been there...done that...

i dreamt that i was late for the exam...
how typical.
i fished out this thick fat book from a shelf to study for it...and didn't even turn a page. but i will get brownie points for at least finding the damn book :)
the whole day prior to the exam i spent clutching my tummy and whining.
why?
because it felt as if someone with really cold hands was clutching my stomach and squeezing the life out of it. does that qualify as food poisoning? i don't know.
come morning when the hands where still squeezing i wanted to remove my tummy forever-how much difference would it make?
mom said-"you really don't have to give the exam..."
whoa!!!did i hear her right? did she just say that i didn't have to give the damn exam?lord! i must be real sick then!!and she had made me sandwiches to take with me for lunch..like a good little girl i would dutifully finish the first half of the exam and then sit outside in the winter sun on some bench, dangle my legs and eat the sandwich and study.
i ate one sandwich, didn't dangle my legs, didn't study. so there!
you may judge me for that.
i sincerely had no clue about the paper and people studying out side totally amused me. they were in their sweaters and mufflers and monkey caps and shawls and cardigans....
and i sauntered in wearing a sweatshirt.
they dutifully studied while their parents kept an eagle eye on them giving filthy looks to other people around who might try to sneak a look into their son's or daughter's precious notes. my mom just stood there advising that i should take a cab back home in case i felt sick.
i love my mom. i do.
there were some fathers there as well. i knew my father would not be caught DEAD there. i found a classmate and we saw another classmate and refused to recognize him. we didn't study and we calculated as to how long they might keep us there and not let us leave the exam hall. the instruction booklet said that they would not let the student use the loo in the last 20 minutes of the exam. that was the only thing that made me nervous. who cares about essay type questions and 20 short notes?
not me!
i am after all one of the intellectuals of the country. woohooo
they asked questions like-
what do you do if a student misbehaves in class?
which were the dates that sunday fell on in April 1994?
wtf!!!
the girl who sat next to me for the exam was giving it in bengali, since i finished my paper AGES back i stared at her paper trying to read what she was writing. they didn't let me leave early so i left my paper and went to the loo instead. and the loo had pigeons nesting there. long live CU!!!
i choose random answers for the MCQs and wrote utter nonsense in the essay types. why was i at all here?
the whole saga carried on from 9 in the morning to 4 in the evening. i was thoroughly entertained.
sorry mom- i am not a good girl and i am not going to clear this exam.(the National Eligibility Test- so now you know!)

Homeward Bound

They don't sell platform tickets anymore...did you know that?
well..now you do!
This always happens...you want to go home and then when you are finally in that God forsaken train heading back you wish you could run off and flee.
i keep saying that i don't know any longer where home is.
the dratted train takes roughly 24 hours to cover a distance that another train takes 17 odd ones. why?
this completely baffles me!
and besides those irritating bed bug infested 24 hours the ever friendly attendants tell us that the train is 2 hours late!
"MAADAAM jaast 2 hours laate...it is raining naa..."
what do you say to that?
the people in the adjacent berth stare.
they stare when i eat.
when i sleep.
when i read.
when i wipe my face.
when i stare outside the window.
and i can't even slap a gscash on them.
the scenery outside is drenched in rain. the windows in our exclusive ac compartment get clouded over as skies grow darker outside.in some odd small station we have reached before the rain has. and then it catches up. a goat runs under the post office for cover.
there are some kids in the compartment too, just opposite my seat. a whole family in fact. they collectively gasp and mumble and giggle every time my friend and i use an explicit four letter word. and that seems to happen every 5 minutes.
what to do?
the journey is so mindblowingly uneventful!
the tea is bad..the coffee worse. and lets not even discuss the food!
a day old and cold kfc chicken seems brilliant in comparison.so we chew on that.
i finish off a whole book.
i finish off the battery in my mp3 player.
i have heard and reheard 52 songs.
did you know that the children in the villages still stand and wave at the passing trains?
obscure pandals and out dated lights. but you know that there is something to celebrate.
the train lurches to the final halt. the great bengali race must instantly gather all their luggage and family members..exactly in that order and jump off the train. i wish they had done that when the train was in full speed...
my bag is so HEAVY...
disgruntled and marginally relieved i walk out of the over crowded station and head home while half my head and heart lies elsewhere...
after all i did not pay for these "jerks"!!!

dratted weather!

must not let the weather get to me....

i want a hug...

Home coming

Blank.
Empty.
Dying.
Touch.
Vision.
Dark.
Blank.
No sleep. Nothing here. I have lived a whole holiday out of a suitcase simply because I am so lazy that I could not bother to unpack. Then...what would it amount to? Unpack and then pack up once again when it is time. There is so much I wanted to do here. So much I wanted to come home to. But this is not me coming home. This is just a holiday. The room is no longer mine. And my clothes and books lie packed up somewhere. Lives put into big brown boxes to make space for new things.

Let me talk to my sister now. I don’t know when I will see her next and when I do she may not have time.
Let me hug ma now. I don’t know when I will see her next and when I do she may not hug me back.
Let me ask amma now, all the questions in the world. I don’t know when I will see her next and when I do she may not have any advice to give me.
Let me irritate the dog now. I don’t know when I will see her next and when I do she may not recognize me anymore, she may treat me like she treats baba.
Let me try and change my brother now. I don’t know when I will see him next and when I do his girl friend might hate me.

I am becoming my father am I not?
In a few years I shall give everyone explanations as to why I choose not to come home, how terrible it is here, and how this holiday would heavily mar my work schedule and how expensive it is to travel these days...
You know...there is never enough that you can take back with you. You cannot take 22 years away with you. 22 million fights, 22 million broken promises, 22 million attempts, 22 million failed attempts. 22 million hugs. My family. My house.

Blank.

This is not the dust of brown and shards of life,
Reduced fragments of existence- letters, bubblegum wrappers;
Tears and bird feathers.
The dust shines- shines down from other worlds into the altheiometer of Pullman’s novels.
Dust that circles our footsteps day in and day out of so many classes and so many hours.
Fragments of existence and sand and coloured stones, sea shells and echoes of temple bells.
This dust is me. And you and us.
It settles on my shoulders on calm quiet nights and speaks of spectres and daemons-
This dust mingles in my blood and spikes my tears to salty droplets.
The red dust; of votes and elections and false ballots;
Of politics and sociology and Korean studies.
This dust is them.
And those there were and are yet to be.
A dust of dreams and passions and empty words.
This dust is everything we want to be.
Then the skies darkened over our little intellectual heads and colourful umbrellas opened up.
But the dust rose from our prayers and term papers and diary pages.
Circled the souls of new little puppies and left over colour from yesterday.
It slipped out through their fingers and through our skins.
The dust settled in thought puddles.
The dust flew with emotions to every lover in every tree shadow.
Who knew our existence was trailing away?
And the lives ran unending races and sweated dust in plenitude that soiled the paper money and fuelled our banks.
The dust rose and fell like a sleeping child’s breath and the echo of church bells.
The storm raved the rocks, raped the trees and took the dust.
The dust and the storm of a thousand hungry years of tearful revolutions and misplaced thoughts.
The storm was them and the dust everything we could be.
Have you ever wondered why you still feel
Empty?

class notes I

What am I? An orgasm 5 light years away from home.
Doing? Fulfilling existentialist duty.
Here? Perpetual deja vu.
There? We end up where we started from.
Nowhere? Everywhere is nowhere.
Who am I? A totally insignificant thought.
Talking? Sorry but you’re only lip syncing.
To? Everyone just pretends to hear.
Listening? We are all deaf.
Are my eyes? Huge hollows with glass in them.
Closed? The birth control pill shop.
As? Spelling mistake. Ass.
I? Communalism. We.
Watch the comets collapse? Was it on AXN?
Stars? Those far away diamonds.
Break? I need a break.
Tears? Boys don't cry.
Dry? Bread.
Dew? Drops.
Drops? Rain.
Like? Scarlett’s boobs.
Dreams? Night makes.
On the darkest nights? Every night.
Onto your palms? Religion sucks.
Do you? Die.
Hear? I’m deaf.
Feel? Apathy.
Know? Books.
Fingertips on my lips? Shhh...
Silence? ________
White noise? My voice.
Glass shards? Broken dreams.
Do I? You know.
Call? 9891701310
You? Always there.
Mine? Sure.
End. Did it?

Is this a shopping list
Things
Named.
Talked and tagged.
Where is the price?
How much
For
“Stars”
“Break”
“Dew”
How much.
20 pounds of dew.
Sunlight shines through
The list burns
Left
Residue.
No trace of the list.
What is this?
The shoping list?
Sorry! I left the wallet at home.
Bye bye. Have a good day.