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.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
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?
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?
Friday, August 27, 2010
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.
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!
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!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
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.
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.
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