Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
Do I really the real I ?
The name of my blog struck me today with a never asked question.
"Do I know me? "
"I see a new me each day"...my quick reply to myself mostly an escapade from thought series.
I know this answer can never satisfy my inner trouble.
Ever since I started pondering over my past decade with the night falls..yes decade for me!,. I choke myself with tearless grief, hug the pillow harder, think of people I can call and share the history that I never wish to repeat then realise no one can reciprocate the grief and later try to deprive myself from those memories saying 'Its over' without any written proof so that I never re-read and cry.
Im an independent strong women.I prefer to bit pillow and howl than to cry aloud.
I always have a fantasy world which has a picture perfect end and every time I met someone of that kind...I dreamt much more and ahead.
Again, like everytime I have moved to cord line.Coming back to the arose question...I know me in pieces.
School era-The dumb me
As for every person school days are golden days of life. I never had golden days yet, nothing close to silver even...may be pretty dull like iron. I was kind of dumb and simple and those days were spent in never accomplished dreams. Few friends, much few to call friends even still I believe I grew up from then...much from within.
BANGALORE DIARY-The unknown me
I was not so happy to bagpack to Bengaluru at the first but had nothing such that can hold me back, I left. I left many I love and one I call my lover. Sooner life changed like microbial growth curve (I meant parabola ).
The pain shattered me and six months of self-confinement released me from the cause though sooner I was proved to be wrong.The stationery phase was miserable as I did choose to change, not me but memories with new.
Sometimes to overcome the poison we need poison as antidote.
Once again within months I found myself trapped in a Bollywood movie kind story, I played the role..yes! I thought I should settle down though knowing that I cant be the submissive.
I wish the story unveiled soon could have been deleted leaving me much peaceful today. Its the part that is the cause of most of my premature cell death.
I have asked innumerable Why's each time it crosses my mind. I never deserved such ruthlessness from loved one.
I know this writing is much of a monologue, even Im bored to continue more.Im distracting from the point once again.
With time, people arrived and left with much fuss but I believed in a better tomorrow each day. I saw better days though not best. I became patient but careless, lovable but emotionless.
To my much surprise, Im loved even though I dont know Ill feel to speak or meet the person the next time. I have no affection,addiction or attraction towards someone or claim ones attention.
Every seconds seemed stranger after a minute.
Even this me is different from that me not knowing who is the real me as I have known,seen,suffered,got lost,grieved and lived with each me.
P.S. - Do I really need to wake up in the middle of the night just to search my diary to write about me at that span of time?? Im sure its not required untill and unless Im ready to meet some more shades of me.
"Do I know me? "
"I see a new me each day"...my quick reply to myself mostly an escapade from thought series.
I know this answer can never satisfy my inner trouble.
Ever since I started pondering over my past decade with the night falls..yes decade for me!,. I choke myself with tearless grief, hug the pillow harder, think of people I can call and share the history that I never wish to repeat then realise no one can reciprocate the grief and later try to deprive myself from those memories saying 'Its over' without any written proof so that I never re-read and cry.
Im an independent strong women.I prefer to bit pillow and howl than to cry aloud.
I always have a fantasy world which has a picture perfect end and every time I met someone of that kind...I dreamt much more and ahead.
Again, like everytime I have moved to cord line.Coming back to the arose question...I know me in pieces.
School era-The dumb me
As for every person school days are golden days of life. I never had golden days yet, nothing close to silver even...may be pretty dull like iron. I was kind of dumb and simple and those days were spent in never accomplished dreams. Few friends, much few to call friends even still I believe I grew up from then...much from within.
BANGALORE DIARY-The unknown me
I was not so happy to bagpack to Bengaluru at the first but had nothing such that can hold me back, I left. I left many I love and one I call my lover. Sooner life changed like microbial growth curve (I meant parabola ).
The pain shattered me and six months of self-confinement released me from the cause though sooner I was proved to be wrong.The stationery phase was miserable as I did choose to change, not me but memories with new.
Sometimes to overcome the poison we need poison as antidote.
Once again within months I found myself trapped in a Bollywood movie kind story, I played the role..yes! I thought I should settle down though knowing that I cant be the submissive.
I wish the story unveiled soon could have been deleted leaving me much peaceful today. Its the part that is the cause of most of my premature cell death.
I have asked innumerable Why's each time it crosses my mind. I never deserved such ruthlessness from loved one.
I know this writing is much of a monologue, even Im bored to continue more.Im distracting from the point once again.
With time, people arrived and left with much fuss but I believed in a better tomorrow each day. I saw better days though not best. I became patient but careless, lovable but emotionless.
To my much surprise, Im loved even though I dont know Ill feel to speak or meet the person the next time. I have no affection,addiction or attraction towards someone or claim ones attention.
Every seconds seemed stranger after a minute.
Even this me is different from that me not knowing who is the real me as I have known,seen,suffered,got lost,grieved and lived with each me.
P.S. - Do I really need to wake up in the middle of the night just to search my diary to write about me at that span of time?? Im sure its not required untill and unless Im ready to meet some more shades of me.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Saturday, November 16, 2013
BONOLATA
" Jaano Bonolata ar nei....! "... He said shooking his head as if he is not sure of what he said.
I was known about this mishap from the guard who stopped me from entering the house initially but its certain that he isn't aware of that so I kept quiet and lowered my head to avoid eye-contact with him.
My cellphone was vibrating for the fifth time and I heard him fumbling something.
I was known about this mishap from the guard who stopped me from entering the house initially but its certain that he isn't aware of that so I kept quiet and lowered my head to avoid eye-contact with him.
My cellphone was vibrating for the fifth time and I heard him fumbling something.
"It has been a thousand years since I started trekking the earth
A huge travel in night’s darkness from the Ceylonese waters
to the Malayan sea
I have been there too: the fading world of Vimbisara and Asoka
Even further—the forgotten city of Vidarva,
Today I am a weary soul although the ocean of life around continues to foam,
Except for a few soothing moments with Natore’s Banalata Sen.
Her hair as if the dark night of long lost Vidisha,
Her face reminiscent of the fine works of Sravasti,
When I saw her in the shadow it seemed
as if a ship-wrecked mariner in a far away sea
has spotted a cinnamon island lined with greenish grass.
“Where had you been lost all these days? ”
yes, she demanded of me, Natore’s Banalata Sen
raising her eyes of profound refuge.
At the day’s end evening crawls in like the sound of dews,
The kite flaps off the smell of sun from its wings.
When all colours take leave from the world
except for the flicker of the hovering fireflies
The manuscript is ready with tales to be told
All birds come home, rivers too,
All transactions of the day being over
Nothing remains but darkness
to sit face to face with Banalata Sen."
He was out of breathe almost after narrating the whole poem of the great poet Jibonanando Das.At this age also he remembered the verse so perfectly...a matter of appreciation truly.
With time the bitterness for him was fading it seems though I wanted to keep the fire alive.I have so many questions in my mind which were never been filled with a proper answer in presence of Bonolata...er! my step mom,whom I hated throughout my aldolesence and adulthood.Before I could remove the scar of arriving at a time with a wrong question to speak about, I was asked to rest at the guest room and freshen up for some rituals where other guests will come to offer condolences. In a way I was deviated from being a guest to be the host for time being without asking my permission. I have always learned throughout the time from my mother that this man is known for his severe choices.
I saw Arunabha sitting at the sofa just beside Bonolata's photo.May be, he is weeping in silence. I saw the thick white smoke of 'yagna' refilling the room as well as my mind with a sense of unavoidable sad notion.I felt like putting my hand of comfort on Arunabha's shoulder though I refrained myself from doing so.I turned to see a tall man is his 90's mostly cladded in white tashar dhoti.I can quickly assume the fabric as I remembered my ma's face lighting up when she got a saree of similar fabric once from father. During those days I was staying with her in that small apartment at Sokher bazaar while my father left us to cherish his talents of adulthood in the brothel of Bombay.The tinge of past memories tasted worse than chewing neem. I turned my face towards Arunabha again, atleast his bitter condition made me selfishly better for the time being.
I saw that old man coming and standing beside me...more specifically his wheel-chair." "You are Bonolata's eldest son...right?" ... the heavy voice broke the silence of the past.I hate being called as her eldest son yet to my surprise today I nodded my head. May be its true, I have inherited most of my traits from my ma. I thought to leave the place and was about to step out when a feeble hand hold me back.To my surprise, it was the same old man.I shrugged and gave him a bitter look. He, without getting affected asked his helper to leave us alone.
" Why the hell this man stopped me from leaving? And what does he want to speak in privacy? "... I was utterly disgusted.
He asked me to follow him to a room which is far away from the room where all the rituals are taking place. It seems he is quite often to this house and must have some deep connection with my biological father.
After all sort of assumption and my monologue session, I heard the same bold voice resonating through the surface of his epiglotis... " Do you know remember me? " he asked as if he feels Im acting unknown infront of him."
"I haven't seen any similar looking man " ... I mocked.
He smiled. " Its age that changes your expression of asking from confirming. Though I was a good orator...now nothing" ... he said looking at his left hand hanging from the wheel-chair. " Would you mind if I ask you to lift my left hand on the arm-rest of wheel chair?Actually this bloody left is too lazy to move by itself!"... he started laughing at his own humour.
I did what I was asked...even during my school days, my teacher used to make me do all the odd jobs in return of some extra minutes from them when they used to listen and give probable answers to my questions.Though it also made me the teachers most obedient pet to be called by my classmates.
" You know why I asked you to come with me? I thought to speak to you long back but Vishesh never gave me any contact details of yours. I guess probably you shouldn't remember me as your step-mother's father but must had remembered me as your father's mentor or guru.Yes! Im Dr. Akhilesh Bharadwaj, from whom your father had learned the A-B-C-D of music which he soon left after he met my daughter to my worst surprise." ... he stopped to catch some breathe giving me chance to speak.
" I don't remember you in either way. And I want my answers from my biological father and not from his father-in-law or guru.Its already been years that I have grown up with all sort of assumptions of my dad receding visits to me and my mom and later learning it as your daughter to be the cause of it. But still the question remained...Why didn't he divorced my ma but just let her suffer all alone throughout her life till death?I know I was left with no other options other than staying with your daughter after her death as I was still a minor. Anyhow I dont want any answer from you so if you please excuse, I want to leave."... I started walking towards the exit.
" Arundhati was one of the many causes." ... his cracked voice stopped me and I saw that old man with tear-filled eyes.
"You don't know how much painful it is for a father to come for his daughter's funeral and it pains more when you learn that someone present in her last ritual has hatred for her.I know your grief is rightful but only if, you judge after you let me brief the whole incident." ...this time his voice was not loud to be heard by ears but from heart.
I nodded again as my voice was already choked.
"Vishesh was working in a small cotton mill and later he got a job in a decent sari retail shop at Boubazar when you were born.His earning was not enough for a family of three, mostly when he is married to a daughter from zamindar's blood. I think your mother has told it that their marriage wasn't arranged.Anyhow I met him in that shop during the occasion of my daughter's ashirbaad ceremony.Later one day I saw him singing for a small function near to my house. I liked his voice and asked him if he had any technical teaching, when he refused...I took him in the troop of my background singers. From then he started going with me to Bombay for different programmes I used to do there. Your mom was quite happy. Meanwhile, I saw my daughter's liking for your father though she was soon-to-be married girl. Though your father was just a background singer, he had a charming personality. Soon he started writing small poems and dedicating it to my daughter who used to come to meet me often in my rehearsal room. Initially I didn't paid much heed, and sooner I found a new artist within him...he was a great poet. i recommended him to my friend where my daughter used to go to learn poetry. Soon Vaishaki changed to Bonolata and my background singer changed to Vishesh, the great poet. All this things were known to your mom yet she kept quiet.Meanwhile for a very petty reason, Vaishaki aka Bonolata's marriage was cancelled.Even though she got married to the son of my friend, she always remained the centre of his inspiration and a part of his poetry.Vishesh started writing lyrics and verse but all throughout your mom wasn't interested in his choosen life or I should say she encouraged him to go haywire. Within a year of his fame, your mom was diagnosed with tuberculosis which was quiet fatal at that time. He went back to Kolkata and never returned after that for long. I lost hope in him and learned that your mom had passed away. I was engaged in my daughter's marital problem which resulted in a heart breaking divorce. She was devastated as the way things turned out to be when she is already carrying a 7 months baby.Her husband claimed that the baby she is carrying is not his but of someone else. I was enraged and threw her out of my house even.I was ashamed and was criticised publicly given no other option than to leave India. I went to England to my elder son's untill I got to know a year back that Bonolata has got cancer." ... he stopped and pointed his right index finger to somewhere. I found a glass at that place.He gulped the water and started speaking again
"The email was from Vishesh. I was cent percent assured that the baby she was carrying then was of Vishesh so I never replied him back in disgust. Still being a father, I sent some money to her account and asked my son to mail them about the money sent. My son never sent the money but booked our return tickets to India. He wanted to meet his sister and hence I returned but got my left side paralysed.Within few months Bonolata passed away. I met her twice in between, once with my son and once just before she closed her eyes forever."
I noticed his front part of kurta wet with tears.
I don't know how to conclude from his story though I remember ma waiting for baba all throughout. I felt a burning sensation when he said she let my dad go haywire. How could he say like that about my ma? Though I agree Bonolata never ignored me or mistreated me like a step son when I started staying with her but still she cant be a goddess for that as still she is the cause of my mom's sorrow and may be even her death.
" Do you want to know the inference of this story? "... he enquired wiping his face with the end of his kurta.
I looked blank.
"No one was wrong if you ask me. Your dad loved your mom and still he loves her.Your mom understood his talent and let him take his way. She knew that he was like water and would take his way in her presence or absence. My daughter was just the path through which he flowed and your mother was like the boulders which gave him intensity to rise. He had loved and respected to both the women. May be now you might feel your dad as a selfish self-centered person who have used both the women to get fame but to your as well as to my surprise its not so. After I refused to accept my pregnant daughter, it was Vishesh who gave her shelter and the baby name. He gave you Bonolata, who took care of you more than a mother from the time Arundhati, your mom passed away and she came to your fathers life. Bonolata died of shame and guilt that she was responsible for Arundhati's demise. She always saw that question in your eyes for her and your father.She told that while counting on her last few breathes."... the old man stopped in between realising that Im eager to ask something more.
"Then what about Arunabha? Isn't he my dad's illegitimate son from Bonolata?" ... I spoke with a little grief and hell lot of hatred for my dad.
"I knew that you will ask this question only. I was assured that Arunabha was Vishesh's son so I hated both of them till the first time I saw Bonolata lying numb with Arunabha by her side, you were placed in US then. She told me that other than an emotional attachment, she never shared any other relationship with Vishesh. She was like a goddess to Vishesh, to whom he used to dedicate all his verse.They had always kept their relation on the very layer of purity of soul which Arundhati was quiet aware of...hence never stopped Vishesh from his creation. But rumours were spread in industry about their extramarital affair which affected Bonolata's marital life. Her husband started questioning about her and Vishesh's relation. Meanwhile Vishesh left for Kolkata while she was pregnant. Her in laws as well as husband claimed it as Vishesh's fruit. Hence the whole story turned out, even I faced my back towards her when she needed my support." .... grandpa started howling and I ran towards him to hug him.
Tears rolled down from my eyes unconsciously. I saw a figure standing at the door. My father was standing may be from long. I saw him falling down by his knees and started weeping.I left grandpa and hugged my dad.I could feel someone else hugging us both together. It was Arunabha, my younger sibling.
It was an emotional moment... a moment I felt for the first time that Im sad not because of some other reason but because I have lost my mother once again.
"Bonolota tumi chole gele amay akla kore
kintu morbe na tumi tao amar moroner pore
tomar namer age boshbe duti akhar naam
tara tomar gourav-Arunabha ar Arindam"
My dad breathed his last that day whispering the above verse.I was left with my brother Arunabha and another history to be created in name of Bonolata...the goddess in disguise.
A huge travel in night’s darkness from the Ceylonese waters
to the Malayan sea
I have been there too: the fading world of Vimbisara and Asoka
Even further—the forgotten city of Vidarva,
Today I am a weary soul although the ocean of life around continues to foam,
Except for a few soothing moments with Natore’s Banalata Sen.
Her hair as if the dark night of long lost Vidisha,
Her face reminiscent of the fine works of Sravasti,
When I saw her in the shadow it seemed
as if a ship-wrecked mariner in a far away sea
has spotted a cinnamon island lined with greenish grass.
“Where had you been lost all these days? ”
yes, she demanded of me, Natore’s Banalata Sen
raising her eyes of profound refuge.
At the day’s end evening crawls in like the sound of dews,
The kite flaps off the smell of sun from its wings.
When all colours take leave from the world
except for the flicker of the hovering fireflies
The manuscript is ready with tales to be told
All birds come home, rivers too,
All transactions of the day being over
Nothing remains but darkness
to sit face to face with Banalata Sen."
He was out of breathe almost after narrating the whole poem of the great poet Jibonanando Das.At this age also he remembered the verse so perfectly...a matter of appreciation truly.
With time the bitterness for him was fading it seems though I wanted to keep the fire alive.I have so many questions in my mind which were never been filled with a proper answer in presence of Bonolata...er! my step mom,whom I hated throughout my aldolesence and adulthood.Before I could remove the scar of arriving at a time with a wrong question to speak about, I was asked to rest at the guest room and freshen up for some rituals where other guests will come to offer condolences. In a way I was deviated from being a guest to be the host for time being without asking my permission. I have always learned throughout the time from my mother that this man is known for his severe choices.
I saw Arunabha sitting at the sofa just beside Bonolata's photo.May be, he is weeping in silence. I saw the thick white smoke of 'yagna' refilling the room as well as my mind with a sense of unavoidable sad notion.I felt like putting my hand of comfort on Arunabha's shoulder though I refrained myself from doing so.I turned to see a tall man is his 90's mostly cladded in white tashar dhoti.I can quickly assume the fabric as I remembered my ma's face lighting up when she got a saree of similar fabric once from father. During those days I was staying with her in that small apartment at Sokher bazaar while my father left us to cherish his talents of adulthood in the brothel of Bombay.The tinge of past memories tasted worse than chewing neem. I turned my face towards Arunabha again, atleast his bitter condition made me selfishly better for the time being.
I saw that old man coming and standing beside me...more specifically his wheel-chair." "You are Bonolata's eldest son...right?" ... the heavy voice broke the silence of the past.I hate being called as her eldest son yet to my surprise today I nodded my head. May be its true, I have inherited most of my traits from my ma. I thought to leave the place and was about to step out when a feeble hand hold me back.To my surprise, it was the same old man.I shrugged and gave him a bitter look. He, without getting affected asked his helper to leave us alone.
" Why the hell this man stopped me from leaving? And what does he want to speak in privacy? "... I was utterly disgusted.
He asked me to follow him to a room which is far away from the room where all the rituals are taking place. It seems he is quite often to this house and must have some deep connection with my biological father.
After all sort of assumption and my monologue session, I heard the same bold voice resonating through the surface of his epiglotis... " Do you know remember me? " he asked as if he feels Im acting unknown infront of him."
"I haven't seen any similar looking man " ... I mocked.
He smiled. " Its age that changes your expression of asking from confirming. Though I was a good orator...now nothing" ... he said looking at his left hand hanging from the wheel-chair. " Would you mind if I ask you to lift my left hand on the arm-rest of wheel chair?Actually this bloody left is too lazy to move by itself!"... he started laughing at his own humour.
I did what I was asked...even during my school days, my teacher used to make me do all the odd jobs in return of some extra minutes from them when they used to listen and give probable answers to my questions.Though it also made me the teachers most obedient pet to be called by my classmates.
" You know why I asked you to come with me? I thought to speak to you long back but Vishesh never gave me any contact details of yours. I guess probably you shouldn't remember me as your step-mother's father but must had remembered me as your father's mentor or guru.Yes! Im Dr. Akhilesh Bharadwaj, from whom your father had learned the A-B-C-D of music which he soon left after he met my daughter to my worst surprise." ... he stopped to catch some breathe giving me chance to speak.
" I don't remember you in either way. And I want my answers from my biological father and not from his father-in-law or guru.Its already been years that I have grown up with all sort of assumptions of my dad receding visits to me and my mom and later learning it as your daughter to be the cause of it. But still the question remained...Why didn't he divorced my ma but just let her suffer all alone throughout her life till death?I know I was left with no other options other than staying with your daughter after her death as I was still a minor. Anyhow I dont want any answer from you so if you please excuse, I want to leave."... I started walking towards the exit.
" Arundhati was one of the many causes." ... his cracked voice stopped me and I saw that old man with tear-filled eyes.
"You don't know how much painful it is for a father to come for his daughter's funeral and it pains more when you learn that someone present in her last ritual has hatred for her.I know your grief is rightful but only if, you judge after you let me brief the whole incident." ...this time his voice was not loud to be heard by ears but from heart.
I nodded again as my voice was already choked.
"Vishesh was working in a small cotton mill and later he got a job in a decent sari retail shop at Boubazar when you were born.His earning was not enough for a family of three, mostly when he is married to a daughter from zamindar's blood. I think your mother has told it that their marriage wasn't arranged.Anyhow I met him in that shop during the occasion of my daughter's ashirbaad ceremony.Later one day I saw him singing for a small function near to my house. I liked his voice and asked him if he had any technical teaching, when he refused...I took him in the troop of my background singers. From then he started going with me to Bombay for different programmes I used to do there. Your mom was quite happy. Meanwhile, I saw my daughter's liking for your father though she was soon-to-be married girl. Though your father was just a background singer, he had a charming personality. Soon he started writing small poems and dedicating it to my daughter who used to come to meet me often in my rehearsal room. Initially I didn't paid much heed, and sooner I found a new artist within him...he was a great poet. i recommended him to my friend where my daughter used to go to learn poetry. Soon Vaishaki changed to Bonolata and my background singer changed to Vishesh, the great poet. All this things were known to your mom yet she kept quiet.Meanwhile for a very petty reason, Vaishaki aka Bonolata's marriage was cancelled.Even though she got married to the son of my friend, she always remained the centre of his inspiration and a part of his poetry.Vishesh started writing lyrics and verse but all throughout your mom wasn't interested in his choosen life or I should say she encouraged him to go haywire. Within a year of his fame, your mom was diagnosed with tuberculosis which was quiet fatal at that time. He went back to Kolkata and never returned after that for long. I lost hope in him and learned that your mom had passed away. I was engaged in my daughter's marital problem which resulted in a heart breaking divorce. She was devastated as the way things turned out to be when she is already carrying a 7 months baby.Her husband claimed that the baby she is carrying is not his but of someone else. I was enraged and threw her out of my house even.I was ashamed and was criticised publicly given no other option than to leave India. I went to England to my elder son's untill I got to know a year back that Bonolata has got cancer." ... he stopped and pointed his right index finger to somewhere. I found a glass at that place.He gulped the water and started speaking again
"The email was from Vishesh. I was cent percent assured that the baby she was carrying then was of Vishesh so I never replied him back in disgust. Still being a father, I sent some money to her account and asked my son to mail them about the money sent. My son never sent the money but booked our return tickets to India. He wanted to meet his sister and hence I returned but got my left side paralysed.Within few months Bonolata passed away. I met her twice in between, once with my son and once just before she closed her eyes forever."
I noticed his front part of kurta wet with tears.
I don't know how to conclude from his story though I remember ma waiting for baba all throughout. I felt a burning sensation when he said she let my dad go haywire. How could he say like that about my ma? Though I agree Bonolata never ignored me or mistreated me like a step son when I started staying with her but still she cant be a goddess for that as still she is the cause of my mom's sorrow and may be even her death.
" Do you want to know the inference of this story? "... he enquired wiping his face with the end of his kurta.
I looked blank.
"No one was wrong if you ask me. Your dad loved your mom and still he loves her.Your mom understood his talent and let him take his way. She knew that he was like water and would take his way in her presence or absence. My daughter was just the path through which he flowed and your mother was like the boulders which gave him intensity to rise. He had loved and respected to both the women. May be now you might feel your dad as a selfish self-centered person who have used both the women to get fame but to your as well as to my surprise its not so. After I refused to accept my pregnant daughter, it was Vishesh who gave her shelter and the baby name. He gave you Bonolata, who took care of you more than a mother from the time Arundhati, your mom passed away and she came to your fathers life. Bonolata died of shame and guilt that she was responsible for Arundhati's demise. She always saw that question in your eyes for her and your father.She told that while counting on her last few breathes."... the old man stopped in between realising that Im eager to ask something more.
"Then what about Arunabha? Isn't he my dad's illegitimate son from Bonolata?" ... I spoke with a little grief and hell lot of hatred for my dad.
"I knew that you will ask this question only. I was assured that Arunabha was Vishesh's son so I hated both of them till the first time I saw Bonolata lying numb with Arunabha by her side, you were placed in US then. She told me that other than an emotional attachment, she never shared any other relationship with Vishesh. She was like a goddess to Vishesh, to whom he used to dedicate all his verse.They had always kept their relation on the very layer of purity of soul which Arundhati was quiet aware of...hence never stopped Vishesh from his creation. But rumours were spread in industry about their extramarital affair which affected Bonolata's marital life. Her husband started questioning about her and Vishesh's relation. Meanwhile Vishesh left for Kolkata while she was pregnant. Her in laws as well as husband claimed it as Vishesh's fruit. Hence the whole story turned out, even I faced my back towards her when she needed my support." .... grandpa started howling and I ran towards him to hug him.
Tears rolled down from my eyes unconsciously. I saw a figure standing at the door. My father was standing may be from long. I saw him falling down by his knees and started weeping.I left grandpa and hugged my dad.I could feel someone else hugging us both together. It was Arunabha, my younger sibling.
It was an emotional moment... a moment I felt for the first time that Im sad not because of some other reason but because I have lost my mother once again.
"Bonolota tumi chole gele amay akla kore
kintu morbe na tumi tao amar moroner pore
tomar namer age boshbe duti akhar naam
tara tomar gourav-Arunabha ar Arindam"
My dad breathed his last that day whispering the above verse.I was left with my brother Arunabha and another history to be created in name of Bonolata...the goddess in disguise.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
An Ode!
Please let me lead my own life
I have my own space for myself
I am not bothered about what I could not achieve.
Abundance would ruin my life.
In your obscure world,If you wish, you can float like a speck of dust.
In your obscure world,If you wish, you can float like a speck of dust
I am not going to trail you
I am not going to trail you
My world is shattered,Still I am scripring my own survival tale.
I am no longer game for her midnight
I am trying hard to get on the shore.
If one early morning you re-discover your love for me,
Dont stretch your arms for me
As I wont be there by your side.
Dont turn on the lights for me
I have got lost in the sea of humanity in this rain
Your world is moving around your ambitions.
If you could ever squeeze out time, please ponder (over)
Whether I really feature in your scheme of affairs.
In your materialistic world,
I dont want to be treated like those vegetables withering in the cold (in fridge )
Or a speck of dust floating in a glass of water.
# Respect.
To the person who could never understand me or I could understand him yet been a special one.
I couldn't make you the reel of my kite.
Grief!
Im happy your moving while Im much ahead now as always.
Learned a lot from the experience and hope you to have a great life ahead.
P.S- I'm ashamed of being me when I remember you.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Crossroad-Decision,Choice and Priorities
After much pause Seema replied as usual with an affirmative tone "I don't think their is any reason for her to not turn up and even not answer the phone. May be after two days of back to back night duty,she thought to get some rest. I mean I don't know...it is never expected from a person like her."
And like always Seema ended up with more of confusion than of any solution really.
I am clueless now....Dr. Vinod could have landed up in trouble if the responsibility for the entire function would been handed to her alone,which she did with much enthusiasm every time.
I'm happy that Dr. Vinod praised me for the party going well that too for the first time.
But why couldn't she let us know?...a very unsual from her part I reflected.
Anuradha never took any casual leave in this past one years,even though we coax to others to take our night duties in exchange with trivial gifts and treats,she had always taken the toughest of assignments,finished it before stipulated time with much ease and never in this hospital,anyone had seen her to frown or not having a smile in her face. Though I adore her enthusiasm and call her my best friend,somewhere inside I still feel jealous when she gets good remarks and patients speak about her during our rounds.
I heard incoming thumps and turned back. Abhro was calling me while climbing the stairs of cafeteria.
It was expected though,as we, all in this hospital are aware of his liking towards Anu.
"Smitha.....Smitha........Do you know anything about Anu? She isn't picking up her call from last evening and.....Abhro couldn't complete his sentence as his lungs were in need of oxygen which he forgot to provide so to speak.
I made a sad face and shook my face saying "No... I don't know." before he could make a big statement to express his feelings for her absence.
I envy Anu sometimes for many reasons.
"Do you have any other number or her address may be??"...he enquired in a tensed tone.
I again said "No"
I was sipping coffee and rolling my curls again and again while the setting Sun calling it a day and humming birds said good-bye for the last time.When all in the hospitals,including doctors,staffs, non-staffs and patients were just asking about her and wondering about her absence, Im enjoying the evening.
While every time she had helped me to solve my personal issues and professional tiffs, I refused to agree that it was Anu who took care of me like a older sister... I thought as Abhro was seen fading slowly with the turns of stairs.
I have been a very troubled child from childhood, may be just because my mom was in love with her chauffeur and I was born out of her illegitimate relation. So basically I have a driver's blood. Though my step-dad, whom my mother was legally and socially married to accepted me as his daughter infront of society, I was just a fruit of his wife's misled life. Even my mother neglected me thinking me as her lost position in that millionaire's family, hence I was grown up like a orphan. It was my maternal uncle who took care of my further education just because I had saved his son, the lamp of Raheja family from drowning when I was on the same pool cleaning my face after the staff's toilet went out of water.The hardship and absence of love and care made me so rough, cruel and insensitive or may be the effect of all the chemicals my mom had to abort me or may be the intoxicating effect of fumigation my paternal grandmom tried after I was not even a month old.
The decision wasn't mine to be born out of wed-lock yet I was put in crossroad of decisions from the time I was just only few cells stage.
Yet, Im what I am. I have no regrets for being me.
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...................................................................................................................................................................
"You know I cant believe I'm here with you again after yesterday's fight.The night was amazingly surprising though,never seen this you before I must say!... Ankush spoke staring at me closing one eye so to wink.
"And I can't believe you could do this to me."....I sounded more like a Bollywood heroine after abducted by yesterday year chichoore lover.
"Now,its high time...I have to leave.Take care."...I picked up my bag and was leaving but he hold me by hand.
I shrugged and asked "Now,...what again?"
He smiled and loosened my hand and spoke "Thanks like always"
I gave him an assuring smile.The pain of seeing him for the last time was quickly covered with my newly bought shades.
I hurried to the parking place where I've parked my two-wheeler.While wearing the helmet,thoughts and questions started over-pouring my mind .I have always had the same kind of confusion that started after my 10th grade.
I don't know why I do this to myself and the people around me.I found myself visualising Abhro's tensed face,my mom calling hundreds of time to hospital, Mrs Fernandez asking the nurses during her routine BP check and those who might not care about me but now getting a thin line on their forehead.After Bubu left us for ever,I have always found myself alone. Dr. Alka,the best child psychologist in our hospital and a renowned psychiatrist had told me once its for that I behave wierd and want to be missed sometimes. She had always been my inspiration yet today she retired while I didn't felt to attend the fare-well as necessary.
I took a ride to the nearest jetty. The view of setting Sun over Ganga mesmerizes me. I fear feelings and relation.
I'm in love with 'the other woman's' son, the same women who had destroyed my mom's married life 24 years ago. My dad left my mom when I was in her womb. I don't even know that Ankush was my love interest or I wanted to do what my father did to my mom. Yes!! He is "was" for me now.
May be, I wanted him to be with me untill I leave him one day.
I hate myself at times though its clear that I can't be in a relation.
I love lonesomeness over companionship....it makes me feel free and contented.
I was sensible. . . may be Im yet. I know Abhro cares about me, perhaps more than a friend...my mom is not responsible for Bubu, my grandfathers,my childhood days hero's accidental death. Ankush may be right to follow his dreams to be in navy and by not listening to his muse, Im after all my dad's daughter and may be none is responsible for any wrong thing that had happened in my life. May be all have just happened. We can't instruct the earth to stop spinning for a day likewise destiny won't ask us before tormenting our life or bringing devastating changes.
Its true that its far more relief to blame the destiny than to stand in crossroads of choices.
Im happy with my life. May be I don't need to prove myself as my dad's daughter. . .I can't be like him.
..................................................................................................................................................................
The coffee spilled over my hand and burnt my hand numb....I couldnt feel any pain. I'm yet waiting for any kind of response from her. I know its just a failed attempt.
She was odd from beginning or this time only she turned so wierd?....in lost thought I was again about to spill the coffee in my hand. Even she is not bothered about Mrs Fernandez,the bed no. 201 patient whom she took care so much,as if..............................like her mother may be. I don't know what has happened to her.
This year I left the chance but the next year might not be in my luck. Dr. Vinod had always been my idol and he supported me more than a doctor-in charge, like an older brother. He knows my feelings about Anuradha and even knows than I didnt applied for MD though got through the entrance because Anu couldn't get through. He understands what I tell him and even what I cant tell or try to hide.
He has always told me " Abhro,don't do it to yourself....It will not cost her anything. Think about your ailing father, your mother who did odd jobs to bring up you. Atleast think about your older unmarried sister who did everything and still doing. You can do it to yourself but not to those who truly care for you...please understand!"
I am with her for almost more than 6 years. We studied in the same medical college, applied for internship in the same hospital,have shared fights, laughter's, pains with everyone yet she couldn't understand or better feel my feelings for her....she never tried to know me or even other than professional conversation, we never had anything personal as far as I remember. She may not even knows that I stay near her place only.
"Sirrrrr........Sirr..., Dr. Vinod is calling you" I looked up as the nurse left the backstair door.
I stood up and went to his chamber. He was tensed.
"Bed no. 201 patient had a severe cardiac arrest,she just passed away 10 minutes back.Call her family as the in-charge doctor is absent today to take the body and ask them to pay the bills and other formalities. Ill be in OT till 5pm. If anything is required, speak to Dr. Mathew." ....Dr Vinod spoke sternly. He is so strict and motionless for the first time.
I came out of his chamber and called Mrs. Fernandez's family who responded after several attempts.
Time swayed past like seconds.
By 9pm , Mrs Fernandez was taken by her family. I still cant call her a body.
I came to the cafeteria and saw Smitha. She was busy speaking to someone. Seeing me approaching, she left the call and smiled at me. I took a chair opposite to her's.
"So...I guess your low because of bed no. 201 patient?" Smitha said keeping her left hand over mine.
I wished if it was Anu and not Smitha.
"No...not really. Just bit exhausted" I responded and took my hand off.
Before she could speak again, I excused myself from her and came down.
I need to stay alone.
May be Dr. Vinod is right that a doctor shouldn't be over-emotional ever in life. It affects both personal as well as professional life.
I took the decision to not do my MD which is truly a great opportunity I missed irrespective of both my personal and professional life. I forgot to think about my family who needs me more than anyone. I lost a year even and don't even have guarantee to get through next year.
For whom I did ?
Anuradha...who doesn't even care about anyone in her life, not even Mrs. Fernandez.
How can I expect her to ever care about me even?
I was trapped in the crossroad of questions asked by myself which has no answer.
I don't know....but I agree that I have killed many me till today to get her.
I called up my mom and asked her to keep dinner as Im coming back home. Her tired voice after day long work suddenly lightened up.I'm going back home after a week, I stayed with Anu in her night duties and dedicatedly covered my day schedules.
I couldn't want anyone to know what was going inside me then, mom's cheered voice, my home returning in absence of Anu. I couldn't really feel this me ever as my eyes never wanted to see anything other than Anu's happiness,her problems,her life. I left my life long before to live with her and the amusing part is she was not present in this me. She never was or may be she never can be. If even she does ever, I am no more this me.
I stepped out of the outdoor block,it was raining heavily.I didn't opened my yellow umbrella, I let the rain wash away the pain of unknowingness for the last time.I felt the heart inside and thumping loudly,louder than the lightening sound may be. Few drops of tears got mixed with the flush of rain water coming down touching my eyes and taking away the grief of ignorance.
I smiled at myself as I walked past the morgue.
For the first time in life, I stood in the crossroad of my priorities and Im happy to listen to my brain in choosing priorities.
.jpg)
...................................................................................................................................................................
And like always Seema ended up with more of confusion than of any solution really.
I am clueless now....Dr. Vinod could have landed up in trouble if the responsibility for the entire function would been handed to her alone,which she did with much enthusiasm every time.
I'm happy that Dr. Vinod praised me for the party going well that too for the first time.
But why couldn't she let us know?...a very unsual from her part I reflected.
Anuradha never took any casual leave in this past one years,even though we coax to others to take our night duties in exchange with trivial gifts and treats,she had always taken the toughest of assignments,finished it before stipulated time with much ease and never in this hospital,anyone had seen her to frown or not having a smile in her face. Though I adore her enthusiasm and call her my best friend,somewhere inside I still feel jealous when she gets good remarks and patients speak about her during our rounds.
I heard incoming thumps and turned back. Abhro was calling me while climbing the stairs of cafeteria.
It was expected though,as we, all in this hospital are aware of his liking towards Anu.
"Smitha.....Smitha........Do you know anything about Anu? She isn't picking up her call from last evening and.....Abhro couldn't complete his sentence as his lungs were in need of oxygen which he forgot to provide so to speak.
I made a sad face and shook my face saying "No... I don't know." before he could make a big statement to express his feelings for her absence.
I envy Anu sometimes for many reasons.
"Do you have any other number or her address may be??"...he enquired in a tensed tone.
I again said "No"
I was sipping coffee and rolling my curls again and again while the setting Sun calling it a day and humming birds said good-bye for the last time.When all in the hospitals,including doctors,staffs, non-staffs and patients were just asking about her and wondering about her absence, Im enjoying the evening.
While every time she had helped me to solve my personal issues and professional tiffs, I refused to agree that it was Anu who took care of me like a older sister... I thought as Abhro was seen fading slowly with the turns of stairs.
I have been a very troubled child from childhood, may be just because my mom was in love with her chauffeur and I was born out of her illegitimate relation. So basically I have a driver's blood. Though my step-dad, whom my mother was legally and socially married to accepted me as his daughter infront of society, I was just a fruit of his wife's misled life. Even my mother neglected me thinking me as her lost position in that millionaire's family, hence I was grown up like a orphan. It was my maternal uncle who took care of my further education just because I had saved his son, the lamp of Raheja family from drowning when I was on the same pool cleaning my face after the staff's toilet went out of water.The hardship and absence of love and care made me so rough, cruel and insensitive or may be the effect of all the chemicals my mom had to abort me or may be the intoxicating effect of fumigation my paternal grandmom tried after I was not even a month old.
The decision wasn't mine to be born out of wed-lock yet I was put in crossroad of decisions from the time I was just only few cells stage.
Yet, Im what I am. I have no regrets for being me.
.jpg)
...................................................................................................................................................................
"You know I cant believe I'm here with you again after yesterday's fight.The night was amazingly surprising though,never seen this you before I must say!... Ankush spoke staring at me closing one eye so to wink.
"And I can't believe you could do this to me."....I sounded more like a Bollywood heroine after abducted by yesterday year chichoore lover.
"Now,its high time...I have to leave.Take care."...I picked up my bag and was leaving but he hold me by hand.
I shrugged and asked "Now,...what again?"
He smiled and loosened my hand and spoke "Thanks like always"
I gave him an assuring smile.The pain of seeing him for the last time was quickly covered with my newly bought shades.
I hurried to the parking place where I've parked my two-wheeler.While wearing the helmet,thoughts and questions started over-pouring my mind .I have always had the same kind of confusion that started after my 10th grade.
I don't know why I do this to myself and the people around me.I found myself visualising Abhro's tensed face,my mom calling hundreds of time to hospital, Mrs Fernandez asking the nurses during her routine BP check and those who might not care about me but now getting a thin line on their forehead.After Bubu left us for ever,I have always found myself alone. Dr. Alka,the best child psychologist in our hospital and a renowned psychiatrist had told me once its for that I behave wierd and want to be missed sometimes. She had always been my inspiration yet today she retired while I didn't felt to attend the fare-well as necessary.
I took a ride to the nearest jetty. The view of setting Sun over Ganga mesmerizes me. I fear feelings and relation.
I'm in love with 'the other woman's' son, the same women who had destroyed my mom's married life 24 years ago. My dad left my mom when I was in her womb. I don't even know that Ankush was my love interest or I wanted to do what my father did to my mom. Yes!! He is "was" for me now.
May be, I wanted him to be with me untill I leave him one day.
I hate myself at times though its clear that I can't be in a relation.
I love lonesomeness over companionship....it makes me feel free and contented.
I was sensible. . . may be Im yet. I know Abhro cares about me, perhaps more than a friend...my mom is not responsible for Bubu, my grandfathers,my childhood days hero's accidental death. Ankush may be right to follow his dreams to be in navy and by not listening to his muse, Im after all my dad's daughter and may be none is responsible for any wrong thing that had happened in my life. May be all have just happened. We can't instruct the earth to stop spinning for a day likewise destiny won't ask us before tormenting our life or bringing devastating changes.
Its true that its far more relief to blame the destiny than to stand in crossroads of choices.
Im happy with my life. May be I don't need to prove myself as my dad's daughter. . .I can't be like him.
..................................................................................................................................................................
The coffee spilled over my hand and burnt my hand numb....I couldnt feel any pain. I'm yet waiting for any kind of response from her. I know its just a failed attempt.
She was odd from beginning or this time only she turned so wierd?....in lost thought I was again about to spill the coffee in my hand. Even she is not bothered about Mrs Fernandez,the bed no. 201 patient whom she took care so much,as if..............................like her mother may be. I don't know what has happened to her.
This year I left the chance but the next year might not be in my luck. Dr. Vinod had always been my idol and he supported me more than a doctor-in charge, like an older brother. He knows my feelings about Anuradha and even knows than I didnt applied for MD though got through the entrance because Anu couldn't get through. He understands what I tell him and even what I cant tell or try to hide.
He has always told me " Abhro,don't do it to yourself....It will not cost her anything. Think about your ailing father, your mother who did odd jobs to bring up you. Atleast think about your older unmarried sister who did everything and still doing. You can do it to yourself but not to those who truly care for you...please understand!"
I am with her for almost more than 6 years. We studied in the same medical college, applied for internship in the same hospital,have shared fights, laughter's, pains with everyone yet she couldn't understand or better feel my feelings for her....she never tried to know me or even other than professional conversation, we never had anything personal as far as I remember. She may not even knows that I stay near her place only.
"Sirrrrr........Sirr..., Dr. Vinod is calling you" I looked up as the nurse left the backstair door.
I stood up and went to his chamber. He was tensed.
"Bed no. 201 patient had a severe cardiac arrest,she just passed away 10 minutes back.Call her family as the in-charge doctor is absent today to take the body and ask them to pay the bills and other formalities. Ill be in OT till 5pm. If anything is required, speak to Dr. Mathew." ....Dr Vinod spoke sternly. He is so strict and motionless for the first time.
I came out of his chamber and called Mrs. Fernandez's family who responded after several attempts.
Time swayed past like seconds.
By 9pm , Mrs Fernandez was taken by her family. I still cant call her a body.
I came to the cafeteria and saw Smitha. She was busy speaking to someone. Seeing me approaching, she left the call and smiled at me. I took a chair opposite to her's.
"So...I guess your low because of bed no. 201 patient?" Smitha said keeping her left hand over mine.
I wished if it was Anu and not Smitha.
"No...not really. Just bit exhausted" I responded and took my hand off.
Before she could speak again, I excused myself from her and came down.
I need to stay alone.
May be Dr. Vinod is right that a doctor shouldn't be over-emotional ever in life. It affects both personal as well as professional life.
I took the decision to not do my MD which is truly a great opportunity I missed irrespective of both my personal and professional life. I forgot to think about my family who needs me more than anyone. I lost a year even and don't even have guarantee to get through next year.
For whom I did ?
Anuradha...who doesn't even care about anyone in her life, not even Mrs. Fernandez.
How can I expect her to ever care about me even?
I was trapped in the crossroad of questions asked by myself which has no answer.
I don't know....but I agree that I have killed many me till today to get her.
I called up my mom and asked her to keep dinner as Im coming back home. Her tired voice after day long work suddenly lightened up.I'm going back home after a week, I stayed with Anu in her night duties and dedicatedly covered my day schedules.
I couldn't want anyone to know what was going inside me then, mom's cheered voice, my home returning in absence of Anu. I couldn't really feel this me ever as my eyes never wanted to see anything other than Anu's happiness,her problems,her life. I left my life long before to live with her and the amusing part is she was not present in this me. She never was or may be she never can be. If even she does ever, I am no more this me.
I stepped out of the outdoor block,it was raining heavily.I didn't opened my yellow umbrella, I let the rain wash away the pain of unknowingness for the last time.I felt the heart inside and thumping loudly,louder than the lightening sound may be. Few drops of tears got mixed with the flush of rain water coming down touching my eyes and taking away the grief of ignorance.
I smiled at myself as I walked past the morgue.
For the first time in life, I stood in the crossroad of my priorities and Im happy to listen to my brain in choosing priorities.
.jpg)
...................................................................................................................................................................
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