Keep the pain inside alive,

It’s the only solace you have!

Let the ice tickle in your drink

It’s the only cold touch you have!

 

Haven’t you seen how it feels, to

Touch the fire when it’s dead?

So tell me, what it means to be warm

When the blood in your veins is freezing up?

 

Keep the pain inside alive,

Let the ice tickle in your drink…

 

I remember that cold night with you,

You made it warm with your touches,

Since then, I miss my coldness

Even,

When the blood in your veins is freezing up!

 

Give it another shot to make it cold,

You smile has taught you how to.

Let it freeze, chock its breath…

Yes there you go…Make it cold,

Come on, make it cold!

 

Currently, I'm writing all these without thinking whether anyone will care to read these or not! So, I've no intention or wish to make these readers' friendly or whatever anyone calls it! I'm just writing... That's why, if you've accidentally come accross this space and have read these lines, kindly ignore it at your own ease! This part of my life is called MYSELF! That's all.. EnjoY~   

Where are you taking this friend of mine?

I’ve seen him tossing and turning,

But he’s a friend, a friend of mine!

 

Where are you taking this ego of mine?

I’ve felt it poisoning everyone around me,

But it’s my ego, the ego of mine!

 

Where are you taking this night of mine?

I’ve lived every bit of it with darkness all around,

But it’s my night, the night of mine!

 

When you left me stranded at the crossroad,

They’d open their arms for me, to

Sooth my rot, through an open touch…

 

Now that you stand lost,

Is revenge the last thing in your mind?

How long will you paint love with blood on brush?

 

So tell me, does it make you happy, to

Un-skin me through your own nails?

Pardon me, for not laughing on your face,

(After all) It’s my love, the love of mine!   

 

The drops were wondering, what

It takes to be so proud!

The sky was fainting, with

Tears chocked in dark cloud!

I see your face, buried

In dark green laughter,

Is it too late baby,

To start a brand new chapter?

 

You say, I don’t breathe

My heartbeats are wrong,

Ask the stars about, whether

The light is ever gone!

Stars will smile with you

When you reach out to them,

Face the mirror, you martyr

It was never just a game!

 

So, there I stand, with

Eyes diving back in time

The strings go unmissed, as

My lies, intact, are just mine!

 

One more push, back to life,

One more touch, back to life,

Life’s waiting, just one more blow

Yes, there’s blood… Let it bleed, let it flow

 

 

Yes, martyr, welcome back to life

Let it ease, let it glow.

 

Hundred calls go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘hi’ away.

Hundred songs go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘tune’ away.

Hundred thrills go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘touch’ away.

Hundred lines go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘letter’ away,

Hundred points go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘dot’ away.

Hundred changes go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘stroke’ away.

Hundred lives go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘breath’ away.

Hundred answers go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘question’ away.

Hundred tides go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘shore’ away.

Hundred rights go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘wrong’ away.

 

Hundred lives go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘death’ away.

 

Hundred realities go wasted,

But I’m just a ‘dream’ away.

The invisible game has begun again.

I see your hands eager to touch it,

But it’s invisible… for you and me,

That’s why it’s a game, again!

(There) The invisible game has begun again!

 

Why the game baby, just for fun?

What about those inhaled sighs?

What about those practiced excuses?

What about the buried pain?

That’s why it’s a game, again!

(There) The invisible game has begun again!

 

Was it really tough to breathe?

Was I really ready to be back and ease?

Was your shadow not nearing you?

Or did you think it was really late, by then?

That’s why it’s a game, again!

(There) The invisible game has begun again!

 

I love these four walls, with

‘Please disturb me’ on the door,

I lay flat with poison in mouth

I crawl along; after all, it’s my floor.

You say knocking is a pain,

(But) That’s why it’s a game, again!

(There) The invisible game has begun again!

 

Let the smoke fill the cloud,

Let the rain dry the smoke,

Let the darkness enlighten the rain,

That’s why it’s a game, again!

(There) The invisible game has begun again!

 

‘Coz I love these four walls, with

‘Please disturb me’ on the door,

I lay flat with poison in mouth

I crawl along; after all, it’s my floor.

You say knocking is a pain,

(But) That’s why it’s a game, again!

(There) The invisible game has begun again!

 

Hi Friends! Trying to put my past days into words.. Hope you all are rocking the way you always do! EnjoY~

"You bloody middle-class faggot" – the glittery young man shouted at another young man with a laptop bag.

The young man couldn't manage any other expression, except one angry – "You…!"

"You… what faggot? Oh you scared me, obsolete asshole" – glittery young man's class-mockery was too obvious to be ignored.

But the young man with the laptop looked down, controlled himself, turned back, shook his head and started walking away. By the time, he reached the escalator, he received a "You spineless moron", especially packaged for him.

The young man shifted his laptop bag on his right shoulder and stood still right next to the escalator. Busy crowd pushed him a little away… his head was still fixed on the floor. Then he reached the railing and looked up to the roof of the mall. The Rainlover was observing it all from the nearby bookstore. He paid at the bookstore counter, came out, stood next to the young man and placed his hand on his shoulder, "Do you mind joining me?"

The young man was shocked! Alarmed, he looked back with teary eyes and received a gentle smile, "I guess, ice will cool you down. You've already had a lot of heat."

Before he could resist, the Rainlover took his laptop bag on his shoulder and started walking towards the nearest bar. He could hear "Hey, you… what do you want?" from back, but ignored it completely and seized a two-seater in that half-empty bar. When the young man reached the table, Rainlover smiled, "Sorry, I don't generally take no for an answer… sit down, man! You drink, right?" The young man sat down reluctantly and asked, "Why are you doing this?"

The Rainlover smiled, "I like your hairstyle. My spiky sucks… what do you think?" He gave a half-smile and said, "No… it looks nice… keep it." The Rainlover ordered two whiskey on the rocks and a plate of fish-finger. They introduced each-other by the names only and then the Rainlover asked, "So Siddharth, who's elder here? Me or you? I'm 83 born." The young man confirmed, "I'm 83 too… September." The Rainlover was surprised, "Man, you're some 7 months younger than me and you look like 5 years elder. What crap, fighter?"

"Well, as you said – 'fighter' – you can say that my fights of life is taking a toll on me" - he said. The Rainlover couldn't resist his laughter and apologized, "Excuse me, but dude...." Siddharth didn't excuse him at all… so he went on narrating his melodramatic fight-for-survival till they were 3 pegs down.

When the Rainlover found it appropriate, he asked, "So what was happening there… with that rich kid?"

Siddharth got back his reason to be excited, "That fucker? I was walking past, saw his shirt and kinda liked it. So I asked, 'Excuse me, where have you got this shirt from?' – That's it! He started barking… said, 'Who you think you're… look at yourself, you think you can afford a shirt like this?... bloody middle-class and all… When I protested, he started abusing!" he paused for some air that took longer than usual and then continued, "What the fuck is my fault? Why am I in this shithole?"

The Rainlover laughed again, "Must say dude, if not anything else, you've picked up the abuses very nicely… good job." Siddharth have him a cold look and said, "You also are making a fun of me?"

The Rainlover didn't stop his smile while he said, "Go on… abuse… I'm kinda liking it."

Siddharth shook his head and said, "You… you're also like that asshole.. yes, making fun of someone who is inferior.. You all are the same!" His voice was loud enough to attract few heads around. The Rainlover winked at them with a smile and asked Siddharth, "You want another one?" Siddharth hushed out, "Why faggot? You also want to prove how rich you are and how poor I'm!? Tell you what, I don't spend money like you guys, because I've my parents to look after, a bother with important age, a sister to be married soon, a family to care for, something for which I can sacrifice these momentary shit that you guys love sooo much.. I'm not like you and I don't wish to be like you at all. Now you understand wealthy-filth, I'm a responsible guy, resilient by choice, not by chance!" 

The Rainlover smiled, "There you go!"

Siddharth urged, "You don't believe it… do you?"

The Rainlover said "Why won't I?" The he signaled for the bill.

While the bill arrived, Siddharth said, "Let me pay."

The Rainlover winked, "It was my invitation. Plus, I like your hairstyle!"

Siddharth started laughing. They said 'goodbye' and as both of them were about to move out of the mall and move to two different direction, Siddharth asked, "Why did you do this?"

The Rainlover smiled, "I told you, I like your hairstyle."

Siddharth sighed!

The Rainlover smiled again, "Tell you the truth, I saw myself… in you! Keep fighting, FIGHTER!"

Then they moved ahead.. in two different directions…!

 

HEY FRIENDS, THANKS FOR UR ENCOURAGEMENT.. LOVE U ALL ;)

It’s like missing someone who would never know.

 

It’s like waiting for someone who will never come.

 

It’s like wishing for something that’ll never materialize.

 

It’s like demanding something that’ll never be fulfilled.

 

It’s like imagining the reality that never existed and never will.

 

It’s like praying for someone who doesn’t even care.

 

It’s like writing a song for someone who hates music.

 

It’s like being ‘lonely’ with someone.

 

It’s like being hungry with a plate full of rotten food.

 

It’s like being dressed-up in invisible attire.

 

It’s like touching something without feeling it.

 

It’s like living when you’re not alive.

 

 

It’s like kissing a corpse.

 

It’s like whispering silence.

 

It’s like hiding the light.

 

It’s like smiling in pain.

 

It’s like standing in front of the mirror and cursing the ‘faceless man’.

 

 

NOTE - this is a reflection of 'that' time... not 'this' time

 

 

Dear Friends,

 

Feel free to kill me for my absence! You've all the rights to do so...

But I decided to jump back again into blogging... In these days, I've written and half-written few stories.. Will share the same with you guys very soon.

Don't know if it interests you or not, but I feel like stating few recent changes or developments on my life-scrpit..

 

1. I'm in Kolkata now.. yes, finally, I've shifted from Delhi and have come to Kolkata (working in the same organisation though)

2. I miss Delhi :( especially my students... I can't forget the love that they've given me! They simply rock!

3. I'm staying with my best friend Snehangshu in Kolkata and can visit my parents every week (only if I wish to;)

4. Alcohol has increased, but I'll bring it down.

5. Smoking is as it is...

6. Flirting is full on ;) after all, it'sa city of joy! gotto do some justice to it !

7. Reading a lot, and painting very less!

 

That's all for now!

Soon, I'll post my stories... dying to visit you blogs and read you guys through...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Just wish 2009 gives you and your loved ones the strength to fight it through and make it beautiful ;)

Love!

EnjoY~

 

The Rainlover ;)

11am, July, 2005

 

He was inside the elevator… on his wheelchair… smiling!  He asked, “Are you new?” I said, “Good guess!” He asked, “Do you want to meet somebody?” I said, “My sister!” He asked, “Why are you talking to me?” I said, “Because, you want me to….” He asked, “Are you gay?” I said, “No… why?” He replied, “Just a time pass question.” I frowned, “Are you alright, my friend?” He laughed, “Does my wheelchair say so?” I shrugged off and moved out of the elevator on the 2^nd floor of this campus of Calcutta University. By the noise behind, I could make out that the wheel-chair guy also was coming out of the elevator.

Anyhow, it took me some 10 minutes to figure out my Bonu’s (sister’s) classroom. When I went inside, I could see some 10 boys and girls gossiping. Bonu spotted me with an instant shout, “Bhaida, bhalo hoyeche esechis. Janis … (Brother, good that you’ve come. You know what….)” Oh yeah, that’s typical SHE – she has always something “You know what…” in store for me! After I heard ‘what happened’, I could see the wheelchair guy coming inside the class… this time I half-heartedly started, “You know what… this guy…” Bonu grabbed my hand and took me to a corner of that large classroom. She said, “Shhh… don’t talk about him.” I nodded without understanding. Instantly a voice came, “Oh, that’s your sister? Cool! Arita, won’t you introduce US to your brother?” Reluctantly, Bonu said, “Hi everybody, this is my dear Bhaida. And Bhaida, these are my friends.” Even before I could finish my shy ‘Hi’, the wheelchair guy smirked, “And I’m Tanmoy.” I was confused by his over excitement, yet managed a “Hi Tanmoy” somehow. Tanmoy came forward with his wheelchair and said, “You know I’m not a gay.” Everybody was laughing. I managed, “Good news… congratulations!” Tanmoy laughed, “Hey, you are a funny man! Can we be friends?”

“Sure!” I said. We shook hands.

 

7pm, July, 2005

 

My cell phone rang – it was an unknown number. I picked up, “Hello!” Other side spoke, “Tanmoy this side. Where are you, man?” Surprised, I said, “I’m near Park Street… why?” He said, “Take the Metro, come to Tollygunj… my car is near the metro station. You’re my guest tonight… ahan, don’t deny, you won’t forget this night ever. See you in 20 mins.” I was perplexed. He had kept down the phone! I, with hesitation called Bonu up and asked, “Hey, is this Tanmoy guy a gay? He wants me to go to his place now? Is he alright?” Bonu mocked, “Or do you wanna know if he is SAFE?” I said, “Shut up, what should I do?” She went on smiling, “Don’t worry! You won’t forget this night ever!” I was wondering, what is this… a game or something? But somehow I managed to convince myself and within 10 minutes I could see myself at the Park Street metro station’s booking counter asking the window man, “One Tollygunj please…”.

I entered inside the Santro to see Tanmoy smiling…. On his way, I remember myself asking, “What is it all about?” and Tanmoy replying, “Don’t worry! You’ll not forget this night ever!”

Tanmoy’s rich dad head the reflection of his money all over the house… so damn polished. He didn’t speak to anyone present in the house… he domestic help took us to his room and he asked, “Whiskey is cool with you?” I nodded. He ordered, “Kamal-da, whiskey for two of us. Leave it here and please close the door once you’re done.” He read the sense of doubt on my eyes and said, “Don’t worry, I told you, I’m not gay… relax!” I gave a smile of relief.

He went on showing me all his paintings and writings… his explanations reached touched me. What a great talent, confided into a wheelchair… yet I managed to keep my sympathy to myself… and after some 4 pegs, he spoke what he wanted to say for so long, “What the fuck man! Why the hell it has to happen to me? What’s my fault? Every damn fucking person I meet has sympathy for me. I mean, do I deserve it or what? Can’t I be treated like a normal human being? Why the boys I meet have to sound over mannered with me? Why the girls I meet have to so fucking easy-going with me? Why the elders I meet always have to praise me for the talent I’ve? Why? Why? Is it all because my dad fucked my mom when he was drunk and I was created by that? Is that what I deserve to get?”

There was a long yet comfortable silence after this and then I finally said, “Let’s paint together.” His silence said it all and we painted…. and we named it, WINGS!

 

11pm, 11^th September, 2008.

 

Bonu was crying on the other side of the phone. I went on asking, “What’s wrong my dear? Tell me… please… please, tell me!” After she was done, I didn’t know what to say. I heard her saying, “Yesterday, Tanmoy died of a heart attack! They burnt him today.” Then I heard Tanmoy’s saying, “You’ll not forget this night… ever!” Tanmoy, my friend, you’re right!

 

I know saying sorry isn't enough.... but sorry friends, got really tied up! I'll try to be regular... Hope all of you are having a great time!

It's the balcony of the new house that the Rainlover is very proud of. Now spending at least 1-2 hours at dead night on that balcony, with beautiful music accompanying him, has become a daily routine for him. That night also wasn’t an exception. It was somewhere around 1.30 at night; the Rainlover was on his chair watching the quiet Delhi night, in slumber, in front of him. Just in front of his house, a small triangular park was resting in silence. The breeze was soothing and the trees of the park were responding with a smile by nodding their heads as the breeze was caressing them - as if expressing the happiness of silent and natural romance!

Suddenly, the Rainlover could see an all-white body emerging out of the darkness. It was an aged man with a white head, white kurta and white pajama - he reached a bench in the park, silently observed it for a while, cleaned it a bit with his palm and sat down. He was looking at his own feet. Though, his face wasn’t visible for that afar, yet the Rainlover could visualise the senior citizen's not-so-happy state of mind. The gentleman put his hand inside the pocket, brought out a cigarette packet from his pocket, brought out a cigarette from the packet, stood up, reached out for his pocket again, then the other pocket… sighed a bit… and sat down! He must've forgotten his lighter!

Being a smoker himself, the Rainlover could feel the agony the gentleman was going through with a helplessly unlighted cigarette in his hand! The Rainlover didn’t think twice, checked his own pockets and with a brief smile, took the stairs.

"I don’t smoke much… but…" the gentleman finished his unfinished sentence with a shy smile. The Rainlover said, "Happens." The gentleman took a puff in, let the smoke come out and sighed, "These days… health doesn’t permit. But you see, in those good old days, I've spent such intimate moments with my cigarettes that I haven’t spent even with my own people!" The Rainlover agreed again, "That's true…" The gentleman continued without any provocation or inspiration, "I was married for 2 years at your age… you must be 25-26.. right?" Then he answered himself, "Yes, I think so… are you married?" Before the Rainlover could manage an excuse to justify his single-hood or any alternate topic to get engaged into, the gentleman answered, "I don’t think you're married… then you mustn’t have come down to offer a lighter to this old fellow… if you were married, by this time you would have been…" then he started laughing heavily with at his own joke!

Looking at the empty street ahead, the man sighed again, "You know, I love my wife. Initially, when both of our parents forcefully got us married, I wasn’t happy. I used to feel irritated a lot. But she was different… her silence and patience had power, you know! She was so magnetic with her silence… and when she gave me Akash (son), I can't explain it to you… for the first time, I realised what love is!"

The gentleman needed some moments of his own, so the Rainlover didn’t ask anything. With another sigh, followed by a cute smile, the man said, "When Akriti (daughter) got married and Akash shifted to Bombay with his family, my wife became my whole world, you know! Only a retired man can appreciate the value of a life-partner!" Then he started coining his own words, "Life-partner! A partner for a life…. throughout the life… and then suddenly…" The Rainlover urged, "Suddenly??" The gentleman looked happy, yet lost - "Suddenly, young man, LIFE ENDS!"

The atmosphere, like the Rainlover, was clueless… the man was looking straight into the eyes of the Rainlover. The Rainlover couldn’t manage any word to break the uncomfortable silence, but the experienced fellow did - "She died last year - cancer!"

The Rainlover was looking at the burning cigarette butt on the grass… the man got up and sighed, "Today is our marriage anniversary!" He moved on, with a smile… after a while, the Rainlover got up and moved on!   

 

      

Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side

Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again
Dragged by force of some inner tide

 

The words of Pink Floyd were setting fire in The Rainlover's mind. He wasn’t sure whether his vision was getting wider or was shrinking narrower. All he could make out of the breezy night that something uncanny is holding him with himself. He tried to explain it to his friends in a different note! He said, "it's actually confident loneliness!"

"Confident loneliness"! What's that? He explained, "Generally, loneliness pains. On general occasions, people reach out for others while they are alone, because they assume their loneliness to be unjustified, something that, may be, they don’t deserve." But "Confident loneliness"? The Rainlover asserted, "Well, it's a state of mind that resembles with solo mental paralysis…. In this case, the lonely person no longer reaches out for anyone anymore, because he finds his loneliness to be justified and well deserved! What more, it's very rewarding as well!"

Frankly asking, for all the 'been there seen that' people, what has loneliness to do with others? Why loneliness stands as a state of being which is marked with others' absence? Why do we always make it 'relative'? Why do we always tend to conclude that, one is lonely if there aren't people around him/her with whom he/she can share his/her intimate or 'sideway' feelings? The Rainlover personally feels it to be an 'error of judgement caused by over-simplifying psychological poral syndrome'!  

 

Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts

There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am
I have become comfortably numb

 

Now there you are! Pink Floyd explains this 'Confident Loneliness' as a state to be 'Comfortably Numb'… but one wonders, because of 'God-knows-what-prompted-reason(s)' they put forward the childhood resemblance of the simple-complexity stating "When I was a chind, I had a fever"!

Well, this fever is stated differently by William Wordsworth. He reather glorified it -

 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,  

    The earth, and every common sight,  

            To me did seem  

    Apparell'd in celestial light,  

The glory and the freshness of a dream.          

It is not now as it hath been of yore;—  

        Turn wheresoe'er I may,  

            By night or day,  

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

 

Not only this, he goes on to say -

 

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,  

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,  

To me the meanest flower that blows can give  

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

 

Now that's weird, isn't it. The Rainlover will always wonder, why such a profound truth about 'oneness' again and again is de-meaned by relativity! Why loneliness as a state of mind can't be singular? Why can't it be 'oneness'?

Are we so damn pluralists deep inside? Are we so democratically conjugate from heart that we almost always sucessfully end up adding sighs to oneness? Well, the Rainlover wants the learned souls to have a debate on it.

He never intends to say that plurarism is bad or associations are only safe-guards, but what he essentially wants to put forward is that - as 'I'm with my friends' brings gentle smile on our faces, what wrong 'I'm with myself' has done then? Is the reward on the latter case is of lower value? Well, frankly speaking, it's exactly the other way round. Creativity or achievement is mostly an impulsive reward… if that reward can come through others' association, it can very well come through oneness as well… and through ownness for sure!

All in all, the Rainlover firmly believes that pure sense of association with OTHERS with the right singular spirit is always welcome, but let's not reach out for others only because we're incomplete and lost inside! Let's not make our friends the Fill-Ups! And if we do that, which is very normal humane in nature, let's be humane enough and extend to guts to accept it, even before using it! Because, you know what, the same Pink Flod sing "Don't Leave Me Now" and "Wish You Were Here"… But thankfully, they extend their guts by saying -

 

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here...

 

 

The blog essentially is trying to portray the mental swings the Rainlover is going through currently… not meant to exhibit any un-called-for Gyaan. Taking it otherwise is readers' personal choice, the Rainlover would then be just an excuse for that!

 

God Bless You!

EnjoY~

Hi..

Isn't LET'S SEE a beautiful expression... so safe it is...

safety is also highly non-controversial!

so.... LET'S SEE!!!

 

My Dear Phool-da,

When this letter will reach you, after couple of days to that, it'll be 7th - Bhai-phota. I'm sending phota for you in this letter. Let there be no evil in your life. You're fine, right? the wind is chilly now. After Durga Puja, the season takes a new swing. The sun minimises its temper. The sky is spotless bright. Did you like the kurta I sent to you before puja?

Phool-da, nothing seems nice after you're left. When you were here, in those last days, so many troubles and fights came up. At deep night, when I used to go up to the terrace to see you once, you used to sleep like a kid. The moonlight used to fall on your childish beautiful face through the window. You looked so good. Now I feel so miserable. You tell me, what else can I do? What am I? What is my power? How can I explain how much it pained me to feel that I couldn’t keep you here?

That rainy day still sets fire in my mind, Phool-da! Each scene is so vivid till now! Endless rain was washing away everything….your friends were gathered at the main gate. Everyone in our family was crying. Maa was breaking into pieces, Baba had lost his mind… clueless, aimless... torn apart. Sejo-Mama was busy, packing your stuff. A Maruti van was waiting outside the gate. In last three months your insanity had crossed all barriers. It became a cause of worry to everyone. So much so that the doctor advised us to take you to Kalyanpur - in asylum!

Still I can see, you were staring with beautiful, yet void eyes. Your childhood friend, your dear friend Sujan-da was taking you slowly… to take you to the car! The entire colony was relishing the painful drama of our family. The mad son of Sen Babu was being taken to the asylum - what a rare spectacle! I was crying like crazy from the balcony! I wasn’t allowed to step down. It was me whom you used to love the most, Phool-da! It was raining heavily. Enthusiastic crowd was flooding everyone - everyone was having fun - rain couldn’t stop them. You sat inside the car - blank eyes. Sejo-Mama at one side, Sujan-da on the other - Baba took me there… holding my hands… I came in front of you. Baba's eyes were wet, speechless. Sujan-da stirred you, told you - 'Babu, Babu, see Babu… your Brishti has come to see you. Tell her goodbye!' Phool-da, you used to call me by Brishti! But you didn’t even look at me! I went on shouting - 'Phool-da! Phool-da!' you couldn’t hear my voice! You were dumbstruck like a stone - blank eyes… Baba said, 'Babu, your little sister has come… to see you off… look at her once, look at her.' You were motionless.

The car left for Kalyanpur through foggy raindrops… my mad Phool-da left his home! The entire house was breaking to tears like the sky of that day. It's been so long since you've left Phool-da… it's been four long years! The Maa who used to be so lively before, used to sing along in the entire house and used to do the household works like an addict, that Maa doesn’t sing anymore! She can't do her work with that perfection anymore. She just cries every time it rains… she cries a lot.

Phool-da, do you remember the photograph that was taken after you won the first prize in the school championship? Maa keeps that photograph under her pillow always. She touches that, kisses that…and…and breaks into tears.

Phool-da, it's been four years that you've left. The world around us has changed so much in these four years… Choto-Maashi got married, after Sejo-Mama has retired… his son Manik has got a job in that office only, the rooms of our second floor are complete now… now Maa and I stay in the southern room of the second floor. A new bike is bought, cooks are hired… But Baba is somehow quiet these days… doesn’t talk much like the old days… as if he's too old now…

Phool-da, your room at the terrace is locked till now… none opens that… none of us enters into that. You used to study in that room, used to paint, used to sing… what a beautiful voice you had Phool-da… Phool-da, do you remember, once in Rabindrajayanti, you sang in the local function - "Aji jhader raate tomar abhishaap… paran shokha, Bandhu hey amaar…"? Do you still remember Phool-da, everyone was so amazed to hear your song? I'd heard Baba telling Maa, "My son is a bit vagabond, but sings soooo nice!" And your paintings… those beautifully awesome paintings… they are now set in the drawing room… How could you paint so beautifully, Phool-da? You never learnt them from anyone.. neither singing, nor painting! Then how could you do those so beautifully? Your friends were so proud of you.. proud of your singing… paintings… you left home leaving all those behind.

We've been to Kalyanpur so many times… shades of green, shadows of green… it's a semi-urban village… far away from Kolkata… so many trees, so many ponds, so many birds… and your campus is also so beautiful, so quiet, so peaceful… Dr. Samanta is your doctor.. nationally famous doctor. He's known for his great skill to cure the mentally misbalanced people. You're far better now… not like the initial days. Now you don’t jump around anymore, don’t shout that frighteningly anymore… but you do whisper sometimes… you say something.. you try to say something… they try, but can't understood even a single word of it! They say, you're silent most of the time…

Phool-da, you were entirely different a man before. You used to look so handsome while smiling… you used to laugh with your heart out. Remember, you took me once to a mela? We rode the sings and I was frightened to death. But you were just laughing and laughing… I was sitting with closed eyes, your hands tightly held… after we got down, you patted on my head and said, 'Pagli! What's there to fear so much? Am I not here with you?'

Where Phool-da? Where are you now? I'm even more scared these days… Baba is almost down, Maa is so fragile now… as if someone has robbed this family's peace and happiness… all smiles, joys…life… all is robbed! I'm scared, too scared Phool-da…

You used to love a wild girl. I knew it. You didn’t tell me ever… but I knew it! Actually Pritha could never understand you… she wasn’t worth it ever. Your king-like beauty, that divine a voice, that beautiful a sense of art… these are all that attracted Pritha. But her main attraction was rich businessman Bijan Chawdhury! She had secret relationship with him… she kept it secret from you. You never knew it… and when you finally came to know it, then it was a disaster by then! Unmarried Pritha was pregnant by then… Pritha put the responsibility of it on your shoulder! My that song-loving, art-loving Phool-da got an identity of a characterless criminal in front of the whole locality.. whole society!

None knew where you were for next 7 days… everyone was clueless… Pritha's brothers had humiliated you in front of the whole locality.. they thrashed you like a thief is thrashed… you couldn’t tolerate that pain, that blow, that humiliation! After 7 days, you were found in railway station… senseless in high fever. Police picked you up, they left you at home… by then, you were complete mad.. couldn’t recognise anyone! What a time it was! So many doctors, so many people, jumping around everyone… but your insanity gradually intensified…. Phool-da, the one took your life away has a nice life now. Money power has washed away all the stains from her body, but Phool-da, you lost everything… your song unfinished, your paintings lost their colours… all the lights on Sen House are dark now.. they are stained now…

Phool-da, nothing seems right without you, my brother… I can hear you singing… you voice still floats in the winds on this house. Phool-da, please be fine soon, just like the old days… pleaseeee… so many miracles happen in this world, why can't one happen to you? You know, now a days I dream, that Maruti Van has come in front of the main gate, it's raining… the entire locality is lifeless.. you're stepping down from the car… with a smile.. smiling face… that smile…that was erased from your lips on a cursed moment … some four years back.. you get down from the car and start shouting - "Brishti, ei Brishti… you stupid, can't you see me getting wet.. bring an umbrella at once… Maa, o' Maa… which fish is there in kitchen today? What's there in the menu? I'm so hungry!"…..

Phool-da, can't it happen? Phool-da, will it never happen?

Phool-da, here is the phota on your forehead.. Bhai-Phota! - ""Bhaiyer kapale dilaam phota… jaamer duyaare podlo kaanta… jaam jemon amar, amaar bhai-o jeno temon amar hai… Bhaiyer kapale dilaam phota...""    

 

Your beloved sister,

Brishti…   

I got to see you after long… after a really long time. It seemed like decades, you know! Yesterday, the entire Circus Maidan was flooded by crowd. Huge stage… light and flags were all over the entire city… yesterday, all roads led to Maidan, where the centre of all attraction and excitements were you! I got to see you after long… after a really long time! You've changed a lot… slight golden hue in your hairs, heavy glasses and a nice wealthy touch in your appearance… When you were delivering your speech in that ignited voice, the fierce speed and heavenly modulation of your tone were setting fire to the whole ground - excitement, amazement everywhere. You were talking about nation, caste, religion - so many things - what a great compelling speech you can deliver!

Behind the crowd, away from them, at the corner of the ground, under the darkish shade…it was me standing and watching you… yes, I also was amazed by the great analysis you were offering about India, her past, present and future… what a lecture.

I got to see you after long… after a really long time. If this enthusiastic crowd, excited city can't, then how can this token of a semi-urban town escape your charm? Yes, I also was totally into your greatness.

You might've forgotten, but I've remembered. Those were the dark hours of heated politics. In one such hour, being chased by the police and opponents, you escaped and took shelter in our small town Palashpur. My lower class, honest, idealist, school teacher father risked his life to obey the party's command and opened the doors of our shabby hut for you - to shelter you! It was an outrageous courage for a poor school teacher. You took refuge from the heated, bloody and nasty politics of Kolkata..you took refuge in Palashpur.

Your big beautiful eyes, demanding and courageous words, and numerous brave tales about you heard from my father - all these tied you tightly with my just-young heart. It feels so strange about that bond! Remember, in those deep nights, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the bed, inside our house lit by a dim hurricane lamp, you used to talk about China, Vietnam, Soviet…Che, Kastro, struggle, revolution? Don’t know when, perhaps unconsciously, I used to start whispering in those half-spoken words - "With revolution in heart, I'm Lenin!"

But one day you left! As autumn moves on leaving Puja's beautiful brightness behind, as a train moves on leaving an unknown rural station behind, as a wave moves on leaving the call of the shore behind… you also moved on and left a heart full of excitement for me… a heart full of hope for me… a heart full of love for me… my entire consciousness following you… but you moved on!

When the sand, stone, silence, storm, loneliness of this semi-urban town had taken your face for me, you moved on. And what was left was your natural assurance of coming back to take me with you. My father used to bring your news… from a student leader to youth leader, from youth leader to even bigger leader - the graph of your life was soaring northward… your popularity transcended Kolkata and spread all over Bengal… you hardly had time for yourself - after all, such a busy person you were. Newspapers, TV, radio etc sometimes brought you near to me, but you as a person never came back.

The state of affairs has changed. One day, you'd fought to bring revolution to this system… you gave me hours long heated speech against the system… but gradually the same you have entered into the blocks of the same system - quite easily. Quite easily you people have scrapped the word 'revolution' from your dictionary. Then the sweetness of the same system and the brightness of the same state have changed you upside down…

Dear leader, when you couldn’t change the time, all of you changed yourselves. That change was first felt by me when I looked at my father's face… that day, he came back from Kolkata and told my mother - "Amaar sob swapno bhenge churmaar hoye gelo go!" (All my dreams are shattered, my dear!") After saying this, my old helpless father broke into tears.

Dear leader, I know you're really busy. But I'm sure you've not forgotten the mean words that you'd used on that day to humiliate and throw my poor helpless father away… what a behaviour you'd exhibited dear leader. My poor father had gone there only to remind you the promise that you'd once made… idealist, honest, school teacher father had believed that the words of your lips to be the words of your heart. The idealist busy political life's excuse you'd used, my idealist father had believed in that.

Before you left, it got disclosed… my mother came to know, my father came to know - my shameless love, endless respect and ceaseless devotion for you had made me easily available for you. You took that opportunity oh revolutionary, and your child found my wombs to rest in!

You promised my father that once the turmoil of heated politics cools down a but, you would come to me, will marry me, will take me… with you… forever!     

No, you didn’t keep your promise. Not keeping one's promise is the key to succeed in politics - you'd learnt this truth in those early days itself. We tried, but you never accepted your responsibility behind my bleeding wombs… you must be knowing how you paid off the debt of a courageous school teacher of Palashpur - yes, you've paid of his debt through even more courageous humiliation…

Society is still the society. Lot might change around us, but the middleclass mindset hasn’t changed yet. So your political wind might've cooled down, but for me, deep inside the cyclone was gradually intensifying. My house, family, life - everything was shattered… what an unbearable pain and intolerable self-hatred I felt to kill one little life that even hadn’t seen a ray of life! Only I and my tears felt that agony. My father had to go - a defeated soldier has no place in the plot - so heart-attack became an excuse. My mother was dumbstruck, speechless.. she still is!

But you were climbing the stairs of growth by then.. from student leader to youth leader, from youth leader to party leader, from party leader to MLA, from MLA to…. Sky was the limit for you, right? I mean, when, where, you had some unintended closeness with what an unknown and simple middle class girl - that absolutely isn’t something that you should've bothered about! Where is the time to remember that? Why to remember that? Humanity? Conscience? Love? Huh! These are all parts of speech - to be uttered to fool a bunch of already fooled fools! What will happen to career if someone seriously gets into all these funny sentiments?

That's why dear revolutionary leader, at one hand you became bigger and bigger and I turned smaller and smaller - to my father, to my mother, to my self.. smaller and smaller…

Then? Then many seasoned have come and gone. Your wife, your children - I know them all - have seen them many time on newspapers, TV… they're so beautiful, like you… very bright, nothing rural about them!

I got to see you after long… after a really long time….got to see you yesterday. Your words still have the same determination, hope, courage, guts, enthusiasm.. the repeated clappings proved its quality. You know, once I'd cried a lot, pained a lot and out of humiliation, dishonour, anger and hatred I've even wished death for you! When love is humiliated - it pains - and I've felt the bitter pain inside.

But yesterday, after seeing you, after thinking so many things, all my long-cherished pain, anger and hatred were suddenly vanished! They just vanished! I felt - you haven’t cheated me only - it's not only me who is the victim of your treachery - you've cheated and are cheating the whole nation! You are running so hard with your selfish needs burning inside you. You talk about the poor, shed tears for the poor in public, shout with developmental propaganda… but actually you are looking for personal happiness. Your daughter is in expensive English medium school, your son plays games in expensive computer, your wife has so many expensive gadgets in her kitchen, from your glasses to your shoes - everything is so rare, so expensive… still, you're a LEADER OF THE POOR! oh poor…. You know, when I was compelled to kill an innocent unborn baby, my entire existence was crying with me, hauling with me, bleeding with me… but yesterday, while listening to your repeated, ornamented and shameless lies, I felt, perhaps it's good that the baby wasn’t born… if not anything, it had your blood in it… No… at least I've not gifted one more Meerzafaar to India… at least I've not gifted one more treacher to India… And you know, only for this joy and relief, my heart is suddenly so burdenless since yesterday... I'm feeling so light!... What a revolution I just went through!