am sitting here and its 11 in the night ... Well I have been sitting here since 8 in the morning. And I wonder what plays. An old Don Maclean Song. American Pie. I mean that was supposed to be 10 years back. I was listening to them in first year at IITK. Its a comedy, tragedy, rollercoaster, rollicking.. all those adjectives that you use for things which you can't even remember ... but in the past they look magnificent. They look like they should come back and when you really really remember hard, it just sounds that important. I mean, why is it so important. why will it ever be important. It won't even be a footnote in any book. So much for histrionics.
When I was sixteen, I had drawn a plan. A complete plan. Some sort of Dummies Guide to Life and all things thereof. Now I know it was an incredible thing for me to do. Because everyone at that age does make a plan. But these is plenty that had not even accounted for, the grimy details, the listless days, the unanswered questions, the lost highway kind of movies. Now you might get what I am trying to say. We all planned on getting there is style and the biggest car and the biggest jalopy and the fastest plane. But then so much happened to me, that I had not even had the time to think or wish, it never occurred to me that I should have wished for them.
My earliest memory of literature is at age 6, speed reading a Noddy while being dressed for school. I mean, I had that escape. Just slip into those novels, follow those protagonist when they weren't feeling themselves, unnoticed. Poems, Articles, Schools later. I write anonymous. For the meander. Ahhh. What a drag it was, but I did write them. and after that I started blogging. The years marked with confused, angry writing. The word that describes it is Angst. There were friends, their comments, emails, friendships new and revived. It was my own place,my own space, my niche, my territory.
The itch is still there. I sit here in Calcutta. I never thought I had come back to this place ever again. There were no reasons. I never got to love this place like I think I should have. But I am here. I am here and I hardly see the sun. Its a 16 hour day and a very deep sleep. But I miss my life, my wife, the cool comfy life in Mumbai. But then this is the thing that i was itching about. So now here we sit starting up. I mean, in Calcutta. The streets that have been same for the last 200 years. I don't think Burrabazar has changed a bit in the last ten years. So nothing much has changed since the last mail, the blast from the past. Come to think of it, I have been eating vegetarian for 2 weeks straight and hardly ever complaining about it. But thats small stuff.
While people are having kids, buying homes, becoming megastars, I sit here in Calcutta. I mean, I could have been anywhere. Anywhere. But somehow this had to happen. Almost everything that I do, has changed. I was always a driven person but I had almost lost it, growing up. I could have been a back-bencher, an almost dropout, but I made it through with friends. But the right people have always come along, handheld me, providing me with confidence, madness, leaving me with time and energy. Let me pursue my desires, my dreams. So now I sit here. And i with all my honesty, make a good case for myself. Why do anything with a second hearted effort. But its scary. its scary. Because you have to fight the demons of fear, of failure. Why did I ever make such a stupid move. But my family supported me most. People in whose place if I were, would consider this to be Dhokha. but they are there and supporting me all the way.
In sum, I had a vague idea that I had be happy in ten years and ten years are over and here I am. But this is the way I wanted it. Fighting it out on the turf, tears and sweat and blood. No one has a straight idea, nor any inkling of where life is taking us. But yes, life is a crazy old thing which makes you fight it all the way and then give you what you want, and make you realize that this wasn't really what you wanted. hehe. I mean its crazy.
But this city calls to you. I mean so does every other city. In its own feeble way. On my way down to get some muri, I daily see this kid reading his books on the pavement in the street light. And I feel like picking him up and kissing him on his forehead. Except that I never do it. Just that tears nearly well up in my eyes but never really materialise. I mean, remember gandhiji's talisman in CBSE books. it makes my day. I hope it makes yours.
"I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man [woman] whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him [her]. Will he [she] gain anything by it? Will it restore him [her] to a control over his [her] own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj [freedom] for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?
Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away."
- One of the last notes left behind by Gandhi in 1948.
The perspective is what we lack. The fact that we are alive, we are well, we are in the best of health. We ought to be grateful to someone, maybe some gods, Ahh I meant parents. And then frankly, who the hell gives a damn. The distance between us thankfully is of miles, not minds. Thats what I am grateful for.
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