Smoke

“I like the way the smoke rings rise and expand, and finally disappears into a blue spiral. I think I can go on watching them forever” I said to Y. He was smoking and blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling.

It was dark – power cut- and we were lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. It was too hot and humid to do anything else. I could see the cigarette smoke as a blue haze hanging below the ceiling. It suffocated me a little but I didn’t want to him to go.

“How do you make them?” I prodded him again on receiving no reply to my earlier statement.

“It’s not difficult. Takes a little practice, that’s all. I learnt how to do it when I was twenty years old”

“I want to learn too. Give me a cigarette; I want to see if I can make some too”

“You smoke? I didn’t know that. You never told me.” He said, his voice skirting on accusation. Not because he thought I have started smoking, but perhaps because I didn’t tell him.

“No I don’t smoke. But I want to try”

“Hmmm. Don’t”

I could hear a mosquito buzzing nearby. I hate the Kolkata heat in summers. It zaps the energy out of you and the mosquitoes make it worse. Even though I am the one of the few lucky ones to have an AC, but a power cut makes you realize the futility of owning sophisticated appliances that need the electricity to feed them.

I turned to look at him, my eyes adjusting to the darkness to make out his profile. I resisted the temptation to trace the outline of his face with my finger. Y is handsome, what they call, ‘conventional handsome’. Straight nose, fair skin, big eyes, strong jaw, the works.

“How did you know we will be together?” I whispered, in the darkness, afraid to break the rare current of cozy company I was feeling.

“I knew. I always thought so even when we were not together. I am sure of what I want.”

“How can you be so sure? Love is never constant, isn’t it?” I asked.

“I don’t want to argue but I just know. I am happy with today and so I know it won’t change tomorrow.”

I can’t follow his logic sometimes, but then it felt good to be needed. I guess however we deny and claim to be unaffected; the demonstration of being loved and needed is one of the most basic needs of a human being. It satisfies one of our deepest desires, more than any expression of physical love or amassed wealth, it is the simple declaration by someone that they love us and need us, which makes a difference.

Naturally, I thought about X and the stark contrast between the two people in my life. I wondered how it will end. I realized somewhere I didn’t want it to end. As Y said, even though it's not perfect, I am happy with today so until it doesn’t changes tomorrow, I will count my blessings.

Love on the dark side

“I found it weird. Can’t understand these characters at all. Weird”, said S today when chatting over the papers. We were discussing our weekends. I just smiled. I saw DevD on Friday, then again on Saturday and planning to see it today too. Can’t say I share her view.

 

“Did you ever have an affair that you were not supposed to have?” I asked keeping my paper down.

“No” she replied

“Do you have a boyfriend?” (I know she does and they are what you call a “coochie coo couple”. Gives me diabetes, and no, I am not saying it because I am envious.)

“Yes”

“Have you ever wanted a man bad enough inspite of having a boyfriend?”  

(She really gave me a dirty look this time)

“No!”

“Ok, just one last question, have you ever in your life felt what it is to love someone who doesn’t love you back. Atleast, not so much?”

“No way, why will I fall in love with a man who doesn’t love me back?”

I smiled.

“Then you won’t get it baby. You don’t qualify.”

 

Yes it’s true. I think I can safely say if you say even yes to any one of these question, chances are you will love the movie. I had qualms on watching it with X. “We both know who we can identify with, so I don’t want to feel worse (read not loved enough, sucker for sad men and ego in a million pieces)”

“It’s just a movie. We will watch” he had quipped.

Ha! Coming out of the theatre, we knew why we love it so much. In addition to being wacky, darkly witty, it captures the essence of dysfunctional love that exists in so many quasi couples…and between us.

 

Looking at the bright side, all you ‘Chandas’ out there (me being one?), there is still hope. It feels good to see that even if Devdas may never stop loving Paro, he loves Chanda too (“such a slut”) and can’t survive without her too.

 

Go enjoy the trip on the dark side. I will too again today evening. 

Gene Pool

I took my grandmother out. I thought she looked tried of life’s banality and needed a break (or maybe it was me), but together we went. We had stepped out of a book launch – a translation in Bengali of La Douleur. My French was rusty and I can’t even understand Bengali to save my life, so I sat there, with a fake smile counting the minutes ticking by and was the first one to flee (I didn’t even try out the flavoured tea they were offering) with gran ma in my tow. She is much more sociable than I am. It was her friend who translated that book. Mrinal Sen was there, he also knows her. I was quite thrilled for that one second to be among old people who were sparkling like precious antiques.

We wandered around aimlessly for a while, taking in the sultry, humid weather mingled with dust, honking horns and neon restaurant boards of Park Street. I asked her what she wanted to eat. She said she was game for anything, it took her to a Spanish bar and pub (atleast that’s what it said), it was first time for me too. It turned out to be a pleasant surprise- futuristic décor, eye tonic staff and good music. I think gran ma was much more thrilled than I was. Maybe she remembered her Canada days… to my surprise she asked for the drink menu and ordered a beer. I ordered a frozen watermelon margarita- something I had never heard before- and found myself staring at a huge fountain of crushed ice topped with margarita mixture and watermelon juice. By the time I could finish even half of it; my gran ma was on her second mug.

I was feeling woozy in head but relaxed and nice, I commented,” This is new you. I never thought we would have such a nice time. Now I also know which side of the gene pool I inherit. My dad’s family never even touched alcohol. They were pure vegetarian Brahmins…”

“I know darling. But I am happy you go after our side. We are more interesting,” she replied and winked.

It is strange how naïve we are as children. We have this perfect world around us and as we grow older, we start spotting cracks, blemishes and let’s say how imperfect our world really is. The final straw comes when we ourselves realize we are not perfect and become more tolerant of ourselves and maybe others. Learning how to see and not really see at times.

When I was a kid, my gran ma was someone I had most fun with. She still is a hugely entertaining person. A free spirit…but apart from just humour, jest and vitality, now, after 20 years, I also see the sadness of leaving her alcoholic husband after 20 years of marriage, of losing her sister to malaria- the deadly of all kolkata diseases, of going through the harrowing time of breaking the news to her second daughter that she was adopted… still as she herself says,” I don’t care what happened in the past, I am here to live my present, my future.”

My maasi had the perfect marriage in my eyes, I remember, 15 years back, they were posted in Dehradun, Mausaji is in the defense services. I was 13 years old and had gone to spend the summers. They had this huge old house with lots of servants. I got whatever I asked for breakfast and used to see from the window the couple sitting in the verandah sipping tea and gazing each other adoringly (yuck! Should have known then… it does sound sickly sweet). Ten years down the line … I knew enough to realize that my Maasi was having an extra marital affair and my Mausaji was too artificial in life to do anything about it (I think, he too was having an affair… pretty convenient say?). Talking of extra marital affairs… I am the not the one to pass judgements anyways.
“Why are you giving such a funny expression?”

That jolted me back to present and I asked her, “Do you think I have taken the dark side of the family too?”

“Well dear, everyone has a dark side, some people accept it and live with it and some try to hide it. It is a double edged sword, but everyone has to deal with it”

“How come ma turned out to be so different?”

“She had genes from your Nana’s side I guess; they were always prim and proper. He was too except for his alcoholism,” she replied winking at me.

I smiled at her spunk. Thankfully somethings still remain the same.

Alcoholic Anonymous

I am so swearing off drinks! Bloody expensive and makes me want to sleep. Dreamt that I am peeing vodka.

1 bottle whisky, 1 bottle vodka and 3bottles beer up for grabs... please call

Cold War...

He had said once, after we had a fight and I was hurt by his coldness : "Where is your sense of self? You shouldn't be affected, I think you have low self esteem"

Two thoughts going in my mind at exactly that moment were...

1. Yes, sure, the only problem is I am made of flesh, blood and feelings? (I seriously think nowadays, you are made of cement... you know concrete?)
2. Well, baby, proves my low self esteem - I slept with you didn't I?

Taxi

It was raining heavily. I could see the driver wiping the foggy windscreen of the taxi frequently… his wiper was not working. Inspite of the dirt and filth lying around in Mumbai, rains always manage to give the city a clean look. It looks as if the city is taking a bath after a long and dusty playtime outside. Contrary to the soothing feeling I get by the sound of falling raindrops, today it hardly made a difference. My heart felt as if it was going to jump out of my chest.

He called me yesterday night, asking me to receive him at the station. It was the first time he had gone ahead of his deliberate casual attitude towards everything… towards me. I would be lying if I say it didn’t please me. I looked at the rearview mirror and did a mental check – Kajal, check. Lipstick, check. A little of cleavage was showing… I didn’t care. I was wearing blue and smiled when I realized it was his favourite colour (God! I was acting like a funny teenager). I was sure he wouldn’t even notice it. A loud screech of brakes and sound of the taxi splashing through a huge puddle jerked me out of my reverie.

He had met me a year before… can’t even remember what attracted me towards him in the first place. Doesn’t have the looks or the disposition. He says he doesn’t love me, neither do I. But I did miss him a lot when he was away. Should I tell this to him or not? The rain had stopped and I jumped over the pools of muddy water that had formed everywhere to reach the platform and do what I could … wait.

I spotted him struggling with his 2 bags and walking towards me; we searched for a taxi and just bundled up…luggage and all in the back seat towards his home. Sometimes I think if he never lived alone, we would definitely not be meeting like this. Not a time for self reflection I thought and turned towards him. The first thing I noticed was he had mosquito bites on his neck

“Well, I thought there were fewer mosquitoes at home than here in Mumbai?”
“Well, since you were not there to leave any marks, the mosquitoes did”
“Very funny!”
“Do you want me stay?” I asked
“Upto you. It is always your choice”
“Ok”

I decided not to. Stay that is. Even when he kissed me and asked me to stay.
“Station chalo”, I told the cabbie to catch the nearest local to my home.

If it was just a passing thing, why did it hurt so much to hear those words? Was I going back on my own resolve? That I wouldn’t take this seriously, I wouldn’t take him seriously. Where does that leave me? Was I being true to myself? Is the emotion I see flickering in his eyes for it vanishes just as quickly – love? If not then what? Why are we still together? It was not suppose to last for more than a month and yet here we are, not able to break away. I am going insane? Too many questions and no answers I thought as I left one train of thought to catch a real one.