Today I want to write. I don't know about what, but I realize, even though this might be a manifestation of my scattered and disconnected thoughts, I need to vent out. I need to talk. To a stranger, to a world I don't know. And may be, this is my best possible escape.

I stare out of the window at the white world. It's quite a sunny day, but still freezing. It's too lonely out here, I don't see anyone walk by. Couple of cars every now and then. And that is all.

Like everyone, I wish I had someone. But it has always been like this. Reminds me of a song "Lonliness is always looking for a friend, It found me once and it has been there since then. Lonliness never waits by the door, it sweeps in and it can never be ignored..Why, why was I chosen? Why am I left behind?" I think most people in this world are in fact very lonely. Despite of the parties, despite of the giggles and laugh, they all come to their bedroom...and bury their head and cry. They stand in the shower and cry. There are some who show it, and some who has too much of a pride to admit. But the fact is, in this world, despite of so much social networking which gives you a fake feeling of being connected(...oh someone commented on my statys msg, cause they care, whereas the truth is...it's cause they had nothing else to do), despite of talking on phone with your best friend for two hours, despite of Friday night outs and parties, despite of the fact that probably never in history of mankind people have been so outgoing, gregarious...yet more disconnected than ever. We have forgotten how to feel. Feel beyond ourselves.

Already Gone...

I want you to know
It doesn't matter where we take this road
Someone's gotta go

It’s raining outside. The weather here has made me sick. I can’t seem to get rid of the cold. I was coughing so much, that I couldn’t sleep. So I decided to wake up.
Rain reminds me a lot of Mumbai. Of home, of India. And specially of Sancho, my ex who always felt the most important things in life for him had happened on rainy days. True, the day I met him it had rained. The day that decided us to be together…flooded the whole city. Sometimes I want to just chuck off the entire episode with him, somehow forget everything. Like if I could press a shift+ delete and make it f go away forever, instead of staying in the recycle bin from where I am tempted every now and then to retrieve it back.

I had been lying on bed and thinking my travels in Mumbai local train, my first rain in Mumbai….early morning when I was returning from Vashi, in February, the panipuri store near his apartment where I would have my treat before going to his house. Sometimes he would just appear from nowhere behind me, catch me doing so. I remember days when he would stand at my college gate…I could hardly wait my last class to be over. It was happiness, but all of it was fake, it meant nothing. The feelings I am clinging onto were all fake. And funny thing is , it’s not that I don’t know it, and yet they come back, they hit me, and they make me wanna cry. Sometimes I am so convinced I probably can never love again, cause I feel I can never feel that way again. I can never have the courage to trust…to trust myself that way. And I am not brave enough to want to get hurt so bad again.
How do you feel, when in your weirdly odd life, you come across a person, who you just happen to know is your soulmate? Like you feel it, like you know deep within? And it’s not like those passing crushes and infatuations where you admire someone from a distance and live your life in those romantic fantasies. It is real, it’s when everything is so perfect, like a love that makes you feel so happy to be alive? I believed in such a love. I felt my lover felt as much as I did, and we are meant to be together. For three years I didn’t let go of it for anything. I didn’t want a richer guy, I didn’t want anyone else. I often wonder how strongly I must have felt…or may be still do, that nothing else appeals? But how do you feel when you suddenly realize, this whole feeling was unreal? That somebody just played a game with you. That you were WRONG. And SOO wrong.

I feel I can’t trust my feelings anymore. But people say, I am gonna meet someone nice who will prove that all men in the world are not assholes. But sometimes I can’t help wondering... was this supposed to end this way?

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories, they're haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye
Even with our fists held high
It never would have worked out right, yeah
We were never meant for do or die...

@ Scott Lab, 5.30pm

It's just another day @ Scott Lab, Ohio State University. Not much reasons why I should blog right now when there is obviously so many other things I should rather take care of; it's just that those are not listed. Not organized. So, somehow unlike my thoughts which I can just blurr out, I somehow can't do the same when it comes to actions. I don't know why.

I am some thousands of miles away from many things. Besides Akash that is. From the Ganga, from those fleeting moments of love-sex and pain, from anger, indecisiveness. Everything and all that I have left back in a country far in the East.

Or may be I have not really left everything behind?

I saw the fall colours change, and I find the quiet dead days of winter creeping in. And deep down, I feel like I am dying as well. I often look at people around me...that is people like me, who come from the "less privileged" countries to the rich ones, in search of better lives. And then I am not sure, that's my goal. The typical American dream of earning dollars, having a couple cars, and weekend parties. I am not sure that's what I wanted. And I don't know how to change the obvious path.

I am biting my nails now. I feel a shockwave running through me. Like I am going to pass out. I think I pretty much hate myself. I hate myself for never being able to say NO, for thinking too much. I hate myself for being here and not at Paris. I hate myself, that I have by will screwed up my life. God gave me many chances, but I never bothered. Guilt, sympathy, weakness..don't know what it was, but I have completely lost it.

I am cold. Alone. And fucked.

I am still learning

How is it now have you moved on
And do you still think of me
When I'm am gone
I think of you and I just wonder
Where you are
And what thoughts are racing through your mind
Who are you holding now
Oh I hope that you are happy now and
Someday I know I will be

I've been told there'll be another
(or so they say)
But I guess never like the other
So I'll shed my tears
And I'll face my fears
I've been told there'll be another

It's so simple to say I love you
But sometimes it's not enough
So I'll find my sunrise
At the end of these few words
Who are you holding now
oh I hope that you're happy now and
Someday I know I will be

I've been told there'll be another
(or so they say)
But I guess never like the other
So I'll shed my tears
And I'll face me fears
I've been told there'll be another
I've been told there'll be another..

Words. and Cheap words.

I saw your mail but I dared not read it sitting in Houston. Everyday in houston and then in New York I traveled on foot and somehow tried to imagine how you must be faring in this world. But I had the confidence that you would be doing well. I had tried numerous times to justify my behavior and my actions and found no grounds to do that. The most painful day in my life was after we broke up and then I went to Band Stand to find you sitting there waiting for me. I knew an affirmative action would have been enough to bring us back to our lives and I would have never lost you. The entire night you whimpered in the bed and I had to tie down my emotions. In the morning you woke up with a conviction that all of that was a transitory phase and we would be together. I replay that taxi drive repeatedly in my mind and it still haunts me. A week back I went through city centre in Kolkata and every corner had our memories attached to it.

One night I was pitch drunk and wrote something in my blog and I woke up later to find that it was all about the relationship which I had failed. I know I would never be able to get you back and no way I can heal the indelible wounds that i have etched in your heart. But I have hope you will walk through this life your own way and there is definitely no cliff waiting for you as it did for crystal. Titli life is short and and time travels fast but the world is still very small. Somehow I still harbor the desire in my heart to catch a glimpse of you walking across a road with the smile on your face that used to make my travel down to Calcutta all its worth. Maybe you would be walking with somebody else but I know I would be happy to just to see you smiling your carefree butterfly smile.

Life with my alter

It's worse than the most complex physics problem, when you can't perceive time. You are oblivious of your position, location, action at a time t, cause at time t you weren't you.

Not funny. Who can I blame? Some physciatrists say it's not so bad. I think it's bullshit. I was okay all these years, and I ask them how can a break up, lead me to have MPD? It was only a break up. And I dealt with it okay.

They said, I didn't deal with it. My alter did, as I couldn't.

Ofcourse to make you feel better (like people do, whenever you are in a mess), they will tell you a number of creative people and geniuses who suffered from schrizophenia or MPD-John Nash, Vincent, Da Vinci, some pink floyd guy. But it's like saying, how you can be handicapped like hawkins and yet create history. It's a few in billions, right? Most people would live pretty much an incapable life. I am not saying I would be useless...but, with so much inconsitency with my own self, its tough. Most probably live a life in mental hospital or just happily deal with it like me.


It's not too bad. Not too bad, they say. Just living in a real life science fiction. Where strange things happen to you. Like movies and watched and got amused.

Crystal has always been there. As me. The bolder me.

A silent revenge

Yes I am hurt. And I am hurt everytime I look back. I gave myself the benefit of doudt, now and then. Well, I pretended not to believe it, but may be somewhere deep I did.

Now I know it was unreal. But if you think I'm weak, and have fallen apart; I am someone who will dissapear into nothingness while you grown with your ambitions, I promise you that won't happen. So far I have proved you wrong. I have stood out more so than you have. And I will continue. You may say whatever you want, and yet nothing will crush me. I will grow. And one day, I promise I will outdo you in a way you that you will feel you have never been so inferior.

And it's me who will have the last laugh.

Let the game begin...in silence.

PS: Oh and as far as ordinary goes...let me remind you. You have always been so. You have lived your life in a illusion of self created glory, and lived forever clinging to your miniscule achievements of your early youth. Let me remind you, I have tried to pull you out of that a dozen times.But how could I? You are fake : every bit of you.May be one day by luck you might make a million (yes, you are lucky, I know that). Or a billion. But you will ALWAYS be ordinary. Cause you neither have the wisdom nor the heart, to stand out. That is if you really understand what "standing out" means.

One More Cup of Coffee Before I Go

The time is 4 o’clock of morning, and I can’t soom to sleep. I am wide awake, in a dark room faintly lit by the light from the screen of my laptop. Somewhere out there in the streets the nightguard is blowing his whistle. Like he used to three years back. There were few nights I didn’t sleep that well back then even. Times I would just wait for the phone to ring at some weird hour of night, when you would come back to your room somewhat drunk from a boys’ party. Drunk or not, you would say you love me. When drunk, you would want more than just to love me. Back then I didn’t know what you would mean to me. Times, I would be scared to lose you. I was overwhelmed by your love. Or what you pretended to be love.


It’s been a long time now since we sat in that coffee shop, and walked out holding hands. You ordered for an Irish coffee and me a strawberry milkshake. It’s been a long time since that first kiss in the cab, when you suddenly grabbed me close and put your lips on mine. Today the past haunts me, and as if in this dark room all the moments are flashing by like screen shots on the wall. Last few months, I have tried to detach myself with all those thoughts, obliterate from my life all traces of your existence. May be I shouldn’t have talked about you, the other day with Debbie ; I wish Jesse didn’t bring it up either. I have built a wall around me, that won’t let your thoughts in; but I am so scared at times what if it falls?

Soon, I would be so far and probably I would never see you again. I feel funny at the thought how a single incident in my life has changed me so entirely. I haven't changed so much in last three years, what I have in last four months. Times I feel angry with you. I know deep in my heart this wound might take forever to heal. I tell myself, I am smart, and I can live ignoring the pain. And at times I am thankful. When you can endure a bad heartbreak, rest of the things in life seem like a cakewalk. Had not you crushed me so bad, I would never be so strong, so capable of being alone. Now I feel I neither understand love, nor do I want to anymore. Somehow it's no longer important. All it matters, is to feel life, and keep my bag ready and head off wherever the road leads to. I have suffered my share of pain. And I don't want to try again. May be this time, I would rather try to make someone else happy who deserves so.

Tonight seems so difficult to get through. I know there would be the sun in couple hours, and with the fading darkness may be all these thoughts would disappear. Soon I will fly across the horizon, leaving the pain, the tears, the memories behind. Leaving YOU behind. But there are times, my heart bleeds. I want to cry and ask you, how you could do this? Did you ever realize how much you meant to me? There was NOTHING, I would not give up had you asked me to. I had loved you SO intensely, so madly.

And you had made it seem perfect. You had made me believe we are meant to be. Supposed to be. I went to city center the other day. Every shop street we walked, and I could see us three years back, your hands around my waist…you couldn’t stay away from me. We often joked, we are too attracted to each other, it’s so impossible to spend a minute next to the other without a touch. As simple as holding hands. As simple as you running your hand through my hair. Remember one day we went upstairs to food court, and I went on talking and talking. Something totally irrelevant. You were simply staring at me; you probably never listened what I was saying, but I did say I really like you. And in ten minutes we were in the taxi, making out, forgetting everything else, in each other arms. We missed the turn to my home, the cab driver was laughing. I miss being in love so madly. I miss you.

And then shopping during Puja. Walking on the pavement across Parkstreet, lit up by those pretty streetlights. You holding me like always. And even in Shimla, I would talk to you. Even if it was for 10 mins a day. Remember how happy you were to see me back from Shimla? You loved it when I dressed pretty. You always did. Even months back, I would take hours to dress up. Changing from one to other, till I would look perfect. I would apply my mascara using the mirror at the basin, while you would play Eric Claptop, “You look wonderful tonight”. I have been with a dozen men now. And other than Jesse (which is such a different world), I have never been so happy with a man. And never been so hurt.

Sometimes I have a morning dream about you. And I wake up, still in a trance, as if everything is okay. As if I am in the bed in Mumbai. May be you are in the kitchen. But I realize, it’s the past. I could never cook, and the best I could do was to make breakfast for you. I was happy when you would love them Stuffed sandwich, sausages, fried vegetables. I remember staying in your apartment by myself, wearing your T shirt to bed. And when you would come back, I wouldn’t let Radhadi to open the door. I would rather do that, myself. Welcome you home. You know your room would be cleaner than it is ever. And then the kisses, the quick love making. I would be so freaked out with Radhadi in kitchen and Ashay next room. But I loved belonging to you. Deep in my soul, I believed it, you are the one. When we would see ourselves in the mirror together , or while making love at night, you said, our bodies are just so complementary, as if they are made for the other. And I knew it. It was supposed to be us.

Some of the happy times were those we went for grocery. Bringing stuffs to what I sort of took as a home. A home that you built for fun, and broke it cause you were bored. You never understood the pain. Did you really love me? How could I be SOO wrong, SO wrong? I have become strong, but I don't trust my feelings anymore. Last year the whole time I planned about us, sitting in Chicago, how we would be at Mumbai. Where we would go..Shit! I built so MANY dreams about you and me, happy endings...how would I know? How would I know your every kiss was a lie? That you faked all those words of love, that you never meant what you said, what your promised. I trusted you when you said, I was the first girl you kissed, the first girl you really truly loved and was so close to, the first girl you made love to. All lies, that I happily believed.How could you pretend SOO much?


After you, I have been with quite a few men. I wanted to be over you. I wanted to forget the feel of your touch, the feel of your body, your smell, everything. I think of the night when you said, I never ever have to be in anyone else's arm again. Listen to me now, I have been in arms of other men after you, so obviously more charming than you.I wanted to know, I am lovable, desirable. But a few nights was most that I wanted, I didn't want to see the end. I didn't want to love. All these was going perfect expecpt tonight. When I remember Melaine saying, that I am not running from you. I am running from myself, my hope that things will be all okay. That this is a nightmare, and I am trying to pass it, somehow anyhow. Like Andrew said, acceptance is the key. Sometimes I feel I have. Ofcourse, I have, I stay unaffected by you. I don't call you, I don't see our pictures. I don't care anymore who you are sleeping with. Whom you are in love with. I am in as relationship now, and I would like to give it a better meaning.


I have believed in us. I have believed in love. Somehow that's gone, and I don't know if forever. And would I wait for you? Like all these three years? So you come back and prove me wrong. That you tell me that it was just a nightmare, and it was me, only me whom you loved. That WE were meant to be? I don't know. Time is nothing.

People we Meet in our Journey

One of the best things about traveling is the people you meet in your journey. And it's amazing how much you learn from them. Other than seeing various places, understanding the culture, the life of the native people, I have spent a considerable time with other backpackers from different other places of the world. I have learnt about places and culture that I was barely aware of from these fellows. One such place is of course Israel. About 80% backpackers I met were Israelis. Remaining 20 were French, Spanish, few Americans and others.

After I realized I was the lone tourist in Rahul Guest house at Assi Ghat, I shifted to a new place, called Ganga Bank Guest House where Marti, Loiya and Jordi were living. They were three friends from Barcelona whom I befriended during a morning boat ride. Having quite an American accent (a very helpful thing when you are a lone Indian girl traveling. You can pretend you are not local, to stop Indian men pounce on you. In some ways they fear foreigners) they presumed, I was an American..which however I clarified (I try to tone down my accent a lot when speaking to Indian people in English,I don't know why they find it offensive!). The guest house people initially seemed very nice, but turned out to be pieces of craps. The woman had 4 daughters, all were away (either married or abroad for studies) other than her younger one. I took a corner room, for 200INR a night. Most of the time there was no electricity, but I was thrilled that there was an Western style bathroom with marbled floor and a shower that actually worked!


I went with the Spanish guys to Sarnath. In the next two days we became good friends. Loiya could speak Kavalan language, she belonged to that tribe. There seemed to be a few other backpackers who knew her language at the Singh guest House (where we used to eat, food was amazing, cheap and ummm...delicious!). Evening we went to the main Ghat for Arati (second time for me, and I loved it). I also went to the Golden Temple (the police were so rude, harassing..also they thought I was a tour guide since I was with what they call "foreigners") and left my stuffs with Loiya. Later we went shopping together. At idle times, over lunch and dinner we used to talk about our lives, culture, living. Loiya was a drawing teacher, Marti a teacher for autistic children and Jordi was a mechanical engineer, but he quit his job before coming to India and wanted to do something new. Jordi was plump with a french beard, never married, but extremely jolly and good at heart. So were the girls. Loiya was divorced. And Marti never married either.So technically we were a bunch of singles.


A few guys at the guest house asked me, why I was traveling with "foreigners". Hah, how could I explain that Indian backpackers are practically nonexistent? I would be happy to club with another fun loving guy/gal from country backpacking like me! I found none. But on a serious note, it's been now so many years I have befriended this whole world. These people don't feel anymore stranger than I am to myself. How can anyone understand that? Like Jane says, the whole world feels like home. It's been eight long years that those boundaries have been broken. In the last two years,I have lived, loved, fought, had the best times with "these" people that people of my country gape at, as if they are from some other planet. To many of them I have been able to relate more those of my place. I still remember at Aurangabad sitting in a "kala jeep" a poor woman and her two daughters were mesmerized by me. I could not follow their language, but they wanted me to come to their house. I went there, a house smaller than the size of my bedroom, with a roof so low, that I could barely stand upright. I was scared at first, but it was okay. They were so happy to have me there ....and I realized that they are quite unaware of the all-so modern civilization in a city (Mumbai) just next to them. I also felt funny thinking that I could relate to Julia and Mandy much more than I could to these people, who were my very own. I have a feeling in America, (or other European countries) two Americans, no matter how rich or poor can relate better to each other, than to a person from a different race or country. May be cause they speak the same language?

The diversity in my country amuses me. This is a place like no other.

Coming back to where I was. Second day in Varanasi, I was having food with my Spanish friends at the Singh Guest House when I met Betty. Betty was sitting alone in the couch, talking to Dannie, one of the hotel boys. Betty first thought me to be an Italian (an Indian backpacker is out of imagination), but ofcourse I introduced myself. Betty was from Israel, a country I barely had any idea about. Turned out Betty and me were to leave for Rishikesh on the same day. So, we thought we could travel together. I wouldn't deny, sometimes I found her very loud and insistent in her talks. I was a bit scared of her too...she was really strong and tall compared to me. And yet, in course of our travel I became so fond of her, it was difficult to let go.

During my last dinner together with Spanish guys, Loiya said I touch people's heart very easily. I don't know about that. I knew all those encounters were brief, and yet I wanted to absorb as much as I could. I wanted to picture Spain, and their lives there, about Marti's house near the beach, about the festivals they told me about. In the evening Loiya and I went to the Varanasi masala shop, and I showed her the unique masalas...they are the most unique thing in India.We bought a few of them, and she could take them home.I used to observe Loiya quite a bit. She looked soft and somewhat vulnerable, smoked 30 cigarettes a day, and used to take out her drawing book and sketch something whenever she found anything interesting. Or may just while waiting for food.


At Rishikesh, I used to share room with Betty and Ginger. Ginger was a read haired boy that Betty met at Leh and became friends. They met again at Rishikesh, while I was with Betty. I didn’t want to be very presumptuous about how it would be moving in with two Israelis; all I needed was some space in the bed to squeeze in. However, they happened to be the first Israeli people I ever made friends with, cause even in America I don't remember meeting any. Also with their white skin, I hadn’t been able to figure out their origin easily. In couple of days, I became very close to both Betty and Ginger who treated me like a young sister. Betty would yell at me sometimes even (she was 38) when I would jump out early from the bed! Ginger and I would make apple hookahs together and smoke at our balcony looking out at the Ganga. Sometimes we would sit together and Play “Shitted” a variation of “Uno”, the card game. But it wasn’t just them. The whole Laxman Jhula or..Rishikesh was full or Israeli tourists, to whom India is a second home.


Before I had met Betty, I was barely aware of Israel. Times, I had offended her by mixing up Iraq, Iran and Israel (THEY ARE VERY DIFFERENT, JUNE!), because I knew so little of them. Vague stories like there’s some war going on there. I didn’t know about the people who lived there, and now I met them here, conversing with each other in Hebrew and yet pretty fluent in English. Israeli men, lot of them are brown, have deadlocks, and a strong built. Some of them are as white as Americans or Europeans. It’s hard to tell them apart at times. It’s a small country of seven million people surrounded by Muslim countries all around who continuously wedge war against them. And here I would come to the reason, why they visit India of all places, SO much.


After high school most Israelis have to join the army. Those few years are the toughest in their lives. No doubt they look so strong and robust! But to take a break, they run to some place, and obviously India is the cheapest for them. And then there is the temptation of cheap drugs. Where else would you get 5gms hash for $10? They come here, roam around for months, in the beautiful Himalayas..or just hang around at Rishikesh smoking, singing and sleeping. Though the country is mostly Jews, the people aren’t religiously fanatic. I heard there are some orthodox Jew groups. It is expected for Jews to stay home in Saturday and read the Torah (the book of Jews). And in come localities if you go out that day, they gonna attack you. There are no buses on Saturdays for this reason. But overall, the people looked neither orthodox nor conservative, or overtly religious. They were like us, the modern breed, simple, merry, gay.


The Israeli people aren’t really interested in the war. After the UN declared the partition of Palestine for a separate Jewish state in the 1940s, Israel accepted it, but the proposal was opposed vehemently by the Arab leaders who wedged a war against Israel. Since then the country is always targeted by the neighboring Muslim regions which do not accept Israel’s independence. There are numerous bombings from Gaza. I heard the West Bank people are more amicable. However the Israelis aren’t allowed to enter any of the Muslim regions (even their commercial airplanes do not fly over any of the Islamic countries!). I sometimes wonder if the common hostile feeling towards the Muslim makes India so much favorable to Israelis! There are surprise attacks in their country all the time (one such violent attack was when Golda Meir was the Prime Minister, and after the attack she resigned)..rockets missiles thrown every then and now! However the Israeli army is exceptionally strong, protecting such a small country and population from the ruthless attacks from all the sides.


As I figured out, Israelis don’t really want war. In fact they are quite accommodating kind of people. Another interesting thing that I figured out is that, in fact all the three religions Jew, Christian and Muslim are very related. All have their origins in Jerusalem. Jew is probably the oldest (Mary was a Jew?) followed by Christians. I suppose Mohammed the prophet was a Jew by birth as well. Sometimes I think in stead of fighting they should try to relate to the other more…but no matter. It’s just an odd thought.


Israelis are very modern (contrary to what I had in mind, Jews might be orthodox or , especially when you live amidst some Muslims countries, you dress and think conservative?). They turned out to be very educated as well. It is compulsory for all of them to go to school (and Bible is compulsory in school), and many of them have a bunch of degrees and diplomas. Ginger , who confessed to love learning, had degrees in Engineering, medical, philosophy, and finance. Before coming to India he worked as an investment banker. After returning he would go back to school to join MBA. Israeli girls are extremely pretty. They are not white like Americans or Europeans, but fair with a little brownish tinge, light brown or green eyes, long black or brown hair, and usually slim tall built. Betty had deadlocks. Some girls do. They are culturally very enriched too, took a lot of interest to know about India, or Indian music. Rickie and Judo in particular had amazing voices. They were exceptionally talented. Their music fetched me to Freedom café every evening, and it is where I met Melaine.


Melaine was a French guy, who spoke English as good as an American. And though he had dirty blonde long hair, people would often mistake him as an Israeli as well (may be cause everyone else is!). I moved in with Melaine after Betty left. I liked him. He was a student of ecology, traveling for a year now through Africa, Vietnam, SE Asia, Cambodia, and now India. He is joining Trinity College in fall. He is of my age, and has seen so much more of the world than I can imagine. He was for couple of years in California as an exchange student and has some of family in Boston. Melaine was basically from South France, didn't believe in any religion (I actually asked...I guess it's the same with all travelers ), and has his roots in Poland and Russia (his grandparents were Jews). Melaine would often catch up with some other French people. One of them was Damien, from Paris. He was very French. With his typical scarf and head cap. Melaine often told me people from Paris are very rude. He would talk to me about French girls, and about so many other things. We would order food, and most of the time his would turn out to be better and I would eat half of it. We would get cosy and joke about French affairs. Famous french lovers. Explore possibilities and kiss each other for hours when we were about to head off for a hike. And sometimes I would feel so lost. Lost, wondering what sets us apart...or are those boundaries just our imagination?

Letter to my Sunset Boy

Dear Andrew,

I wish you would be here. Appear again. Talk to me a while, before you dissapear, again into the airs, into nowhere. Sometimes I sit by a river or walk alone through some woods, or a lonely road, I feel you would really come, appear next to me, talk to me and tell me things which will make my life so much easier like a magic. So many times I look around for a tall white lean boy...but you don't come. I am scared, are you my imagination just like Crystal? But Jesse says no. I have your picture. Once in a blue moon you write something strange in facebook, and usually never. I don't know where you are, how you are...you feel too much like a magic, even after so many months.

I have never felt for a guy, the way I have felt for you. We have never been lovers,nor did I yearn for it. Somehow you never seemed real enough for that. I have been in bed and very intimate with so many other men, and yet no one like you. I would just sit on that rock by the sea hoping you would appear from nowhere and talk to me. You have changed me in a time I was crushed and broken and unable to gather the pieces and put them together. You made me smile, you made me see reasons. You made me perceive life like I used to when I was that dreamy 16 year old. And I am so thankful sometimes. You don't know what you gave me.

Times I miss you so strongly. And times I just have imaginary conversations with you in my head. I can tell you everything, and you don't judge me. You know now I am publicly in a relationship. You wrote on my picture "You look beautiful. Happy that you r happy" . I am happy, you have showed me reasons. I have always been in a relationship, and now so as well, but that world is just my secret. Real only to me. Nobody would know, and for next couple years, this is my solace and escape. May be someday people would wonder...but if I cared what people thought, I wouldn't be here.

At least once in my life, I want to make some one really happy. I don't see life as a long endless journey. I can't see things too far. Like Kanes, I feel, in the longrun we are all dead. But in the next few years, I want every moment to count. I want to give Jesse more than I ever have, and I know I have to control my restless mind to make myself focus on me and him...but I would do that. Times, I know Jesse is the reason, that I am probably not a long gone past, a pretty picture with a garland on it somewhere in my mother's bedroom. Like last 6 months have more eventful than last six years of my life. It has changed me in a way, that when I look back at the girl coming back from Chicago, I can't recognize her. I regret no longer, life as you said, is about acceptance.

I often imagine you holding me tight in your arms, giving me a warm hug. I remember standing near the taxi, asking "Wont you give me one last hug?" Ofcourse, you would. I wish I didn't have to let go of that moment. You waved and waved and I kept watching through the rear window, till you faded in the darkness of the street, but stayed back lively, illuminated inside my soul.

I remember how somehow in the evenings you would appear (like from nowhere) and we would go to the rocks, watch stars and planets. I remember feeling like a "piece of shit" after I drunk myself to sickness at that guy's place and found myself in his bed the next morning. You made me feel so much better. Your hands are so big, mine were tiny compared to yours.You would take them into yours, sit quietly. We would listen to the waves, and talk about the continuity of life for millions of years. I loved how your face would look in the moonlight. The gentle breeze blowing across those dirty blond hairs. You would take me to a different world.

And I liked shamelessly holding your hands in the roads too, in the cab, in the icecream parlour, with all your friends there, or sometimes underneath the table.After you left, I went with Nicole to the Naturals icecream shop. I remembered us. You used to look so tempting in that white shirt...remember, I always told you? And whenever I think of you that's the picture I have of you in my mind.

You know I have thought so much about you during my time at Rishikesh and Varanasi. You used to tell me about the beautiful Ganga there, and it took me a while to realize why you were so mesmerized. It was a land hidden amaidst the cloud, and times I had felt so dazed, like I have never seen anything as beautiful as that. I would listen to your playlist while staring out at the broad river, the mist, the clouds, the hills. I would look back to my past, the millions of events, to Akash, to my dreams...those when I was young, when I was a teen, when I was 19 and those of today. Right now, I feel I don't have much. All I desperately seek is to feel life, and absorb all this beauty around. By now I have had the taste of all sorts of life, rags to riches...and it helps me understand what I really prefer. Sitting there in freedom cafe, listening to Hebrew music coupled with flute and gutar and tabla...with the Ganga flowing behind, I knew it was what I had longed for. The whole world was there, everyone with their story and somewhere there we were all connected. Somewhere there, we were all very similar. It's not that, I want to purposelessly roam around in life, I hope I go to school and do something meaningful and unique. But I hope I can attain this freedom as and when I want.I realized that my longings and expectations, my percetion of life do not match the slightest with my parents, my sister. My dad, in a talk to me (that I have recorded in my ipod) was telling : a measure of sucess in life is how quickly you can accumulate wealth and be known to ten people around you. My brother in law said, it's meaningless to go to a holiday and spent stay in a hotel worth less than 5K a night. They go to a place and talk about the money they spent, the luxury the enjoyed in a hotel.For me I need a clean place to dump my stuff and sleep.While I don't criticize them I feel bad when they try to look down on my way of life. Would they understand what joy me and Melaine felt after we crossed landslides fallen trees, lost our roads and found the waterfall at the top of the mountain? And then diving into it was priceless!!! They can never understand me, and vice versa. Oh yes, yes, I have longed for you so much on those days. It was a whole new world to me, a whole new adventure. Back home, it feels like a mess in my head. After two years, I feel it so tough to relate things back at home.


You said, I might just find a sunrise boy. True, during my travel I did find a French boy to wake up next to. But Andrew, nothing was like you. And it was silly of me, to try
to replace.

Sleeping with Melaine wasn't the right thing to do. I know I told you everything the other day. I tell you about these series of men, about Jesse, Akash. You are right, I worry too much. I need to work out what I want. And I have. And I think, I had enough craziness, it's time to sink into the calm.

Let's get back to Reality.

I am hitting the roads again, in about 15 days. I know it, just am unable to feel it.No matter what I say, I know I won't be back for 4 years.I am so unable to feel this, shit! I understand there is so much to do, but I am not doing. So I came to the conclusion that listing them down might help. Here I go

1) I need to find the apartment. With a nine month lease. So far I am nowhere. I am confused, perplexed and I see myself homeless in the future.

2) I need to ask OSU about my medical insurance.

3) Packing. I need to organize. I need to pack my 1)diaries 2)music CDs and books 3)clothes 4) utensils 5) home stuffs

4)I need to write a few goodbye letters

5) I need to look over the coursework

6)Buy some cheap books.

7)Study.And prepare myself!


Okay, I am not sure, I still know what to do. Damned. I was happy wondering in the Himalayas. Staying at "home" makes me feel so claustrophobic!

A State of Eternal Trance

Not having the internet connection, I have been blogging in my diary for a while. I thought of typing them in today

Today is my last evening at Rishikesh. It has been pouring non stop. I am stuck upstairs at the Little Buddha cafe for hours.I am on page 477 of the book "Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffengger. I have been weeping like anything while reading it. Melaine was confused, but didn't know what to ask. Things have been very strange with him for the last couple days, he has been very solemn, unable to accept that he has to return back to France after over a year. He seems pretty self absorbed, and I have left him alone. For the first time, I am drinking tea during my travel; I feel a bit cold. I wish it would stop raining so I could at least go to the ashram and get something warm to wear.

For whatever reasons, Melaine and I, haven't had real sex yet.So in that case I am glad, I kept my promise to Jesse. I want to write about Jesse, so much to say. For last several months, some of which were the toughest time of my life, he has been there like the rock of gibralter. And yet, we have been fighting so much off late, sometimes I am unable to surmise the reason. He has sent me a few emails; I read them. He feels we should call it off. I feel so, sometime as well. And in couple hours, I realize, it's impossible.

While reading the Time Traveler's Wife, I think of Jesse quite a bit. Well...it's like I have known him all my adult life, and he has been my secret like Henry to Clare.Last night we were talking about flood experiences, I was telling Melaine about the rainy day
in Kolkata when I was stuck with Jesse, with water upto my waist, and we were sitting at the roof of the car, and then landed up in the police station. My parents were all freaked out. I can probably never forget that day. It was the "momentous" day that changed my life so completely; the day that decided me and Akash to be together. And that story continued for three years.

However to note, I really didn't tell Melaine about Jesse. All he knows, I had several lovers, and so did he. He had a bunch of bad experiences as well.

I remember Jesse making love to me when I was 18+. It was my first time. Clare was 18, Henry time traveled from when he was 41. I was reading, and all I could think of was me and Jesse.I was so scared as well. It hurt like hell, but it felt wonderful to belong to someone.

The whole thing has been so exciting for all these eight years. Often filled with guilt. With moments of infidelity, which have been worse off late from my side. May be cause I become more and more aware, that we aren't going to be together? That our's has no consequence whatsoever? Unlike at 16, when it seemed, love can make everything possible. And then there have been those tears. Knowing the obvious end. Since then, there have been so many men. On and off. And sometimes I feel I needed them. Just to understand, that no one can love me as much as Jesse.

I don't mind the lonliness today. I expected Melaine to be in a more normal mood, but I am not the kind who would bug about it. I stare out at the fast flowing Ganga, the huge mist around it and the barely visible Laxman Jhula.Very soon I have to let go of so many things and so many feelings.I won't see Rickie and Ettai, I won't see Gyan with his tabla lost in idle dreams, I won't see Dudo with guitar and Chris with his absolutely hippie looks. I won't get to talk Bengali with a brazilian boy like Madhavan , who is a bramhachari for four years now, somewhere in haridwar. I miss Betty and Ginger, who treated me like a sister. There's just so many thoughts in my head. And sometimes the whole thing feels so surreal, like I gonna wake up any moment from this long dream and find myself in the mondane predictable world. I wish I could wheed out all my feelings, but it's just so tough.

There's so much I want to write about, just don't know where to start. Landing in the tiny airport at Varanasi, ending up in an isolated Rahul's Guest house at Assi Ghat, walking alone though those narrow alleys and observing the quiet Ganga like no where else in Varanasi. And then going to Dwashamedha Ghat to watch the evening Aarti. I am Hindu, and I realized I have been so completely obilivious of my own rituals. The floating of the Pradips in the Ganga, the holy chants stir you in a weird way. You can feel it resonating inside your soul.

It's been a while now I have been spending my days among a bunch of backpackers, and in a way I am glad. I had been totally obilivious of this world and, the kind of life that I have been now living for past so many years, I guess I have become open to try everything and anything.I tried to go back to normal while being with Akash, but may be that's not written in my fate. A rule once broken, is broken for all. If you kill one, or you kill ten, you are guilty the same way. I won't say I am guilty, it's just that, in years I have realized I am no longer sure what defines me. If I was the typical Indian girl, I wouldn't have fallen in love with a midaged American married guy since sixteen. And all the time till 16, I had felt sex is too special, and I felt it for a little longer, and after twenty when you have it all the time...where as your other contemporaries are inexperienced virgins, some of whom have never even kissed, you feel you belong to a different world.

I don't think I understand feelings very well. Nor I understand my present state of mind, and why I am with Melaine.But somehow rightnow very little in life seems important. Let it pass.Soon I will be with Jesse, things back in place.

Sometimes it bugs me, because I feel I can't define myself. My morals, what I follow, and where I restrain. But sitting with these people, I finally for the first time feel very free. Nothing matters much. As long as you can relate to each other on something. I realize most of the people here feel very similar towards life...and may be that's why we are all here. They observe, they feel. They are dazed. they absorb. Sometimes te beauty is too intense. It hurts, till you give way to tears. I realize I love this life, much more than those fancy houses and cars, and pretty resturants and expensive clubs. At somepoint, it would exhaust me. And here, I wish I could freeze it to eternity. Into a life long adventure, one place to another. With no fear, no ties, and nothing holding you back. An unbelonged life.

Can I cry...please?

I am tired.

I wish someone was here, to hug me. To put his/ her arms around me. And I could just cry. I pretend I am perturbed, but it will be all fine. I pretend I don't care. But I do. Sometimes I am tired pretending to be strong, pretending I have moved on, and pretending to be someone else. How easy...every time his thoughts come in my mind, I pretend I am not me, I think I am Crystal, I believe so..and those memories don't hurt me, or even touch me cause they are not mine. I think of some imaginary lover Mike, some imaginary stuff and escape the reality.June stays as a shadow. It's so much fun.

I have no one to love me. There's probably so much wrong with me, and I realize that. After I came home from Mumbai, two days yelling screaming continued with mother. Her cursing... how I will suffer cause I hurt her. She will see to it.I don't believe in family; I don't think I will ever again. I did once with Akash, but I have been so wrong. Last six months have seen me to change into a completely different person who even I fail to recognize. A person so detached from anything or anyone, just ready to run away.

I can't stay with a crowd, I can't stay with anyone. I feel forced, compelled with everything and I desperately try to seek freedom.

Sometimes the purpose of existence seems too mundane. Surviving for meaningless purpose, the same cat and mice chase.The rage, and anger. The grievances of human beings, the sorrow in their everyday lives disturb me too much to understand the joy of living. Hence sometimes I feel no fear to embrace death if I must. My experience in the last 23 years had been very intense, and I would not want to dilute it by dragging in the triviality of everyday life.


Hence I want to head off, again to the road.It's the only thing that makes me feel free of the bondage that drag me down and make me feel my worthlessness.I had often felt Jesse of all was the only one,who had ever understood me. But I find, I have changed way too much...to stay with anyone. I don't know if it's habit that holds us together, and he cares too much to leave...but I know the love is gone. I have turned into a selfish soul who can't look beyond herself and her complex thoughts. I quietly listen to his long list of criticism and I know there's not much I can change. Among everything and all, I have forgotten what really makes me happy, apart from a slice of blue sky and the endlessness of the ocean.

I think, I have developed a general distaste for most human beings and probably life in general. The back of my mind which houses a bunch of imagination, including Crystal seems to hate everything ordinary and normal. And yet the extraordinary and the amusing stuffs are out of reach.

I am alone. And somehow, I guess I seek more of it.

Happy Birthday Me ;) ;)

Today I turned 23.

There was no birthday cake, no ceremonious celebration. No one to come and shake my hand wishing me. I sat by a waterfall looking down the valley below, in a quiet and undisturbed state. For today I have left all the familiar world behind. And discoved a tiny bit of heaven somewhere.

I packed my bags and have set off to the city of Aurangabad, to the mountains of Ajanta and Ellora for the weekend. Yesterday I toured to Ajanta with a bunch of other tourists. Seeing the caves from 5th century BC, the art, the sculptures that adorn those old caves. So many thoughts come to my mind, human civilization has come such a long way. So many thoughts of the numerous lives that has passed by, unaccounted. Would I be one such?


Later evening, I came to my hotel ooposite to the Ellora mountains. A lonely evening, without any distraction of the world outside. No laptop, no phone. And I realized, there is in fact no one thinking of me. I am alone. As I always was. Times I have felt needed, times I have felt those "bonds", but all of those were an illusion. Nobody ever really needed me. The world and everything in it would exactly be the same were I not there.I make so little affect to anyone. Sometimes Jesse might say, but it's also an illusion in his head. Truth is, we belong to no one, and we live for no one but ourselves. But these imagionary ties always make our actions dependent on people...who at the end, don't even matter. Today I feel so much at peace being away from them.


When I look back at my past, I tell myself. No regrets. All the bizzare things have made me so weirdly unqiue, little to regret, right? With all my madness and whims..I am intrigued by myself! But I ask again..do I regret? Hell, yes..I want to cry and change everything! I don't know what I mean by that.

I see people spending days on things that make no sense to me. On trivial fights, manipulating each other, gossips and so on. I feel this world has too much pain. And all I feel, I don't want to belong to it. I enjoy this isolation. This freedom and lonliness. Perhaps no one will understand..and as Jesse says sarcastically, cause they don't make sense. May be so. But then , very little does, anyway.

Tarrot

The card in the middle of the circle represents the core or central issue of the situation. The World, when reversed: Incompleteness and shoddy design. A great work betrayed. Insecurity, fear of change, and the failure to reach goals. Regret and disappointment.

The card at the bottom of the circle represents something you did to bring the situation about. Page of Swords, when reversed: The dark essence of air behaving as earth, such as a sandstorm: The approach of an unexpected challenge, met with muddled thought and unjust action. A person filled with a destructive appetite for all matters of mind and logic. Voyeurism, espionage, and misguided witch hunts. The use of clever argument and eloquent speech to mask the truth.

The card at the bottom left of the circle represents your beliefs, impressions, or expectations. Death: A major change or transformation, possibly traumatic and unexpected. Freedom from the shackles of the past. A new beginning. Death coupled with rebirth, usually related to consciousness and lifestyle.

The card at the bottom right of the circle represents the most likely outcome of the situation given present circumstances. The Hanged Man, when reversed: Life in suspension. Selfish, materialistic, and untrusting attitudes. Unwillingness to make necessary sacrifices. Going along with the crowd, and refusing to hear the inner voice. Concessions and appeasements that backfire.

The card at the upper left of the circle represents the spiritual history of the situation the things you've learned. King of Cups, when reversed: The dark essence of water behaving as air, such as rain clouds in a gray sky: A pillar of maturity and patience, hiding a deep insecurity and an indecisive nature. One who secretly lusts for power, but lacks the courage, intellect, or work ethic necessary to take it. A charming seducer who appears innocent and understanding, but is in fact selfish and unfaithful.

The card at the top of the circle represents the spiritual tasks and challenges of the present situation. Page of Coins: The essence of earth, such as a mountain: The surprising appearance of new prosperity and opportunities for advance in the physical world. One who delights in the pleasures of the body, material things, and nature. The embrace of hard work, realistic goals, and scholarly perseverance as a means to create solid achievement. Dependability, trust, and a studious nature. May portend a new job or promotion.

The card at the upper right of the circle represents the metamorphosis of the spiritual situation, and how your knowledge will evolve. Ace of Wands: The seed of a new venture - perhaps as yet unseen. An opportunity to be met with boldness, vigor, and enthusiasm. The herald of birth, invention, or entrepreneurship. An innate and primal force released. May suggest a surge of vitality, creativity, or fertility that can set things in motion.

The card at the left of the lower line represents the person or qualities that will sustain your spiritual journey. Strength: Raw power. Health and physical fortitude. A surge of tremendous force. Recovery from sickness. Victory after apprehension and fear. The ability to face and overcome opposition brings the inner qualities of strength and forbearance. Delays and setbacks will be overcome.

The card in the middle of the lower line represents the qualities that you express in this circumstance. Knight of Swords: The essence of air behaving as fire, such as a tornado: A fearless and skillful warrior, unfettered by emotion or material concerns. One able to boldly take on challenges that others consider terrifying or insurmountable. A person who inspires fear and awe through the purity of their purpose and the intensity of their intellect. Speaking frankly, in an outspoken manner, and with great influence. May portend the swift initiation or conclusion of a conflict, through the decisive invocation of force.

The card at the right of the lower line represents the person or qualities that will reveal spiritual knowledge. Six of Cups (Pleasure): Opening your heart to the simple pleasures of life. Fond memories fuel the playful embrace of love and life. Experiencing the joy of youth and sexual innocence. Engaging in acts of gentle kindness. Harmony of natural forces without effort or strain. Meeting an old friend .



I know, I am not much into these, but don't know, how come it all makes sense

Broken

"The broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
May be it can stop tomorrow
From stealing all my time
And I am here still waiting
I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out"

I wake up to a rainy morning tired with thoughts. It's now so many nights since I've had a good sleep, a happy dream. I am tired pretending to be happy. Pretending that my life is exciting. It's not. It's burdened with a thousand regrets and a million teardrops.It's burdened with seven years of guilt, and three years of loss. Six months of deception. And a life long of indecisiveness.

There's no love.Somehow somewhere it's lost. Gone. Burnt to ashes.Or may be it never existed in the first place. Just shackles that chains me, and force me into the monotony.Into the habit. I am tired of following rules, of being told. Just opposite to what my heart desires to hear.I don't know why, seems like the earth is turning the other way around. That night I prayed to be away. Away to somewhere far and start afresh. And everything worked out. But those bonds and chains held me back. I am being so selfish! I thought!

But I wish I was. Why do I listen, and why do I obey? To be told every time about my incapability. Yes, I knew I could manage. Yes, I knew I could do well. But you might pretend that you would let me do what I want eighty percent of the time, and mix with it some ounce of coldness and add twenty percent to let me know you won't be happy with this.I am obliged or chained, or something. I don't know what. I wish I could turn back, I wish I hadn't let this happen. But it has, and I have let it.

When I was young, I had a dream. I saw myself running free. Prisons, that's all I have, all my life..whether from my mother when I was young, whether it's from you.And all I wanted was to be strong enough to decide. But I worried too much. About you, about everybody. Instead of growing up,being independence all the choices of my life has become entangled with yours.

Aimless as Always

The time is 4 am in the morning. As I stay up in my lab yet another night, and probably during my last Sunday at TIFR, eating cold noodles that I packed over in dinner, I find myself in utter confusion. I am about to go back to the States, and I am still waffling about which school to go to. So many things are playing in my mind; so many factors to choose from, and above it I guess a sense of guilt, of failure and I don't know what.

The fourth of July is just over....I am already on the 5th, it's basically a Monday morning now. I remember my last year. I was at Chicago over the weekend, watching fireworks with the Russian guys by Michigan beach. It was so amazing. The day after I watched the fireworks again with Jesse in the neighborhood. I wonder if I knew back then what was to come in the next few months, or in the year that followed. It's been a year, but it has passed by SOOO fast! I still remember, back then I had the hope of being together with Akash,I was planning about our time in Mumbai, I was so much looking forward to all of that! And it did come...and it did get over too. Funny isn't it, how weirdly unpredictable future is?

It's weird how tough I had made myself this time. Stopping my heart to act on the thoughts of love, longing, and especially about Akash. I do read his blog even now; I do check his facebook wall too. But I try to think nothing. It's over, and I would do nothing to change it. If it was love, and he had really cared, he wouldn't have let me go : that's what I tell myself. Why should I hang around for something so fake? So transitory? I had already given too much, and I have nothing more to give.

So I made a promise to Jesse. And I actually thought it through. I don't want to date a guy for next two years. May be just be with Jesse? Time and again, he is the only one who has stayed, have been faithful, and loved me more than anyone ever has in my whole life. It makes sense for me to spend my next couple of years with him.

I want to travel.Carefree, just run around. Am I scared of death? No just the pain associated, I think. May be Nashville le is actually a better choice for me? But then why did I take so long to come to it? I don't know, doesn't matter, life is a bitch, mind is a stupid box, and we better live with it.

I am listening to Katy song. It's one from Andrew's playlist. And whenever I hear it, I think of him. I don't know if he was real, but somehow it's not important. What reality?Crystal? Jesse? Me? I don't know. I think, whatever is important to us, is real. And what's not is a shadow.

I am curious about my future. It scares me, gives me sleepless nights like this, because I don't know what's waiting : the fear of being stuck here. I sometimes think a part of me longs success, fame, money. A part of me thinks let there be enough of it, I only want to live a quiet life, do something I would enjoy, and run to the sea whenever I would want.

I heard Ohio is a huge campus (and that's so tempting!) , lots of people, and fun. On the other hand, I doubt if I really like a loud life. For most part, I guess I don't. This puts me in a confusion as always. I don't really know what I want in life.

The Sunset Boy

I have been thinking of writing about you for so long now; And finally today, as you would be leaving the country and going back to "somewhere in London", I am jotting down my thoughts that have occurred since the day you sat with me on the lunch table.

Today it's a rainy sky. You must have loved the rains. You have told me always, how eager you were to see the monsoon in India. I hope you have enjoyed it, I hope you saw the lush green mountains of the North East, the valleys of Kashmir, the roads of Delhi and the Taj of Agra. As I made some trips by myself in the last month, I have thought a lot about you.And in a very different way than I have for any other man. The thoughts were not of love or lust.You were true: you were a part of a universe sending me some messages. And I heard them over and over again, when you weren't really with me. You bade me goodbye, and yet I was smiling. May be you would never know what you meant, in a time I had completely lost hope in myself. And couldn't even confess the loss I faced.

Today I went to lunch in West Canteen. It's been quite a while with my travel to Delhi and Kolkata. There were your friends at some corner table. I looked at the small table by the window, where we would often catch up for lunch; I remembered you sitting there wearing your white shirt, with your notes that had all geek stuffs on it. I remember reading your funny poems. Table boy. I remember the first time you told me about Margerita, and that you left her...I felt like, damned all men are same, just like my ex. What was I doing with you?And yet, it was all those contradictions in you that made me understand people and life so much better. I had blamed Akash all the time, I had refused to accept the reality, I ran from it, I had to depend on Crystal for dealing with everything I couldn't. And with you, everyday I came to understand that heartbreaks or tragedies or goodbyes, it's all about acceptance.Once you accept, life becomes easier.

It had been a month of my break up, when I met you. A month since I had cuddled up to someone's arms. Was I naive about the night you told I could sleep over in your place? I didn't want to expect anything, yet I wasn't scared. A part of me saw you as a strange friend sent from somewhere, and Crystal thought you were like the one she always wanted.That night, when I lay next to you,it wasn't lust that I sensed. It was strangely the first time I felt connected so spiritually, and I couldn't even explain you. We did nothing, but being there, feeling the warmth of your chest and being held like that, felt so amazing.I still think of those kisses, and damned, I miss you. I loved how gentle you were, and so much of it was like a dream. And when I woke up, there you were in front of my eyes..

Tonight I thought I want to see you again. At the airport. Even if for a few minutes. But then I realized, I don't want to see going, departing. Airports and all those places are too symbolic of departure. I just didn't want that. I want what we shared to be the last and best memory of you. When we sat on that rock, kissing, as the waves rose high, in the moonlight...as we talked, and as we danced...That's what I want to remember of you...And trust me, just the mere thought of you makes me so happy, remembering things you said, times we spent watching the waves and the sunset day after day. Isn't it funny, knowing I neither I can have you, nor I am planning. Lol, life is funny, my sunset boy.

PS: Nowadays, I only play your songs on my road. That's all I have of you, I guess.

A song close to heart (by Tagore)

Sakhi, bhabona kahare bole?
Sakhi, jatona kahare bole?
Tomra je bolo diboso-rajoni,
Bhalobasha, bhalobasha.
sakhi, bhalobasha kare koye?
Seki keboli jatona-moye?
Seki keboli chokher jal?
Seki keboli dukher saas?
Loke tobe kore ki sukheri tore,
Aemon dukhero aas?

Aamar chokhe to shokoli sobhon,
Shokoli nobeen, shokoli bimol.
Suneel akash, shyamolo kanon
Bishodo jochona, kusumo komol.
Shokol amari moton.
Tara keboli hanshe, keboli gaye,
Hanshiya, kheliya morite chaye.
Najane bedon, najane radon.
Najane shader jatona joton.

Phool se hanshite hanshite jhore,
Jochona hanshiya milaye jaye,
Hanshite hanshite alok sagore,
Akashero taara ke aage paye.
Aamar moton sukhi ke aache?
Aaye sakhi aaye, aamar kaache
Sukhi hridoyer sukher gaan
Suniya toder judaabe pran

Protidin jodi kandibi keno,
Ek din noye hanshibi tora,
Ek din noye bishado bhuliya,
Shokole miliya gahibo gaan.

This is one of Tagore's song that I learnt from my father. Recently it was featured in a movie, sung amazingly. Many of Tagore’s songs are very close to me. They intrigue me in a way; they make me dive into the fundamentals of emotions and feelings. This is one of the song, I relate a lot to. My father had once explained the meaning, the background of it. It's about a young girl who sees the world with it's complex emotions and asks some simple questions about love, pain and tears. Because she yet doesn't understand those complex bonding and ties. The song goes like her asking to some friend, " What are feelings, and what is pain? People talk about love day and night, but tell me what is LOVE? Is it only pain? Is it only tear drops and sighs of sorrow? Then for what sort of joy do people want to embrace such sort of love?

In my eyes, everything is so pretty, young and pure. Everything is full of life. Whether it's the blue skies, or the green forests, poisonous fireflies or the blooming flowers. They are all like me.They only laugh, they sing, and they live their life so merrily. They don't know pain, and sorrow and they don't know all all those complex bonding that cause those pain..

The flower withers away smiling, the fireflies disappears with a laugh, and in the cosmos, the the stars comes out smiling. Who is so happy like me? Free of pain and sorrow? Come to my house, friend. We will sing the song of happiness and take your heart.

If you cry everyday on the trivial matters of life, one day you will learn to laugh. One day you will realize life is too precious to waste in tears and pain, and, you will see life in a more positive way, and sing the song of joy."

Well..I have done a like line to line interpretation. But the real philosophical meaning is far far and my literary skills have died down long back to explain that. It's amazing.


Here's the link
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPs1fONKaeM

Time passes by

There are times you wake up to a dream, wondering if it was real. I had a dream today morning; I saw myself and Akash happy together, and in love, like I believed we were. Everything was perfect in the dream,just like it was apparently. I had such dreams when we broke up for the first time and I was in Chicago. I used wake up and cry. I would try to call him; I would bike away to some far off place and think of dying.I would want to do everything to make it right. Even now it feels heavy in my heart, when I remember our time together early this year.About the fact, how much I loved and trusted him. How much he meant to me. And yet this time, I would change nothing. May be it's a part of growing up, when you accept the truth and realize that sometimes we do live the wrong dream.

I have been traveling on and off from Mumbai. The last time I flew from Delhi to Mumbai, I remembered how excited I was when I was flying there after coming back from US. I couldn't wait to meet Akash. I couldn't wait to kiss him again, be in his arms. It's funny how we sometimes we go to a place with some purpose and life gives us some different reasons.

It's been over ten days I am in Kolkata at my home. I realize I have done nothing except some occasional visit in my college to do some fixing on my project work.Staying with people makes me lazy, captivated. The city still gives me the freedom, but the fact that I have to explain my when and where I want to go and so on suffocates me.Somehow days are passing like in a wink of an eye, without doing anything at all. I have lost count of these idle days. I need to return to Mumbai desperately.

The fact is, here my decision to go somewhere would be met with so much dissatisfaction and commotion, that staying home becomes my only solution. But I usually have a tendency to get into a depression.I should so something I leave; before I become convinced my time here has been an entire waste. I came here for the paperworks of my visa, but turned out to be a bad idea...it has been delayed.I have to come back again.

Today is a vehicle strike. A bandh. Some bandh happens atleast once every month and the city gets a holiday. When you can't even step out of your house. The young leaders of "elaka" would make sure to get you out of your own car if you try to defy the bandh called by them.Or burn few buses and cars. The city stays paralyzed. And the party which called the strike happily announces the success of the strike.

There is some truth to this : Once you start living by yourself, it's so difficult to go by someone else's terms.

Some quick updates!

I am in a cyber cafe, somewhere near my home in Calcutta, realizing, life without a laptop and internet is like half survival.

It's monsoon here. The sky is perpetually cloudy with drizzles of rains then and now. Still waiting for a decision to fall from the sky, atleast make arrangements of where I should go now. Half of the year has passed by in a wink of an eye, and the next half..I am quite a bit nervous to face. I want things to fall in place.

So many things going on in my mind, wonder why taking a decision is such a tough thing to do. A part of me wishes and longs to travel to Paris, be just on my own, and do away with all those bonds and needs. I am still wondering if I should study at Ecole rather...I don't know. The thought is tempting..to be in a land where no one would know me, and I can start afresh. And there, there is the United States, the place where I keep going back- Chicago.

Sometimes I am scared that I am going into an endless loop of the same thing. Not finding the right thing I am passionate about. I hope I do, I need to.

My hours are over. Will write more later.

Delhi

Damned! I've been thinking of scribbling for a while now, but didn't happen.

I am in Delhi right now, staying at my sister's place. Meanwhile traveling the city and to Agra as well. It was fun. Came here for an interview by the French embassy, which worked out great and got an offer. However still indecisive about where to go and what to do.

Meeting my family after over a year. Feels strange. The ties were weak before, now they are barely there. I feel like another stranger among a bunch of familiar faces.

The Sunset Boy

I want to write about you, but I still have two more sunsets with you...On the third sunset from today, I will think about you, about us and write this blog

On my list this summer ;)

Mumbai & Murund Janjira near Mumbai
Matheran
Kashmir
Nepal
Bangalore
Hyderabad
Chennai
Calcutta( obviously!)
Delhi

Damned! two months to go...yahhooo ;)

Some Fragments

I only remember bits and fragments of my early childhood. We- me, Ria, Mom and Dad- we used to stay together, in an appartment. I remember being close to my dad, listening stories and all, going places with him. It’s a very vague memory though. I remember the one fight when my dad grabbed my mom by her neck and almost strangled her… and I was scared.I found a stick from somewhere and started beating my dad asking him to stop. I remember they fought a lot one day, and Dad shut himself inside his room. They seperated pretty soon- Mom left home with me and Ria. I was about 4.

Mom slowly developed an uncontrollable temper. After we moved out, I did not have any friends as such. And being the younger one, my mom had hardly much to say to me.
I grew alone, and was a very mediocre student.My mom never asked me about my studies. Nobody liked me somehow. I don’t know, most people still don’t.

As years passed, mom got more and more violent. She used to beat me like anything. I remember she did, and so many times I planned on running away. It was cruel. With shoes, with belts. She used profanity that I never understood back then, which I know now means motherfucker, fucker and so on. I cannot imagine why she used such words on a 7-8 year old kid, but she did. The memories are vague and distant now, the pain and lonliness of those years I still remember. Around eleven and twelve I escaped into my world of imagination. I met Nick, and he was my best friend as well as my boyfriend. He was there to save me everytime. He came to my rescue, like the prince in a Cinderella story- and he became almost a reason for me to live. To me he was real. I loved him, I believed him and he meant the world to me. My mother’s violence never stopped. In anger she would also say- Go and sleep with your father. I was too naïve to understand the implications back then. But I would be hurt.

Quite often I would wish I were dead.

I had other friends than Nick, which included Crystal, William and Derek. When I was eleven, my dad suffered a heart attack, and we went to see him. I had met him some few times during the period we were seperated. This time, my parents probably thought of reuniting, but it didn’t work.

We didn’t have any close relative either. Divorce or living seperated in Indian society was a big deal. I just ended up being different from the other kids. Every now and then I would seek a best friend to rely on, but it was very difficult to find one, hold on to anyone. I wasn’t good in anything. After I would return home from school, I had no one to talk to..other than my elder sister Ria sometimes. I was left out, and stayed by my own, till I discovered the joy of writing and imagining thing. And all the low feelings used to dissapear when I used to step into the world of imagination- where Nick and others would care for me so much. The pain was so much easier to handle now.

Still there had been times, I had tried to run away, thought of killing myself.But Nick would never let me, tell me he loved me. I owe him the six years and more of my life …till I met Arjyo.

Then and now I would understand Nick might be only a fantasy. My dad suffered a lung rapture when I was in 9th standard was was paralyzed with thrombosis for six months. It was then we moved back in. It was very strange…suddenly living with a man, whom you hardly know that much. But it was scary too-to see him suffer so much- the nights when he would wake up screaming from pain, and my mom did take good care of him. No matter even if she hated him, she did care enough to make him get well.
I had my first serious crush in 9th standard. A guy who looked exactly like Nick. My next two years revolved around the dreams of him, though nothing ever really happened between us. He played around with me a bit, but in my world of imagination he was very dear and close to me. I built long plan dreams with him- may be , may be he is the one to my rescue finally?

I suffered a heartbreak when I came to realize the guy was an asshole. Sometimes I look back, I wonder how silly I was! I can't imagine falling for him now. Good looks matter, but they form so little of the whole package I look for in a guy. In 11th class, I got my first proper boyfriend, Arjyo...who had been my best friend for a while. Though the relationship had more commitment than any other ones ( not counting with Jesse :that's special) I have had so far, it marked the start of my degrading grades in high school. Eventually I graduated school and got in a very ordinary engineering college, where Ria had gone as well. I had never wanted to study engineering. But mom insisted. All I wanted back then was Physics.

But like now, I didn't have the courage to make my decision.

That pretty much made the first 18 years of my life. The next five years, I have been someone else.

The purposelessness of this stupid life

I am not really contemplating suicide. But I find myself thinking of death pretty often.The same feelings of my teen years are coming over again. Sometimes my whole existence do not seem to make much sense, and there's too much going on to carry around with me all the time. Everything I want, and even including death seems something that doesn't come easy.

I think I don't have the mere courage. It's easy to wish you were dead, but it's so hard to die. For the first time when I saw death more closely, I realized I was so scared.I was afraid like anything...as I looked behind and saw the deep gorge, I felt scared. A slip of my feet would land me somewhere there, dead. The entire trek I was scared of so many things, and I realize in fact I am afraid of death like everyone else. Or may I am more afraid of the pain associated?

I am almost 23, and still done nothing worthwhile in my life.I have stood apart from the crowd by doing a whole bunch of ridiculous thing, but I see myself taking the same well worn out path after a a couple of years and growing old as a nobody. I don't really have anyone to live for either; when with Akash, I thought I found a reason. I love Jesse, but then he has a family, he has kids that give him reason to live. I don't find much purpose to my life...I am not benefiting anyone,the world, the society in any way.Not even my parents with whom I hardly talk. I hardly fit in with people...in a while I need to run from them and be on my own. I can't even maintain friends too long.Added to all this I think I am partially mad too.This purposelessness drives me crazy.I think I need detachment, and yet that detachment makes me feel so useless,so redundant in this world. I am only a burden to many, who just out of their goodness tries to make me happy, do so much for me...but I have nothing to give in return. The debt of their goodness is too much for me to bear at times and though I know what is expected of me, I do nothing to show my gratitude.I get many things I don't deserve, and sometimes the guilt of it kills me. And what I feel I deserve so much, like everyone else, I find myself deprived there.I really have no purpose -at the most I present an example of bizarreness which is not something people should be inspired from.

The conclusion called death

I lay there, passive, staring at the ceiling fan which made an occasional rumbling noise in the quiet summer night. June’s death left me in a strange numbness for the next couple hours, which I was unable to comprehend. I felt like I am living in a state of eternal coma ever since I have arrived to this city, suffering a series of hallucinations and illusions. Nothing was real. Nothing is or will be, ever again.

I didn’t know whom to blame for her death. Was it Babu, who’s child she was supposedly bearing? Or Sindi, who’s so called detachment, had been the root to all that followed? Or was it June herself, who was too weak to move on? Who loved a man who couldn’t belong to anyone, and tried to be with a man to whom she belonged not out of love but out of pity?

My thoughts stayed jumbled in my head and tormented my soul, while my body lay in a still undisturbed state. When I was exhausted, I dozed off. My lights were still on.
I don’t know the time, when I was woken up by a call from David, a friend in Fermilab. I had asked him to call me about some official documents that should be coming to my mail stop in Fermilab. He apologized for being so late, and said, there had been a strange accident at Fermi. Someone had been killed. Some woman’s body had been found at the Wilson Hall cafeteria. Might be some high school girl who fell from the high floors, he added.

The third death in a span of less than twelve hours.

I sat up in the bed wide awake. My roommates were still away and would be returning early next morning. A strange emptiness and silence had swallowed my whole apartment. And it spoke of death.

May be there was no other escape. There was a big hollow in my heart, a feeling of purposelessness, and I realized lately there had been too much going on, to even stop and feel through the pain. I felt completely lost among the series of events ever since I stepped to Mumbai, and it seemed Akash among all of these has become a distant memory, that rendered a nagging pain somewhere. It is this illusion of love and belonging, lust and longing that leads to destruction. Destruction of one self, and destruction of those we want to possess.

Contrary to what I expected, I found I haven’t recovered in the morning even. I made my routined journey to the laboratory, yet the whole time the events of previous day tormented me. Somewhere I have been integrated with their lives, I thought and the loss seemed too real. I thought of the dead girl at Fermi, and I knew it wasn’t an accident. A strange restlessness engulfed me- it can’t be someone I know. Jane is in Moscow, and no one I know could be insane enough to do so…right? There are thousands of people in the lab.

Reaching the lab, I quickly finished some work my advisor asked, before dropping some lines to Jane about the news. She has been busy off late with her exams and her trip to hometown, but we still manage to talk quite a bit. She came online in the afternoon, I felt a bit better to find someone alive amidst the world of dead I was living in. She was a bit taken at the news. I left my office, and came back, and found her message which was mail from her advisor George. The girl was Maria, with whom Jane shared the office.

I am scared, she said. I wondered how she would feel to go back and be in the same office. I hoped she would be okay.But even before that she had one more exam to go through.

And yet I wasn’t. They were all young. Like me, Crystal or Jane. Did they ever know about their untimely consequence ? I wonder....and do I? I have accepted it.

At sunset, I sat on a rock at the sea face. The only place I loved in my campus that felt too much mine. I watched the waves crash on the rocks and break over and over again, with an irrepressible desire to conquer, but ending in failure. They were like those waves of emotions in me struggling to win over the agony and pain and render me some peace and happiness. But they too fail everytime.

Dear love...

Can I ask you something?
Yes?
How many men did you have sex with? He asked as he held me naked beneath him,and at a moment when I was thinking that his love was everything I ever wanted in life.

I didn’t want to lie. So, the other option was not to answer.

Poor Indian men. They still judge the purity or your feelings based on times you have indifferently given to lust and longing in your past. And yet they fail to see the love for which the girl gives up everything and is standing at your doorstep wanting to belong to you.Do they understand love? Or even the concept of love is limited by the stringent orthodoxy that leads them to live a life of unforgivable hypocrisy?

Love, my dear love, everytime you leave me, I am in a mess. In last three years has there been a day I haven’t thought of you? May be sometimes with hate, sometimes with love and sometimes with anger. But you were in my mind. I have loved a ghost of you, which was to me the way I wanted, and may be even now, I am opening up my soul to someone who didn’t exist in the first place. And so my love, in this world that’s so real I am no longer surprised that you ain’t here with me. Because the real you was never there.

I have never truly belonged to anyone. Yet many tried to possess me. I never belonged to my parents, who remained strangers to me all my life, never to my lovers, and never to myself. Never to my country, my people or my creed. And then I found someone, who could probably possess me and liberate me at the same time. My love, that was the first time I asked a man to own me.

My darling, my sweet love, there is a venom in my blood, and it won’t go away. I ate the forbidden fruit, and called upon my own destruction. I lie in my bed, and try to extract from my scrambled thoughts, those moments of true love and intense pleasure which have got lost in this vast ocean of hatred. And slowly, there is a vision. I see you. Your eyes looking at mine, telling we are destined. Yes, love, we were destined even though if it was only to fall apart.

Of Guilt, Pain and Love....

“You told me there are things that you wanted to tell me”
“Some other time, not now”
“You say that everytime”
“I know, but I love it here. I love it here with you, and I don’t want to feel the pain. I just want you to like me”
"I already like you very much. And for nothing I would judge you. Trust in me"

I liked his simplistic attitude. I knew he meant what he said, and the simple English translations of his German feelings somehow made the equations between us much easier to deal with. We didn’t have a lot in common, apparently.Our taste of music was very different, our perception and philosophies of life, our ambitions- there was no similarity at all! But yet we liked each other a lot. We cared for each other in some tangible and intangible ways.And above all those complex feelings, we were good friends. And that was pretty much it.

I cuddled up in his arms, as we lay behind the bushes and the tall grasses at the shore of the lake.The full moon shone brightly, and I could still see the twinkle in his blue eyes. We were wrapped in the white sheets, but I still wore his red sweat shirt. It was the mid August, and there was a bit of chill in the air and since I was too sensitive to cold, the jacket saved me. He said I looked cute in that. I think I did, but I liked it more, because it was his.

I liked watching the ripples of the water as the moonbeam fell on them. He held me close to him. I could feel his hands running over my arms, and my waist, and yet a little hesitant to do anything more. I looked at him. Shit,I wish I could tell him he looked so beautiful. I kissed his unshaven cheeks, and held his face. He looked at me.“Are you sure?” he asked.

I said, I don’t know what that means. But somewhere in me I feel a lot of pain that I want to run away from yet I have no clue which road to take. I probably claim to have a bf I want to return back to and I also have a lover, and yet I am so insecure. I want to run from those feelings . But then is lust the answer to the guilt and the pain? I didn't know. Nor did he. I lived in the transitoriness of those intimate moments and for a brief while escaped into another world with him, where no one knew me, where no one judged me.But the mornings after those acts I realized, nothing has changed, and I was only trying to run from myself. The person in my place the night before was but a mere stranger, and she and I were just too different but trapped in the same body.

I knew goodbye was inevitable. It bothered me then and now, and yet it didn't. I liked the abstractness of the relation or the bond and yet the detachment in it. The last night I spent with him, while I was in his arms, I realized, that the once broken barriers of my life can never be mended.I looked at him, he had the strange innocence of a child, his hate, love, wanting was so simple. He had never been able to venture into the complex thoughtwebs of my head, and everytime he tried, he was pushed back. He was shy even. But I told him, this time, I love him. I don't know if that was possible, but for that moment, I think I meant it literally. When he left, and was traveling the East Coast before returning to Germany, he called me everyday and said he missed me. And he feels he is in love with me. I missed him a lot, and yet love was something I never really understood.

The Wrong Trade

Dated : 5th April, 2010

June,

I am sorry for the way things turned out for us. I will never find a
woman like you, and my dishonesty in not being frank to you has caused
you intolerable pain. When I had left Calcutta I was in love with you
and I had thought in a year or two I would find a place in this world.
I would put my talents to test and I would make a career and then I
can ask for your hand. But that never happened. I never started in my
career and after a year into recession I came to know that if any
trainee engineer would be fired then my name is in top of that list.

In this kind of a situation had I been the old Akash you had come to
know and love I would have stood up and fought back. But this new me
started finding fault in everybody, accusing others, bitching about my
own friends to buy a place in this company. I lost my self esteem, and
started selling out my people down the river, first I started with my
friends and then with my close friends. I have become a deplorable
human being who knows no low to stoop down to. My backbone is now a
jelly. I even started making random friends to see if i cn start anew
with a new career.

Among all this mess I saw that you still love me, and you are ready to
come to Bombay to stay with me. I thought maybe this is a good sign
and maybe I am getting the last straw to resurrect myself. But then I
realized I am no longer good for you. I tried to make things difficult
for you so that you finally give up your plans to come to Bombay.
Because as long as you are away you would not have to rest your eye on
the mess Akash is right now. I had always believed that love for
others stem from the love for own-self. Since the source had died up
the river has also been dead long since.

Still when you came the old emotions in me welled up and I could not
tell dare to tell you the truth because you seemed like the Manna the
Beduine waits for. In the meanwhile I pulled up another sham for my
parents, called them up showed them the new car. So they got an idea
that I am doing well and hence would be less worried about me. So I am
fooling my parents and you. In the deepest nooks of my heart I always
a place which is sacred for you, there is limitless affection for you
as well as devotion. That is why i tried so hard to keep you
integrated to my life. The bed I sleep on has the bedsheet chosen by
you, the breakfast is generally the one you had shown me to prepare. I
was doing all that so that I can carry you with me in the corner in my
heart which i still believe is pure. I would lose you because I cannot
allow you in my ship which is taking in water too fast. But I know
that when I will close my eyes my eyes will close to the fond the
memories of having you by my side, working on my laptop, dressing for
me in front of my almirah. I have kept a few of your stuff well hidden
in my room so that you would not be able to find them. I want to keep
them as your fond memory.

I know words and action cannot be enough to palliate your pain, but it
is best that I release you from my miasmic world. A tumor like me has
to be chopped off before it causes your death.

Thank you for trying so much to bring me back to life, but I have been
long dead, June. You deserve a lot more than a scoundrel like me.

Loved you a lot shona,

Goodbye,

Akash

I know this letter meant nothing. May be Akash loved someone once-a girl..Varada. Only who's thoughts can free him of his guilt, I take it. Happens to everyone, I guess, but it didn't mean he should have fooled me.Lied to me. And insulted me. The wounds will take time to heal, the love will perish to ashes, but I wish it didn't turn out this way. To me, he was probably the first one, who meant so much to me-but I lived a dream, it was never really me.

I seek the need for detachment from most things. I wish I could just weep. I close my eyes, and my whole 22 years pass by me, like series of events that changed me in every step. I wish so many things didn't happen, but they did. I realize we all are in a eternal, endless chase...you, I will always want someone, who doesn't probably need us. I look back, think of men who came and went...and wonder how many times I really have been in love. Yes with Arjyo, but that was an unsure feeling. Jesse. And one last time I guess was with Akash.

As I sit idle once again in my lab and glance at the coverpage of this book, "Foreigner", I feel somewhere I can correlate myself to it.I feel this detachment, this crisis, and a note of irony that runs along this twenty years' story. I close my eyes, and think of the blue eyed boy I cuddled up and made love to by the lake, under the starry sky and tried to run away to some other world. But the escape was so transitory. I remember telling my story to a stranger over five glasses of alcohol, confessing my guilt, wishing someone would forgive me.But my sins stayed. And I remember holding on to Akash and asking him not to leave me. Looking for my last shelter I had gone to him.To be liberated of all the pain, guilt, and scars, and be like everyone else.But he left.I dealt the wrong trade.Then and now I close my eyes, wishing it's a nightmare, and there would be sun again, amidst the perpetual cloudy sky over my head. And he would come back, and this time mean those words of love. But I know that's unreal, movie-ish. For those few moments of happiness, I have suffered a irreplaceable loss.

To love, is to invite others to break your heart. Can I love again? I don't know. Did I ever love? May be, once or twice.But may be love is not the answer I am looking for, I was just following the wrong clue. Cause, for years now I have searched the shores of the world and I haven't found that precious shell. So, may be I need to look for something else.

Pregnancy , Alcohol and Creepy Happenings

It’s 4th of May, and I have completed a full one month of my break-up. The weirdest one, I ever had, I must admit to that.My roomies are off to IIT-kgp for the INO collaboration meeting. The last place, I think I want to go for now- so I stayed back with some stupid reason. Not to mention, it’s nice and peaceful to stay by myself. I had been late in waking up even today and as usually, like yesterday missed the bus to lab. I dragged myself out of the apartment in the noon, and walked to the station under the blazing sun, to find out trains are closed. Trains are lifeline for Mumbai, and even if they are closed for an hour- the city is paralyzed. I took a cab and came back home.

I looked at my tummy for the tenth time in the mirror. It wouldn’t show now if something is wrong. My cycle should have started on 28th, but it’s 4th. This has happened before, I have assured myself for the last few days, but I have a creepy feeling. The last time, on 3rd April Akash and I made love without a condom.The day we broke up. From the age of seventeen I have had this fear atleast a dozen times, and I had been alright. I told myself, I would be fine. It was my eighth day, it should have been okay. I should buy the stupid test, but I hate the anxiety while doing it. If I am pregnant now, if I do it ten days after I still would be pregnant.

But if my periods start before that, I don’t have to go through the torture.

It is funny and I guess a bit of irony too the guy with whom I wanted to have babies, now the mere thought of bearing his baby is like a nightmare. Logically the moments we had, were apparently sweet. And yet unlike 2008, my response to the whole thing now is something I myself am unable to comprehend. I realize I can’t seem to look back at anything with fondness. I suffer bad dreams a lot nowadays. I see myself walking in busy streets of Mumbai, and being chased by a stranger who wants to kill me. I wake up in the darkness,sweating and it feels someone is there in the kitchen and would come and stab me. Worse I have dreams about Akash raping me. Our lovemaking technically have been sweet and yet in my dreams, I see him as someone evil, laughing at me…telling something like, I told you so, calling me slut, saying I am hot and sexy and then forcing himself to me. And I struggle to get out. These bad dreams repeat. Almost every night. Worse I am scared in the crowd now, espcially when I come along the road from station. There is an illogical fear that they can all harm me. And again I hate walking in the empty corridors of the lab. Am I becoming paranoid? Is it just my lonliness in this big city? I don’t know, I am trying to deal with my irrational fears.


For last two days Crystal is not talking to me. But she talks to Jesse at night when I am asleep. Lot of creepy things are happening. However she wrote me a letter today.
So, I got a bottle of vodka at home mixed it with coke, and drank on Sunday night. I needed some sleep. As I drank, I told myself all this is my imagination.I walked into the dark kitchen, there was nobody. There was no one in any other rooms, bath, toilet. Nobody is going to kill me. I am just fine.

But thing with Akash wasn’t my imagination. What if I get pregnant with his kid? I want to kill it. But I don’t want to bear it even. I called him. And all my hatred came out in a burst. He has used me, raped me with my permission…which was liked fooled me into believing him, made me strip for him in the webcam while he has been a cheat, a bastard.I had been hating my body when I think of it. The thought of being pregnant from his baby is like being pregnant from a guy who raped you. His reply was the cold insensitive one, “I told you I am a bad guy. You didn’t listen”. Fuck, what the hell am I calling him for? I dozed off.

Morning I found him calling. Damned, I felt foolish at my stupidity. No way, I don’t want to talk to that guy. Later in the evening still pissed off by my act the night before, I texted him that I can deal with it. It was ofcourse my fault. This world is full of people who will take advantage of you. I had been foolish, so if I AM PREGNANT, I WOULD DEAL WITH IT.

Since I had inhibitions of walking to the drug store and asking for the test, Jane insisted she can buy and send it to me. She is my other closest friend now than Jesse. Sometimes I know that I had been able to deal through all of these because I had her always to talk with. We had so much situtaions and feelings in common, that I never felt that lonely.

I would get the test this Friday.

I am having another strange problem. I am spending money without thinking. Okay, that was me always, but I am not using it in the way I want. I was hungry today and I had apparently ordered 4 midium sized pizzas to be delivered. When they came, I had no clue why I ordered four medium pizzas, 10 inches each. I am alone, why did I order? But I have spent thousand rupees on those pizzas and I have no clue why. I have to store them in the fridge- I ate pizzas all day. Right now I feel a bit ill from them.

But this is happenning often off late. I can’t seem to keep track of my money. I am often purchasing things and later not understanding why I did it. I wasn’t like this. In fact I always told Akash to be careful about money. But it is not the same.I am spending on things and I am being forgetful. I remember buying two pretty tops from Bandra that day, but I don’t remember buying three white shirts. I find them in my cuppboard today and I just don’t seem to recollect.

There is no ghost. It’s just me, and I am being forgetful. I think things will be alright, they will all fall in place, and life will move on. My time at Mumbai has become a bit of nightmare and I hope once I go back to USA, life will be happy again.This has never happened to me before. And I think I am too stressed.I tried to finish my short story “Eight Years”…but I am confused about the ending. Just because my love story had a sad ending, why would it have a sad ending too? I don’t know. We will see.

Real lives are never like movies. Sometimes I wish things were okay, and all this was my imagination. That Akash was true, and I was really the special one to him, like he said always.Everything seemed so perfect. I have loved him very much. I have also imagined a happy life with him.But well, this is the truth.

Though I know he was probably scared of commitment and marriage, to be honest even I don’t imagine it too much. But if it’s true that I die at 30, I wanted that we be together before that. I wanted an assurance.Akash doesn’t know so much about Crystal. Nor the fact that she and I are together now. Sometimes she wants to talk to him, though she doesn’t want me to. But, Jesse said, it would a mess if she does. I think so too. But sometimes she does things without telling me really and that’s when I get a bit messed up. I don’t know what has come of me off late :/. Creepy stuffs.

However, I feel a strong detachment from everything. From Akash, from friends, relationships, and work even. All the memories of him seem so distant, so cold and sometimes I can't seem to recollect. Is my hatred so intense? I don't know, I force myself to think of him, but I feel nothing.And the weird things happening keep me worried. I feel like I want no one, no one around. I did go out with a IIM-A guy, but supposedly to a friendly outing. When he calls me everyday, I realize I don't want it. I talk to my parents once a week and sometimes not even so. Everything is fading away in my rear view mirror, and I am driving too fast. Didn't Crystal lose Mike, when she was off my age?

But then Mike loved her, and he died. May be, Akash also loved me, and that Akash is dead?