I don’t know why, but of late, a strange kind of calmness has descended on my mind. I have started to look at the world from a different perspective. To my astonishment, today I spent at least ten minutes in front of the mirror appreciating my rather ugly face. Was hunting for the finer lines of beauty! Was posing like a cartoon a character and was wondering about the changes in me.
Thanks to my not so handsome disposition, I encounter the mirror only when I am forced to do it. For example, while shaving. I last paid so much attention to myself when I was in class twelve and was head-over-heels for a classmate. I knew I don’t stand a chance to her, especially when hunks like Pradipta and Arunabha are putting on efforts, but…I enjoyed fancying myself a knight in shining armour. Now that both Pradipta and Arunabha are hundreds of miles away from me, I must admit…I tried some cheap tricks to minimise their chance. At the end none of us was winner. My classmate flew with a pilot to U.S.!
Looking back, now I realise I never wanted that girl! I was happy for the attention I am showering myself to. I didn’t have greasy hair like today that time. I used to shampoo everyday. There was always a comb with me in my back pocket. My hair-mania reached to such a stage that whenever my brother, then eight, used to throw his handmade confetti, it used to get stuck on my hair and refused to go without force.
I used to put properly washed clothes everyday and apply scents and deodorants. How many times I shouted at my mother for a fine unnoticeable stain in my white shirt! I was indulging myself in luxury. And I was regularly going to the local akhara, a poor man’s gym.
That was the first time I started shaving. That was the first time I started to put cream (stolen from my sister’s trove) on my face. That was the first time I started to treat my body as a temple. That was the first time I started worshipping the temple with smoke.
After so many years, all the habits have shred except the habit of smoking. If the situation was like to light an incense stick, it’s now chimney. When it burns a lot. I drink to subdue the burns, a new addition.
Strangely, after so many years that urge to love myself is returning again. I realised I have not loved myself enough. It was a sin to neglect your life like this. Don’t know if it is too late for a new year resolution, but it’s still January. I have taken a sacred oath to love myself a little more, to indulge in luxury and opulence and not to live like a skimpy monk anymore. I will cut down on smoking, drinking, keeping awake late at night for no good reason. I should not lie anymore. I will stay away from my favourite game of pretending like a fool and throw situations to unassuming people and enjoy watching him/her getting bogged down with it, Etc.
I will read lot of books, will write even more craps, just to satisfy my love for writing, whether anybody loves it or not. I will not harm anybody or think bad about anybody. It leaves a permanent restlessness on your mind, if you try to harm anybody. It makes more bad to you than to your victim. Universal love is my motto now.
As ancillary, I have also decided not to care or fear anybody. A free mind…is what the need of the hour is. There should not be any black spot on my mind. Neither it should be introduced by me, nor should others get a chance to leave any stain. My mind should be a fresh lotus leaf. It should not hold anything for long.
To commit myself to this resolution, I have started with a modest investment of Rs. 14k. I bought an ipod last week. Not that I needed it, gadgets and me go the opposite direction. But it was necessary to catch up with today’s technology and make myself ‘cool’.
The next step is to find a girlfriend who loves me more than I love her. Even if she is the ugliest in the world. Just like me.
The search is on. I think I zeroed in on one. Fingers crossed.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Maa
Mother was here with me for ten days. Tomorrow she is going. I am a little sad. It’s true that I am not a kid anymore. In fact, after 3rd January I advanced one more year to my bohemian disposition. But don’t I want to return to my childhood once again? Isn’t it true that I behave irrationally when mother is around, almost half expecting her to box my ear or give me a cold look of disapproval? I was so shit scared of her iron rules when I was a little boy!
I found it quite amazing how she is now depending on me. When she was crossing the road, she was looking at me for my approval, even if the road was free of traffic. I had to finally hold her hand and walk with her. I felt pity for my poor mother. She is a typical Indian woman. She was good in studies, but had to marry according to her parent’s wish at eighteen and give up education to raise a family. I was the first borne. she was only nineteen and half.
Like all other, my first teacher was mother. She was a very demanding teacher. I always hoped for father to come and rescue me from the torture that is mathematics. Never suspected that those were the grand scheme of things of my papa dearest!
Now, when I look back, I realize she never used to do a thing without her husband's permission. Now that I have grown up and started earning and started giving her money, she is looking at me for permissions and direction to her life. I was afraid of her, almost always cursed her for being so tough on me. Now I wanted to cry. What an injustice we have done to her! For our sake an intelligent girl sacrificed her dreams, self-respect, and independence. Soon she was programmed by our society to make her husband’s and children’s dreams as her own. As if she is the sole person responsible to fulfill those.
For every good thing, to make materialize a wish, you need to sacrifice an animal to the alter of God. We, Indians, for ages immemorial have sacrificed the women of our family. We have worshipped her the most remembering her sacrifice. We have cursed her the most for failing to sacrifice. Aren’t we a race of bastards?
Mother, you are returning tomorrow to a place where you are the most happiest. To your husband’s place in Calcutta. You have seen your first child is doing well here. Now you will be happily bragging about him back there. You never realized your palace is your prison. When you would smile there thinking of me…I would cry here thinking of your unfelt pain.
Be well Maa. I have loved you like I loved nobody in this world. Not even myself. I will do everything to make your dreams come true. Your few remaining fractured dreams. I swear.
I found it quite amazing how she is now depending on me. When she was crossing the road, she was looking at me for my approval, even if the road was free of traffic. I had to finally hold her hand and walk with her. I felt pity for my poor mother. She is a typical Indian woman. She was good in studies, but had to marry according to her parent’s wish at eighteen and give up education to raise a family. I was the first borne. she was only nineteen and half.
Like all other, my first teacher was mother. She was a very demanding teacher. I always hoped for father to come and rescue me from the torture that is mathematics. Never suspected that those were the grand scheme of things of my papa dearest!
Now, when I look back, I realize she never used to do a thing without her husband's permission. Now that I have grown up and started earning and started giving her money, she is looking at me for permissions and direction to her life. I was afraid of her, almost always cursed her for being so tough on me. Now I wanted to cry. What an injustice we have done to her! For our sake an intelligent girl sacrificed her dreams, self-respect, and independence. Soon she was programmed by our society to make her husband’s and children’s dreams as her own. As if she is the sole person responsible to fulfill those.
For every good thing, to make materialize a wish, you need to sacrifice an animal to the alter of God. We, Indians, for ages immemorial have sacrificed the women of our family. We have worshipped her the most remembering her sacrifice. We have cursed her the most for failing to sacrifice. Aren’t we a race of bastards?
Mother, you are returning tomorrow to a place where you are the most happiest. To your husband’s place in Calcutta. You have seen your first child is doing well here. Now you will be happily bragging about him back there. You never realized your palace is your prison. When you would smile there thinking of me…I would cry here thinking of your unfelt pain.
Be well Maa. I have loved you like I loved nobody in this world. Not even myself. I will do everything to make your dreams come true. Your few remaining fractured dreams. I swear.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Monday, January 01, 2007
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