Me calling Myself.

Has it ever happened to you? Like some voice coming from inside, someone trying to talk to you and giving you soft signals that what you are doing is not right. As the clock ticks that voice you know, is echoing “change or it will be very difficult not for anyone but only for us’’.

My therapist says it’s a kind of symbiote (Venom, 2018) that is trying not only to impart sentience but to kindle the bad memories. It’s happening for quite a long time now and this symbiote is an enlightened one I must say… couple of days ago I was reliving my past and suddenly this happened:

Myself: Don’t try to dig the dead.

Me: You would…. if you knew what it meant.

Myself: Forget about what you lost, what is gone, the dead should stay dead and past be past.

Me: What about the ghosts?

Myself: Are you alone?

Me: I am lonely.

Myself: Close your eyes if you don’t want to see the reality.

Me: What about the memories?

Myself: As they say, sleep through the apocalypse.

Me: I am broken.

Myself: If you are broken it doesn’t mean you stay broken. Be a mechanic, gather those small pieces and build a new one, a stronger one. Don’t be a spartan.

Me: Are you asking me to be calm in crisis?

Myself: That is how you achieve nirvana.

Me: There is no such thing, it’s a dual world good-bad, pleasure-pain, love-loathe.

Myself: You are not alone in this affliction, let it go.

Me: How?

Myself: Like the winds blow, same as first beat in the tempo and what bow does to an arrow.

Me: How can I do it? She was my mountain, my deepest sea.

Myself: She was your Azkaban.

Me: She was rainbow to my black & white.

Myself: Stop walking miles for those who wouldn’t take a step for you.

Me: I loved without inhibitions, loved with abandon.

Myself: To love her on that scale was dangerous from the second it started.

Me: It was better than thousand faces.

Myself: Wrong person, right attention.

Me: Her prophecies of our love & alluring future surmised me, that it certainly will come true.

Myself: Love, has a tendency of not living up to expectations.

Me: Never love and you can never be a prisoner to destiny.

Myself: Listen to your inner voice.

Me: You are my inner voice.

Myself: Then don’t pursue her and that dream. You will suffer.

Me: What is life without suffering?

Myself: Suffer for a cause that makes you strong & wise not weak & foolish. I hope you live a life where you don’t have any remorse.

Me: It won’t happen.

Myself: Then I hope you have the strength to start again.

Me: Little love and lot of heartbreak again?

Myself: Are you afraid to get back up again, to try again, to dream again. Don’t let your grief define you. You are stronger I see. Save yourself, because no one can/ else will. That’s the world.

Me: They say give a little love and it all comes back to you, two-fold.

Myself: Right, but some are born only to give.

Me: I couldn’t care less than about my chronicle of disappointment and loneliness.

Myself: Don’t overthink, trust the flow. Things will change every year, every day, every minute & second. Don’t suicide and don’t kill me.

Me: It’s a hard choice.

Myself: You are a strong-willed person.

Me: Tell me, how do I love again?

Myself: Standing on the beach and asking where the ocean is? Start with me. 

My love was gone
Making me the object of scorn,
Where…? I couldn’t tell
I looked both, heaven & hell.

Love… I still have ours, the prose as purple today as it was then.
Heartbeats ebbing, lurching again,
Yours’ forever, write it on my tombstone.
My august love, whereabouts unknown. 

~Gaurav Dey

Head over Heels..in Love

Sometimes things happen.. that makes you look at them under different light, things that you’ve always taken for granted or let’s say never happened to you.

It was a bright day, she was leaning by the window which had a view of hills top with a nice lake in front of it. It was a mirage, an imagination, a myth that could never come true – not because I presume in happy beginnings, but because of my apprehensions of it. In a New York minute I dropped my luggage and then there was this problem with my eyes, they were locked, I was not able to take them off. As if everything stopped, that shout of the conductor, passengers howling, vehicles honking etc.. were all like extinguishing a forest fire with an eyedropper. I have heard people saying:

“If you love something, you know what the best in the world actually looks like.”

And then there was I, looking at her, no no.. actually gazing at her. A genuine affection for a simple, sober, ordinary girl. Bellissimo, the pact of intimacy was written on her face, she held me captured with her embrace. You must have heard about the sky full of stars or a green oasis, oh boy.. she made me witness it in the city bus. I decided no matter what.. I’m gonna give you my heart. I knew that I was head over heels for her.

Then before anything I could do or say the laws of physics played their role.. you just can’t keep science out of anything these days. The law of inertia came into play ‘an unbalanced force’ pushed me and pushed me hard.. and eventually I fell but this time gravity was not held responsible for the fall, well in terms of physics, chemistry and mathematics it was an important phenomenon that happened. But was it a haste, crush or just a short lived emotion that just exploded within me? Absolutely not!!

How I came to that conclusion? Because that short lived emotion ‘infatuation’ as the unethical, uneducated people name it. was transformed from a feeble spark to a flickering flame and then into a mighty blaze*. Every time I thought about her, I got lured into something.. I couldn’t dodge.

Yes, I admit I had my first love!!

It was like a kitchen light at midnight, day and night it was the same thing. I reckoned something within me that made me feel ecstatic, something deeper than I’ve ever known. So, when we talk about infinity there’s no measure for that same is with love also, you can’t measure it, every second it expands, just like the universe. For me she became the universal law, which gave soul to the world, flock to imagination, and glamour to everything around me.

But there were unspoken conversations, unuttered words, and I guess when you meet someone ‘the right person’ it clicks to both of you and things are made to work and definitely the nature helps you in that. So we met, we talked, I used that time to learn everything I could about her and tell about myself… It was rate determining step the slowest of a chemical reaction yet exciting because every time I put my phone down I wanted to know more. We were talking like every day disclosing more and more of ourselves to each other.

I was playing cool, I didn’t rush, I let it grew. And it did.. that led us to have deeper talks about our past, about our future of being together, about love, happiness, what life is ? what it would be if we were together ? There was this time where I didn’t had words maybe because I wanted them to be perfect, or maybe I was nervous that nothing came out of my mouth. The day I saw her, after that every second has been a wonderful chapter in history.

I have had a reason now to celebrate for all four seasons. The more I discover the more I fall in love with her.

Free.. as a bird, as a spirit, as a soul,
The feeling so sturdy, I can’t control
At times serene at times searching, as love I explore,
I adore her today, I adore her tomorrow,
Don’t rush let it grow,
The hearts mysteries elude all,
Love made me fall where gravity was not at all
It’s coming to spring, yet to fly.. my quirky love life.

Burn them all !!

She burned 4 years’ worth of diaries. She didn’t ploy to, but one day she woke up and thought that it’s the right time to let it all go.

She heaved open the duct, started a small flame and started putting the diaries into them. They burned….burned slowly, unwilling and hesitant. Few pages first, the flames caught on the edges and then her handwriting, quill of thick smoke moved leisurely into the smokestack. Tiny and hard manuals, tied with threads and taped up on the sides, their plastic blue color and covers diminished and wrinkled. She thought that the burning color would keep the sinister soul apart.Her eyes enquired too inquisitively into burning affairs. Her eyes… umpired.

She didn’t wanted anyone else reading her secrets, never ever.

Seclusion was, possibly, the imminent cause of her current and obsessive desire to set fire to things. Her friends were spending the day with her, probably the last one with her. They went on the periphery of deviating into their own life’s, leaving her alone, moving into their own world of desires. It had struck her, several days earlier that things were not the same as it used to be, the age at which everybody has their own secrets, the dark one’s, becoming dingy to those who cares for them, who love them the most, the age at which they do things that hurt somebody, they (so called friends) became covetous and left her alone.

Once they get possessive that way nothing can put that desire off.

She should have known !! She spent years as a juvenile rooting around the corners of the bed looking for something, sorting through boxes, searching the closets looking for clues that could answer her colossal of questions, about existence, life, love, about everything that she knows, that she can ever imagine of. Everything on this planet earth and beyond.

She started writing when she entered adolescence. She was fascinated about it. She scribbled daily as she went through school, she filled numerous pages with thick colorful ink. Her soul was so eager that full stops and paragraphs were not able to stop her, she denied them the break, and force by which she used to write, pulverized the nib. Writing dairy was a way of relaxing, it assuaged the pain, embraced the joy for her. As a teenager when she was afraid of separation the diary was with her.

The impulse of burning may have been sprouted, long ago, of the prayers she did on her knees when she was a child and saw the world burning a corpse as part of a funeral ceremony.

“If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take”.

Her diary was her intellectual energy. She thought by the time she was in her 80’s and if she dies before she wakes up she wanted her lord to snatch her diaries before anyone else did.

She wrote about the bad boyfriends she had, bad relationships, mean girls, cheater and deceitful bastards she loved. She also wrote about violent pain of downheartedness, the dilemma and fear of becoming a friend, sister, girlfriend, wife, mother to someone, when she didn’t had a clue how to do that elegantly, kindly, smoothly. Definitely not the sort of her evil friends.

Life as she knew and as we all know is a game, you never know what’s going to come. She thought, taking the long route while prying into something, and burning up, her life. You work hard to raise, and you even get lucky, too, you are wandering along and suddenly, boom, you fall along, you make a foolish move, and you are upside down the slide. You have to pick yourself up and start the ascend again. It gets tiring after time.

That’s the obvious pattern in all our lives. It takes so long to glue things together, the skidding, gliding, starting over that by the time we are old enough to know that the “climb is all there is”, the whole plot, the point of disembarkation doesn’t matter, we are jaded enough to let sagacity into ourselves, to move effortlessly, thoughtfully, to stop sometime and relish the present time.

Setting it on fire, she realized that nobody should know how awfully she suffered from falling down and broken heart, the tumbles through the pits that stared with mouth open wide in amazement or wonder in the her life. That would be so painful for anyone. She wanted to remember herself as a fighter, one who fights back. That’s the person she was, who picks herself up and rise again.

Back through the days she threw diary pages onto the flame. She couldn’t stop. The fire became huge, hot and loud, the flames were screaming, now the pages didn’t burn slowly not without smoke and flame rather burst into large flames, the diary distorted and exploded. Small pieces of burning and glowing coal and wood in that fire took a flight to the floor of a fireplace, ashes blew here and there smudging the room.

The temperature became so vigorous that she had to back off. It was exhilarating in ancient or ancestral fashion the “medusa cut” way. She wondered that this decision an impromptu one to burn the diary will she regret it later? Another old school episode.

As the dairy burnt, she looked scared and extremely interested, as if it was someone else laying the journals on fire, to torture or amuse her. But that fire had some beauty in it. She also thought now she is liberal, “I made what I could of that”.

It was magic for her, voice from the flames I’ll call it. What was it? I don’t know but what I am aware is that, she called and the voice of the flames answered. That moment had a spiritual meaning that is difficult to see or understand. It was a purifying moment that she laid a lot of pain and anger to rest on that pyre of memories. She was deprived of the power of physical sensation. Relief !!. And little bit of sorrow, that now it was time to clean the muddle she made, of her heart ?…or the room ?

The flames brought her a sense of enlightenment that the bad memories are laid to rest, “the guilty are under the same sky but for you there are different horizons, the new and the good ones awaits you. Go embrace them”. She told to herself.

Go forth, bad soul, from this space
In the name of benevolence,
Hatred and cruelty who created you,
In the name of compassion and kindness
Who suffered because of you
In the name of love and friendship
Which was poured upon you,
Go forth, may you live in peace
May your home with trust and honesty
Go forth. 

~Gaurav Dey

Salao Heart.

Are you in this world for me? Why I am thinking like that? Although I am missing you still I am living with that.

But life isn’t the same, I am empty inside but trying to face the pain. There are so many things to be shared but time isn’t on our side that’s what I feel. You are not here, went away so suddenly and fast.

Don’t know how this thought came. Why this is happening? Tell me how this happened? Trust me..my all happiness is linked to you if you are not near there’s nothing…. don’t go away. My eyes look for you, my ears want to hear you, my arms want to feel you.. how can I live without you? If possible tell me why this is happening… you are attached to me like heart to a body.

I trust you more than I do anyone else.. I miss you more than anyone else.. believe me. I laugh when you laugh, I talk when you talk, I forget all my sorrows when I see you, please come back. Way back in school I was taught “vacuum” and now I am feeling it.

Enlightened people say..”let go”. But trust me on this one..it’s really difficult. How can we do that when that thing is the most precious to us. And for how long, how many times? All these questions are crippling me and eating from within.

The day we met.. you made me yours and taught me to laugh, like someone came into a dark room with a candlestick.I haven’t seen love, never known love only heard stories. Those dreams that never came to me when I slept, you made me see in the daylight. Life was colorful, it was beautiful as someone was distributing stars and I opened my arms and collected them all.

My heart burnt, tears came out don’t know what people started calling me but I laughed while I cried because you came into my dreams and laughed. When you went away happiness went away, fire was there but no light. I tried.. I tried to console my heart but.. it didn’t… tried many things but didn’t work out.

My last words, drowning breath, dimming sight will all look for you… come once. Nobody can bear this pain for so long. I can’t forget you even on trying, without you I fumble, that lonely voyage where I can’t see the land, no signs of life. My cockboat needs a sailing mate, a friend, a companion to sail across the seven seas.

I am travelling from so long..i need water, shade give me your hand and make this journey easier. Take me out from the depths of my despair. Give solace to my vagrant feet and soul. With your presence every season seems more wonderful, every mountain looks like a piece of stone, journey of miles are covered in no time.

I know.. and also my heart that we have to go away from this world, but we can share some moments together and make it indelible. It would be so euphoric. My heart runs bare footed and sings, that the person will come, for whom you have been waiting for so long.  Come and be my eye of desire, pilot of my soul.

I have dreams, destination, places to go, but the past memories which I can’t forget. I am helpless that I can’t go back and the pain of this separation is holding me back. Speak up.. as my heart is broken, don’t forget me… that’s what I want to say. This heart is fixated, it’s just a picture. I tell him… break this illusion, it says that it’s a shackle. There is no weak link and I don’t have any control over it.

Walking alone makes you think and the thought that comes to me is that for everything there’s time. Friendship, love, care etc. That was not my time that doesn’t mean that the friendship, love, care was not mine. I have done some mistakes some small and some big and I accept them. Help me to learn from them and conquer my weaknesses.

As I have said “enlightened people say” they also say that… “things happen, eventually”. I somewhat believe in this. I don’t know what made me write this post? It’s hard to say… anguish, solitude, misery !! Don’t know. I am tired, enjoying the serenity and peace of being alone.

It goes without saying that this post -it’s a philosophy, coined so incredibly like that all good people, I came close, therefore I am alive. That’s the beauty of this journey up the spectrum of the rainbow.

It’s been a long day without you my friend, and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again. [Charlie and Wiz, 2015].

I am finishing it now, so that it can be started later.

No heart is odious,
No heart is implicitly comfortless,
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds to my own.

~Gaurav Dey

Taxi…. for Sure !!

For 28 years, 8 months, and 12 days, that guy drove taxi. Now, if you were to ask me what I had for breakfast yesterday, I probably couldn’t tell you. But the memory of one fare is so vivid, they will remember it all days in this world.

It was a sunny Monday morning in early 2013. The guy was cruising down Whitefield looking for a customer, but with the beautiful weather, it was kind of slow. Guy had to stop at a traffic light just opposite the City hospital when he spied a well dressed man dashing down the hospital steps. He was hailing the driver.

Just then the light turned green, the driver behind him honked impatiently, and the guy heard cop’s whistle. But he wasn’t about to loose this ride. Finally, the man reached the cab and jumped in. “KIA Airport, please,” he said. “And thanks for waiting”.

Good news, he thought. On Monday morning, KIA is hopping busy and with a little luck, I could get back-to-back fares. That would make my day.

As always, he wondered about his passenger. Was this guy a talker, a mummy, a newspaper reader ? After a few moments, he started a conversation. It began ordinarily enough: “How do you like driving a cab ?”

It was a stock question, and he gave him his stock answer. “It’s OK,” he said. “I make a living and meet interesting people sometimes. But if I could get a job making 6000 INR a week more, I’d take it – just like you would.”

His reply intrigued him. “I would not change jobs if it meant I had to take a cut of a hundred a week.”

I’d never heard anyone say such a thing. “What do you do.?’

“I’m in the neurology department at City Hospital.”

The guy always been curious about people, and has tried to learn what he could from them. Many times during long rides, he’d developed a rapport with his passengers – and quite often received very good advice from accountants, lawyers, and plumbers. Maybe it was that this fellow clearly loved his work; maybe it was just the pleasant mood of a spring morning. But he decided to ask for hos help. They were not far from the airport now, so he plunged ahead.

“Could I ask a big favour of you.?” He didn’t answer .” I have a son, he’s 15, a good kid. He’s doing well in school. We’d like him to go to camp this summer, but he wants a job. But a 15-year-old can’t get hired unless his daddy knows someone who owns a business, and I don’t.” He paused. “Is there any possibility that you might get him some kind of summer job – even if he doesn’t get paid.?”

Doctor still wasn’t talking, and driver was starting to feel foolish for bringing up the subject. Finally, at the ramp to the terminal, he said, “Well, the medical students have a summer research project. Maybe he could fit in. Have him send me his school record.”

Doc fished around his pocket for a card but couldn’t find one. “Do you have any paper ?” he asked.

The guy tore off a piece of brown lunch paper bag, and he scribbled something and paid him. It was the last time he ever saw him.

That evening, sitting around the dining room table with his family, he pulled the scrap from his shirt pocket. “Raju,” he announced proudly, “this could be a summer job for you.” He read it loud: Shekhar Singh, City Hospital.”

His wife: “Is he a doctor.?”

His daughter: “Is he an actor.?”

His son: “Is this a joke.?”

After he nagged, cajoled, yelled, and finally threatened to cut off his allowance, Raju sent off his school report the next morning. The actor jokes continued for a few days, but gradually the incident was forgotten.

Two weeks later, when he arrived home from work, his son was beaming. He handed him a letter addressed to him on richly embossed paper. The letterhead read “Shekhar Singh, MD, Neurologist-in-Chief, City Hospital.” He was to call Dr Singh’s secretary for an interview.

Raju got the job. After working for two weeks as a volunteer, he was paid 2500 INR a week for the rest of the summer.The white lab coat he wore made him feel a lot more important than he really was as he followed Dr Singh around the hospital, doing minor tasks for him.

The following summer, Raju worked at the hospital again, but this time, he was given more responsibility. As high school graduation neared, Dr Singh was kind enough to write letters of recommendation for college. Much to our delight, Raju was accepted at XIME, an Ivy league institution.

He worked at the hospital for a third summer and gradually developed a love of the medical profession. As college graduation approached, Raju applied to medical school, and Dr. Singh again wrote letters assisting to his ability and character.

Raju was admitted to Bangalore Medical College and, after getting his medical degree, did a four-year residency specializing in obstetrics and gynecology (OB_GYN).

Dr. Raju Sharma, the son of taxi driver, became OB_GYN Chief Resident at Presbyterian Medical Center, Bengaluru.

Some might call it fate, and I guess it was. But it shows you that big opportunities can come out of ordinary encounters – even some thing as ordinary taxi ride.

Rightly said  “How much I missed, simply because I was afraid of missing it.”

Make every moment count, it can change your life.!!

~Gaurav Dey

NECROPOLIS BHOPAL.

Nothing to say on this day !! This might not be the day to write this post but the apt day to think about this. 28 years of injustice and still in operation.

2 december 1984 the day that shook the world and INDIA too. The worst industrial disaster in the history of mankind happened at Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh. In the wee hours when the naive people were taking a sound sleep the killer gas was engulfing the whole city under it’s arms <Methyl Isocyanate>. Yes ! this was the time when the true face of the so called INDIAN goverment came into real picture.

Instead of arresting and incarcerating the head of the factory in India, Warren Anderson, was reportedly provided with all help by the concerned goverment, both at the Centre and State-level and extended to him all facilities to safely escape from the country to his native land USA.

You call the LONDON OLYMPICS as hall of fame !!. Just wait I have a new def. <Hall of  SHAME..> I mean how can you allow <DOW> to sponsor the event. A firm that must have destroyed many companies, is sponsoring a world class events.

Contrary to the winning of medals by INDIANS !! <Keep up the good work>

Have a look at this. Mind you this is not just a slide feel the pain and AGONY !!

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What can you expect from a nation where the PM says that bad monsoon is responsible for the inflation. RIDICULOUS !!

And from a bhopali and blogger’s  perspective what I can do is intimate you readers that while celebrating 65-th year of Independence there are issues that will continously trigger the suffering  of the people who witnessed this black day.

CORPORATE TERRORIST !!

Again in reference to my previous blog <IN-INDIA>..

Happy Independence Day Old Chaps !!..

~Gaurav Dey

TIGER LOVES DRAGON

10 years from now if you folks are not in China then you are mummified and will be exported to pyramids of Egypt where definitely you will be featured on shows of Dr. Hawass <Chasing Mummies> anyhow you will be able to visit one of the wonders of the world. But seriously China is a nation that must be visited whether you learn alphabets or devanagari that doesn’t matter but you should visit there. Being an Indian a clinche is very famous in our nation :-

“Hindi Chini Bhai Bhai”. <Indians and Chineese are brothers>

But I want to ask you readers/bloggers on what grounds does this hold true. Issues on Tibet, Dalai Lama, rope pulling on Mac Mohan line, setting up of naval bases strongly oppose the saying.

But being an optimist person and a blogger too there are things that big brother can do to strengthen BRICS. Afterall they are the pro’s in building walls which can be seen even from the outer space, you might have got that. There are loads of milestones/feats achieved by our brother.
<if you consider them>

Ann and Natasha aka Sasha when they must be buying toys from the toy store and when Mr. Barack Obama checks the price tag <conditional> he gets dismayed by seeing <Made In China> and must be wondering 3 things:

1. Why my kids are not liking the country made toys why they are not fascinated by them.

2. Now I will not be able to play with them otherwise Mitt Romney will sue me. <unless he wins the election which does’nt seems to be impossible>.

3. I should have taken birth at Shanghai or Beijing. Then how would I’ve met Michelle, be the president etc. Who cares at least I would be safe from being  featured on shows of that Doc.
Okay Obama supporters I should say Just Kiddi’n !!!

But writing this post enormous love and respect flooded my mind and not only my mind but my heart also. I mean who doesn’t want to know how the gov. controls the worlds largest population, how they hacked Google Inc.<I mean this is also an achievement>,how they are growing, building marvels one or the other day, how they can eat with those bamboo sticks ??? and many more know how’s to enlist upon…

DRAGON HEART

So, I would like to summarize this post by a small one liner that my readers the ‘Silk Route’ is not a silky route to have a stroll.

 

~Gaurav Dey

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