorial er mathe duronto garomer dupure se ar tar premik chumbon rato. "Beat the heat" namer article.. Cheletir mukh bojha jachhe na.. Deepa ke chinte kosto hoy na. Antoto chena loke chine feleche. Khabar ghore shakaaler chayer shamne, barir sakoler mukh bhaar. Deepa college e pore. Athoba college jaye.. porashona kichu kore bole tar ma chara ar keui bishwash kore na. Ajker por, aro bishwash korar proshnoi othe na. Deepa por por duto sambondho eshechilo.. se kono krome katieche fnara. Attiyo porijon kana ghusho kore. Deepa r ma baba ja ja karon dakhaye seguli shune bistar ghar nere khub bojhar bhaan kare.. arale muchki hashe. Deepa ei attiyo goshthi ke bishesh bhabe sojhyo korte pare na ajkal.

Ei je Pintu kaku eshe boshe achen bari boye sat sakale... er bou Sashi, dharabahik bhabe, Deepar name nanan nalish tule gachen, Deepar ma baba r kane, or chotto byala theke. Parar kon chyangra chele Deepa ke cycle sekhate eshechilo, kar sathe Deepa nighty pore khil khiliye henshechilo.. kon mather kone Deepa ke cigarrette hate dakha gache.. kon dada Deepar mukhe dole rang dieche.. esob. Katha gulo shune kakhono lojja, kakhon ga ri ri kora raag jhorer moton boye gache Deepar modhye.. kintu chyachamichi se bhalobashe na. Ja khusi boluk ge ora.

Khanik byala porar por guti guti paye hete akta STD booth e giye hajir hoy Deepa. Protim-ke phone kore..

D: "Dekhecho kando ta?"
P: "Hya dekhechi.. Tomar barite ki bolche?"
D: "Bhabo, ki ar bolbe? Tomar odike?"
P: "Ma tomake chinte pereche."
D: "Tomake chinte paren ni?"
P: "Na... mane amar chobita to.."
D: "Tumi balo ni?"
P: "Bole ki labh?"
D: "Protim, aj hok kal hok, tomar ma ke bolbe to naki? Ki korchi eta amra?"
P: "Deepa, matha garom korona. Ma ki eta chirokaal mone rakhbe?"
D: "Ta rakhben na? Amake biye korte chailei uni eta age mone korben. And.. why dont you have the guts to own up to it?"
P: "Tomar mukh ta sposhto na hoye amar ta hole tumi bolte?"
D: "Common! tumi akta chele!!!"
P: "Barite chaap amar kichu kom noy. akta chakri jogar kori.. tar age esob katha tola jaye na. Bujhcho na kano?"
D: "Ami ma ke bolechi ota tumi. Amar barite ar mukh dekhiyo na doya kore."

Dum kore phone rekhe Deepa beriye pore.

Gato mashe Deepa or periods miss koreche. Ki asambhab tension e din keteche or. Prothomato achena Gynocologist khuje ber korte hobe. Protim daktarer kache or sathe jete raji holo na.. chamber er niche dariye chilo. Deepa ak ghor bibahito pregnant mohila der majhe jarosaro hoye gie boshlo. Check up er por akta sosti chilo je or pregnancy test negative... kintu daktarer se ki gyan dewa! Deepa r ichhe korchilo du katha shuniye dite. Apni apnar diagnosis bolun. Bakita apnar dayitto noy. Beriye Deepa Protim ke khub akchot jherechilo.. kintu hoito aka jawatai thik hoeche.. chena jodi karor sathe dakha hoe jeto tahole? Ekhuni khub birokto lagleo, Protim chele ta bhalo, Deepa seta jane. Protim ke o bishwash kore. Chaaper byaparta mithye noy. Akmatro chele to. Kintu... esob issues uthle Protim er ei nepothye chole jawa ta baro asojhyo lage Deepar.

ma: "Kothaye giechile?"
D: "Protim ke phone korte."
ma: "Tomar lojja korche na.. ami to.."
D: "Ma, please tumi ekhan theke jao. We will get married, eventually."
ma: "achha deepu, tui ja cheyechish kakhono ki kichu"
D (ma ke interrupt kore): "Off, tomar ei emotional blackmail bandho karo please. Yes, tomra sob diecho.. I love this guy and I kissed him.. so what?"
ma: "Eisob berrella pona ebarite cholbe na Deepu. Tomar jonye aj tomar babar ar amar matha het hoye gache. tarporeo tumi gola tule tarko korcho."
Deepu kichuta chup kore thake.
ma: "Tor jodi eisob ichhe thake tahole biye korchish na kano?"
D: "Eisob ichhe mane?? Ma... do you have any idea what it means to get married? Tumi jano Protim akhono college e. He doesn't have a job. Debe biye tomra?"
ma: "Ta oi chele chara ki tomar ar keu jutche na! Kato bhalo sambandho ta Bulu enechilo. Sanyal er meyer sathe ashche mashei thik hoye gache biye."

Deepu bojhe maa-er sathe ei tarko barie labh nei.. meyeke niye she barabor-i disappointed.. katha jedike garachhe tiktota berei jabe. Deepu nijeke sambaron korar chesta kore.

ma: "Deepu, chelera boy friend akrakom, bawr kintu onnorakom.. ja sahoje pawa jaye.."
Deepu ghar theke jhorer bege berie jaye.
ma (chyechie bolen): "Deepu, barir baar hole ar bari dhukte hobe na tomake!"

...

Kalponar Tumi

2010-06-15T22:46:00.010-07:00

Mollikar sathe Nripen er dyakha hoy, Esplanade er mor-e akta coffee shop e. Mollika sundori, intelligent, besh legechilo Nripen -er. Bhab hoe galo.. Ha, por din aabar dyakha korechilo ora. Charteye.. Nripen college er last class kete chole ashe, Esplanade er metro station e .. jedik ta Grand Hotel face kore, otar samne. Tarpor cinema dakha.. Na, na, khanik hente Outram ghat e Gangar dhare chole giechilo.. khub misti hawa. Counter er cigarette.. cinema hall e kane kane fish fish. Misti premer koli misti chande beje jaye Nripen er prane.

Tarpor akta syant syante bikel er katha boli. Thanda brishtir fota schuer moton bindhchilo. Tobu dariye apekhha korche Nripen. Gariahaat er Bambinor shamne.. Aj to ekhanei.. Ar kata minute darank na hoy. Phone nos jana nei.. bari kothaye tao na. Ki holo Mollikar? Se elo na.. Nripen chole elo aro kichuta dekhe. Ar eloi na se kakhono... Shunyo buke bohudin apekhha korechilo Nripen. Aki aki jaigai gie boshe thaka.. jodi dyakha hoye jaye..

Tarpor ak jug kete gache.. Hathat mukho mukhi pore gyalo dujone. Shamle niye sahoj bhabe jante chai Nripen. Kamon acho? ajkal ki korcho? Biye korecho? Mallika gombhir mukhe bole gelo.. Bhaloi ache, biye koreche,Songsar korche mon diye. Akta palta proshno-o korle na se. Kichui jigashyo nei tar Nripenke.

Concentrate korte parche na Nripen.. Cigarette er dhoate mukh lukiye obhisar sritir rajye.. Mollika looks so different.. Patla thot duto kapchilo or..Tate kamon kheen banka hashi.. almost regretful! Ki hoechilo Molly? Darling, what happened? Aj e proshno nirarthak. Jene ki labh Nripen er? Kintu Mollika! You were a shining star! Tomar sei agun kothaye? Bari boshe putul khele din katachho! Nripen bhabtei parena tar Mollika mene nieche songsar kora.. Akta unimaginative boka loker sathe..

Palash er sathe tomar bhalobashar biye? Lok ta ke akta lathi marte ichhe korche Nripener. Jamon roop temni goon. Chitkar kore katha bole. Khyak khyak kore hashe. Kissu sekha hoy ni bidesh e theke. Ei loker golaye jhule porte holo tomake! Wine khawa hochhe dhuku dhuku kore! Shala shuor. Du paishar chakrir ki garom. Paris ar Italy r galpo shunte shunte kan jhalapala korche.. Fosh kore ber korle black berry te Eiffel tower er pashe chobi, Piazza r pashe kola byanger bermuda pora hashi. Ashojyo lagche Nripen er!

Tumi amar amar amar. Mollika tumi paliye esho. Tumi sukhe nei. sukhi hote paro na er modhye! Ami sob mene nebo. Ei dabi niye jodi aj darai tomar kache? Hashbe? Tomar ar amar agnisakhhi lagbe na. Tumi seta jano mone mone. Jano na? Tumi kato ekanto bhabe amar? Ki hoechilo Mollika? Aj anekdiner purono byatha huhu korche or buke. Amake bole jao ki hoechilo.

...

Ki mushkil!! Nripen of all people!!! Se katokaler katha...Biyer du bachor pore Kolkataye baaper barite tin masher chuti katate asha.. Nripen er sathe kheyali prem.. it started with a bit of flirting.. I was never serious. The boy was simple, sweet..ektu mukh badol.. It isn't a sin! But shesh ta ato suffocating hoe jete shuru korechilo..Ami just paliye benchechilam! Bolte parini mukh fute... Or sathe abar dakha hobe, eta hiseber baire chilo. There he goes mooning again! Why does he stare at me like that! What an idiot!

Be Mine

2010-06-14T00:44:00.003-07:00

1. Be Mine: A pretty guest
2. Be Mine: What is that brewing?
3. Be Mine: Let me in
4. Be Mine: Games I will play
5. Be Mine: Take me back where only we can go
6. Be Mine: For all eternity
7. Be Mine: Finale

Phew! Mystery and history... my husband says this story was growing incoherent! I didn't think so.. but readers, your views are always welcome..

Growing weary of story writing... stumped @ 2!!

Until later!

....

Be Mine: Finale

2010-06-14T00:35:00.028-07:00

Continued from ...
Be Mine: For all eternity

Torit found Keenu lying on the floor unconscious. The doll lay strewn next to where Keenu had fallen. With a heart full of unspoken fear Torit stared at Keenu. Something inside him prevented him from shaking her awake. With the sight of the doll, a strange theory dawned on him... what if the doll could interfere with their minds and take them away to an alternate reality? This theory, preposterous as it may sound, could solve some of the terrible confusion from his mind.. the more he thought the more his mind began to clear. He was convinced. With the conviction grew his terrible fear for Keenu. Torit knew in his heart that the doll needed to go. How could the doll be destroyed? He feverishly searched on the internet for clues but drew null.. he was very concious of wasting precious time. What if Keenu got hurt in the interim?

Keenu lay wondering if there was anything she could do to escape from her captivity. She seemed incapable of movement. Keenu wondered what Aki had planned for her. As she lay thinking these thoughts, a vision of a dark handsome man appeared before her eyes... Shahin held a golden needle and he pierced Aki in the heart. A thread of blood flew like a stream from the ends of the needle. Keenu realized it was a message from someone on how to destroy the doll!

With the knowledge came elation. She lay there feverishly thinking. A needle. Where to find it? At least this was a start. But then came dismay. She'd have no memory of this if and when she went back to her reality. How could she pass a message for herself? When we write notes, we hope to remember the context in which the notes were created to interpret it later within that context. Keenu's mind just drew a blank. Suddenly a fierce hiss dissolved the vision before her eyes. Keenu turned and what she saw turned her blood to ice. A snake slithered across the floor toward its prey! The woman stood behind with a serene smile.

But then she changed... Her teeth begun to bare in a grimace. A red stream of blood errupted from her chests as her inky eyes exploded. Keenu lost conciousness one more time.

Torit sat staring at a golden needle in his hand. He had no idea where he'd gotten that needle or its purpose until now. He had discovered this needle in his possesion a few days prior to his accident. It had a red thread and looked totally different from modern needles and such. Was this then the weapon for Aki's destruction? He wondered how he had known to bring it back, how he had figured out the way to destroy his tormentor... but time was running out. Torit pierced the golden needle through the doll's heart.... not a moment too soon. With that Aki crumpled with finality. The slithering snake approaching Keenu was also blown into oblivion.

Torit sat stroking Keenu, calling out her name in earnest, willing her with all heart and soul to open her eyes. After some tense moments, she obliged. Looking into Torit's eyes, felt like waking from a faraway nightmare..

K: "Thank you for saving me."
T: "Thank you for solving the mystery... it was your notes that saved our lives.."
He held up her palms for her to see the SOS she'd drafted on her hands with the ball point pen she'd been clutching. She'd written: "Needle through the doll's heart. No questions asked." It so happened that as she wrote these words Torit was holding her in his arms and wondering what to do next.

Be Mine: For all eternity

2010-06-13T18:15:00.011-07:00

Continued from ...
Be Mine: Take me where only we can go

Keenu was slowly gaining consciousness in a stark cellar like place that looked nowhere like her home. She had decided to give the doll away to the neighbor's little kid. She had already written up a small card to go with it. Holding the pen in one hand, she came to her locker. As she opened the door her heart beat unreasonably. With all the negative thoughts flying around that doll of late, she felt uneasy about getting it out again. Shows how feeble the power of reasoning can be, when fear and distrust mesh with it! Or, perhaps this was a warning from that most ignored of human faculties... intuition. When Keenu touched the doll, a painful jolt of electricity ran through her. She buckled, slipped and as she begun to fall, Keenu couldn't believe she was remembering right! The doll's eyes had come alive. And Keenu felt an inexorable pull into those eyes..

Aki brought Keenu here with murder in her heart.. As the woman lay unconcious, Aki studied her face. Aki loved to play with her prey. Killing her right away would be lame.

Keenu watched the woman in the mirror on the wall. She was lit by an eerie yellow light and busy admiring herself. Slowly recognition dawned. It was her doll.. This was surreal! And yet Keenu could still feel the ball point pen in her hands. Her body felt strangely lethargic.. incapable of movement. Keenu sensed this woman was not her friend.. She also begun to suddenly perceive what had been happening with Torit. She moved her fingers with monumental effort to wield the pen in her hands like a weapon. At that exact moment, Aki flicked her eyes and met Keenu's on the mirror. Keenu could not understand what tongue they spoke, or if they spoke at all.. she had no sense of hearing... only that a conversation happened and this is how it went...

A: "And what do you think you can do to me with that tiny stick you hold?"
K: "Where am I?... And who.. what are you?"
A: "I am Aki, your sweet Torit's new love in life.. and I want him, just for me."

Keenu absorbed this. Her sense of horror growing, she licked her dry lips to stem her nervousness.. Aki drawled on some more details on what had been happening...
A: "And when he screams in the agony of pleasure, I bite him on his nipples. He tells me, Gently girl!"
Keenu closed her eyes, swallowed the lump in her throat and reopened them. She knew that expression well.

K: "Why have you brought me here?"
A: "To tell you that you must walk away from this man... He does not want you any more."
K: "He loves me. I am his wife.."
A: "I told you what has passed between us. He is mine."
K: "You are a thousand year old dead doll. This is not real. Its all dreams!"
A (chuckling): "Dreams are a different kind of reality. You are blind."
Aki begins to pace.
A: "I shall make him immortal.. like me. He has no use for you.. no use for a passel of brats or a lifetime of running errands.. for a living!"

Aki missed having children, a family or friends... Missed all the things she lost out to a choice she had hardly understood at the time.

K: "I don't believe you."
A: "You will lose him.. walk now, with dignity!"
K: "Immortality is absurd.. I am not sure anyone would want it."

Aki knew more than anybody else the premium she had paid for immortality. What sense did it make to live if you could not share it, did not have witnesses to your joys or your sorrow?

Aki did not answer this time. Her eyes bored into Keenu's... Keenu shut her eyes. She wondered how much truth there was in Aki's claim of Torit's defection? She sensed somewhere she still had Torit on her side. This woman had not won everything she wanted or she wouldn't need Keenu to be here today...

Be Mine: Take me back where only we can go

2010-06-13T02:49:00.005-07:00

Continued from ...
Be Mine: Games I will play

Temptation is so deceptive. One moment you feel flippant, all powerful.. saying no is just a matter of your choice, is all. At a next instant, temptation seduces you with a soft, wet lick.. melting your resolve to nothingness. You drown the voice of reason by refusing to think... "straying" is a semi-concious act.. do's and dont's can only go so far to control for temptation. Torit resolved to himself that he will not inquire what happened to the doll. He struggled but held fast to this promise. But he also searched drawers, cupboards, everywhere he could... his instinct to do so was powerful. As long as he did not ask Keenu, he allowed it of himself. Torit was hanging between worlds by the strength of a very thin thread.. Will power has a poor reputation for reliability. But for him, it was his last hope...

Torit's restlessness was not lost upon Keenu. His eyes kept returning to where the doll used to be. It shamed Keenu. She struggled to accept the reality that her husband was harboring a disgraceful fancy. And yet she was loathe to confront him. Unvoiced, it was still unreal, in the realm of suspicion. What would she do if it became unequivocally true? Also Torit was just beginning to recover. She told herself she did not want to overexcite him. In moments of weakness, Keenu wondered if she should put the doll out again? Torit needed to relax...

Meanwhile, Aki grew restless in her confines. When Shahin's spells started to draw out her soul bit by bit, she had been scared.. she had hated Shahin for the power he wielded. She had pleaded with him as she had before no man. But Shahin's spells had ultimately spared Aki her life. For when they came to murder the pair, Aki had let herself go and sought refuge in the doll. She had become immortal. Poor Shahin had struggled with his last breath to destory the doll... but the doll was out of his reach. The doll's eyes came alive as it watched the light leave Shahin's while he bled to his death. It was sweet revenge.

Soon Aki realized that with the death of Shahin she now had the power to project herself in the mind of another. She could draw their soul into her little doll world. She had waited a loong time. Aki wanted a playmate and soon Torit would be hers. Aki sighed restlessly. She had to somehow try to reach him without sight or touch. With sight it was easy. Because the eyes are afterall the window to one's soul. What if she murdered Keenu? When Keenu was putting the doll away in the locker, it would have been easy... so easy to violate her mind.. and terrorize her.. perhaps murder her? Aki wondered if murder would work.. Aki lay waiting her opportunity.

K: "Torit, are you looking for something?" (In a quivering voice when the umpteenth time, Keenu saw Torit staring at the spot where the doll had been.)
T (starting and then beginning to break down): "Keenu, dont give it to me... if you have hid it, keep it there.. no, better, destroy it. I dont know what has come over me. I keep seeing its eyes. My sleep is scant and restless. I dont know what to do."
Keenu had already rushed to Torit and was trying to calm him down by stroking his back and shaking her head to get him to stop. Excitement was not good for Torit right now.
K: "Dont be silly my love. You are not yourself. The doll is a pretty one and you bought it for me. I just... with so many things happening, I dont know whats real anymore. Maybe I have been carrying it to bed unconsciously those times I blamed you. Forgive me my love. I'll get it out now."
T (gripping her violently): "Dont. Dont. I forbid you. Its evil. The doll is. I... it makes me think things, forget things. I... Trust me Keenu, there is something going on with that doll."

As Torit spoke, Keenu felt more and more agitated. What nonsense was he speaking! Keenu tried to calm herself. That psychiatric evaluation she'd booked for Torit was this Monday.. not a day too soon!

Be Mine: Games I will play

2010-06-11T08:44:00.003-07:00

Continued from ...
Be Mine: Let me in

Torit woke up to find himself in a huge bed of silk strewn with lotus petals. A heavy sweet perfume invaded his senses.. Billowy folds of brocaded silk covered the walls and the ceiling. It felt like he was in a place from the pages of a history book. As he awakened more and more, he bacame concious of a sense of déjà vu. This was not his home. But he had been here many times in his dreams. Always, he would find himself here in this room lying cold and naked. It was the doll! Somehow in these dreams, the doll came alive! She was a beautiful woman who spoke in a strange tongue. Her name was Aki. The sight of her brought him terrible longing. She would slither against him, smooth as honey, and bring him unbearable pleasure. But his mind refused to submit to her seduction. And so it was terrible pain at the same time. Torit had no power to physically resist. On some occasions, Keenu's face would float up in his eyes. His heart cried out for his dearest. He ferverently hoped and prayed she was safe. Yes, she was. Aki always brought him and him alone. Aki would always know when his thoughts had strayed to Keenu. Her smoky black eyes flashed fire. Torit shivered with fear and wanted to run. He could not move a muscle.

Aki stared at her captive. This man had rescued her from a thousand years of solitude, packed in an ignominious old trunk. But he must pay, as all who came close to her, paid. Men were trifles. Adulation was the elixir in Aki's life. If you held out, you were going to be hunted. Aki could turn into the sweetest of souls. She could have you eating out of her hands in no time. But her friendship was an evil seduction. The more you depended on Aki, the more power she wielded over you. Then started the little manipulations to bend you to her sweet fancy. And when your deeds were against your best intentions, those successes earned a gold star in her books. She was back at her game after a looong time... perhaps she had lost her touch? This man kept remembering this other woman. It irritated Aki. But things were improving, thought Aki... Everyday Torit grew more powerful in his dreams.. his paralysis is going away. Aki's neck hurt from where Torit had gripped her earlier.. Aki had snaked her arms under his to slowly loosen his grip.. Her lips curved with a knowing smile... Torit remembered less and less of who he was... the dream was real now. Aki was flesh and blood, not to be denied.

...

After the accident and his checkup, Torit was both relieved that no pathology has been discovered and yet more troubled than before.. because his problem was real, scary and the doctors were as flummoxed as him. He was sitting huddled together with Keenu this evening in their sofa. Torit leaned forward and kissed his wife. She tasted salty. Her cheeks were wet from silent tears. He stroked her arms gently. He was touching Keenu after a long time... ever since his problem, his libido had been low... he felt guilty about it. As he held Keenu in his arms, Torit felt both the peaceful for the homecoming and vaguely disturbed. From the moment he had gotten back, he had noted that the doll he had bought for Keenu was missing from their bedroom. He was embarrased that it was one of the first things he did note. He also conciously realized his attachment to the doll for the first time. He had gotten irritated with Keenu for blaming him for taking the doll to bed with him! It was a preposterous suggestion. But suddenly today it did not seem so impossible. He could feel he was missing holding it... he could also feel an inexplicable fear of it, deep in his bones. What was going on! Try as he might, he could not push its eyes out of his mind. He willed himself hard to not ask Keenu what she'd done with it..

Be Mine: Let me in

2010-06-09T22:19:00.014-07:00

Continued from...
Be mine: What is that brewing?

I am troubled with a sense of foreboding. I cant put my finger on it... but the light has died from my husband, Torit's eyes. He looks.. hunted, these days. We haven't made love in over a month. That is very unusual. Torit does not exactly seem busy.. just vacant and tired. He doesn't gossip about work as he used to each evening. He doesn't smile much any more... He forgets things... after I have spoken to him at length for 5 minutes, I have to jolt him awake... its like he just dozes off with open eyes! I am wondering how to bring this up. I want to drag him to talk with a psychiatrist!

Today I found Torit pouring over that dratted doll again. It will sound strange, but I am feeling jealous of the doll. It has become a fetish for Torit. I cannot believe his fascination with the darned thing! Several times I have found it on our bed. Torit denies having brought it with him. I control my urge to scream with frustration... and hurt. How the hell else can it turn up there! Is this a new thing, or, an old habit, that I am discovering at last. My husband feels like a stranger sometimes these days. I have decided to lock the stupid doll out of sight in the cupboard. There now, that made me feel good!

Torit said he will return late. At 9:30 I called, he did not answer his cell phone. I am feeling uneasy..

I received a call from the Lady Blair Hospital an hour ago. Torit has had a serious car accident. I am waiting in front of the emergency room. The doctors and police tell me that Torit lost consciousness while driving home and crossed over to the side of oncoming traffic. Its a wonder he is alive. For 72 hours, I hung in there struggling with him for his life. Friends came and held hands. I did not register it.

Torit has regained consciousness. They've done many tests but could not determine any cause for his seizure.. no leisons, nothing. As he lay there unconscious, and I watched over him helplessly, I saw his face screw up in savage fear on several occasions. My heart beat fast for him.. but what could I do to help? What can I do my love? The doctors told me not to worry... it seemed they did not entirely believe me either. He called out for "Aki" once.. who is Aki? I promised myself to ask him when he came back to me.

He did not seem to recognize the name! I trust my beloved. He has never been deceitful before. Perhaps I am just in denial.. and yet, I did hear him. But I also heard the earnest anguish in his voice.. He needs me now more than ever. I must not despair. What is happening to my world!

Be Mine: What is that brewing?

2010-06-08T20:12:00.039-07:00

Continued from...
Be mine: A pretty guest

Aki lived a thousand years ago in the city of Aurangabaad. She was a skilled sorceress of unparalleled beauty. She was born the daughter of a courtesan, but the king decided to adopt her.. thus Aki became a princess. Aki had a great secret. One look into her smoky kohl lined eyes, and she would steal your soul... She collected hearts as one collects butterflies. Many men and women had surrendered to her allure. Those she wanted, she relentlessly pursued. The doll in our story was made in Aki's image by Shahin, a West African doll maker. Shahin was a slave that had been brought to Aurangabaad about that time. He fell madly in love with Aki. He was trained in the ancient arts of voodoo. Shahin wove secret spells into the very fabric of the doll's body.. darks spells that could soak your soul into its sensuous folds. The slave became the master. Shahin flourished in the city of Aurangabaad. He got married to the beautiful princess and in time took posession of the throne. Some years later, quiet suddenly, Shahin and his queen were secretly murdered. Many believed it was by conspirators jealous of the turn of their fortunes... The doll was lost to time.

...

This is another Saturday morning a few weeks after the arrival of the doll in Keenu and Torit's house. The couple were siting in their patio, drinking a delicately brewed cup of Darjeeling tea that Keenu took pride in serving. She fingered the petite white bone china cup she held, absentmindedly sipping from it. No ungainly coffee mugs for her, thank you very much. The rose bushes in her garden were in full bloom. The slight morning breeze brought its sweet fragrance to them. Keenu breathed in deeply.

Keenu had noticed Torit being somewhat troubled last two weeks. He hadn't said anything in particular... but she hated the gloom that seems to have settled around her cheerful chatty husband. This time was as good as any to gently prod him to vent..

K: "What up with you, sweetheart? You have not been yourself lately.."
T: "Hmmm?"

Torit had no idea what he had been thinking just these few moments ago. He'd begun having these strange lapses in memory recently. The fact troubled him of course, deeply, and yet.. it sounded so strange to tell someone.. "I am losing focus for hours at a time, that I have no memory of, afterward.." He hadn't been able to confess to anyone yet. He'd been reading up furiously on Alzheimer's... but he was too young for it.. and there was certainly no other symptoms that matched.

K: "Is everything OK at work?"
T: "Yes, sona... do you have some more tea?"
Keenu eyed Torit for a bit. Whatever it was, Torit wasn't ready to discuss it. She knew him well enough to instantly recognize the stall tactics. She decided to give him some more time... perhaps as the weekend progressed, another opportunity will present itself.

K: "Sure... "
She got up to go inside to bring the kettle. She turned back at the patio door and said,
K: "Love, if there was anything, you'll tell me, wont you? Tell me when you are ready.."
Torit sighed silently and closed his eyes. He did not want to trouble Keenu.. but perhaps it was time to let her in.

Be Mine: A pretty guest

2010-06-07T22:07:00.006-07:00

My wife, Keenu, likes to collect curios. Initially it felt like a strange obsession. Odd figurines would jump out at me every now and then.. from the familiar corner of my bookshelf or a habitually bare table. Some of the masks and statues looked ghastly really.. with their bared teeth and other grotesque features.. but.. these artifacts have a beauty that grows on you with time. They mesmerize you. Perhaps, its their anachronism that repels you at first, sitting in your otherwise modern living room.. but then you grow used to them. You expect them tucked away in these niches.. sensual, mischievous, forlorn, cruel...

The other Saturday morning, I was returning from my morning exercise. I noticed a garage sale sporting a colorful spread of knick knacks.. The attendant lady caught me eyeing what she had and smiled invitingly. Something drew me to check out her display.. I crossed the street. A bright, really pretty doll caught my attention.. it was an Indian doll, modeled after some princess perhaps. On closer inspection, her eyes looked... alive! I was taken aback. Must be the sunlight playing tricks! Its very unusual for me, what I did. On a whim, I bought the doll. Keenu was delighted with the doll. As I've mentioned, she loved things like this and then coming from me, that bowled her over. I was happily smothered in a bear hug. She placed the pretty thing on her dressing table in our bedroom.

That night after swallowing my medicine which also stands on this dressing table, I stood by the doll for a moment. Almost unconsciously, I picked her up again in my hands. In the diffused yellow light from the bulb, she looked exotic. She really had unusual eyes.. the red silk on her skirt bordered with a profusion of gold sequins felt ethereal to touch.. they hugged her shapely hips and ended around her perfectly rounded knees... her navel was bejeweled. Her raven hair hanging lose framed her tiny waist.. it was so soft.. almost human! The details of her full breasts encased in a scant red blouse shone through the gauzy scarf material she had wrapped all around.. the workmanship of her jewels were superb. I swear it felt like she was no doll.. that she was a live princess that I held... untarnished by time. I was waken from my reverie when Keenu shook me with a laugh, "Have you fallen in love with her?" I felt a bit embarrassed with my preoccupation.. I joked back, "I think I have... indeed!"

Take my hand

2010-06-03T16:01:00.007-07:00

1. Take my hand: hasta mañana
2. Take my hand: DUK there's a fidelity gene
3. Take my hand: Sweetened by time
4. Take my hand: Moody Blues
5. Take my hand: Shall we dance
6. Take my hand: Now and Then..
7. Take my hand: Volare
8. Take my hand: The laundry lunch
9: Take my hand: Anish
10. Take my hand: Waylaid
11: Take my hand: Skeletons in her cupboard
12: Take my hand: You're always on my mind
13: Take my hand: Allure
14: Take my hand: Purple Haze (not that other thing!)
15: Take my hand: No swing.. yet
16: Take my hand: Sunday edition
17: Take my hand: Then and now...
18: Take my hand: Catch 22
19: Take my hand: Heal
20: Take my hand: Everywhere is you
21: Take my hand: Turning in tonight

It was fun... writing my first story... sure, it was haphazard.. most of the post titles make no sense to me now on retrospective... some parts are supercharged with theatrics - that I feel embarrassed to read at the moment ;p

Thanks to those who read it and especially those who let me know they did! A very special thanks to anybody who "deigned" to comment! :)

...

Take my hand: Turning in tonight

2010-06-03T14:25:00.011-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Everywhere is you

Giri had been returning late daily and sleeping in the guest room, except that day when he did not come home at all. He did approach Seema one or two times in between.. but her responses came out strangled, rude. She hadn't wanted to be rude. Tonight, he looked worse than ever with a dark stubble. He beelined for the spare bedroom without so much as a glance at his wife. Seema swore out aloud.

G (walking back into the living room): "I cant take much more of this."
S: "I too am tired."
Her voice broke. She took a deep breath and then abruptly gushed out,
G: "I need to tell you that I am in touch with Ashfaque again. He is here. And I... I have slept with him."
She hadn't told Ev the entire truth. Now it was out.

Giri looked puzzled. "Your boyfriend?"
S: "Yes!"
He raised a single eyebrow and said nothing.
S: "I deceived you and met with my lover. Is that all you can say? I cant be so tolerant about Ev you know. How do you do it?"

G froze with the mention of Ev. He quietly asked: "What do you want from me? A divorce?"
Giri looked resigned. Seema felt hysterical.

S: "You couldn't care less, could you?"
G: "I'll do what you want me to do."
S (crying now): "I dont want a divorce... I.. Do you want a divorce?"
G: "Why bring this up to me then?"
S (becoming hysterical again): "I am not a cheat, or a liar, or a whore. You.. Have you..? Is that why you are so forgiving?" She did not complete the sentence, but its meaning was clear. G's eyes flared up with a warning, Seema'd never seen in them before. She would welcome violence.. if it could release her from this hell.

Giri thought in an abstract way, that Seema called herself all those things... he hadn't said a word. He sat down slowly on their sofa and closed his eyes and gently rubbed his own temples which had begun to throb. Ev, we know, had not stayed out of this altogether as Anish'd advised her to. Waiting in the sidelines was never her forte. Later on into that night, when they couldn't pretend there wasn't Seema, anymore...

G (dejectedly): "You cant fix this."
Ev sighed noisily and looked down at her own hands.
After a while, G said: "What exactly is the matter with her? Has she told you?"
Ev said nothing. After another pause..
G: "Is there someone else?"
E: "I dont know.. but she is very unhappy. Giri, I... I think, you have a problem articulating your feelings for someone... romantic feelings.. how much that person means to you.. you.. come across as aloof.. I know this.. (Ev swallowed a lump in her throat. It was turning out hard to say this to him..) "You need to... touch her soul.. whatever it takes. How can you not act? Dont wait too long.."
In her mind, she completed the sentence ".. this time." G looked at her for some time. He'd heard what she hadn't said. Softly he whispered: "I let you go, isn't it?" Ev closed her eyes and did not answer.

Sometimes we are confronted with a sudden realization about ourselves that blows our mind. A lifetime of friendship, love and devotion came crashing down around Giri with those words. He did not feel the tears running down his cheeks and so did not move to wipe them. Evie came to him and held him tight. For a long time, they sat there without words, just holding tight.

..

And so Giri fought hard to make his peace. This situation was his failing, too.
G: "I love you Seema."
The words brought fresh tears. She hadn't known how much she'd counted on him... for absolution.
S: "I am bad news. Perhaps its best for you to go.. you deserve a chance at happiness."
G: "You are that chance."
Seema looked up at Giri.. a tiny light of hope had been lit in her eyes.
S: "I didn't mean to cheat on you, I.." She couldn't finish the sentence.
G: "Lets not worry about that now."
After a while he said: "If you want, we can move to another city, start again... it wont be tomorrow.. but we can try...."

...

On the morning of Saturday of the following week, Ev and Anish were drinking tea, around 10-ish.. There was a knock on their front door. Ev went to get it.

Seema said: "Finally!"
Ev stood looking at her.. What could she say? She blurted out: "You are ones avoiding us!"
S: "So? you didn't have to follow suit!"

Seema was smiling and Ev felt so relieved to see her like that, at ease.. She moved forward and hugged Seema. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed her until that moment. Giri was standing right behind. His lips were unsmiling, but Ev read the smile in his eyes. She held Seema tighter. "Careful Evie, any tighter and I'll have to stop breathing."

Take my hand: Everywhere is you

2010-06-02T22:23:00.025-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Heal

Giri's machinations to avoid meeting with Ev and hence her questions did not entirely succeed. When cornered at last he said, "I am impressed that you actually listen to Anish." Ev knew this was in reference to her uncharacteristic reticence over the past few days. The statement had hurt. Ev swallowed the hurt. Giri was clearly sick and not really himself.. She didn't care what he said. She just wanted to hold him in her arms and wipe away that gloom. Yet she couldn't reach out until he would allow it.

Wednesday she tried to outstay him at work. Around 8:30 it became too much. She went to his cube and asked him to walk her to her car. It was already dark and pretty deserted. Giri locked his terminal and came out with her. They did not talk on the way. When they reached her car, Ev said, "Come home with me tonight". Giri looked at her in surprize. He could see her lips trembling in the orange lights of the parking lot. She bit her lips. Giri walked around and got inside the car. He muttered, "We have nowhere to go." It sounded like a pronouncement. Anish was not going to be home. He was away for the night on a business trip. Giri absorbed the intelligence with a silent sigh. Ev drove them both to her house. On the way she heard him call Seema and inform her that he wouldn't be coming in for the night. His tone was dull and unforgiving. There were no questions from the other end.

When they got home, Giri collapsed on her sofa and closed his eyes. Ev ran her fingers through his hair, kissed his forehead... fed him warm comfort food. Giri did not object to her excesses. When Anish called, Ev told him that she'd brought Giri home. Giri caught that bit. They talked some more. Ev was laughing softly into the phone. Giri wanted her to finish and come back to him. When she did, he sat up.

G: "Why did you ask me to come?"
E: "To keep me company."
G: "Ev..."
E: "Forget everything else going on for a bit...lets pretend this is before either Seema or Anish. What say?"
G's expression became soft. He stared at her for a while without any words. Then with a small smile: "What have you in mind? Making love?"
E (twitching her lips and raising her eyebrows at him): "You would?"
G (screwing up his eyebrow in a mock serious way): "You doubt that?"
E(chuckled): "Lets do it."

G: "Ev, never turn sensible on me."
E: "I wont, thats a promise."
G: "I.. guess we weren't meant to be together."
E: "You have always been with me. Right here in my heart."

G(making a face): "Can you pour me something to drink?"
E: "I am only serving turmeric milk.. you have flu."
G (grimacing): "Can you do what you're told? Please give me a beer or something."
E: "No."
G: "Sleepy?"
E): "Not yet. Do you want to walk in the moonlight? Hold hands?"
Giri broke into a broad smile... "Lets do it."

Giri looked adorable, according to Ev, bundled up in her mufflers. There is a lake very near their house. It has a gentle paved trail along it. They walked there holding hands. Conversation was superfluous. As it usually is, in the moonlight amidst the stars. Ev sat down on a bench they have on this route. Giri began to whistle the tune for Annie's song.

There are some constants in everyones' lives. Sometimes it is the partner you married. Sometimes it is a friend who has always been there for you every step of your life, whether you knew about it, or not.

Take my hand: Heal

2010-06-01T22:40:00.003-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Catch 22

Anish and I were eating dinner Friday night. We were comparing notes on whether either of the Raha's have surfaced. Not yet. I felt impatient. Anish asked me to practice breathing exercises. It calms the mind. I made a face at him. Anish is amused with my antics. I know that. Laughter is a good thing. Its the best glue in relationships. Its way higher priority than maudlin declarations of endless love.

E: "I think Giri's actually doing detours to avoid me at work. I haven't passed him once last 2 days"
A: "Good for him!"
E: "What?"
A: "Give the man some breathing room!"
I looked at Anish with mock anger.
E: "I think Giri needs me by his side. I shant listen to you anymore."
A: "OK, fine. Go hold his hand. I cant foresee any peace in this house until you do."
E: "What does that mean? Are you going to be serious?"
A: "Honey, what can you do? Seriously, what do you think you can do?"
E: "I can tell Seema her suspicions are baseless"
A: "If she was going to buy that, we would not be discussing this."
E: "Why do you think she refuses to believe me?"
A: "Because you are in love with Giri."
E: "Anish!!!! I am being serious."
A: "So am I."
E (agitatedly): "And you are fine I assume?"
A(grinning): "I have supreme confidence in Giri!"
E: "You hateful stupid man. Just you wait, Mr Higgins. I shall have a mad affair, pronto."

A: "Have you ordered the two books I asked?"
E: "You order them. I am not your secretary."
A: "Please Ev. Do it tomorrow without fail."
E: "Anish, lets drop by on those two bozos.. now."
A (with a sigh): "If I thought it could help, I would. Hang in there for a little longer."
E: "Anish, if I was having an affair what would you do?"
A : "I would be elated of course." Anish began to curl his mouth: "I'd get a few more hours of well derserved sleep."
E (also smiling): "OK. Consider it a done deal."
E (suddenly switching gears): "By the way, I need your help to unpack the new corner table."
A: "Ev, I am not doing that now or anytime this week. So please dont sneak that suggestion into our conversation any more. You are an obsessed woman."
E: "I am getting antsy that its been lying there for a week now."
A: "If you cant do it, you have to wait till I have time."
E: "I could ask Giri to help."
A: "If thats your seduction routine, its pathetic!"
E (breaking into a grin): "Is it? Seema tried it on you, didn't she? At Giri's surprise birthday party? Anish going over at 5:00 pm to help with party stuff! Amazing man!! In 12 years that I have known you, I've usually had to throw you out before parties. That was the help I needed. Not to have you afoot! "
Anish put up a smiley face and did not deny the charge.
E: "By the way, you shouldn't say these things. Banterings take on real colors. I dont make a habit of hitting on Giri."
A(smiling): "Giri is actually pretty pathetic choice of boyfriend."
E: "He's the sweetest. You have no idea."
A: "Really?"
E: "Ok, not sweeter than you.. you win by a very very very minuscule margin!"
A: "Thank God, I was holding my breath there!"
E: "Dont be too sure, honey!"
A: "what do you want to do tomorrow? Besides counselling Giri, which we are not doing for the record."
Ev made another face: "We dont have to do anything."
A: "You will push me off the cliff unless we get out the house and do something. So we'd better decide. Perhaps a hike ?"
Ev's mind had alreay begun to drift. She was seriously concerned for her friends. "OK, whatever.. but you're right. I'll go bananas if I stay home!"

Take my hand: catch 22

2010-06-01T07:05:00.006-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Then and now...

Seema mentioned to me that over the past couple of months she'd been in touch with Ashfaque, her ex-fiance, on email and chat.. Seema also told me, she hadn't told this to Giri. What was I supposed to do with this revelation? I wasn't sure. I told her Ashfaque being her ex, probably it was better out between them, than kept secret. G, he's not a jealous possessive type at all. Seema stared at me for some time and asked if I shared every little thing with Anish... you know give him the daily bulletin. Oh!? I suddenly wondered if this was about me and G? If it was, it was masterfully placed. I tried to think if anything particular had passed between me and G recently that could've triggered this. I drew a blank. I thought Seema and I had this burried long back!

E: "I try to share what I think Anish needs to know. That said, I do use my discretion. If you think G doesn't need to know, you are the best judge. Why did you tell me?"
S: "You are my friend! If I suddenly cut Ashfaque off, what would he think? His wife is ill he says. Perhaps he needs to vent. And bringing this up with Giri.. I feel embarrassed, is all... probably because I've waited all this time."
E (haltingly): "Hmm.. you'll think of something. I mean you could always tell him a noncommittal 'recently' or something.."
Seema gave me a half smile at this suggestion. Comm'n! Its better than keeping mum altogether!
S: "You know, I wonder if Ashfaque's wife suddenly died or something (please dont think that I want her to..) just wondered.. I dont seem to be as angry with him as I once was."
E (shocked): "Goodness Seema! Giri loves you so much! And I thought, you,... " I did not finish the sentence.
S: "You will always be on his side, isn't it? Despite the fact that he broke your heart"
E (stricken): "He did not. Oh Seema, you got it all wrong. I forbid him to see me after you know what."
S: "Do you think I am stupid? Credit me with enough intelligence Ev to understand both of you better than who said no first."
That shut me up. I mean, what can I say to that!
E (resignedly): "Ok, yes, I was disappointed.. "
E: "And it was pretty onesided, to tell you the truth. Giri is my friend, not my lover. He did stand in for a bit, but never wanted the job. "
E: "But that is neither here nor there. We are talking about you and G. Why am I suddenly figuring in this conversation?"
Seema did not answer.
S: "I have broken someone's heart before.. This time may be easier."
E: "I cant believe I am hearing this. S, you gotta talk to G. Talk to him. You guys will figure this out. What is wrong with you? You are perfect for each other. Why are you playing with fire?"

Seema thought Ev's outburst was typical! She was half in love with G and yet not enough to stake a claim. And claim she had. S felt it was a matter of patience and timing for the two. They were both more comitted to each other than either realized, about themselves, and about the other. And now there was Anish and there was her. Seema was surprised in the beginning that Anish did not mind E's obvious attachment to G (and vice versa). She'd minded. Interestingly, it was Anish's attitude that had ultimately helped Seema relax around Ev. Anish obviously knew his wife well. Ev wasn't capable of duplicity at least for duplicity's sake ... and probably his male ego would not allow him to cower at the other possibility.

S stared at me in an intense way and I was getting the feeling that she was trying to get inside my mind, ignoring whatever it is that I am saying.

E: "Listen. I know somewhere there you are also asking me something about G? Please... whatever there was (if) is over a long time ago."
S: "I dont believe you. I am not accusing you.. but I dont think its over between you."
E (becoming really agitated): "It is, it is. Dont draw nonexistant parallels. I am not considering leaving Anish, for god's sake!"
S: "No, but thats because for all your hustle you are a coward. Dont fool yourself."
E: "Shut up! You are.. I love Anish! "
S: "Yes, but I dont love G with your intensity. Why does this bother you? Isn't it right that I do what is right for me? If it were to happen, I dont think it will hurt Giri that much either."
E: "It will destroy him. As it is, he has waited far too long to start. These relationships, they need to start early... I... Seema, dont you want to start a family? You are not getting any younger."
S: "I dont want to have kids now. Children as solution to problem relationships is not my idea of responsible parenting."

I came home that evening feeling depressed. I told Anish what had passed, for a change, not glossing over some of the more embarrassing details. Anish wrapped his arms around me and told me not to worry. He told me to leave Seema and Giri alone for a few days.. let them figure things out. He categorically forbid me to bring this up with G. G must have gotten wind of something. I saw him couple of times at work, but we haven't spoken. I am dying to talk with him.. but.. I am waiting for some sign, I dont know of what. Seema hasn't called me once, since, either.

Take my hand: Then and now...

2010-05-31T17:37:00.003-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Sunday edition

Seema was wearing a pair of gold hoop earings today. The earrings had been a gift from Ashfaque, her ex fiancé (see Laundry Lunch). Seema discovered the earrings this morning while going through an old purse. As she held it, she couldn't stop herself from recalling that Ashfaque had licked her ears when he put them on for her, one by one, in turn.. After their breakup, Seema had painstakingly returned all gifts she'd ever received from him.. categorized and discarded items that reminded her of him.. how does one close the chapter on 6 years of one's life? These earrings had escaped her. She decided, what the heck, she'd wear it!

No matter how determined you are to start afresh, its hard to neatly tuck all the memories away. And what is worse is that good memories have a tendency to linger.. while bad ones fade with time. A year and a half ago, when she'd broken her engagement, she was furious and strong... now all that remained was a sense of desolation, futility.. and Ashfaque did love her.. parts of her felt guilty for having perhaps misunderstood him; for perhaps having given him wrong signals about what she would and would not stand.

Seema met Ashfaque the other day on google chat. That ID had not come alive in so long that she'd forgotten it was there. When the "hi" popped up, it had seemed childish to refuse to answer. Ashfaque has a son now, Yarek, from his first wife... he sent her his photographs. The kid inherited distinct features from his father.. On that picture, only the innocent sweetness came through.. Seema had felt a tug at her heart and her eyes had clouded with unreasonable tears... Later, it seemed pointless to share this with Giri! G came home with a flu. He decided to sleep separately in the guest room so S wouldn't catch it. Seema cried some more in her empty bed that night.

G took the stance that marriage was a partnership. How many men truly did that? Seema supposed she was lucky. When G'd agreed to marry her, she'd thought him to be a "I'll take care of you" kind of a guy. G was not that person. G expected her to hold her own. He didn't molly coddle his mother either. S wasn't sure if she truly enjoyed this latitude or felt neglected by it. She was used to assertive male figures. Ashfaque for example, had always maintained a principal partner presence. Giri was very hands off.. It made Seema wonder if G was truly devoted to her, or still hesitant.

Take my hand: Sunday edition

2010-05-30T17:12:00.019-07:00

Continued from
No swing.. yet

Anish was raking a thick layer of tiny white flowers, that is courtesy of a tree in their backyard that he did not know the name for. The tiny flowers came down copiously with the breeze everyday and was not fragnant at all. How maddening! Giri appeared in the doorway leading to the garden. Anish looked up.

A (breaking into a wide smile): "Are!!! when did you get here?"
G(smiling): "About now.. (breaking into a chuckle) Ev put you up to this?"
A(shaking his head in mock exasperation): "Do you have plans for your backyard this year?"
G: "We kept planning all of last year! Neither of us actually did anything.. I think this year's going the same way.."
A(with a grin): "I'll let it out to Ev that you want it.. she will make sure it gets done."
G (with a grin as well): "I know.. and so I forbid you to do us that favor. Now move.. they are making luchi I believe. Some exercise will do me good."
A (promptly straightening up to hand over the rake): "Only too happy to oblige my friend."
Giri notices that Anish is wearing a white T shirt with things written on it with markers.. innn probably Ev's hand!?
G: "Interesting T shirt there!"
Anish quickly looks down and with an embarrassed smile, crosses his arms to cover his chest: "When Ev was away on the east coast, she would write stuff up on these Ts.. and then we were supposed to do them when she got back (his smile had become a sheepish grin) ... so I got quiet a collection of these Ts with corny language.. I use'em for nightwear.. (chuckling slowly) I'll go change."
Giri said:" Waaait a minute.. " (and tried to read). Anish had no intention of letting that happen and sort of ducked indoors saying, "No, dont, please."
Giri did read one interesting suggestion in there. And was smiling to himself. It is so like Ev to come up with this stupid plan! But it was sweet.. and come to think of it, sexy.
Seema came to the door and saw G with the rake.
S: "Bah... get practice and you can do it again tomorrow at your own house."
G: "I am working out for the calorie overload you guys are planning for us. I am not doing this at home.. and dont mention this to Ev because she will come over with the plants and the rake.."
S (grinning): "Then we'd at least have something. I think thats what I'm going to do to get us motivated.... You know I put on 5 lbs, since I've come here. I've been working out, but still end up gaining." She begins to press the slight hint of adipose around her waist.
G (looking over S in a mock leery way and beginning a wolf whistle which did not turn out quiet right.. he abandoned that attempt): "All in the right places, me love!"
Ev came in on them: "Finish the raking or, I wont serve no brunch, amigos." Seema danced her eyebrows with a grin and departed.
Luchi (hand-made deep fried puffed flour bread) and begun bhaja (fried eggplants) were eaten in the newly cleared patch in the garden on a cotton mat aka sataranchi .

Take my hand: No swing... yet

2010-05-29T18:20:00.022-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Purple Haze (not that other thing!)

Lies say more about you than you are willing to say at all. Giri and Seema were chatting the other day..

S: "So how do you like working with Ev?"
G: "OK I guess.."
S (make a face): "Can you elaborate?"
G: "Whatever you want to know, you should ask me directly." Seema cant get Giri to talk about Ev, ever!
S: "I just asked a simple question. Isn't it natural that I want to know?"
G: "I dont understand what you want to know. She' great. Lets talk about something else. "
S: "No, I want to talk about this. "
S: (after a bit of a pause..) You chose all those songs for her. I borrowed the CD back and.. frankly, I was.. feeling a bit jealous." Seema shrugged. There, better out than in.
G: "It was her marriage anniversary! Its all on my hard drive anyways. How long does it take to choose 12 songs you liked. Its not as if I sat and composed them!"
S: "Why are you becoming agitated?"
G: "Why did you ask me how I liked working with her, if this was your real question?"
S: "I.. well... its not that I am really concerned.."
G: "Dont be, I love you. And I thought you liked Ev? How can you be friends and yet ask me these questions?"
S (with a sigh): "I like Ev.. I really do.. but with due provocation, you never know.. she is pretty volatile. "
G (breaking into a smile at the last bit): "With due Provocation! And what would be due provocation, you think?"
S: "She told me about your team building exercise from work the other day."
G screwed up his eyebrows. "Say what?"
S: "You know, everybody draws their neighbor on a yellow post it."
G: "It was the silliest thing I ever did.. what about it?"
S: "Consider.. staring at the face, at the eyebrows, at the eyes, at the nose.. absorbing the shapes of the mouth.. it could be provocative with the right neighbor."
G (grinning now): "Good god, Seema! We took one look at the person who sat next to us and finished him off. And by the way, guilty as that sounds, I know her face very well.. I cant draw, but if I could, I wouldn't need to stare at her to draw her."
S (smiling too): "You are a slippery customer, mon ami"
G (shaking his head): "When have I ever been less than honest with you? Tell me one time."
Seema sat quietly looking at Giri for a bit. She wore a half amused, half mock suspicious expression.. and then said..
S: "Ev keeps saying, What scotty doesn't know cant hurt Scotty.. "
G: "Go bug her. I never said that. But I can tell you this. Ev cant keep secrets. I can. She cant."
S: "I disagree."
G: "Thats your prerogative.. Now lets not talk about this anymore.. can you make me a sandwich?"

Seema got up to make the sandwich. After she left the room, Giri closed his eyes and sat their musing. He hadn't lied to Seema or anything. On that particular day, Ev was not his neighbor. He'd drawn an androgynous human face, like everybody else, without any attention to details. He didn't even know the guy he drew. However, he'd become conscious of Ev looking at him several times from another table, and couldn't help but look at her askance as well. It seemed like she'd chosen him for her subject! Somewhere along, the thing had stopped being light hearted and became a tease...he'd noticed her expression change, he thought. He'd gone around afterward to ask her for his portrait. Ev refused to admit that she'd drawn him at all.

Take my hand: Purple Haze (not that other thing!)

2010-05-28T03:48:00.009-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Allure

I was leafing through a copy of the Sharodiya Desh and felt no desire to abandon it to get dressed for tonights dinner at a couples' we really don't gel that well with. However, it was almost 7:25. Although they lived a few minutes away, I knew it was time to move on. I tried to see if the bathroom light was on from my position on the sofa. No, there was no one in there yet. "Anish, sona... do you want to freshen up first?" I called out to my husband. There was no response. "Darling, We should set out in another 20 minutes or so...", I called out a second time. Silence from the bedroom again. Hmm.. Keeping my book away I walked over into the bedroom to find Anish snoring. I went close to his sleeping form and started to gently run my fingers through his hair. "Honey, you remember about tonight, right?" Anish opened sleep reddened eyes. "What, tonight you mean?" This did not sound good to me. I could feel the stirrings of an unreasonable anger. He never remembers these things! The onus of public relations rests on my shoulders in this family.. but.. no point in spoiling his sleep just now! Too many sleeps and evenings have been wasted on the issue, without effect. I breathed deeply to calm herself. "Yes, sona, tonight... in fact in another 15 minutes.. Do you want to use the bathroom first?" Anish ignored the question and pulled me close for a soft sleepy kiss. I loved his warm balmy breath on my cheeks.. see what I'm saying about no point in arguments? I wished he'd wake up and prolong this caress into something more... not gonna happen. So I shake him some more, firmer this time. "You've really got to wake up darling, I don't like to be late.." "You go first.. " Anish rolled to the other side of the bed. "I'll be along in a few minutes". My mood begun to sour some more.. but I controlled myself.

I begun to wonder why is it that our magic seems always interrupted with silly frustrations between us these days.. I remembered the time around two years ago when Anish and I were forced to live in two different cities, 3000 miles apart, because of our work situations. Every two or three weeks I would fly overnight to visit him for a weekend. The travel was exhausting. Anish'd be there to pick me up at the airport. Everytime I saw him after those breaks, I'd really notice him... not like seeing someone everyday. I'd really register his face, his sharp pointy nose, his long eye lashes.. As I'd get into the car, the smell of him, a mixture of his cologne and a pungent something else, would hit me with a familiar wave of longing... the tiredness from the journey would just melt. It was not a new style he wore, or, that he was specially thoughtful.. it was the simple effect of a break from monotony. I remember this one time we went to a beach straight from the airport, sat there in the warm sun and ate luchi and dry potato curry that I'd prepared the day before, packed and flown in! This, from someone who often is caught without supplies for as much as a sandwich these days! I'd come home and look over my plants, take stock of the kitchen and in every way feel renewed in my domesticity. I'd have had to (of course!) threaten Anish on the phone from at least 3 days prior, so that a sink full of dirty dishes and unwashed laundry were not part of my welcome committee... It was never arranged exactly how I'd want either (I always want things just so..) But it was.. enough. Since I'd come on Saturdays mostly, we'd try to catch some music and spicy fluffy empanadas at the local farmer's market some days... come home with an armful of fragrant peony blossoms or whatever struck my fancy. After the long abstinence, we'd each delay touching until we couldn't anymore and it would be so perfect every time. Though I Hated to leave him behind afterward, I miss the magic from those days....

This marriage anniversary I decided, I will make some special effort.. no easy gifts, complicated vacations, or boring eat outs. Well, to be frank, I'd toyed with the idea of a vacation, but I delayed too long to book anything! And Anish's gifting record is pretty dismal.. to date includes a pink micky mouse watch.. a plastic rose.. a pair of dull metal earrings.. a toy monkey.. I have a box to keep these miscellaneous useless items... so anyways.. I got goat meat that I cooked with dry prunes and loads of other spices, tangy sweet and hot.. a Mediterranean recipe you should try. We had vegetable biriyani and dil raita as well. After finishing off the cooking around 4, I called Seema up and we met at Macy's to buy a dress for me. I got a red halter neck dress and red shoes. Shopping with a friend provided there is no list to go down, and the ocassion is to splurge on yourself is an awesome thing! I hurried back around 6... Seema stuck around for a bit helping me light candles and arrange roses... Anish was thankfully out of the way at the gym. I'd feel embarrassed doing this just for ourselves with Seema and Anish both hanging about. Anyways... my good friend Giri also did his bit. And I think this particular bit finally made my anniversary incredibly sweet... So Giri knows most of the songs that embody the concept of romance for me.. because they were the ones from our college days that we'd fallen in love with together. He put together a collection of songs on a CD from Bryans Adams, Backstreet Boys, and Michael learns to rock. He dropped it off with a sumptuous chocolate cake and a really good bottle of Chianti when he came to pick Seema up. Anish loved the music. I was happy to deck up and cuddle up to dance .. really just soaking in the warmth from his arms, from the glow in his eyes, and the music in my soul.

Take my hand: Allure

2010-05-25T17:36:00.031-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: You're always on my mind

The other day walking by the beach, Giri and I were discussing about men and their fixation with physical appeal. I was irritated with him for defending the attitude. To me, it is plain stupid. To me, every person has some beauty.. Giri insisted the concept did not make sense without some sort of perfection of the physical form. Men are just hardwired. No matter how concieted, how asinine, Ms Perfect 10 always wins! Giri countered that intelligence, humor, poise.. these qualities are valued.. just some.. (he paused here) more agressive traits are negatively scored. He gave me the single eyebrow. "Certain smart self assured women who shoot their mouth a lot... can come across as insincere, cocksure, dominating. Its not endearing." I could see he was goading me. I could not ignore the taunt. I said "That could be an error in judgement, you know.. I think of both insincerity and confidence as sexy traits. Dominating could mean an active and provocative partner. Seema live up to that?" Giri did not answer. I couldn't stop. "Why did you suddenly decide to marry after all those years of waiting, at 33? Seema too pretty to pass up?" It'd crossed my mind that Giri's wife possessed all the things he has just described as positive attributes.. and by the same token, I'd come out somewhat short. Not that I cared. Really. And G was just saying things.. he couldn't be the friend he was to me if had issues with aggressive women.. though I like to call myself emphatic.. whatever!

In answer to my impertinent question, he cooly looked at his watch and suggested we walk back. Wrong move. I couldn't let him dismiss my question. Insufferable. Not to be borne with. "Tell me Giri, how it is between you? I can see Seema is beautiful. But she is... whats the word, passive, isn't it? She ever give head?" Shock flooded his eyes. Giri said: "Are you crazy? Have you no filter in your head? How can you ask me this?" As soon as I'd said it, I knew I'd crossed a line. Not that I have anything against the activity, but I do realize its not something I can ask a friend about his wife.. I resorted to a tactic I hate. I said, "I have always felt that your obsession with beauty was why we did not work out! I am sorry about what I said just now." And then mustering what dignity I could, while I felt perfectly mortified, I about-turned and walked away from him.. as fast as my legs could carry me. I heard Giri scream, "What the f*** do you want me to say, Ev?" I did not answer.

I sat in my car waiting for him because his vehicle was still parked at our office.. What I said in the end was not wholly untrue, you know. Except that today it no longer mattered and I shouldn't have taunted him about Seema in that way. Giri's refusal to pursue me had hurt my self esteem more than I'd ever admitted to anyone. May be his reasons were different than what I assumed, but I could not shake the feeling that I was right. And that hurt. He never gave me any reassurance. I walked out on him because I couldn't bear to have him walk out. Somehow G had been a foil against which I chose a man like Anish. I wanted someone whoes intrinsic perception of the female appeal was wholly different from the stereotype. With Anish, our relationship blossomed because he really hadn't come to me with any preconceptions of the opposite sex. We were free to define the man woman relationship on our own terms. We were free to evolve. We've experimented with sensual freedom beyond just sight. And there is soo much to explore. My self image has undergone major reorientation since those days and no thanks to G.

Take my hand: You're always on my mind

2010-05-24T19:39:00.056-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Skeletons in her cupboard

Contrary to suspicions you may have, I did not follow Ev into my current position. This was the right opportunity for me. I love the work I do. That said, having Ev around is a bonus. I am not exactly immune to the spice in the nature of things between us, beyond of our obvious friendship. But I care for her too much to mess with her. If something were to happen, I have a gut feeling that she will not be able to handle it. Perhaps I should've married her. Why didn't I? Its just one of those things you are not ready to decide at 20. By the time I was ready, she'd moved on. After all these years, its great to see her again.. going to work together, working on projects together.. seeing her get annoyed at something I've done better than her, just like in school.. seeing her getting mad if I have ignored some of her suggestions.. She has changed and yet has remained very much who she was before.

Anish, her husband and I often partner in tennis. He is sort of intense, which does get to me sometimes. But he is thoughtful... comes up with interesting insights about things.. has a sense of humor that is aligned with mine.. He's way different from Ev. I guess you could say they compliment each other. My wife Seema gets along much better with Anish than me. With Ev you are either thick like honey or thin like air and you are never in any doubt where you stand.. at least I can tell easily. With Seema you will always get some traction. But she privately despises many people she knows! I think Seema and Anish really do get on well together. I've carefully tried to assess this. Never asked her outright though. Things between us are frank and yet not so frank. I could ask Ev anything. And I mean anything. And I totally can tell when she is lying to me. But I cant ask Seema anything I want. And I cant tell when she is lying. I am still feeling my way around her, it would seem.

Seema and I, we met past the age when lovers gush and moon and trust instinctively. And so, we are still working each other out. Seema is given to a bit of despondency. Ev's influence has been good for her. For example, that birthday party, pleasantly, surprised me. Seema is someone who'll let me sleep on the sofa for nights together and not complain. It takes a great deal to get her to act.. we rarely argue, which would seem like a boon.. but its not. Discussions with her on most topics feel academic, as if it does not really concern her. With Ev, every answer is personal. You are either on her side or on the other side. With Seema, all of them is a distilled point of view. I used to admire S for her objectivity. But I'm growing a bit weary of it. I want to break into her soul and intuit what she feels.. not be told things!

Seema remains beautiful and unruffled, to me. Her aloofness maddens me, really. She does not lack in passion. Just that, even when aroused she maintains a kind of detachment. Her desires are a secret that I cannot read in her smoldering eyes, while I am helpless in the throes of mine. She never takes charge or guides me. It may be a self defense mechanism of sorts. Don't demand, and therefore don't be disappointed. Or, perhaps she is made like that.. I certainly hope with time she will learn to trust me more and experiment. In fact, I am counting on Ev to infect her with a little of her self-abandon. Seema was my parents choice, but today she is also mine. I am fascinated by this woman. I've never regretted my decision.

Take my hand: Skeletons in her cupboard

2010-05-23T13:27:00.019-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Waylaid

Seema told me a story today that I dont know if its her own or really that of an unnamed friend. The girl was just 12 or 13 at the time. She spent her summer holiday afternoons, mostly playing hide and seek with the other kids in the locality. There was an old man. He would join these kids in their game. Often he would sit with the kid who was to be the seeker, making sure he or she does not look where the other playmates dispersed to hide. It started innocently like that. The hands that held those restless eyes shut, strayed. For the girl, it was enough to get a hint on which way her playmates had gone so she could find them fast and be vowed for her skills. One thing led to the other. How far did it go? The girl doesn't remember too well. She remembers having seen the man naked. But was there actual penetration? She does not remember. At the time, at the back of her mind, she had realized what was happening was sort of wrong. But how wrong? What did it mean? To her, it was a strange mix of feelings.. there was some awakening to a purely physical pleasure and also the pleasure of having a naughty secret to keep.. and there was also the fear that she hadn't spoken out first when it happened.. she does not remember any pain... until later the whole memory of it was painful.. unendurable. It'd continued until school started back and then it stopped. Perhaps the man had grown tired.. or fearful of the child's ability to keep the secret.. we wont know why it stopped. It did.

The story emerged while we were waiting for a free HIV screening test that was being run in our locality. I was shocked. I tried to say that AIDS could be some dirty needle sometime somewhere! It does not have to be this, although the virus does lie dormat for years. No matter what, this story did not have to come out now after all these years. People say these things should be said in the beginning. But how could she share this shame with someone in the beginning? And then after she'd known him some? Could she risk the budding warmth of a lovely romance? Could she risk breaking hearts? Could she risk the censure, the judgement, the rejection? It is easy to tell oneself that you never needed to know. That the girl who's shameful secret it was her burden to carry was a wholly different person. For God's sake, she was 12 or 13 at the time!

Take my hand: Waylaid

2010-05-22T08:41:00.056-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Anish

The other week night, I was working late. I called Anish at 7:00 and told him I'll be late. Around 9:00 he says he tried calling me to check how much later. My cell phone was in the silent mode. My desk phone had shifted off the hook somehow. He could not reach me.. deciding to wait some more, he dozed off. About 2:00 am, he woke up to realize I am not home yet, haven't called. I was still not answering either of my phones... he called Giri. G convinced him that they should check my office before heading to the police station since he has an access card to get into the building. A picked G up on the way.

And so it was that I found a sleep groggy me staring into Giri's face as he shook me awake. He must have been relieved, which means he must have been worried prior... because next I knew, he was planting soft kisses all over my face with a couple of "thank Gods" here and there. I'm typically pretty slow to become fully concious after I am awakened at 2:00 AM. And so without quiet thinking about it, I did what I do when I am kissed. I kissed back. Sometime later we both came to what was happening and broke apart.. I hurried out with G following. Anish was waiting in the car. I profusely apologized.. I thought he'd be livid, now that it was plain that I wasn't in any danger.. just been irresponsible. But he held me tightly listening to the explanations with closed eyes. Giri offered to drive up to his house. Anish and I rode at the back of our car while I rested my head against him. I heard G calling S on the phone.

We have been avoiding each other discreetly since, or, at least I have been avoiding him. He did not seek me out. Today I got a call from Seema. Its G's birthday. She's planning to have a couple of us over. My task was to keep Giri from going home until about 7:00. I couldn't find any excuse to refuse. She also said she had already spoken with Anish and A will go to Seema's directly from work.. she had some stuff for him to help with. Around 4:00, I gingerly went to G's cube and asked when he was planning to leave. He gave me the single eyebrow. I said I needed a ride home. Great line! Seeing as I was trying to avoid being alone with him and live only about 20 minutes away .. how was that going to solve delay up to 7:00! And not to mention my own car sitting in the company parking lot.. but G didn't know that.. he did not ask me about my car. He just said he'd be ready to leave in another 20 minutes. "No rush, just whenever you are ready", I said lamely.

We didn't talk en route.. actually talked but the conversation did not pick up. When we reached home, I asked him to come in. Not, "Will you come in?" You see, I had no choice now.. Or, I could just tell him that his birthday party was planned, that he not please head home until 7:00. Perhaps in my situation, option 2 was better. I did not do it. I asked him to come in. And then offered him wine. As I am pouring a Merlot into his glass, he stands with his elbows on my kitchen counter and asked me, "what exactly is going on?" So I tell him, "Nothing, I thought we should talk.. on our own for a bit." He narrows his eyes, twists his lips, but says nothing.. he does not break eye contact as he sips his wine. I cant look away either.. I notice every move he makes with flicking his eyes, or darting out his tongue to wet his lips. Next he says, "When is Anish due back?" I was supposed to say I dont know. I said instead, "not until later, past 7". Vah! And then I have this curious desire to giggle.. I am not good with controlling giggles. G's lips curve and he says, "Are we talking until then?" I said, "Yes, sort of. Unless you want to watch a movie?" Privately, I am astounded that I am considered above average intelligent! Where exactly am I going with this.. .think, I willed myself silently!! "We could do other things.. innnn an hour and a half" he said checking his watch." My heart was pounding and I wondered he couldn't hear it. He said, lets go walk on the beach and we can catch the sun set...

I changed into jeans and a red sleeveless collared blouse that I was saving for some special occasion. I am happy to count today as one. I also put jewelery, a bit of makeup, and a multi colored knitted stole around my neck.. I put on red sandals and received a single eyebrow.. I discerned approval of sorts in them this time. We went to the shore-front and walked on the paved path bordering around it.. I dont know what it is about guilt. It smothers you just as suddenly as it can evaporate. I felt purged with that walk.. exercise is a good way of getting things off your mind. Where G is concerned, I am loathe to introspect too much. I am scared to find something that I cant walk back from...

Take my hand: Anish

2010-05-20T17:28:00.042-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: The laundry lunch

Evie and I met in college. For a long time I used to think she did come from Venus. For better or worse, Mars and Venus got together.. you could say they are still light years apart. We are working on it.

Ev loves people. She has friends that will swear by her. I've met some of them. Most of Ev's friends are really nice. Of late, I've met Giri. Ev has a habit of effusive reminiscencing. I am annoyed, bored and amused in equal parts by this habit. Yet mostly I am not sure what is true and what is story telling. She is complicated. You have to read between her lines..

I like Giri. I actually like it that he cares for Ev. Thats for anyone to see. I guess I am curious too. I never had friends close to me like that. And I am intrigued by Seema. She's very beautiful. I haven't known too many women well. Seema attracts and repels me at the same time. Attracts because she's really smart. Repels because she's a bit on the morose side. She's different from most of Ev's other friends. I'd like to know her better. The other day at the movie theater, we couldn't agree on a single movie. Seema and I chose the same one. I suggested each of us see what we liked. My suggestion was not serious. Seema agreed to the proposal out of the blue. You can trust Ev to give up on reason at a time like this. If she did not like the idea, why she couldn't say "I dont think so", I dont know. She flashed her eyes and almost stormed away dragging Giri by his hand. Seema was smiling at me. I am not sure what was on her mind. We ended up watching this gory movie together. And then I could see Ev was in one of her moods. At times like this I am at a total loss. I have no clue how to turn things around. I just wait for her to recover.

Ev is frantically planning a vacation with the four of us. I feel ill at ease committing hours for vacations. But once Ev gets something into her head, it gets done or there is no peace. Actually, let me recant that. I do enjoy the trips if the company is right. Unfortunately, Ev is usually pretty indiscriminate.

We have come to the Redwood Forests National Park. The trees are so tall. I can easily believe that a dinosaur walked this place. The floors are covered with gray green moss, as is some of the trees. It looks like a scene out of the Jurassic Park. The tree barks are wet and peeling. The tree roots look deep and tortuously knotted. It is wet, cold and abysmally cloudy. But this seems to go with the place. We hiked almost a mile without talking.. any one of us. That is so unusual. The atmosphere here gets to you. You cannot laugh out loud in a temperate rain forest. It will feel weird. "click, click...No photographs please!" Whenever we go out on hikes, this screams in my head. But Ev is beyond stubborn. She is however reticent today (thank goodness!) Giri and her are walking ahead of us. So, Seema is walking next to me. Silence can be opressing and silence can be companionable. Right now, I want Ev to come walk with me. I am used to being quiet with her. Its diffcult to be quiet with a stranger unless you are willing to ignore her. I couldn't exactly ignore Seema somehow.

I dreamt of large trees closing in on me all night.. it was terrible. Ev says she woke up twice during the night and caught me mumbling pretty loudly. She shook me but I did not wake up. Just stopped the talking. She is looking freaked out. Poor girl. I tell her this is nothing. But I am pretty spooked myself. The forests are having a strange effect of me. It is so quiet here. So dark. So peaceful. You lose sense of time. Even the concierge at our hotel wore a disturbingly vacant expression. Seema had similar dreams she reports. Dark black shapes stifling her... not allowing her to breathe! Vow!

Take my hand: The laundry lunch...

2010-05-19T17:47:00.017-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Volare

After I had my say, Seema opened up... rather more than she had ever done in the past.

"Coming clean isn't just about disclosing facts.. I was engaged to marry Ashfaque for 6 years. I met him as a student in UK. On the eve of our marriage he told me he has a Saudi wife back home and that I was to be his second. He said he really loved me... that I was to be the intellectual companion .. blah blah. But he could not let go of the first lady. This is legal in Saudi Arabia; people do it all the time."

Seema continued.. "I broke the engagement right away. I couldn't live as wife #2. But, for Ashfaque? I think he did love me. His first marriage had occurred when he was 16.. how much control did he have over it? And then, he'd been immersed in this completely different culture for so long... perhaps he was tempted to negate his past. He had taken his chances with me. You see, I think he thought of polygamy differently than me because of who he was. Fact is he lied and we broke up.. but both of us took something home from that experience and thats the important stuff.. not the lie or the break up... Can you really communicate that take home to another person.. specially at the beginning of the relationship when you have no idea which way things will go.."

"I have already told you I dont care about your little incident. But I want you to know why I dont care... its not because he has told me it wont ever happen again and I believe him. I guess despite.. or because of.. my past experiences, I no longer look at things in black and white. When I married Giri, (and by the way, I knew about the two of you before you told me. Giri told me before we married).. "

"What did he say?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. She paused and gave me a half smile.. "Paraphrasing of course, he said that you both had difficulties to adjust to sex.. as yet another dimension of the human relationship.. that you distanced yourselves to purge your minds." She stopped again and then continued, "What I am saying is, Giri and you go much further than that kiss... if I am to be afraid, I should fear that access you have to his soul." I didn't have anything to tell her... She continued.. "I dont want to be fearful. I am happy to give him some rope. I trust he will know what to do with that rope. But I would like to trust myself more.. that I go on." I sat thinking about what she'd said. What is strange is she feels she has that choice.. who chooses fear ever?

What does it mean to partner for life? The more I think, the more I am convinced, it is nothing more and nothing less than lifelong friendship. A lifelong friend, of either sex can be fulfilling. And sex.. is just another dimension to the human relationship, as Seema said. I think exploring sex with either sex could be equivalent if you are talking release, talking satisfaction.. I am going to leave reproduction for another time now.. because I think thats the bias that skews us up. Its the connection that matters. No two people are a 100% alike... so you need a set to meet your needs. I think this concept is ultimately more beautiful than the one and only idea. More complex, but more genuine. Whats the point of a bovine and loyal partner... really!

Take my hand: Volare

2010-05-18T19:06:00.033-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Now and Then..

Summer is here and I am happily greening my backyard... I have the matoes and the okies.. And japanese eggplants and cauliflowers lined up. Three trips to Home Depot has done wonders for my soul! Anish is ignoring me firmly. Because of course an upshot of this has also been no breakfast this saturday morning.. and it is now nearing noon. The Raha's it would seem is coming to our rescue. I observed their car pulling in and Seema emerging with IHOP plastic bags.. Ah, pancakes! I surmised happily. Pancakes dripping with butter and maple syrup. Ummmmm... good. Anish complained, huh? Seema is smugly smiling at me. "Of course he did and I have left standing instruction that he can holler whenever you are in these moods of yours.." Are you telling me that you never slip? Because Giri has never called me for rescue. Seema says, "He calls you for lunches in which I am not invited!" I screw up my eyebrows. What are you talking about? We work at the same company.. of course we share the cafeteria grub! You are always welcome to it. "No, I meant the other time, when you guys had the burrito on the beach." I stood looking at her speechless. Good grief! Giri emerged from the sidelines. I made a face at everybody and sought refuge amongst the greens! I couldn't even think of a good exit line! Giri followed me there and commented that I am looking good in my gardening gear.. I've never gotten a compliment from him in my life! I felt pleased, and suddenly self concious in my shorts and flip-flops. I looked away from him frantically because my red face had become a top priority to conceal.

After the pancake feast, we decided to go catch a movie. Anish and Seema love horror flicks. Giri is neutral and I am dead against. We were gathered at the Century 21 but couldn't reach a concensus. After some back and forth, Anish suggested that we each go see whatever we like. We could meet outside later for the ice-cream! What!!! Guess what, Seema agreed! I and Giri looked from one to the other. Two can play this game baby! I grabbed Giri and headed toward one of the theaters. I sat there not enjoying the movie at all. How could Anish make this stupid suggestion! And Seema it seemed to me at that moment, was always agreeing with Anish. After a while I felt G whisper, "lets go out"... we did. But I was brooding mostly... Mind, I am NOT suspecting them of any foul play whatsoever. It was just plain annoying. But I was worked up and didn't feel a thing when Giri linked his hands with mine... at 4:00, we arrived back at the theater to pick A & S up.. I didn't look at Anish, but I had to look at Seema with a smile. What I saw there gave me a shock. Her eyes held an understanding that was a revelation. Seema had noticed whatever it was, or was not, there, between me and Giri. His suddenly switching jobs could've come across as odd .. She'd been married for less than a year to this guy.. their alliance had been arranged by their families. It has probably been challenging for her to accept, to understand, to move on. Even while I was being friends with her, I'd pretended with her, I'd been less than honest... and she had had to let it go...

I called Seema and we have come to lunch together, just the two of us, this Sunday afternoon. I've told her everything I could about my relationship with Giri... about our friendship, about our fallout and about my current feelings of affection for both of them. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I still feel attracted to G. I just couldn't.

Perhaps it did not matter as long as there was no substance to it.... What that means is that it does not matter when infidelity is in your mind. It means that it does not matter if you watch pornography. Stupidly, it suddenly mattered if you "did" it. The logic of it is all warped, it seemed to me!

Take my hand: Now and then...

2010-05-17T19:00:00.002-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Shall we dance

Giri and I grew up together.. Made mad plans, shared our deepest wisdoms.. And yet... our relationship did not survive what happened toward the end. I guess I was too deeply entrenched in the chastity paradigm... despite my open rebellion of every conventional notion.. despite the smoking and the alchohol abuse... the bravado was all superficial.. I couldn't do what I thought I could do.

My problem was, Giri never said he loved me or anything like that. That we cared for each other, there was never any doubt... but that was not enough... To him, this was a new fun thing we had discovered. He was obsessed with lust.. For me, sex had to be packaged as part of now and forever, and from the one and only. It just wasn't something friends could do. I felt bruised by his lack of empathy.. he lost patience with my teary eyed idealism.

Seeing him again now is very different from back then. I remember the nice things.. even that brief episode makes me smile.. its not revolting at all.. anymore. This daliance with him now is sweet. I believe its also inconsequential. The good thing about it is that, its refreshing me. I smile more, I take care how I dress, I feel more aware of myself as a woman. Seeing Giri again has helped my relationship with Anish. We feel closer together most nights... we'd usually just be exhausted and hit the bed... but he's doing things that we just did not have the energy to do before. We are talking more.. he's taken well to these two sweet friends in our life.

Would I sleep with Giri sometime in the future? I am not worried. I dont plan on it and though its on my mind, oh yes, it is.. its there more in an academic sense. I dont want to obsess about it. You cant work everything out in your head. I think we've both gotten over sex for the sake of it. So, if it happens, it will. And in those moments, we will belong together.

Take my hand: Shall we dance?

2010-05-16T11:18:00.036-07:00

Continued from
Take my hand: Moody Blues

Tango is the new love of my life. After about a year's nagging, I have finally managed to get Anish to accompany me to a local studio where they teach this. Both the music and the dance is sooo sexy, and emotive. Its got speed and depth. The dancers are supposed to look into each other's eyes, while their bodies glide as one.. its divine! Isn't that what sex is all about? Giri refuses to join us... Seema and I are both working on him. I'd love to Tango with Giri I've told him several times.

On the subject of divine dances, Seema tells me that the best part of their lovemaking is kissing. Her opinion is Giri does it well. She adds, that it was the only part of sex she had alternate data to compare with.. and Giri won the round. I did not tell her that I have some idea of what she meant about Giri's skills. For me, it started on a trip to Santineketan when we were about 17.. the last night of the trip, with the dancing to the romantic hits and some drinks, we were all high. Into the wee hours, dragging Giri out, I nestled close to him.. and touched my lips to his, wet and balmy. He started to kiss back. I did not like it.. it hurt because Giri was super excited and using his teeth too much. I tried to push him off. He pinned me to the wall with his weight and held both my hands above my head. "Shhhh", He tried to calm me down and put soft pressure with his mouth on what parts of my face and ears he could access. He kept whispering.. "We can do this... tell me how.. I'll fix it." His breath was hot and sweet with alchohol. To this day, I am totally aroused with the slightest hint of liquor on Anish's breath. Anyways... so I quietened down and we figured things out bit by bit.. with halting directions on what felt good and what did not.... I have discovered over the years that while setting things right was easy to do with a dear friend, it does not come that easily for most. Its difficult to voice sexual disappointment... people silently take blame, or, assign blame.. feel deprived, but still fake it. If you are only willing to go the extra mile, you can change your experience of it forever!

When Seema and I returned from this week's Saturday shopping, I noticed that Seema had picked all of Anish's clothes. I recalled it being punctuated by ""this will look good on him".. "this will go well with his gray jeans"... At one point she had said, she loved the length of Anish's eye lashes and wished she had such long ones herself... I reflected on our afternoon together with amusement. I didn't pick anything for anybody but myself. Seema chose Giri's things as well. I found it hard to contemplate Giri in one outfit or other with Seema breathing down my neck.

And now, a bit of sensational news for my readers.. Last month, Giri was offered a position with our company in my group! He accepted and is set to join in another week. It happened quiet out of the blue really. One Wednesday morning recruiter sends me Giri Raha's resume. Since he did not tell me that he'd applied, I did not to tell him that I will be part of his interview panel. At his presentation, Giri looked delectable in a great-fit gray suit on his six feet, slender frame.. I watched him closely, with a private pride, not really listening to what he had to say. Just looking at him. I could never do this ordinarily, right? I watched his thin lips as they formed the words, watched him come alive as he was explaining his work, answering questions... watched his dark skin glow as he moved around. Giri was mesmerizing.. I could see people respond to his charm. I waited for my 45 minutes of one on one with him. The first question I asked was "Why did you apply for this position?" He said he was intrigued by the possibilities for him. Boy, Me too! Next I asked, "How do you resolve conflicts? Give me an example." He said, "Conflicts happen if people dont share a common understanding of their role. My strategy is to align expectations all around." Interesting, I thought to myself. As far back as I can remember, Giri has never resolved any conflict we had. We never said sorry or talked to "make up". Usually the next time we met, we'd just ignore the fall out and go on. I think his real skill is in neatly shoving conflicts under the carpet... I'd have liked to discuss the point further.. Unfortunately, I had to ask some technical questions as well...

Take my hand: Moody Blues

2010-05-14T17:59:00.108-07:00

Continued from...
Take my hand: Sweetened by time

Over the past two months or so, we have fallen into the habit of getting together for something or the other, pretty often... The other day Giri and Seema had come to pick us up for one such potluck gathering. I was getting out of our garage when I saw Giri leaning over his steering wheels and kissing Seema, pretty heatedly. Quickly I stepped back and hid myself. I could feel my heart racing. I couldn't tell exactly what it was. I wasn't jealous or hurt, but, then maybe I was, a bit of both. Of course I knew Giri loved his wife! And they had been married for hardly a year! But... I was sort of moody all evening. Giri came over to whisper something in my ear and I catapulted out of my seat. He raised a single eyebrow at me. Humph. Anish asked me if I had a headache.. I felt irritation at being so transparently disturbed. I made an effort to pull myself together.

This manifested in the form of loud guffaws and repeated requests for my Rita to be refilled... I begun to feel a bit dizzy and a headache had actually materialized by this time. Seema drew me out on the verandah by my hand. The slight chill from the outside air felt good on my flushed skin. Our hosts had put mini-bulb streamers over their railings. The effect was very festive. In all that glow, I felt tearful.. unable to handle my moodiness and the alchohol and the meaningless chatter of the past two hours. Seema put her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulders. I was comforted by her presence there with me.. We came home and Giri did not even look at me when we said bye. I suppose that was fair given that I hadn't behaved very well with him all of the evening. Anish and him had made plans for playing tennis the next day. I declared I was unwell and made them cancel the plan. This is so uncharacteristic of me that everyone fell silent. I knew I was bungling things up... but couldn't seem to be able to get a grip.

"Giri Calling" said the display on my cell phone. This was Tuesday of the following week. I let it buzz away... "New Voicemail". I quickly dialed my vm box. Giri's message said: "I am coming to pick you up for lunch at 12:30. Dont disappoint me". Hmm. We hadn't spoken at all since Friday. I'd wasted gallons of tears over the weekend. Anish was disgusted with me. By the way, I wasn't crying for Giri at all. Honestly, no!!! By this time, I was seriously grieving. Why did I lose two pregnancies? Why do I feel so empty! Why could I not be totally happy with Anish? I was severly strung up. A busy day at work on Monday had me cured pretty much.

Today, I was feeling embarrassed and wondering how to fix things. Not quiet ready to face Giri on my own, I called Anish and asked him if he wanted to join us. Of course he said no. Spoken gruffly and impatiently, he made me feel foolish for asking. At 12:35, I got another call from Giri. I walked out of the office without picking up the phone. He was waiting right outside. We went to Taco Bell and picked up Burritos from the drive through.. then we went to the shore-front and ate our lunch sitting side by side on a bench. We chatted easily, as usual, but I could sense he was watching me.. waiting for me. I really did not know what to say. And then I forced myself to look at him straight in the eyes hoping to find the words. No words were necessary.. He touched my cheeks gently with the tip of his fingers.

Sometimes we communicate nonverbally things that we dont know how to say out loud... Thats why, some disagreements melt away when in you are in bed with your partner versus arguing about it ad nauseum.. That's why long distance relationships are so difficult. Giri and I spent an hour talking, about nothing in particular. He ignored Friday, did not bring it up at all. While he had not called over the weekend, he'd bothered to come down here today. It was sort of out of line. But, I was just grateful and happy. Seeing him today had helped me fully unwind. I also decided to let go trying to rationalize over what had busted in my head...

I picked up some flowers on my way home and made a special dinner that evening to make up with Anish. We had shrimp cutlets, smoked eggplant marinated with spices and raw vegies (best translation I can make for begun pora) and chapatis. Also, I baked a walnut chocolate cake at home because I know that is Anish's favorite. My sweetheart was all for making up and making out. It turned out profitable all around.

Take my hand: Sweetened by time...

2010-05-13T22:25:00.018-07:00

Continued from...
Take my hand: DUK there's a fidelity gene

Giri and I went to learn swimming when we were about 12 or 14 at a pond near our house... Giri's mom took us there. One by one she waded with us a little ways into the pond and instructed us to hold on to a huge floating log of wood ... we were to kick the water hard and thus learn to stay afloat. After a bit, when she let me go, I must have stopped suddenly.. I remember this visceral feeling when my feet hit the mossy bottom and I slipped. I could find no anchor but my poor companion and thus pulled him in with me... we nearly drowned that day... we were pulled out by our shirt sleeves, hair, limbs, coughing and gasping... that was the end of our swimming lessons. We went home and I remember eating masoor lentil curry and rice with fried rohu fish and lemon. After all that vigorous exercise, I was ravenous and I've never forgotten the taste of that meal. Giri's mom fed us in turns from the same plate, which was pretty typical (yes, even at 14, we would demand it of her and she was an incredibly sweet lady). Giri tells me that he never learnt to swim since. Anish taught me how at the campus swimming pool in college. Its something I really enjoy doing.

The four of us met this evening at our apartment poolside. The pool looked really cool with its aquamarine bottom lit with neon bulbs and light steam rolling off of the heated surface... Anish, I and Seema promptly went in. Giri sat on the edge with his feet dipped in the water in T shirt and shorts! He was sipping white wine and keeping watch on the rest of our glasses.. offering us filled ones if you waded up to him. This was as irresistible as it was uncomfortable for me. There is a generally accepted idea that romance resides delicately in hearts and heads for women! It was residing quiet in the pit of my groin this evening! Seema and I were laughing about this, safely skirting particulars on the subjects of our respective desires... which was pretty fuzzy anyways, because both men in our entourage looked comparably ahh.. whats the word I want.. I'll settle for compelling! I would catch Giri's eyes and the mad twinkle in them made me weak in the knees. Anish was smiling at me too. Over the past few days, my preoccupation with Giri Raha had not escaped him. I was a bit bothered that he wasn't bothered. What is wrong with a little old fashioned possessiveness!

But I sort of understood how Anish felt. Some relationships reach this unequivocal level of, for the want of a better word, trust. Its about knowing a person so well, so organically, that you know where your standing is in that person's life, without a shred of doubt. They are second nature to you.. I am not sure if thats a good thing or a bad thing. It can happen because you have conciously made the decision to stop letting yourself think otherwise. For example couples with kids often think that children give them that indisputable hold on security. Thats not what I mean... its not about being with each other because you are out of options... because you dare not break what you have. This is different... its a sense of belonging to each other. Its passionless almost.. its the ground state. Anish and I have been married for 8 years and known each other for even longer. Things between us are neither peaceful, nor violent.. but we can sense each other the way the blind can navigate in the dark.

We chatted late into the night sitting on the steps of Giri's backyard patio. After a while, Anish and Seema and Giri begun to sing old Bengali numbers... it was just so perfect in the moonlight... specially, old Nachiketa melodies with their haunting loveliness...these are songs I have grown up with and they melt my heart. Anish sings Manna well as does Giri. Seema mostly sang along with them. My tenor never matches with men's, so I kept quiet. I closed my eyes, huddled up and listened. Nobody prompted anybody else to sing.. an annoyingly popular practice. That, and I also hate tone deaf singing with cheap karaoke! I was specially pleased at the choices of the songs that went so well together... I must have grown colder than I realized. Giri walked over with his jacket and I allowed him to drape it around my shoulders. I looked at my friend gratefully for the warmth. It felt like I had come home.

Take my hand: DUK there's a fidelity gene?

2010-05-12T14:47:00.017-07:00

Continued from...
Take my hand: hasta mañana

Let me share some developments since that walkout on Giri (read run out @ h.m.). I've invited the couple for dinner today, which is Saturday of following week since the lunch. Anish, my husband, is looking peeved. This is well known behavior in our household whenever we have guests come over. The original line was Anish gets upset because we were not spending time together. This notion is now smoked. Many cozy evenings has passed us by, un(der) appreciated. Of course that too is my fault, as I am simply not interesting company! These complaints from someone who is himself pretty unsocial, are classic symptoms of the "only child syndrome". They are never happy not to be the center of the universe, even for a day. I digress. Although not exactly elated with Giri (his turning up with Seema on what was to be our clandestine lunch still stung).. I was sort of bouyed by the old flame aspect surrounding seeing him again, wife or sans wife. I ignored my peeved companion. The menu was to be sour moong dahl with fish cutlets, lauki kofta curry and mutton. I had fruit chutney with vanilla ice cream for desert. After a day spent in needless imaginary competition with whatever Seema's culinary talents may be, I felt reasonably pleased with myself at the turn out.

Anish hurriedly entered our bedroom as I emerged from the shower. Usually phenomenally obtuse, at these times, I develop an uncanny sixth sense. I knew exactly where he'd been. Poor guy had lunch on the thin side this afternoon (also typical when guests are due) and direly needed nourishment. And single child right? He just had to get a head start on what has been cooked for the guests, nearly impossible to accomplish peacefully under my vigilance. We looked at each other and started to laugh. After that I had to let it go.

Seema turned out to be umm.. refreshing. I feel squirmish to admit I liked Giri's wife.. specially because the first two times around, I had her stereotyped and was perfectly at peace with that notion. Today, she changed that. I found us discussing Rhett and Ashley as husbands. Was it purely physical what Ashley and Scarlett shared? What had Michelle meant? It was never really clear in the novel. Seema said it was beyond sexual.. more like a magnetic attraction for scarlett's vitality. I was inclined to agree. I watched Giri come around and stand behind Seema from the corner of my eyes.

Michelle seemed to say that if Scarlett ever had half a chance at finding out who Ashley really was, she'd have gotten over him and perhaps found happiness with Rhett. After a point in life, what makes sense to try? What makes sense not to try? Specially in relationships... I asked Giri what he thought. I wanted to know where he stood on the issue of outside talent in these matters. Giri said, they'd been together long enough. Scarlett just always wanted what she could not have. Hmm... distressing. Anish says as long as some lines are not crossed, its vital to explore. I'd get into what these lines mean. For me, thats the biggest challenge. I dont understand lines...

Giri helped stack the plates in the dish washer as I cleared them away. In the soft yellow kitchen light, the lines and wisdom that separated us were blurred. We stood shoulder to shoulder and I nudged him twice with my elbows while we discussed work, old friends, nothings.. Anish and Seema now know that we had been best of friends at one time... Just not the last little bit. I know that thing still stands between us somewhere. We both have wondered if that was just a passing fancy after all... we didn't have the patience to find out then...perhaps after all these years, its time to talk with my old friend again, woman to man.

Marriage Mantra

2010-05-10T19:00:00.005-07:00

She was bored of looking on. Bored of hoping against hope that her disappointment with life was going to fix itself. She stared at her husband of 10 years lying on her sofa. Ria believed in this man. But she was also a romance addict; eternally looking for that spark that seemed to have fizzled out from her life. Always hoping for a warm pair of eyes to find hers and fulfill this desire for a deep human connection. I wished I could tell her, "Grow Up!" If it has happened for you once consider yourself doggone lucky! It ain't happening again...

Now there IS a different kind of love.. less exotic, that has to do with commitment. Basically signing a contract and paying your bills. Its considered passé. Its also the only real thing in business. When passion is done, romance is cooled and the chips are down, you begin to sense that this man matters to me. I care if he has cold, if he loses his job. I care for his tears. I dont want to be without him ever. Saying this to yourself is like a rarity. We do it when we are faced with danger... not at normal times.. it makes you ask what was I worrying about, little short change stuff... when I have this. You know, put back the toilet seat, take your plate to the sink, clean up after yourself. That stuff doesn't matter. I love him... there's the mantra... it re-energizes you if you can get yourself to say it and mean it. It changes nothing. Its the same "ram chhagol" as a dear friend put it... same stubborn, unreasonable, selfish, useless man.. but there you are... in love garb, anything goes.

Take my hand: hasta mañana

2010-05-09T23:21:00.009-07:00

I'm taking a mini vacation on the beach today... to deal with stuff in my brain! I'd put on a moderately flattering swimming gear that was a huge find from forever 21.. Three hours of disciplined foraging and here was this orange and gray and white creation, not too clingy and enough skin to firm up even the lowest of self esteems. I've painted my nails with orange lacquer. I've lapped on sunscreen till I am slimy with the stuff. I lay on a straw mat under a brilliantly colored umbrella.
The considerable difficulty dragging all of this over the hilly pathway leading to the beach, was so worth it. I am in heaven. The warmth is just right and the breeze is not too cool and not too strong. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the waves and the laughter from the kids fill my mind..

Giri and I had been close friends in school. Until puberty got in the way and turned innocent laughter into deep sighs and unfamiliar longing. I met him yesterday at a party with his newly wedded wife, Seema. It was an interesting encounter. We recognized each other but pretended not to. But we smiled longer than new acquaintances would at each other. I wonder if anyone noticed. Last we met, we did not part on good terms. But that was sooo long ago. It did not matter. He looked good. He looked mature and kind and the kind of wonderful husband material I always knew he could be. I wonder what sort of a couple we would have made. I'd spurned him and hoped he would come after, which he did not. My ego was bruised and we battled our wills about who would make up. When you are buddies its easy to say sorry. When you are sweethearts its a much tougher deal. Giri's wandering hands and inexperienced kisses infuriated me and yet made me yearn for them like there was no tomorrow. He would smell garlicky.. I remembered... yuck! But he smelled Old Spice now.. how quaint and sweet! ooofff.. what the hell am I thinking!!!

Why think of this on my lovely getaway on the beach!!! I wondered what Anish, my husband would think if he knew about these sporadic men friends from my past.. I and my closest girl friends, ones who could make a living out of blackmailing me, often have this argument. Why didn't you come clean before you married the man? I still dont see why one needs to. I maintain its hardly disloyalty! We both had a life before we met. These incidents and people were never relevant to the me that fell in love with Anish. What would be the point in Anish's knowing about these? Can one really ever share all of oneself? I think its almost insulting. Personal space is a human need. Not even marriages should violate that.

Giri called me this morning... early. I get up way before Anish on Sundays. Giri knew I used to be an early riser. We'd gone for so many morning walks together. Walking weird places in early dawn... we'd end it with a tea served in earthen pots from a particular roadside chai place.... I dont know how he got my number. I did not ask. We chatted about this and that... time flew. Before I knew it, I promised to meet him for lunch for tomorrow. And now, I am now going crazy trying to break this to Anish or, turn Giri down. I dont know what to do. why cant I take this casually. I haven't told Anish, I knew Giri from before. Now, how can I tell him I am going to lunch with someone I met yesterday!! Oh, this is absolutely crazy! The things I get into. At the same time, I also feel a bit rebellious. I can choose to go for a clandestine lunch. Is that a sin? Why does my husband need updates from my daily calendar! Its preposterous. Its not as if I am having an affair, I am going for lunch!!!

Seema and Giri came together! What a let down! I could scream and claw at him. I spent 40 minutes choosing today's outfit to work and my ex, if even that, comes with his wife. I could read the amusement in his eyes. We could always read each other so easily. I tried my best to act naturally and answer inquiries on where I bought my skirt to Seema. Giri spoke little and very correctly. Damn him. I shall have my revenge. Apparently Seema thought Anish and I were supposed to be together too! Really? The rogue man. My husband works on opposite side of the town. How were we going to come to lunch together? And why on earth would we choose to do that with Giri and Seema on a Monday afternoon! I had blocked my calendar from 12:00 to 3:00. I got up at 1:00 sharp and hurried out! It was unbearable. Anish, darling, wake up and rescue me. This is preposterous!!! Midlife crisis at our door? Please unclog your ears. Your wife is going crazy and will stray if you do not hear the alarm bells!

Temptation

2010-05-08T23:18:00.009-07:00

Drown, they had said and I had wanted to... it was scary how much I had wanted to. Thankfully, fear won the round. I knew where to draw the line. Sometimes I try to imagine what would it be like... When you look at me like that... if I ride the electricity that courses through my veins.. what would that be like! Perhaps it would be no different. With or without that momentary indiscretion. Perhaps I preserve nothing after all with my rigid self denial.

I often remember without meaning to, your eyes. When they plead with me I am helplessly in their grip. In my dreams, it is always the same. You mock me as I weep.. I beg you to give me respite. Have you ever felt that something is chasing you constantly? I feel like that with your eyes. I've learned to turn away from their lure. But you do not let me forget. You do not let me forget.

I am afraid to be alone. When I am alone, I have to confront you. You do not let me hide, you do not let me lie, you do not let me pretend to be happy. You invite me to forget myself, to lose my way, to slip away. Dear god, it is hypnotic. I am so desperately attracted to the morbid promise it holds. Slipping away. It is insane.

But you shall not be allowed to win. You cannot win. I will come back to burn in the pyre you built for me and emerge victorious. It will be glorious.. I shall rejoice in the agony and the ecstasy of my being. My fight is not done. You could not seduce me then, you will not seduce me now. I promise you that.

The Noctians

2010-02-05T10:26:00.000-08:00

Have you felt them? The noctians?
Gently Kissing your eyes
Soaking up your sleep,
Fill you up with a soft buzz
Of nothingness, no-where-ness, no-now-ness

I asked them once...
from where they came..
They told me, they came from me.
From my lethargy they were born.
On my dejection, they thrived.
They are a clammy balm for my failures
They smother me and diffuse my pains.

They kill the best in you
They kill your ability to feel
To think, to act...
What mischief they can cause!
Upon your defenseless tired mind
When you are only half awake
with no will to fight with dirty flies
They swarm your conciousness,
The little morbids, the Noctians.

এক ফালি বাগানের কথা

2009-09-18T13:45:00.003-07:00

আমার বাগানে শিউলি ফুলের গাছ ছিল
গন্ধরাজের সাথে তার বনত না!
টগর জবা প্রবীণা প্রকৃতি রইত চুপ,
মায়ের পায়ে নিত্যি তাদের অর্চনা.

শীতে, গাঁদা আর দোপাটি বেশ হত,
বৃষ্টি ধোয়া জুই বিকেলে আনমনা.
নিমএর গোড়াতে বারোমাস বসে নায়ান্তারা
শৌখিন লাল গোলাপ গুলোর দিন গোনা.

বুড়ো নারকোল খাড়া দাড়িয়ে রাত্রি দিন
ওর চোখেতে নেইকো ঘুম নেইকো ঝিম.
রাত বাড়লে চাঁদ উঠত ওর পাশে
বুক দুরুদুরু হাওয়ায়ে পাতার খসখসে

নিম গাছ তার হাবভাব বেশ ঢিলে ঢালা
তার থেকে কেউ চাই না ফুল, চায় না ফল.
মিষ্টি হাওয়া আর মাঝে মাঝে নিম বেগুন..
গরম কালে টের পাবে কি নিমের গুন!

আরো ছিল প্যাংলা কাঠি পেয়ারা গাছ
কাশির পেয়ারা, লাল ভেতরটা, মিষ্টি খুব
স্বরস্বতী পুজোর রাতে পাহারা জোর
নচেত পাড়ার ছেলেরা পাকা পেয়ারা চোর

আরো ছিল এক কোনেতে বেল -এর গাছ
শুনতে পেতাম ব্রহ্ম দৈত্যি থাকে ওতে
পুজোর সময়ে ভিসন লাগে বেলপাতা
গরমের দিনে বেল পাকা মাখা দিত খেতে .

পাঁচিল জুড়ে একটি বিশাল কাঁঠাল গাছ
তার ঠেসেতে পাচিল কেবল যায়ে নড়ে
পাশের বাড়ির মালিক কেবল চোখ রাঙায়ে
পাকলে কাঁঠাল শান্ত সবাই ভাগ পেয়ে.

মৃনময়ী

2009-09-17T19:32:00.000-07:00

এসেছে শরত গেয়েছিল কবি,
পুজো এসে গেলে তার কথা ভাবি,
মনে করে ঠিক হাজিরা গিয়ে দি ,
শঙ্খপ্রদীপ মেলায়ে ...
মনেতে ভক্তি মূক হয়ে থাকে,
মাটির পুতুল খেলায়ে!

শিউলির ডালে শরত আসে না
আমার বাগ-এর কোনে!
শরত এসেছে জানান পাই
ইমেল টেলিফোনে..
ঢাকের প্রকোপে, লোক সমাগমে
পুজোর আমেজ উঠবেই জমে
এই আশ টুকু বজায়ে বলেই পুজোয়ে আগমন,
কিন্তু হায়, শুন্যতায়ে হাপিয়ে উঠেরে মন.

হয়ত তোমায়ে চাইছি নতুন করে

2009-07-31T18:25:00.008-07:00

চাইছি বিশেষ কিছু , পৌছে এই মোড়ে,
হয়ত তোমায়ে চাইছি নতুন করে..
নতুন করে তোমার মনের আকড় ছুয়ে যেতে.
নতুন করে ভালবাসার ফুল কুড়িয়ে পেতে.
খামখেয়ালী আপন ভোলা স্বপ্ন মালা গাঁথি.
অবুঝ সবুজ ইচ্ছে আমায়ে জড়ায়ে দিবস রাতি.
চাইছি প্রথম প্রেমের মধু ফিরে,
হয়ত তোমায়ে চাইছি নতুন করে.

পাগল হাওয়া করে আমায় আনমনা
মনের তলে চুপিসারে সে কার আনাগোনা
বৃষ্টির তালে তালে যেন তার সুর শুনি
একলা তার অপেক্ষাতে অধীর দিন গুনি
তাকে যেন চিনতে নারি
তোমায়ে কি ভুল করতে পারি?
ভাবছি কিসের দোলা লাগছে প্রানের পরে,
হয়ত তোমায়ে চাইছি নতুন করে.

Monogamy is a myth

2009-06-24T17:44:00.035-07:00

Said a close friend to me... and I said "What blasphemy!" Did you come here to read my dirty little secret? If so, I am sorry to disappoint you.. I have no secrets to share. Most of us dont.. Most navigate married lives in stifling boredom and unwavering virture. So when I finally heard someone speak that out, it was like a breath of fresh air.. to me. Dont patronize me. Look in your hearts, you will know what she means. As I knew.

Marriages certainly work! I am committed to my marriage.. feel connected to my husband! But, Is there a need for exclusivity to this principal relationship? Thats the point of this post..

To me, exclusivity is an imposition.. not really integral to the health of the principal relationship.. Without deception, would it hurt? Does it hurt to know your husband had a great time with his closest buddy this weekend, all on their own? It probably does not. We have learnt to afford each other that space in our relationship.. I know sex matters. But does it matter because of social indoctrination, or what?

After all, its pretty natural! How can you fault me if I am excited by other smart men (and women!).. its invigorating! And physical temptation is not really a thing apart... its part of our emotional response to individuals.

Dont you dearly wish you could feel like you felt with that first kiss all over again? What could be wrong about wanting that back in life? There's nothing wrong with passion. Certainly there's nothing right with dispassion!

Dare I actually try physical infidelity? I have known emotional intimacy with other people and I have survived without guilt in my principal relationship. I dont know if I will be able to respond similarly to physical intimacy... I dont know what my husband would think of it either.. What do you think?

For now, I return to the garden patches of love and light in the life I have with my husband.. and I am an avid gardener..

The promise of life

2009-06-14T10:57:00.003-07:00

She lost her unborn. Her heart will grieve this unmotherly act of betrayal by her body for a while. But she will learn to accept that and she will move on. Thats right. Hope. That is the promise of life.

It feels guilty to get used to it though.. it feels afraid to ever think about trying again. No denying that procreation sets you up for disappointments, big time. Every day that you bear the life, you bear infinite possibilities of disasters that can befall it and you shed tears praying to be spared. Forget it. Must Always Hope. That is the promise of life.

You have to give yourself another chance, she is advised. In her heart she knows she will, give herself that chance, if the divinity that she implored and prayed to every day before, if the divinity that she cursed and spurned when she faced its betrayal a few days ago, sides with her, for one more time. The precious chance of success at the risk of the bitter emptiness left in her womb and her heart, right now. There are no insurances for these things. Yes, its true. You can Only Hope. That is the promise of life.

Wonder if it makes any sense at all. When we know that with conception we also must embrace the certainty of death. Does it matter whether that is inside the womb or outside of it? Oh no, no, this is insane! At this stage, it was just a mass of cells. It knew no pain when it died. Inside the womb is same as maybe the appendicitis. Just another meaningless mass in your body, with no soul. Stop it please, right now. Please Hope. That is the promise of life.

But what about her soul? What about the names she thought she'd call it by? What about the flutter of its heartbeats she heard on the ultrasound machine? It was a little fish that swam around in her belly and filled her heart with the joy of being. What about it, for god's sake? Hope. Hope. Hope. That is the Promise of Life!

media-ted

2006-07-26T18:38:00.004-07:00

Malati, our maid, told a strange story that morning. How the Ganges rose, and the fishes'd been swept up the drains, how the local boys caught them by the dozens and feasted with crisp mach bhaja, she went on.. Must be a minor quake, I muttered to myself as her shrill voice hurt my sleep groggy morning ears. Later I came to know that on this ocassion, Malati had not exaggerated. It was the Tsunamis.. and the devastation it left in its wake was significant. The drama however remained tuned off of my conciousness. The news made no real connection to my heart. In my life, it was another of those last few days of my holiday in India with too many things to do.... We came back to the US and some time later I went through a different disaster - hurricane Katrina. I drove down to work every morning listening to stories of lost homes, loots, displaced children... The stories were horrible and I felt sad for the victims. I donated money to the charity drive organized and I wished I could do something more. Suddenly I begun to wonder... What could I do ? Wondered whether this desire to do something was real at all, whether my sympathies were in fact a perverse expression of a kind of Carthusian pleasure. I wondered how I'd got left behind on that other ocassion when India had faced similar and if tragedies can be compared at all, far worse tragedies not so long ago..

This is what I realized: I, am a prime example of irresponsible reactions that one keeps making these days to different things around us that should have required us to respond more sincerely. I hear the news, not the stories.. words come crashing around me like so many meaningless waves making noise, but leave me unmoved.. I am too lazy to pick those pieces of human emotion and pain that that I hear about and give them place in my heart. I let the media instead mediate, manipulate my feelings, put words in my mouth. So that I am saddenned by a "well told" story of woe... I live by their pointers on who is the more deserving of my sympathies, and get "educated" on who's loss is the greater.. immunune to miseries that does not concern my immediate life with a diminished perception of loss and sorrow as impersonal figures and statistics.. offering up perhaps an automatic tchh tchh.. even hastily made donations to escape further responsibility. No real feelings spared and quickly forgotten in the flurry of the more immediate demands of what pertains to my own life alone..

ছত্রছায়া

2006-07-24T19:44:00.002-07:00

আমরা একসাথে স্বপ্ন দেখেছিলাম. তুমি অন্য পথে অন্য স্বপ্নের হাত ধরে চলে গেলে দুরে . কেউ একজন জুটে গেল যেই চলার পথে , স্বপ্ন গুলো কোন চুলয়ে ছুড়ে ফেলে দিয়ে চললে বয়ে .. তুমি কি চাও সেটা বোধায় তোমার কাছেও খুব স্পষ্ট ছিল না কোনদিন .. তাই বয়ে যেতে পেরেছ নতুন স্রোতে ..

তোমার সঙ্গীটিকে ভালবাস তো ? নিঃসঙ্গতা আর নেই তোমার ? এদিক সেদিক কথা বলা ... এধার ওধার ঘুরে বেড়ানো ... সমাজ , সংসার , কর্মব্যস্ততা ... তোমার সে আর তার তুমি ... সুখ , স্বচ্ছলতা , প্রিয়জনের ভালবাসার জলে সম্মৃধ্হ জীবন ... বলতে চাও কোনো কিন্তুর অবকাশ নেই এর মধ্যে ?

তবু “কিন্তু” গুলোকে আমি নিয়ে এলাম আজ .. আমি দেখেছি তোমার হাঁসির মধ্যে ফাঁকি .. ভালবাসার মধ্যে হাঁপ ধরে ওঠা দীর্ঘ্যশ্বাস . দিনের পর দিন অর্থহীন ছোটাছুটি . জীবনটা স্মৃতীর পাতায়ে ঝাপসা করে নিয়ে কাটিয়ে দিচ্ছ সুখে ..নিজেকে বুঝিয়ে ফেলেছ সুখি তুমি ! আমি দেখতে পাই . আমি দেখতে পাই তোমার সবটুকু জোড়া শুন্যতা . কংকালসার . এভাবে চলতে চলতে একদিন দেখবে শেষের দিকটা কাছে এসে পড়েছে ...

যাই , চলে যাই , বন্ধু বুঝোনা ভুল

2006-07-24T02:17:00.003-07:00

সুখে দুঃখ্যে , যার বোঝা হোক যত কঠিন , তবু , সহজ থাকব পরস্পরের কাছে . এই কি ছিল না কথা ?

তুই আর কারো বন্ধু হলে যেতাম রেগে . তোকে আর কেউ ভালোবাসলে লাগত কেমন কেমন . অথচ তোকে আদেও কিছুই ছিল না আমার . একান্ততার দাবিকে প্রসয় দিয়ে তুই করেছিলি আমায় ঋণী .

ছাতের ওপর মাদুরে শুয়ে কালো আকাশের তারা গুনেছি কতদিন তোর সাথে . অবিশ্রান্ত বৃষ্টির দিনে জান্লায়ে পা দুলিয়ে গান গেয়েছি একসাথে . আশ্রমের সবুজে মোরা চাঁতালে করেছি প্রার্থনা পাশাপাশি . কত তর্ক , কত আলোচনা , কত বুঝিয়েছি তোকে আমার উদ্ভট উদ্ভাবন ! কত গল্পের , কবিতার , গানের মানে করেছি বসে বসে আকাশ কুসুম .. তুই দিয়েছিস সায়ে, দিয়েছিস স্বারা.

মনে পড়ে, কত কত বেড়াতে যাওয়া, বাঁকুড়া বিষ্ণুপুর , বেলুর মঠ, বই মেলার আনাচে কানাচে ঘুরে বেড়ানো একসাথে .. একসাথে পরীক্ষার প্রস্তুতি নেওয়া . তোর খাতায়ে লাল কালির আঁকি বাকি করা .

জীবনের ঝর ঝাপ্টায়ে ক্লান্ত আমি কতবার পেয়েছি তোর কাছে নির্মল সান্তনা , এগিয়ে চলার পাথেয় . তোর ভালবাসার স্নিগ্ধ পরশে জুড়িয়েছে কত জ্বালা যন্ত্রনা .

স্মৃতীগুলো আজ ভিড় করছে বারে বারে মনের আঙিনায়ে. তুই ছিলি আমার একটুকু পরিপূর্ণ তৃপ্তির অনুভূতি …

তারপর … তারপর জীবন এগিয়ে চলল তার খেয়ালে … সব গল্প শেষ হল না বলা . সব গল্প শেষ হল না শোনা .. এক পা এক পা করে দুরে সরে যাওয়ার শুরু .. আজ আর বাঁধন নেই কোনই ... মুক্তি টুকু হালকা লাগে কখনো , কখনো লাগে বড্ড ফাঁকা.

Rain

2006-07-05T18:44:00.002-07:00

All day it had been furiously hot. Now, dark clouds were heaped ominously on the horizon. A strong wind was blowing and the clouds growled deeply. Lightning flashed strong as daylight. Naresh opened his windows to let in the heady scent of the thunder-storm, due to begin any minute now. The ground seemed to tremble in the heat waiting for the first kiss from the rain. The trees threw their branches wildly every which way.. thoroughly out of control. Naresh thought it was a love dance, the movements both ecstatic and impatient for the ultimate union of the earth and the skies. The call of the clouds had awakened a sweet nostalgia in his heart. Plop plop came the heavy drops with a vengeance. The strong smell from the just wet asphalt filled his nostrils.

Naresh's mind slipped away to an evening not so long ago.. He and Preeti had gone to sit by the Ganges when the Kalboishakhi, a storm of notorious fury in the West Bengal, had suddenly ambushed them. The skies had been aglow with a brilliant yellow gray light and the thickly dust-laden winds had blown by them savagely. The two had been overwhelmed by the drama coming to life all around them. Other bystanders, the food peddlars, the boatsmen all ran for shelter. Naresh and Preeti had remained where they were, unwilling to break the spell of those moments. Rain was like a divine retribution to the passions burning in their soul. They had walked hand in hand by the roaring Ganges oblivious to everything but themselves and the rain...

Naresh lay down on his bed allowing himself to be lulled into drowsiness by the steadily beating rainfall. He tried to fill his mind with the sounds and smell of rain. .

A different picture rose in vivid details before his eyes. This picture was from many years ago. The Kalboisakhi was once more ranting away like a demon unleashed. Naresh then barely 13, had stood on their open terrace. His mother was busy gathering the clothes that had been hung out to dry on ropes tied across two poles. She was calling out to him to get back into the house. How much longer till the rain.. Naresh had waited impatiently as his hair and clothes started to get splattered by the winds.. then came the sharp sting from the fast falling rains. With the touch of the rains something crazy had clicked in his brain. Screaming with excitement he had rushed to join the boys who played football in the slippery mud of the open grounds by the railway lines; nothwithstanding his mother's severest remonstrances.

A movement caught Naresh's eye. Something fell from the tree to the ground. Before he could investigate further however Naresh got severely distracted as a wonderful aroma of food assaulted his senses. He turned to find as Preeti come in with both their dinners in two plates piled with steaming hot khichuri, beguni and dim bhaja - a traditional cuisine on rainy days in Bengal...

What had fallen was the little red Robin's nest from the tree where it lived whoes wild dance Naresh had been admiring. For a fleeting moment, I wondered at the cruelty of fate.. then forgot.

Fulfilment

2006-06-23T08:07:00.001-07:00

It has been so long.. so long that I sat under a tree, rolled in the grass, bathed in salty waters on the ocean front, listened to birds chirp, or... write. Life is running by me and I am running by life. I am lost in the woods. What did I promise so long ago ? Who knows ? I do not remember anymore. Egged on by something indescribable I run the miles that stretch before me. Busy, busy, busy, buzzes the word in my head. Where am I headed? Why am I chasing this never ending to-do list ?

Will I be happy if I were say in a beautiful sprawling home, awash with the sunshine of abundance ? If I amassed wealth enough for eternal gaiety and parties? If someone loved me to distraction, swept me off everyday in extravagant romances? If I had children to adore and spoil ? If I travelled far and wide, engulfed in exotic adventures? What brings happiness?

Somehow I think, fulfilment is to be found in none of these things alone. I think Fulfillment comes in strange ways; not in goals reached, but in goals achieved through endless pain and determination. Fulfilment lies in abstinence, in excecuting the plans of a mind shaped by purpose, a mind that has weathered and won its battles over other insincts.

Bangalir Adda

2006-06-21T12:33:00.001-07:00

Bangali jiboner abichhinno angsho holo adda. Addar ullekhmatro bangalir mukh emni jhalmoliye othe je bhabte hoy "aha ei na hole addabaj!" Ta kajon bangalir adda shunte elam. Dinu, Sobu, Soma, Ratu cha, murimakha, telebhaja hate ekti shushojjito boitakhanaye samobeto:

"Dinu: (cha er cup e chumuk lagiye): Adda dewa, tao abar din khan dekhe! Akgada email chalachali, er schedule or schedule! khel dakhali bote tora!
Soma: byasto somosto lokjone mile adda deben ar din khon dekhte hobe na!
Dinu: din khan dekhe adda hoy na. adda akta spontaneous byapar.
Sobu: Se jai balo.. adda bangalir rokte royeche. bangalike jamon bhabe jekhane fele dao, tara jomiye adda debei. chirokali tai diye jachhe.
Ratu: ajkalkar addar kintu onyo concept, sobuda. tao abar probashider adda.. adda bostutar gota choritroi amra bodle felechi.
Soma: Satyajit ray jakhon prachin greek eo adda hoto bolchen, amra ar katotai ba bodlechi!
Sobu: Dhur dhur.. Bangalir adda satontro jinish. bhat bolte paro, mukhenong maritong bolte paro. aristotlio tatto alochonar songe setar kono mil nei.
Dinu: nah Nah, ta kano bolcho. sotyajit ray addar bibhinno form niye bolechen. sekhane bangalir addar o akta sthan ache. eta to..
Sobu: tui bhule jachhish sotyojit ray bangalir adda somporke kono bhalo kotha bolen ni. birokti tai prokash korechilen. jehetu ami nije adda rashik, satajit ray holeo oi montobyo take katiye dewai ami amar kortobyo mone kori.
Soma: sabuda, tumi jai balo, ak-ad line udhriti fudriti dile baktobyo daray bhalo. janota khub khay.
Sobu: se ar janina?!
Dinu: Amar to mone hoy, tamon tamon loker idea dhar korar akta bhalo dik ache. anukaron korte kortei bhalo ta sekha jay..
Sobu: seta keu ashhikar korche na.
kintu sob kichukei nijeke evaluate korte hoy. amader holy trinity hochhe robindro-bibekanondo-ramkrishno - sob kichu somporke ora akta na akta upodesh chere gache. seta ajo amra ankre boshe achi without any further debate. tui bal, eta ki thik ?
akta lok ak khetre baro hoye uthlei se sob byapare expert hoye jay na. we are such psychophants! sedin dekhi asha bhosle barite ki randhen tai niye TV show hochhe!
Soma: kono diktai to charcho na dekhchi tomra. Nile bolbe toka, na nile bolbe boka!
Sobu: Are nya re. Nibii to. jatota soy tatota nibi. nebar por setake thik kore hajom korte hobe.
Ajkalkar chora gulo western influence er asol ta na bujhe kebol du chatro inrigi forfor kore dhonyo hoye jaye.. eder dekhle khub kharap lage. Aagacha tule jekhane sekhane lagiye dilei unnotir kono sambhabana toiri hoy na. context-take assimilate koranor dike najor dite hoy.
Ratu: hmm.. ta sob miliye addar byakhha ta kirakom darachhe?
Soma: dhur. byakhhya anujai adda ki dewa jay !!
Dinu: Byakhhyate kato ki dhokabe tumi ? parar roake cheleder hindi cinemar roshaaswadon, setao adda. Telephone e ghontar por ghonta aboltabol boke jawa - setao adda. College canteen e golabaji kore deshodhhar - setao adda. ar amra je ekhane golpo salpo korte boshechi; main jodio chilo ajke dupurer badsaahi bhoj er bondobosto ta - tobu, etao adda.
Ratu: Ato rakom addar modhye aktai jinish chokhe porche: seta hocche bekarotto. Kono fruitful discussion ke keu bodhay adda bole na. Setake bola hoy aaloochoonaa.
Soma: thik. adda day akejo loke. addate kono lokhyo nei, addar kono bishoybostu nei, addar tai kono porinotio nei... "

Oporer alochona amar bondhuder mukher kichu kothake ulte palte lekha. Sei songe amar kothata arektu bolchi:

Adda akta "culture". Moar jamon inrigi hoy na, eo tai. thik prachin na holeo, purono diner jibon dharar alosh chander sathe shur miliye addar utpotti... sekhanei adda sarthok. din kaler sathe sathe bangalir jibone anek poribarton esheche. adda debar art abong artist er dal dutoi lop pete shuru koreche. ghori bandha du tin ghontar abosore je jalshar ayonjon, tate adda jome na.

Hoyto amader modhye adda ke dhore rakha akhon asambhab... Kanona daye dayitto heen sahoj sarol rashalaper manosikatake amra anek pechone fele eshechi. Setake akbakye nindeo korte pari na. Kanona jiboner sarthokata kajer modhyei.. bilombito loye heshe goriye jibon katanoke sarthok bola jay na. adda bangali sanskritir akta "relic". Setake notun kore byakhya korar, ajker juger poriprekhhite setake notun bhabe khuje nebar somoy esheche.

Addar baki ta shunte paren debobroto-da r comment e..

মা

2005-10-16T18:25:00.001-07:00

এক যুগ পেরিয়ে গেছে মৃণালিনীর মৃত্যুর পর. তার পুরনো জিনিস বাক্স বন্ধ হয়ে পড়ে আছে বাড়ির এক কোনে কোথাও, পুরু ধুলয়ে ঢাকা. মার্কর্সারা নিবীর ভাবে তাকে জড়িয়ে সংসার পেতেছে. কালচে হয়ে যাওয়া একখানি রুপোর ফ্রেম-এ তার হলদেটে ছবি রয়েছে. তাতে নোংরা জমাট বাঁধা সিঁদুরের টিপ.

আজ মৃণালিনীর মৃত্যুদিবস. নিলি মোমবাতি আর ফুল নিয়ে বসে মায়ের ছবির সামনে. মায়ের কোনো স্মৃতীই প্রায় নেই তার. আট বছর বয়েসে সে মা কে হারায়. শোনা গল্পের সাথে কল্পনা মিশিয়ে মাকে একরকম সে ভাববার চেষ্টা করে. কিন্তু মা তার ভিষণ অচেনা. বিয়ের দিন মায়ের গহনা গুলো সে পড়েছিল. মায়ের থেকে আর কি পেয়েছে নীলি? মাকে যে রোগ মৃত্যুর মুখে ঠেলেছিল, রক্তের মধ্যে সেই রোগের বীজ ? তিরিশের আসেপাশে পৌছনো অব্দি মৃত্যু ভয় উঁকিঝুকি দেয় নীলির মনে.

দুষ্টুমি করলে মা ওকে শাস্তি দিতেন একলা ঘরে বন্দী করে . নীলি বন্ধ ঘরে ঠোঁট ফুলিয়ে কাঁদত . অন্লার শাড়িগুলো টেনে মাটিতে ফেলে ওর মধ্যে লুটোপুটি করত . বাবার কাছে মায়ের বিরুধ্যে অনেক নালিশ করবার সংকল্প আঁটতো . বাবা নীলিকে ভিসন ভালবাসতেন . নীলির কোনো আবদার তার কাছে নিরাশ হয়নি কখনো . কান্নাকাটিতে ক্লান্ত হয়ে নীলি শেষে ঘুমিয়ে পড়ত . মা যখন এসে মেয়েকে শাড়ির জট থেকে উদ্ধার করে খাটে শুইয়ে দিতেন , তখন দুহাত দিয়ে মাকে জড়িয়ে ধরত নীলি ঘুমের মধ্যে . মেয়ের মাথায়ে হাত বুলিয়ে দিতে দিতে মৃনালিনী ওর ভবিষ্যতের কথা ভাবতেন . নিজে ডাক্তার ছিলেন . নীলির পড়াশোনা নিজে সম্পূর্ণ দেখতেন . ওকে সঞ্চয়িতা থেকে কবিতা শেখাতেন , সঙ্গীতের তালিম দিতেন . নীলির সব ব্যাপারে তার সতর্কতাপূর্ণ নজর থাকত . নীলিকে কত যত্ন করে মানুষ করবেন স্বপ্ন দেখতেন মৃনালিনী . মায়ের জীবনের দুর্ভাগ্যের কথা ভেবে হুহু করে ওঠে নীলির মন .

মৃনালিনী যাবার সময় গিরিশের জীবনের অর্ধেকটা সঙ্গে নিয়ে গেলেন . নীলির চোখে জল ভরে আসে ওর বাবার কথা ভেবে . নীলি তখন কতটুকুইবা বুঝত ! তবু বুঝত গিরিশ যেন নিজেকে বয়ে বেড়াচ্ছিলেন শুধুই তার মুখের দিকে চেয়ে . কাজে মন নেই , নিজের শরীরের দিকে মন নেই , সংসারে মন নেই . চারিপাশের বসন্ত বিষাক্ত তার কাছে . বাবার সাথে সাথে সব সময় থাকবার চেষ্টা করত নীলি . তাকে শাশন করত , অপটু হাতে তাকে সেবা করত সাধ্য মতন . তিন বছর বাদে বাবাও চলে গেলেন cerebral stroke এ .

নীলির ঘাঁড়ে মাথা গুঁজে অরুনাভ জিগ্গেস করল, "কি গো , খাবে না তুমি ?" দীর্ঘ নিশ্বাস ছেড়ে আসতে আসতে ফু দিয়ে মোমবাতি নিবিয়ে উঠে পড়ল নীলি মায়ের ছবির সামনে থেকে .

Late

2005-10-11T19:16:00.001-07:00

Her train is late, way late. She lies languorously in waiting, for deliverence. The people she had known, what was her world, are all long gone. She stands alone in infinite desolation, a weary old woman. She does not not matter any more. She mattered in the context of what constituted her life. As that eroded away, she was dehumanized to a point of utter meaninglessness. Today you could insult her, humiliate her, it did not matter. She cried effortless tears without feeling too much. She made silly demands, spoke unheard words, sometimes stretched her fingers experimentally in rare fits of improved spirits. Mostly, she stared blankly, uncomprehendingly, at the faces of strangers in what used to be her home. Every sense of belonging has been snubbed out by repeated rebuffs and neglect. She cannot eat by herself, cannot walk by herself, cannot use the bathroom without assistance, cannot even turn on her own, on the dirty ricketty bed, which is where she lies by the shadowy daylight and the ghastly yellow light of the low power night bulb.

Sorit stared at his grandmother and wondered what she was thinking. His mother told him to go and at least touch her feet once after the pujas to seek her blessings. Grandmother would sometimes not even recognize who Sorit was. Sorit did not like to sit in this foul-smelling gloomy room. What was the point anyway.. Sorit would rather remember his grandmother from when he was younger, when his grandmother used to dote on him, always plying him with her home-made assortment of sweets and pickles. Everybody wanted to remember her from those days when she had light and soul and connection with their lives. Here she lay now, clearly no more than a stinking house guest. He shuddered to think how everyone was waiting for her to die.

মন আমার

2005-10-02T20:22:00.001-07:00

গভীর রাতে ঘুম ভেঙ্গে গেল স্মিতার . কটা বাজে কে জানে ! আলোর switchটা বেশ দুরে . ঘড়ির দিকে খুব নিবিষ্ট ভাবে তাকিয়ে থেকে সময়টা জানবার চেষ্টা করলো ও কিছুক্ষণ ... কিন্তু ঘুমের ঘোর তখনো সম্পূর্ণ কাটেনি . চোখটা কেমন জ্বালা করে ওঠে . সময় জানবার চেষ্টা ছেড়ে দেয় স্মিতা . উঠে এক গ্লাস জল খাবে নাকি ? থাক . পাশ ফিরে কোলবালিশটাকে আষ্টেপিষ্টে জড়িয়ে ধরে আবার ঘুমিয়ে পরার চেষ্টা করে .. কিন্তু ঘুম আসেনা .. খুট করে একটা শব্দ হল. কাঠের বাড়িতে সবসময়ই ওইরকম খুটখাট আওয়াজ হয় , দিনের বেলা টের পাওয়া যায়না . নিশুতি রাতে অন্ধকার ঘরে ওই আওয়াজগুলই স্মিতাকে গিলতে আসে . আলো জ্বেলে দিলে এতটা অসস্তি হবেনা , ও জানে . নিজের ওপর রাগ হচ্ছে স্মিতার . এসব ছেলেমানুষীর কোনো মানে হয় ! খুব জোর করে চোখ বুজে অন্য কিছু ভাববার চেষ্টা করে ও . বাইরের ঝলমলে জ্যোত্স্নার আলো ওর গায়ে এসে পরে ..

আবলতাবল ভাবতে ভাবতে ও কি আবার ঘুমিয়ে পড়েছিল ? একসময় ও দেখে মিহির যেন বসে রয়েছে ওই . মিহিরকে স্মিতার খুব ভালোলাগে . ভেবেছিল ... পাশাপাশি চলতে চলতে পিছিয়ে পড়ল স্মিতাই . দুরন্ত হৃদয়াবেগের সাথে বয়ে যেতে পারল না ও . পুরনো অভ্যেসগুলোর পিছটান এড়াতে পারলনা . মিহিরের প্রেম বাঁধা পেয়ে মোড় বেঁকে গেল অন্য পথে , অন্য সাথির খোঁজে .. আরতির কথা প্রথম যেদিন মিহির গল্প করে স্মিতাকে , মুখে হাসি টেনে এনে স্মিতা বন্ধুকে অভিনন্দন জানায় . নিজের মনকে শাশন করে .. মিহির এখানে কি করে ! তবে কি সব আগের মতন আছে ? তবে কি .. মিহির নয় ও . কে ও ? এ তো সম্রাট ! ওর collegeএর বন্ধু সম্রাট ! বন্ধুত্তার থেকেও ঘনিষ্ট হয়েছিল ওদের সম্পর্ক . Dear old Sammy কে ওর মনে পরে মাঝে মাঝে .. কিন্তু .. সম্রাট কে ও ঠকাতে চায়নি . শুধু এত ভালমানুষি স্মিতার সঝ্য হলনা ! অত ভালবাসার দাবিতে ওর কেমন দম আটকে আসত.. আরে , কার সঙ্গে কাকে গুলিয়ে ফেলছে ও ! এ তো মিতালি . ওর schoolএর বন্ধু মিতালি . সময় , অসময় , সবসময় একসাথে দেখা যেত স্মিতা আর মিতালিকে .. গপ্পে গপ্পে কত সময় কেটে গাছে , হিসেব নেই . কি এত কথা ছিল কে জানে . এখন সব মনেও পরেনা . মিতালির বিয়ে হয়ে গাছে .. ওর বর সুধীন ভালো ছেলে .

স্মিতার চোখে জল আসছে কান ! শরীর মন কেমন অবসন্ন হয়ে রয়েছে .. অপলক চোখে ও চেয়ে আছে কার পানে ? কিছুতেই নিজেকে বাঁধতে পারছে না o. কত সময় গড়িয়ে যাচ্ছে ও জানেনা .. অপরিসীম গ্লানি মনের মধ্যে .. গলার মধ্যে অসাঝ্য বেদনা . হঠাত কিসে ঘুমের আমেজ টা আবার চটকে গেল .. ধুত !! কিই আবলতাবল ভাবছে ও !!

Potluck

2005-09-29T15:55:00.001-07:00

Atithi satkarer sabek rewaj gulo morche pore jachhe. Ma kakimader dekhechi swa-haste panchobyanjon ranna kore sajiye diten pate: teto, nonta, jhal, tak, misti.. ranna gulo hoito sobi chena, sobi purono, steeler sadharon bashone khawa.. tobu swade, gondhe, poribeshoner noipunye amon akta poripurnota thakto jetar antorikata monke sporsho kore jeto. khawar somoy pashe boshe bhalobasa mistrito najordari..

Bartoman projonmer modhye sudokhho grihiniponata sekele. "ami osob pari na". ei na parataye lojja nei barong gorbo royeche. Shikhhita swadhibjibi narira barabari gharoa charitre nijeder maniye nite parchen na. amra "get together" ei beshi obhyosto. je jerakom paro kichu akta rendhe niye chole esho amar bari. kineo ante paro, kintu tate kharoch ta beshi. akta kichu "namiye" dewa. internet ghete akta bohu jotil recipe uddhar kore chamokprodo bahari ranna. grihoswamir saprosongsho chahoni.. sare bottirish bhajar juge bangalir atithibatsalyer abhibekti!

bottleneck

2005-09-23T11:17:00.001-07:00

Raka had planned to beat rush hour traffic but luck was definitely out. Everything now moved at a crawling pace. Alternately she sped up and then swung her foot back hard on the brakes. It was no use, this restlessness. The driver ahead flashed his break lights twice to show his irritation. Yeah, she knew he couldn't go any faster... The new pumps pinched her feet and it did not help to improve her mood. She felt rather warm too. Her car airconditioning wasn't working. Now that autumn was here, Raka had decided to ignore the AC problem until next spring. AC s were always cranky at the end of winter...

Her mind wandered a few moments backward. Today she had had a flat while driving on the interstate! It had been a first and it had been very enervating. When the peculiar dragging sort of noise just begun, she had instinctively looked around to see whoes car was it.. surely not hers! Then she watched dismayed as her car started losing speed. At the last minute, she swerved onto the curb on the left cutting accross the HOV lane. A serious accident could have happened in those seconds. Her heart was pounding with excesses of adrenalin. The right rear tyre had burst she discovered, after getting out of the car. Just her luck.. Calm down, Raka admonished herself.

For a few brief moments, helplessly, wistfully, she looked at the cars rushing by. No one stopped ofcourse. She tried telling herself, you can handle this. But did she have a spare at all? She checked in the trunk and couldn't find it. The towing company will charge a forty bucks minimum, she groaned inward. In a moment of inspiration, she looked under the mat in the trunk and located the spare. Some what boosted, she pulled the parts out on the road. Uncomprehendingly she turned the wheel brace and the jack in her hands. She had no idea what she was supposed to do with these things! Then she remembered the car manual and went to get it from the glove compartment. The manuals were so tersely written! She never had much patience with instruction manuals. As she crouched on the curb wrestling with the bolts on the hubcap, she was intensely afraid of the cars inches away going at 70+ miles per hour. She was ready to cry out in frustration. Thank God, the safety patrol guy got there when he did! Or she would be still there on her hands and knees. All in all, she was delayed 45 minutes and now stuck in peak time traffic. A dust mark from the roads on her black skirt proved impossible to brush off. She rubbed it with a bit of spit for the umpteenth time...

She was itching for a cigarrette she did not have. From an ocassional smoker she was now fighting a losing battle with the habit everyday. She longed for a release from this feeling of being cornered, but it was inescapable. It does not matter, she tried to tell herself. You will get there when you will get there. She pulled her windows down to let the breeze in and cool her down. A child was crying out loud. Raka looked at the car in the next lane from where the voice came. A distraught mother was looking at her crying baby in the car seat behind but did not know what to do. Why doesn't she pull over?, thought Raka. Some loud music was coming from the car ahead of her two lanes away. Some teenager probably - they listened to those songs at all hours of the day! A toyota camry rolled to a stop by her side. Oh, its the same one, she realized. She had been watching this woman put her makeup on for quiet a distance now. Imagine doing that on the highway! God, she'd get there faster from the city roads! What exit was it anyway? Only 32. Hers was 47. She wondered if she should sneak in to the HOV. No, she'd probably get caught. There were cops around this road all the time. Wasn't worth the trouble, she reckoned. Anyway she wasn't supposed to speed on the spare tyre. She wondered about how much it will cost to buy new tyres.. so much for putting the AC work away. But it couldn't be helped. You can only do so much to protect yourself.

Her exit came at last, not a moment too soon. She let out a slow breath of relief. Her mood began to improve as the car picked up speed and she rest her foot uninterrupted on the accelerator.

green

2005-09-20T19:25:00.001-07:00

Mala and her husband rent one of those cheap, characterless apartments that crowd the suburbs of big cities... but to them, that is home and Mala strives her best to spread a bit of soul around. Her sage green panels have softened the harsh lines of the white blinds; the morning light streams through the sheer fabric of it creating a lovely effect. There is a hapless paisley sofa next to the window; piles of bright cushions give it a cheerful air. She and Dev often snuggle there together and look up at the sky while sipping their morning tea.. life does not seem so hopeless then! A painting here and a painting there breaks the monotony of the bland walls. A mosaiced tapestry reiterates the mix-n-match flavor of their lives. A stray mattress adopted by them sits wrapped in tripple sheets topped by a warm pastel bed spread. It invites Mala to roll and stretch on its yielding softness. But its a Saturday morning and a host of household duties await her attention and such indulgences will extract a heavy price every day of the following week. So Mala moves on.. She pauses a moment to sniff the pair of sandalwood elephants she bought from Calcutta on her last visit to India.

"The bills just have to paid this Monday first thing", Mala muses as she lines the washer with liquid soap and dumps the laundry quickly checking the pockets for stray coins or bills. Why cant Dev make sure his clothes are really soiled before putting them in the basket? This one surely has a couple of more wears left! Mala has put the dahl to boil on the stove before she left for this quick trip to the laundry room. That cooker might blow up if she doesn't hurry now. And then she has to resume the hunt for quarters for the drier. She is only one short and surely that'll turn up some place if she really looked.. but she's already looked almost everywhere and this bothers her a bit. Mala flops back to the apartment in Dev's slippers. The skimpy shorts and shirt she had carelessly donned compliment her smallish frame and beautiful skin. A mexican smiles an extra friendly smile as she passes by. What the hell!

Mala's favourite spot in the house is the little garden on her sun warmed kitchen window-sill. Lovingly tended, the thick foliage overflows the little earthen pots. The bright light green of sweet basil contrast with the more greyish and rough sheen of the greek oregano. The chives stand tall and thin with weedy little blooms. A mixed tangy-punjent aroma fill the air as Mala picks off the dried leaves and a few fresh ones for her cooking this saturday. Two cacti with red and yellow flowers and a pink graft stands stoically on the sides to balance the levity of its neighbors.

Mala has made palak paneer and sambar dahl and spiced it with home grown curry leaves - it emanates a delicious flavor as it is laid out on the table and she waits for Dev to get out of the shower. The air in the kitchen is a bit stuffy.. Dev has a wonderful voice and Mala can hear him singing some of her favorite songs. She hums along and pounds on the bathroom door. Mala is hungry and the food is getting cold. Dev's wet head emerges to placate Mala.... Feeling a bit wet but happy Mala goes to stand near the window.

On an impulse, Mala turns off the air conditioner and opens the dust clogged windows that remains tightly shut most of the week. Outside, a strong autumn wind is blowing and the nearby sprawling maple tree dances riotously to its rhythm. The spirit of it is touches Mala too. Suddenly she percieves a festive sparkle to everything in the room. The slight chill from the winds bring with it the long forgotten heady smell of Siuli flowers from another time and place - the white and the bright orange of it reminiscent of the red bordered white garod saris of durga puja celebrated at this time of the year. The azure blue skies and the huge flock of black birds specking it high above, beckon her to fly away with them and fill her lungs with a deep breath full of fresh air.

pujo manei...

2005-09-14T11:00:00.001-07:00

dujoner kothopokakhon:
ishh.. aj kancha rod ta ki sundor utheche, nah?
hmm..
ar akta misti thandao poreche..
akash tao khub neel.. sarot kal sarot kal mone hochhe...
akdom pujor weather!
sotyi! barite phone kore ki je mon kamon korchilo! panch bachor hoye galo deshe pujo dekhi na. attdine pandel bandha shuru hoye jeto paray.
hotoi to... amar ei prothom pujo kolkatar baire. tao atodur je pujor anch porjyonto pachhi na..
sostir ratei truck bhara kore amra thakur dekhte berotam proti bachor. sara rat hete hete pa fule jeto. takhon jhere notun juto ke galagal.
Hah! Ei je pa diyechish e deshe, bhor rater mohaloya theke bijoyar khirerchop-jibegoja – sob bhule jao. pujor egg-roll-chop-cutlet, notun jama, mike er gan, osob ekhane pabe na. er por deshe pujor somoy firleo dekhbi, swad tai bodle gache...
ekhane to bhaloi pujo hoy shunechi. calcutta web jure probasi bangalir pujo prostutir khabor.
Hah!!
bangali association er pujote jash na tui ?
jai.. ami ar mousumi protibari jai. tuio chal amader sathe ebar. dekhbi kamon pujo probasi bangalir.
ekhankar mondop sojja kamon ?
dhur dhur osob koi! fencrick road er pashe baro hall ta bhara nay, okhanei pujo kore. pray sat atsho lok hoy. guti katoker barojor mukh chini amra.
jah! pujor lighting ar pandel na hole pujo pujo mone hoy kakhono!! aha, ar dhaker awaj? dhunochi nach?
Ta ar ki korbi.. ekhane cassette e dhak bajay.
ami tahole toder sathei jobo pujote, bujhli ? kauke akta khujchilam. Aka aka jete kamon bandho bandho lagchilo..(kichuta theme) oder to bipul ayojon. internet e dekhchilam. dudin dhore pujo. soni bar ta asol saptamir sathe coincide o koreche.. akkebare desher moton hobe bole.. emnite $50.00 kintu studentder $25.00 chanda, ID dakhate hobe.
ta dokhhina to ditei hobe baba...
pujota khub jak kore hoy thiki. ak bangali daktar pujo koren. english e translation kore kore montrer sob mane bole dan. tobe precise translation noy, nijeder interpretation of god, durga puja, ja ichhe jure day.
babbah, englishe durga pujor montro !!
ha, asole second generation er bachhader pujote jate interest develop kore - se jonye.
Ora sone ? amra to choto balay montro gor gor kore bolte hobe, ei jani. or je abar mane fane hoy jomme bhebe dekhini!!
(hashi) ekhankar bachha gulo sobi bujhe bujhe korte shekhe kina! etai ekhankar culture.
inrigi montrer bole probasi projonmer modhye "pagan gods" e biswash jagorito hoyeche ?
(hashi) bolte pari na. bap mayer ja chiri! sebar akjon mohila ke bolte shunlam akebare microphone e "bhalo kore make dako.. e bachor ma jano anek taka kore dan.."!!
(bhuru kuchke) ishh.. e abar ki!
erai hochhe puja committee members.. kothabartar oi chiri, kono editing nei..
mukhe jatoi i love my india gao.. hindi cinemar gan geye ki ar sanskritik sachetanota toiri hoy !! obosso, amra amader chelemeyeder katodur sachetan kore tulte parbo ke jane!
ichhe thakle ki hoy na!
na re, ekhane thakte thakte sob byapartatei kamon morche pore jay. saroter sei amej koi je durga pujor mormo bojhate para jabe!!
hmm.. achha, sari porbo to ?
Hya hyan sari porbo.. ki saj goj je loke kore ashe pujor okhane bhabtei parbi na! je kono biye bari ke har maniye debe. ak gada sonar goina ar rongchonge benarosi sarir bhire thakurer theke beshi jholmol korbe tor char pash ta.
advance katle $5.00 kom per ticket. kete rakhbi naki?
kete rakhle hoy.. tobe oder organizational abilities er opor amar khub bhorsha nei. tarpor hoito receipt tai accept korlo na ba credit card e kono golmal hoye holo... tar theke baba sorasorii dish, laguk $5.00 extra.. at least reliable..
sei bhalo.. $25.00 e ki khawabe re?
eta khubi dicey byapar.. majhe majhe darun khawa hoy.. abar gato bar jamon churanto abyabostha... ake to khete dite prochur deri korlo, tarpor ak hata kore khichuri ar ak chimte tarkari dhoriye khalash. sobai khubi chote gechilo.. kono hashi nei mukhe, khichurir harir samne aro baro harir moton mukh kore dariye thakbe sob..
eta khubi baje.. swajatir sathe misti byabohar korte pare na ektu!
Aro shon, ak jaygay mistir line. achha, tui bal, limited quantity akta ki duto neben. bole dilei mite jay.. sesob bola nei.. bangali atithyeotate bandche.. jato ichhe nin.. nilei kintu tatkhanat bhrukuti bhoyal mukhe edik odik asosthikar chaonir prosad peye jabe mistir songe!
ema... amader parayo to pongti bhoj hoto.. parar chelerai sob jogar korto.. kakimara poribeshon korten.. kuchutemi je chilo na ta noy... tobu kato antorikata, hashi, thatta..
are ghabrale cholbe ? nijer desher lok tor.. jato din jabe, dekhbi dekhlei ga jwole jabe..
tor kotha gulo khub kata kata shonachhe... ato dislike korish to jawa kano ?
ki korbo bal!! mayer samne anjaali dite ichheta to kore... siuli fuler gondhota apna thekei tan day mondirer dike.. khichuri bhog ar begun bhajatao bachore ei akbarti khete baro poritripti lage!! Internete pujo porikroma dekhte dekhte bhison bicholito hoye pori..
tahole ar mon kharap kora kano…
bikeler function e thakchish ki ?
hu hu .. $25.00 e function hobe na.. function er alada dokhhina.. ajoy bhaduri ashche gan gaite bikeler bichitranusthane...
ebarkar moton barong pujotai dekhe ashi..
yep.. thikache, tobe oi kotha roilo.. pore jawar details ta thik kore nebo..
tata...
tata...

till death do us part

2005-09-13T18:00:00.000-07:00

There's more to love stories than passionate romances and the elusive promise of forever - I was forewarned of course. But like many others I have taken the plunge throwing caution to the winds. I was drunk on the fragrance of newfound love, all wobbly kneed, almost no serious decision-making was involved.. The tiny voice of whats ifs were successfully drowned in the fierce conviction I felt in my heart that I belonged by his side.. It has been 3 years since. In these 3 years the wobble in my knee has steadied and the flutter in my heart has disappeared as per predictions. I have learnt that just sharing the vision together simply isn't enough; we have diametrically different views on how to realize that vision. We never realized how differently we wanted to live our lives until we got our feet wet and tried the marriage soup. In the beginning it was soft remonstrances, followed by brows creased in disapproval, graduating to nagging and then screams of frustration.. all to get across the message of exactly what we wanted the other to be. But we remained who we were, are. Inevitably, these setting-each-other-straight would escalate a domestic Armageddon, but the storms pass by and all differences are deftly shoved under the carpet. We kiss and make up and go on.

A pattern has emerged of these earth-shattering occasions of marital strife.. Its always the same issues. Issues argued over and over, rationally, irrationally, interminably, with no hope of winning the rounds; we know exactly which inches belong to whom. But our livid tempers have their cyclic peaks and troughs. At the peaks nothing short of the loud clunks of breaking china or the satisfying noise of ripping fabric will suffice to calm our nerves. But one cant be too careless. The food finds its way into the sink or at least hardwood or tiled areas and never the carpet. The fabrics attempted are ones that will easily give way. Important papers are scattered, never torn to ensure full recovery later. I shed my silent tears and contemplate somber issues of the general meaning of life and cool off. He steams, stomps, wants to drive off with the car, whose keys I promptly confiscate.. we sometimes even engage in scuffling with each other on our hands and knees.. then, whoever regains a little sense the sooner stages an elaborate retreat by freezing off, establishing a sense of "you have made my life hell".. this impasse lasts for about a day, while we continue our daily chores, cooking, eating, driving to work together... Cracks emerge in our frosty demeanors, a smile here or there quickly hidden behind an expression reminiscent of previous hostility, but more token than genuine irritation.. this extreme politeness is the last of the wintry weather. My husband starts a hopeless and token effort at re-organization and his utterly hopeless efforts irks me to do my thing now without further ado before things get really out of hand in that I am left with no clue of what is where.. As I pick the pieces back together, I try to recall which way he'd aimed the stack of papers from this corner or that in earnest consternation!!

Indian Student Abroad

2005-08-30T19:48:00.001-07:00

I had crossed the threshold of my home on a fateful day in July, 5 years ago, with a head full of dreams and a heart full of hope.. My soul had soared and my feet had danced with excitement.. I came to the Americas in pursuit of my destiny.. I was dazzled by the pristine cleanliness and efficiency of everywhere I looked.. Here were airconditioned rooms, microwave ovens, swimming pools and huge department stores. Here were the scones and doughnuts from my english story books.. Even the greenery was so vibrant and untouched by dust and soot.. Here was freedom at last and an infinite scope to achieve, all the good things.. As the days rolled by, the glamour faded away. I can hardly remember now, how I spent the five past years in the US...

Here, amongst strangers who have grown to be my surrogate family I have learnt to huddle together, often not through choice.. I learnt to trust and mistrust.. made some friends and then got thrown apart from them by the slightest change in circumstances.. guess we are too old to make new friends anymore.. it is now my wont to be a passive onlooker while sojourner buddies metamorphosed into someone-i-used-to-know. How many passed me by! Just keep busy went the common wisdom and I followed it to the letter. Separated by an insurmountable barrier from mainstream society, I feel abandoned by friends and family I knew back home. Birthdays, graduations, weddings, promotions and then occasional lonely musings of what the hell went wrong with me and the nasty little voice of what did he or she do right.. not knowing whether I have funding tomorrow, not knowing whether I will have a job when I am done with this, not knowing if my old parents will survive to see me fulfill our dreams...

Of course you cant tell at all from looking at my confident ways.. thanks to a deep rooted sense of self preservation, there are no breaks in the front I present to the world!

We are intimate bed fellows here who dont intrude upon each other's private hells - a strange cocktail of the east and the west. We call before we visit a friend, have turkey at thanksgiving and party at Halloween. We smirk at health consciousness and hold close the Indian tradition of oil and spice. We champion the ability to abuse a priviledge, returning used items after months of purchase.. Our chilvary dries up when we meet a fellow Indian, the newly learnt custom to greet 'Hi' is hardly ever performed for one of our own with as much zest.. seldom look at each other in the eye.. never park your car near other Indian cars fearing a 'dungdang'.. If an Indian student produces extraordinary work we are quick to suspect plagiarism! Same faces, same jokes, same food, same bitchings, same insecurities.. united we stand in our sameness.. but thoroughly divided we are in our hearts.. But just ask an Indian if he is proud of being an Indian.. but of course!!! what was I thinking ! We are always bursting with patriotic pride. We frown upon westeners when we congregate and lecture on Indian values espousing all that we
were taught to value in the orient.. And yet in our body language there is this strange hankering to be accepted by the Americans.. a shameless hankering for which we value their opinions more than our own...

I miss my dream.. its now in tatters as I round one corner and the next. Visits to India form the high point of my life and even that is hollow as I grow more and more estranged from the India I used to know...

daisies by the road

2005-08-18T09:19:00.001-07:00

Sometimes it seems so pointless... an ugly belch and a whimper, a thorougly ignominous low... keeps coming back... Should we then give up now ? Just amble around in the background shadows, never the sanctimonious goat, never the rebellious voice of righteousness... Form no beliefs and thus not be dogmatic. Never love and thus insure the heart against hurt. All the little compromises needlessly executed with indifference.. It does get you around the corners... Yes, you could thwart thus, the inner battle.. but you will have lost the war.

Life is a journey. And every moment of that journey counts. You fight to get here and there, but you are neither here nor there too long, its what's between here and there thats the most of life. Happiness can truly be achieved only in the gracious acceptance of the pursuit and the struggle for survival, in the concious daily investment of energy and emotions to achieve your dreams... in cultivating an appreciation for the daisies on the road.. thats what makes the ocassional successes, the ones we count as milestones in our lives, truly memorable.

Odd Rememberances

2005-08-13T05:41:00.001-07:00

If I close my eyes, I can still taste the fuchka; taste the semi-ripe guavas in strong rock salt and the cheap pop corn… I can still hear the busses and their conductors screeching by at evening rush hour on the other side of the road... still see the state busses that rushed through without giving you any chance to wave as much as a finger at them… and the public busses that raced each other dangerously in a bid to draw the maximum passengers… and the mini busses that you could waltz up to and still find waiting patiently for you to the immense irritation of all within its tiny confines. I can still feel the warm evening breeze on my sweat stricken brows… still smell the fetid smoke and dust and sweaty perfumes on the hot sweltering evening in downtown Calcutta. I used to stand at the westward entrance of the Rabindra Sadan Metro station, whispering longing last words to my boy friend after having spent hours with him lounging on the grounds of Nandan and the Victoria Memorial. The year was 2000. The bridge that now shuts off the sky wasn’t there then and you could gaze up from the square cemented tiles of the pavement next to the Calcutta club to catch a glimpse of the pigeons flying by.

Perhaps you have noticed the old man in dirty white kurta and dhoti who sold us the fuchkas then; sporting his dirty white mustache, always on that same spot from right at 4:00 in the evening, selling his wonderfully crisp fuchkas with its delicious potato filling and the divine tamarind juice. The image is etched indelibly in the memory of my youth. The endless nudging of his patrons gathered around him, holding the saal leaf folded like a cup, awaiting his or her turn as the man counted out the crisp balls overflowing with the juice. He would skip you on a round if you were too slow to gulp down your last serving… and he would keep an indubitable count!

Nandan and the Victoria Memorial always swam with people – of all ages, castes and creed... Victoria drew more of the fat middle-aged folks for their brisk evening walks by the lake and perhaps for the covert reason of looking furtively around corners at young couples making out. It was a strangely invigorating atmosphere, with the cool breeze and the beauty of the parks and the white marble palace to feast ones eyes on. But the dirty knowing glances flying around intruded upon one’s intimate moments and destroyed the wonderful feelings intent on appreciating the surroundings or your partner. Inevitably, there were also the hawkers preying upon the young lovers with exorbitantly priced teas, coffees, lozenges and nuts. And the street children smiling and angling the couples for a rupee or two.

Nandan had a slightly different flavor – a more intellectual appeal with the loose white kurta n jeans clad men and women smoking like chimneys. And there was the café Amontron to energize you when you needed it after hours of talk, talk and more talk. There were the artists and the revolutionaries, the film critics and the college goers' throngs, the theatre geeks and the music lovers all sandwiched there in a hapless bundle of endless chatter and more.

We were busy in that midst, a pair of dry leaves driven by a hunger we hardly understood raging in our souls. The physical hunger of youth, the emotional hunger of incognizance and the intellectual hunger fanned by the years at the Bengal Engineering College spent in frustrating emptiness.

Seven

2005-08-11T07:01:00.001-07:00

Must we reason all the time ? Having reasoned thus, here's seven.... Its as many as colors of a rainbow and notes of all the music in the world - I find that intriguing. There are even 7 steps to take together in the ancient hindu marriage rites. Is it but a chance reflection of the more deep relation between colors and music and human emotions ? Why the 7 seas, why the 7 sins, why the 7 wonders ? And 7 days of the week !

Even Lord Voldermort caught on and has 7 horcruxes !!!