The Art of Coexisting

What is it that we yearn for, miss the most, when someone very close to us passes? 

I think it would be a bit of a lie to think or say that we communicated with him/her everyday. Because we don't and that is perfectly normal. So it is not really the conversations or the chats we miss. We are busy, grinding in the fight for survival and then ultimately very tired. It is not unusual that most days we have ended the day without conversing with our parents/spouse/lover/friends. I am not writing this along the lines of conscience pricking. But what is it that we really miss? When the person does not exist anymore. Why is it so painful and crippling? Why does it sometimes tear us apart from within? Especially if it is before time.  

It is because we miss the tangible. We miss the ability  to communicate, the idea that we can talk to them whenever we want. It is because we miss the tangible. We are no  longer able to do that. And, it is painful because we know we do not stand a chance anymore. They are not going to be there tomorrow, or the day after or the day next. It is this complete sense of realizing and internalizing the void that makes it so painful. We know, that this is it. We do not get to see them, hear their voice, touch them, talk or embrace. Maybe most days we would not do it anyway but we knew that the next day we could. Or maybe the next day or the day after. There was always the next day. It was in our control. 

Bu now that is gone and we no longer have that control. One fine day that person who was walking around in flesh and blood suddenly disappears and we know that he/she is not coming back. So we no longer have the control over our communications. We can no longer say to ourselves, okay we will chat over the weekend. 

That is precisely what the absence of the sense of control does. We believe we can manipulate the routine of things because it is in our control and then one day it is not anymore. All those pieces on five stages of grief bear witness to what I am writing. But this sense of control is some achievement-hungry idea. This is the control we like to have over the existence of the people we love and refuse to let go. We are in constant denial. there is no easy way out and I think the void stays. No matter how much consolation or rationalization we resort to, it stays until we learn to coexist. 

The often remembered lanes

So it's time to go peep in our treasure chest once again. We love to live in memories. For me, I wish I could see my friends everyday, give them a huge hug, tell them how much I love them, how deeply I miss them and how beautiful they have made my life. I remember the first giggles and sniffles I shared with them.

Today's Memory: First Friends

They are your secret keepers. Your partners in crime and your comrades in figuring out concoctions to have super powers. They are your truest soul mates and the chivalrous protector from bullies.

Our first friends teach us what it is like to promise, to stand up for each other and to be there no matter what. No questions asked. And in return we learn to give. We learn to connect, to feel and to love. Now when we have grown up to be conveniently adult, maybe it is this innate learning of human connect that keeps us going. And even in times of utmost despair, "I still get by with a little help from my friends" .

All my love to all my friends who are and have always been there for me.

P.S. This actually started last week so...

And like every other kid, I too have my very own treasure chest. It is beautiful, surprising and equally carelessly cute when it comes to childhood memories. There is a point of time when we just want to regress a bit and go back. Back to simpler times and inhibition free days. When nobody would judge us for things said and done, where lifelong promises were over pinkie fingers bonding and when ice creams could soothe all the hurt in our little carefully knitted world. Probably we never want to grow up. And get hurt. So I start this today. One post on childhood memories every week.

Today's memory: Lunchbox.

I still recall the excitement when we would eagerly wait for that recess bell to ring. It was like a salvation from all the torture we had to face during lectures! And then. Then it would be the sweet sound of lunchboxes opening. Like synchronized rhythm one after another. Little clusters of ponytails and spiked hair would immediately form as we slowly start discovering the mystries our mums had packed. That's how I think all friendships started. That's how we first learned to share, to give, without expecting. And hence to bond. I so wish all that still remained as easy as that.

So I invite you all to share those little memories with Lunchboxes and recess bells. Lets all get a piece of our childhood back. One step at a time.

দিয়া,                                                 

আজ তোর জন্মদিন। 

এইরকমই একটা মন ভালো করা দিনে মায়ের কাছে এসেছিলি। তারপর সবার মাঝখানে হাসি আর আদরের ফোয়ারা নিয়ে আস্তে আস্তে বড় হচ্ছিস। আজকে তোর জন্মদিনে মা কে দেখে মনে হচ্ছে পৃথিবীর সব আনন্দ টুকু, সবটুকু যেন মায়ের হাতের মুঠোয় ভরা আছে। 

খুব সাবধানে যত্নে মা তুলে রাখবে দিদার পুরোনো সেগুন কাঠের সিন্দুক টায়।দিদার সিন্দুক টাও দিদার মতো। কত বছর ধরে কত নতুন অতিথির আগমন দেখে আর তাদের প্রত্যেক টা মুহূর্ত সাজিয়ে রেখে দেয়। তোরা বড় হয়ে দেখবি বলে। তুই যখন ছুটে দিদার কাছে আবদার করিস, দিদার মনে হয় তোর মুখের দিকে তাকালে নকশী কাঁথার মত আজো স্বপ্ন বুনে ফেলা যায়। সেই সহজে বুনে ফেলা স্বপ্নের মধ্যে দিয়ে তুই একটু একটু করে বড় হচ্ছিস। 

তুই হাসলে বাবা ভাবে ছাদের উত্তরের কোনটায় যেন রোদ্দুর খেলে বেড়াচ্ছে। বাবার সব ক্লান্তি দূর করে দেয়। আর বাবা ভাবে, দিয়া যেন কোনোদিন বড়ো না হয়। 

তুই যখন কাঁদিস, দাদু মনে মনে ভাবে, পুরো পৃথিবীর সাথে লড়াই করবে। তোর চোখের দুফোটা জল ও যে দাদুর কাছে বড্ডো দামি। 

ঠিক এইভাবেই মা বাবা দাদু দিদার মাঝখানে বেড়ে উটছিস তুই। 

তোর এক ঝাঁক সোনালী চুল যখন সকালবেলায় বড্ডো অবাধ্য, তখন সূর্যের আলোয় তোর চোখ দুটো যেন গোটা আকাশ তা ভরে নেয়। তোর খুব সহজে গালভরা হাসি সারাদিনের রসদ যোগায়। তুই এইভাবেই বড় হয়ে ওঠ। 

মেঘের আড়াল থেকে এক ফালি চাঁদ তোর বেড়ে ওঠার সাক্ষী থাকুক। তখন এই চিঠিটায় আমার কথা মনে করিস।।

ফিরে দেখা

অলস দুপুরটা যখন পিছুটানবে,

যখন মন কেমনের ভিড়ে

প্রতিদিনের একঘেয়েমি 

মনে করিয়ে দেবে 

এখনও অনেক দুর দৌড় বাকি,

তখন সেই সব পলাশরাঙা দিনে

ছোট্ট দ্বিধাহীন আবদার আর খেয়ালের বায়নায়

তুমি থেকো।

আমার মন খারাপের সাথে,

আমার অবাধ্য কিছু ভাবনা 

আর ভালো থাকতে চাওয়ার মাঝে।

আয়না  আমার আগুন রঙ্গা পাখি
আজ তোকে দুগ্গা বলে ডাকি
তোর চোখে বহু দুর থেকে
আজো অনেক স্বপ্ন এঁকে...
আমার লড়াই মিছিল তোর থেকেই শেখা
আর পাগল হয়ে বাঁচার স্বপ্ন দেখা

তোর কাজল কালো চোখ
আর খুব সহজ সেই হাসি
তোর তীব্র অবাধ্যতা,
আমি তোর টানেই ফিরে আসি ।
তোর দুচোখ ভরে আজো
সেই খামার বেঁচে থাকে
এখনো তোর কন্ঠ
আমার বুক কাঁপিয়ে ডাকে ।

মেয়ে তোর মরণ নেইযে আজো
যুগ যতো কেটে যায়
আমি মরেও আবার উঠবো বেঁচে
আমি পড়েও আবার দাড়াব উঠে
শুধু  তোর অপেক্ষায় ।

My Little Rhyme

In the incensed mornings
In the quiet noon....
In the lazy evenings,
amongst the things we put an end to
I'll hold your hand, I'll smile with you

When it is cloudy and it rains
When puddles invite us in old childishness...
When the sky is red and blue
I'll hold your hand, I'll laugh with you

If things go wrong
If times are hard...
If there are tough things to do
still....
I'll hold your hand, I'll smile with you

On glittery nights
In our little room...
If we get lost in us...
and don't have a clue...
I'll hold your hand, I'll laugh with you

Falling Stars

That night, it rained stars.
Bright, shining... yellow.
It rained all night long...
The skies watched...hopeful.

The golden light...
crashed upon the window panes.
A lone ray invaded the children's room.
The skies wondered... the future ?

A dusty room
Old, noisy cots...
Aged, crumbled walls...
Children, about a dozen, sleeping delightfully.

Slowly, golden illuminated faces
tender and unwilling eyes forcing open.
Curious even in slumber, they walk towards the window.
The golden light, glittering violently.

One stretches the hand out...
nimble fingers.
He catches a falling star...looks at it.
Awed, puzzled... scared.

Few more come, few more stars caught.
The dusty room now shines
the golden light now encompassing the room,
Twelve children...

And the skies smile, content.
Children... future's face.

3.01.2012

It was roughly 7.45 in the evening when we met. We drove to a coffee shop nearby…and to refresh the memory we went to that coffee shop where we had first met a year ago. To avoid making the whole thing too cinematic, we did not take the same seat. It was this coffee shop only where I had sized him with ample doubt after a friend introduced him to me, and was trying to judge it right then and there whether I liked the way he was talking to me while the “coffee boys” rushed around to serve. Today however, there wasn’t much rush so I noticed relaxed faces among the staff and occasional stare at our table, the reason behind the latter behavior being unknown to me. Looking around, I saw so many things had changed. There were new staff; the shop decor seemed a bit different, sensible music was being played.

Just like the coffee shop, some things had changed in this one year, in our lives as well. In this one year, we have fought over ridiculous and irrelevant matters. I have screamed at him just out of sheer stubbornness, I have refused to listen, I have denied understanding. I have also lost my temper just without any reason. In this one year, on certain occasions he has been rude, he has been irritated and there have also been frequent misunderstandings. At some point of time it I lost patience and wondered, am I going the right way? I pondered over and over again… and then one day when I was about to leave from his place, he stopped, took my hand and said “Stop going home…” I got my answer right then. I am going the right way. Who says the road will be absolutely easy? Who said there won’t be dead ends? There have been many difficulties and there will be more. I have lost my way a few times and I will maybe lose again a few more times, but… I know I’ll always have someone next to me. Someone who will take my hand when I’m lost, show me my way. Someone who will not leave me alone when I’m stuck nowhere. Things will never be perfect but we can shape things up just the way we like. There will always be fights, we will always have some reason to be angry at each other but at the end of the day we will also have enough reasons to be together. This one year together has been very special to me; this has been one year with the exact amounts of happiness and tears. I do not know what is perfect for us. All I know is, we will be there for each other. This new year, cheers to us.

Words and Worlds...

Darkness looms at large outside
eager to trap me...

The road I shall choose
is deserted, barren, rough...

My music will be banned
my words will be veiled...

The world will turn a deaf ear
men will turn away...

But I have a long way to go
countless things to do...
When there is despair around
You shall give me hope...


When there is no one beside
I'll have your hand to hold...
When tunes are lost from life...
you'll be my harmony...
and we'll walk miles
together...

My city

This is my city.
Birds on telephone wires...
A hungry dog waiting,
Patiently near a food stall for his daily crumbs...
This is my city.

A four year old with his little sister,
Balancing along the railway tracks.
Ragged clothes, disheveled hair
Browned by dust...
Illuminating smiles, strengthened with hope...
This is my city.

Narrow lanes, half lighted.
Craftsmen, tired with the day's work...
Hungry and fatigued
Painting the Goddess's eyes...
This is my city.

A little tea stall...
Broken benches and clay cups.
Chatter of life and family...
and the tea maker's collected stories...
This is my city.

The setting sun.
A young group of school goers trotting,
Laughing, talking, tireless...
Full of dreams, high on life.
This is my city.

My city gives me strength.
It gives me courage...
To dream.
It gives me reason...
To love.
This is my city.

Remember me...

Would you remember me as the day gets over?
Slowly, as night ponders whether to take a stroll....
As the tired, defeated cart puller trudges along.

Would you remember me when the kaalbaishaakhi barges in ?
Dust everywhere...adamantly refusing to calm down.
Swaying mango tree, the leaves in their jubilant mood.
A newly wedded girl, sindoor still fresh, drenched sari clasping her
desperately searching for shelter...

Would you remember me in summer afternoons ?
When the cuckoo refuses to stop complaining.
Faint sound of the sitar floats in...
Just used utensils talk in harmony and the young maid
looks out of the window, impatient.
waiting eagerly, for the rendezvous.

I do not need monuments.
Let me live in a little speck in some corner of your life,
overlooked, unseen.
Just remember me as an insignificant beat
an out of tune rhythm,
a flawed taal
among countless such unnoticed things.

The art of growing up.

From the toddling steps to being 21...the journey has not really been what I expected. But then, it wasn`t supposed to be perfect either. Anyway, life isn`t the Princess Diaries and I never really had Matilda`s powers to straighten out things. We all lose...we lose a lot. All of us. But I was never good at losing people...I`m not now either. By the way, by losing people I mean dad here. Yes I have lost him and it still hurts terribly even though it has been two years. But I convince myself that he is still around...somewhere. Obviously that dosen`t work. But that is what we grown ups do...we convince ourselves to compromise. Even if there is nothing to hold on to, we pretend there is something and oh! we are wonderfully good at it ! I find it very amusing. The way we fool ourselves. Consciously. Knowing that we are fooling ourselves. And often we are so proud!
We are so proud of how craftily we are able to do that.
Then we boast around saying, "You know, life never stops. It moves on.
The past dosen`t bother me. Infact I don`t even remember it!"
What lies.
Sir Walter Scott said "Oh what tangled webs we weave...when we first practice to deceive."
We live in the mesh of our own lies. The ones that we have designed so carefully. We go above the self-contradiction it involves, we shut our eyes, we turn deaf to our own feelings.
We know, we know it like a fact how we are still perturbed...how the losses still affect us.
But then again, we also know that brooding is not a solution. We realize that indeed, moving on is the right thing to do. Sometimes, you have to fight to move on. But what about when you can`t fight?
When we can`t fight, we hide.
Our hideout?
The self-made deception to our own-self.
We put on a brave face, do the usual work, live the usual life.
We try to focus on only the happy memories. But what about the absolute absence?
The fact still remains, that the person we have lost, is never going to come back again.
The same person, whom we saw everyday...moving, talking, breathing, isn`t there all of a sudden.
What about that weird, sudden emptiness?....
How long does it take to get habituated with that ?
I don`t know. Probably no one knows.
Everyday, I am conscious about my dad`s absence. Everyday it hurts with the same intensity, as it did on that day. Everyday when I come back home, I gather all the hope I have in me...and wish to see him once again.
And everyday...my hopes are shattered. It is like an unreasonable child within me, who will not accept anything but what she thinks.
But I`m 21. So there are two voices within me. One tells me to act like a 21 year old...and the other, it tells me "whats the harm in being a bit unreasonable, if it gives you peace, even for a moment?"
So here I am. Trapped. I live everyday with the reality that he is not there anymore.
I also pretend he is there somewhere.
With each passing day, I go deeper down the mesh.
Will I ever be able to get out of it and accept reality completely?
I don`t know...
Do I want to?
No. Not even for once.
This is exactly what amuses me about being a grown up.
How beautifully we balance our realization of reality and the deception we drag ourselves into.
"The grown-ups are very strange."

Letting you know that...

I never got bored, looking at you. You would often ask "What do you seek in me? Why do you always look at me like that?" I never knew what to say. Saying "Its because I love you" would sound so...ordinary. And for me, you were always beyond ordinary...and so you are, still now. Back then, I was never able to figure out what was that thing, exactly, that made you so different from the rest. So many years have passed, and now I know. I know now, that it was a connection, undefined, that tied us together. Some mysterious bond that I didn`t have with anyone else. Its usually termed as love...but I think it was something much more deeper than that. I definitely don`t mean to say, that I didn`t love you. I did. Infact I still do. Yes, I know it sounds cliche and melodramatic, but yes, I do. Not that I spend my days drowned in tragedy, and lament that you are no longer with me, and I am not even sure how I`ll react if you ever decide to come back. But, that feeling is still there. Anyway, coming back to relevance. That bond, was completeness. We would complete each other. And it was this profound feeling of being complete, that made me keep looking at you.
I miss you.
I still remember the day we sat together in the coffee shop while it rained outside, incessantly. Everyone was getting so impatient!
We wished the rain would never stop.
Its raining today. I am by my window with that blue album. We kept our pictures here, remember?
You had come up and said "I can`t keep this anymore". 
Watching you walk away, was difficult. There was this feeling of something being detached from me...
Years have passed, you must be somewhere out there, smiling, content.
I have moved on too, but I still feel like hanging on to the album...still gathering the scattered memories.

Unbreakable.

I am immortal. I will come back every time you kill me.
I am tireless. I will rise every time you push me down.
I will not shatter, no matter how much you force me.
I might lose almost all the time, when you fight me,
but I will not back out.
I will stand up and fight again.
You can chain me, imprison me, torture me.
I will still not bow down. I shall still be undefeated.
......
Through ages, you have kept me hungry. To weaken me.
You have neglected me. To make me vulnerable.
You took away my childhood, my youth, my life...
To nurture your bloated ego and power.
You all have used me, to climb.
Then left me below.
Someday, maybe after some more ages...
I shall come back.
Maybe, I will remain powerless, breakable...
But this time I won`t be alone. I shall have my own army.
A war awaits.
A challenge lies patiently.
My shadow lurks.
How many can you kill this time?

Me

My eyes, few lashes that escaped,
when morning greeted...

Do you still remember them?
My uneven disheveled hair...
Do you still find it beautiful?
By blank gaze for sometime,
wondering...
Would you still observe me?....
 ......
I don`t try to look pretty anymore.
I don`t think about what you would have said,
to the tinkle of my bangles...
I don`t remember you when the wild wind,
plays with my hair.
I don`t see you when the evening light,
illuminates the familiar memories.
Do you know why?...
I have found someone worth it.
A friend. A companion.
I have found me.