Like all useless souls, I am extremely lazy. And have no ambition to change that. I usually don't read back my posts and if I do, the horrible grammatical errors and murderous typos, plus the extremely poor language, prompt me to close the blog immediately. I hope you would do the same. But if you are headstrong and plan to continue, you do that on your own risk. Opinions and suggestions are welcome, but will not be worked upon.
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It’s strange the way life shows you the path to happiness. It’s strange the way life holds your hand and take you back to your roots. The way you are meant to be or at least the place you really belong to. I realized that in the last fortnight, during my sister’s marriage. Yes, she is married now and she is happy. I can’t ask for more after whatever mental trauma she went through. Arranged marriages are a pain and you are plain lucky if you hit the jackpot. Of course, there will be compromises and I am not sure what compromises she did with her expectations. At the same time my brother in law also must have dreams and expectations of his own as he grew up, just as I have my idiosyncrasies. I am sure he has also compromised and cut corners to accommodate a sort of stranger in his life.
But that’s not my lookout. It’s my blog and I should talk about myself only, like the selfish giant. Personally, I have been through a lot of pain in the last few months, actually years. It started with depression from failed relationships, frustration from not getting the woman of my choice to the absolute rock bottom of seeing my sister suffering alone. I don’t want to get into what she endured because a woman’s pain is a woman’s alone unless she wants to make it public.
Males are different.We are all naked, see whatever you want to, if that makes you happy.
Suffice to say is that I was down, very down; I was absolutely at the rock bottom of my confidence and self-esteem. I was looking for that aha moment that would shake me from my torpor and infuse much needed life in this body. I was a walking dead. Almost like a zombie. This was the state of mind when I went to Konnagar, my house for my sister’s marriage. Relatives, for whom we kids used to wait with a bated breath started trickling in into our house. I felt strange alienation towards them. They looked arbitrary, emerging from a distant past like a ghost. People who were so dear to me all looked like a stranger. I was a changed man, a complete island and the worse is that I was content in my solitude. I went to my best friend’s place to invite him. My childhood friend, partner of my crimes. I was a stranger there too. I had this distinct feeling that I have moved on. That he is no more my friend. I have my new set of friends, who share common interest in the new life that I am in. I am in Mumbai and my friends are all in Mumbai. Childhood adventures forgotten, emotions packed in a shelf, I was a stranger to myself, trying to fit myself in this alien world of mine.
And then it all came rushing back. But like in Hindi movies, it involved a small drama. I banged on a wall and my forehead was cut. I have only seen this in comics books but really, if something hits your head hard, you see stars! Real one, multicolored!
I saw stars circling me for about one or two seconds and then realized my face is wet. Blood was oozing out. I blacked out.
And I came back to my senses. I realized I have fucking so much work to do now. IT’S MY SISTER’S MARRIAGE DAMN IT!
and I was that old self again. I rushed back in the morning to my home. Hugged everyone that I could get hold of. There were now many more of them. I sensed that excitement flowing in my veins seeing them, just as I used to feel as a kid. I waited for people who were yet to come with a bated breath.
There were song and dance and merriment all around. My house soon transformed into a big big fairground. I was singing, dancing, pulling legs, I was full on in my old self. I was rescued! People who were dear to me in my childhood were again dear to me now. I behaved and acted nice to get their approvals. I was so desirous of their kind words, to hear “good boy” from them. I wanted to be a good boy to them and not like a machine who is so bang on its calculations, so meticulous in its work that only a machine with no emotions can be. I saw the wrinkles on their faces, I felt sad. Death is approaching so surely but slowly all around me. In my earlier self, I would have taken it in my stride, something which is inevitable and purely a biological matter. But now I wanted to cheat death, I wanted to smoothen the wrinkles of my favourite people and assure them and myself that this party will continue forever. That they will be there for me, rescuing me from my dead self. I don’t want this death. I want to die singing, enjoying myself.
And then the realizations dawned upon me. Seeing my sister getting married in a family that we could only dream of and considering how the other alliances broke abruptly without any proper logic, I realized:
First: the most important thing in anybody’s life is family. Period.
Second: there is something called destiny. Believe it or not. And no, you cannot control it.
(Also in this context, I remembered something that Ian told me in his mails. “Universe balances itself.” – I don’t want to elaborate here why I can relate to it now because that is a separate post material. If I am in a mood that is. But yes, Ian, you were right. Universe does balances itself all the time. And so does human lives, it constantly balances itself. Thank you Ian!)
BTW, I wrote this post for Deepti, my friend. She is annoying.
--Namaste, satsriakaal, aadab, mein amitabh bacchan aapke samne, leke hajir hua hu, phir ek bar, kaun banega karorpati dwitiya. (audiences in dark start clapping along with a music as if crusader king Richard of England just captured the castle of a jehadi king) Aaj, mere samne beithe hai Jarshad kakiara…kakku…cuckoo… (a club-shaped man intervenes, with a child-like smile, “Kakkrakandy”) Ji haa, kakkara (“kandy”, the man again intervenes with a shy smile) -Yes, Jarshad kakk…, whatever, aiye aap aur hum khele yeh adbhut game, jiska naam hei …(looks at the club-shaped man) Jarshad Kakkrakandy, answers “kauun banayega karrorrpatti”
Amitabh shows Jarshad the seat, adjusts the seat for him. Jarshad sits, the chair shrieks.
--aur abhi mere samne baithe hain Jarshad n. k., from Chennai, who is a journalist with reuters, loves reading dilbert, unka favourite movie hai “chandramukhi”. And he is the self-proclaimed ‘king of PJ’.
--Haan to Jarshad saab, aapne likhe hein ke apke naam hei Jarshad n.k. now …
I became a father on
18 November, 2014. At that moment when fatherhood embraced me, perhaps I should have been elated, jumping up
and down and doing all sort of activities that new fathers do, at least,
that's what most sane people do. But nothing of that sort happened to
me. When I heard my baby's voice, first like an angry cat and then a mild wail wafting across the operation
theatre to the waiting area where we all were pacing up and down, the
first thought that hit me was how was my wife? It was a C-section and
she was partially unconscious. I should not have read Internet too
much, for I was reading all sorts of horror stories, of mothers not
waking up or recovering etc. I was petrified as I was not hearing my
wife's voice. The doctors and sisters inside the operation theater
must have been very busy with their other procedures. In fact, after
bringing out the baby from the womb, they were busy closing the cut,
I later got to know.
The realisation of
becoming a fathe…
(Note to readers ... mainly Ian, who is the only one who reads this blog >> i just finished writing this in office. didn't even re-read it after writing, forget editing. Expect a leaner/fatter and better written version, if my mood permits.)
Keep your hands busy, said my father every time I used to
lean against the tree to catch my breath. Keep your hands busy you idiot, keep
your hands busy, don’t let your head decide for you. Keep your hands busy, he
would coax me to get working.
And so I would again start chiselling the chunk of rock, along
the lines my father, a master sculptor, had already outlined. But I would still
dream with eyes wide open. When the hammer used to fall so gently yet firm on
the chisel, I used to dream of the cities and the grand mansions.
I was not good in sculpting, yet I wanted to be the greatest
sculptor in this world. I wanted to be honoured by my king. I wanted to be the
subject for which kings wage wars against each other. I was a dreamer, I …