In Love with a Drug Addict

Smoky night! That's what you call it. A few slender tubes filled with inert gases bent perfectly in shape of English alphabets were burning bright. While the lights would have surely caught your eye balls, you would have definitely found out a few gatherings of teens near the entrance of the decorated pub. This is the very place where Sylvia met Adam. The memories of that night are still clear in her head. Similar smoky night, just with an added whims of the biting cold. She was wearing a short tube top with small silver rings all adorning her body. Her's was a group of four "hot chicks". Trimester was over and the girls wanted to have "some fun".
Adam was a lanky lad of 6ft with long hairs and guzzle eyes. Except his eyes nothing actually attracted Sylvia. She constructed these three years of memories just to forget. Was there something? Not actually. It was very eventful. She was kicked out of her house by Adam in the middle of the night just because of her inability to "cope up" with him, her ear drum being torn apart because of few strong thuds on her cheek and ears and also a few careful sessions by Adam where she was forced to see "make out" videos of him with his ex girl friend. Come on Sylvia was the weaker sex and it was pretty natural.
It is always difficult to love an addict. Adam wasn't a bad guy. Just he had his own set of priorities. He used to come back to her thousand times and tried making her understand. What more could he have done? This is what her rationale always were.
The day when she met him.
"Can I buy you a drink?" Adam asked Sylvia. The beats of some random thumping of the ceiling of the pub was pretty strong.
"Dude at least stand on your feet properly while asking girl out." Sylvia wanted to reply.
"No. Thanks. I am fine with my friends" she replied sipping from her glass and looking at the DJ.
"OK. Fine. Enjoy the party. "
"Like WTF. What does he think of himself? Anyways it's better to ignore such slouch."

A few hours later she was about to get in the loo. A sharp hand caught her wrist and took her along. After she stopped walking she could feel his fingers started combing down. She was so intoxicated that she could not figure out what exactly was happening. After ten minutes she could gradually feel that the guy whom she met before was carefully putting the garments on her body one by one. Adam asked her number. She denied. He snuggled her phone from her purse and typed in his number. Things gradually started rolling and she was not even sure on what grounds were they rolling.

At the end of three years she was already in debts because of procuring "stuffs" for him. Adam didn't use to work not he used to study. But he was a brilliant guy in his friends circle. Even among Sylivia's friends. But it always used to pinch her that for Adam drugs were first then it was her. She wasn't fighting to alter the priorities for sure. She was gradually used to with that.
The room was even darker after thirty years passed by. Just a beautiful sleek table lamp throwing away adequate luminance to brighten up the cover of the new book she bought today from Barnes and Nobles. It was "Stolen" by Lucy Christopher. She understood he was in love with addiction but she failed to realize that she, herself, was in addiction to love.

Let's Decide

I was returning from my hometown, Kolkata. As usually it was Rajdhani express since I can't let my mamma get the shock of her life. So needless to say this journey was pretty different from the previous ones. Normally what flows in my mind is when the train will reach Delhi, will I be able to reach home quickly, get dressed fast and reach office within time? But this time there were no such tensions.  Instead of that there were uncertainties. There will be no 'to-do's in office but there will be 'everything-has-to-be-done's in the void. When the sense of accomplishments of deciding not to hold the hands of fate and live a blind life was enthusing more blood through my veins, there was definitely a pinch of apprehension on the abilities that ought to pave the road to glory or to perdition. When I resigned from job a few weeks back, believe me, there was not an iota of doubt. You can name that thing as "belief", "sense of positivity" or just "boiling blood of a poor but an ambitious Bengali". Similar to this there had been a lot of times when I had to take that "hard call" (May be the next version of my Dirty Little Secrets will have a few of them). And I know, most of you had definitely been through similar situation. At the end of the day, the outcomes of these decisions, decides how good or bad were they. There is a Gestation period of every decision. As in period between the day you decide and the day the decision fruits an outcome. And for most of the "hard call" decisions have a long a gestation period. On top of that these gestation periods for each of the decisions are again pipelined  when multiple "hard call" decisions seems to share the same time frame. So my entire concern with all these is that normal day to day life gets pretty fucked up which causes unnecessary stress and we start our catcalls of "work-life balance", "gender equity at work space", "overtime loads, etc. 

The MOUSE in the CAGE

I was thinking to write about this particular thing for quite a while. But every time I stopped because I thought it will be a pretty complex task to pen down. Anyways my sister who herself is a very good writer (but doesn’t write at all) had been the biggest critique in telling me why my writing gets so complex, so that also acted as a deterrent. Anyways let me do this this time.

The entire shit I am going to write next is not a verified truth. Treat it as an outcome of several paragraphs I read, a few videos I saw and a few learned person I talked with. When I summed everything up, some way or other I felt that that there is an incipient coherence that binds all the theories, religions and the expressions which we observe in this 3D world together. I want you to validate that. This is the reason why I will ask you to ponder on the facts and hypothesis. Even if you don’t vouch for them, it will definitely be an interesting read, for sure.

This essay will be on “dimensions”. Yes the dimensions and it’s theory on which Stefan Hawkins is working. Muons, Fermions, string theory and all possible difficult stuff you can think off. But wait don’t get scared away. I will try to elucidate them as possible as I can. 

There are ten dimension in hypothesis and even to a certain extent, proved. Mr. Hawkins is working on 11th dimension which get described in m-theory. But believe me I won’t get to deep into the physics of the things. My sole purpose is to gradually transcends into how life, you & me and how the world around us gets somewhat justified with these higher physics and mathematics. And that might interest you.

Let’s start our journey from the very first dimension and try to build the next one with the previous one. To help you out in doing so, I will jot down a few postulates which will guide you whenever it will get difficult for you. (I have been able to fetch out till 6th dimension. From seventh on wards, it needed huge mathematical work-through which I wasn’t able to understand. I will definitely need some help from my physicist friends to grasp them and come back with some better understanding).

A Substantial Void

How will a Void look?

I had been writing blogs for a few days. And I write only when I feel like writing. Now there is a paradox that’s bugging my mind from a few days back. It’s just waiting to sting me. So let me write about the same today before it pains me to hell.

I am gradually edging to that fag end of my life wherein I have to put in daily hard effort to cohere my thoughts and actions. As a child when we grow up, most of us were squabbling in the ocean of possibilities. You like playing football, you will think you can be a good footballer or at least do something related to football. You got good marks in Physics for a few time with the help of divine intervention and that thought have definitely crossed your mind that you can be the next Stephens Hawkins. It’s like there are numerous floating stones in the ocean and depending on which one is near, you will hold on to any one of them and be happy for the rest of life. But there is one thing you can’t deny. With time, gradually the confusion of possibilities fade away by your decisions and you zero upon something which you will name as fate. Mostly this process of zeroing up doesn’t depend on your decisions absolutely, unlike a few lucky souls. Next comes the struggling phase when you speed up your train of thoughts to light years. But again that journey happens on a track whose destination is predefined. And in a very few cases if you achieve, after few years, on a sunny bright morning, when you will be trying to overpower the pain of your knee joint reaching the table to grab the cup of coffee, the pain of contemplation will strike you sharp.

Either you will feel “why am I sad?” or you will question “why am I less happy?” or be that ignorant to feel “How happy I am!” (Reason for calling you ignorant is that by that time you will already be ignorant enough to dismiss the fact that you can even be happier, in absolute sense of the term). This contemplation will have a thicker part of the thought when you will question your decision of on to which track you have drove your train so far. The reason why you will contemplate will be because of the reason that your decisions in the past had been thoroughly circumstantially existential. Even that is fine if you are contented with the same. You might even go forward one step and tell it to yourself “Kinjal, your decision system was nourished by the maturity which was the outcome at that particular period of time. So it is fine if your achievements are compromised because your decision system was also compromised”

Under the Broad Daylight

Days will ever seem so longer when your mind will remain in a world and your body will remain somewhere else. Most difficult are the times when you are relentlessly trying to traverse in two different time frames. Sometimes these journeys unknowingly becomes very cherishing, sometimes they are equally painful. When you try to question what kind of life you want to live, you will find all good fallacies. You will try to rationalize everything with logic and then will start the eternal fight which you were fighting from your birth.

When too much of elusiveness and unpredictability starts exciting you, sometimes you will start feeling that its clogging your throat and tearing you apart in pieces. Being a guy who is always marred in this dichotomy, it had never actually made me bothered. But in recent past, this is erring me to hell. Believe me, I am feeling like I am into a big dream. A dream of odd 70 or 80 years, which will break into smithereens all of a sudden. The unpredictability of the final destination is scaring the shit out of me.

Smells of rotten potatoes and medicines are growing stronger and I am feeling dizzier.

You know sometimes I feel like there is another self of mine in some different universe. He is the alien king of that alien kingdom where there are no other organisms. He smells with his heart and sees with his brain.

I need another shot and I have to wake up quite early. Loads of exercise to happen tomorrow.

You know I had always dreamt like you. In the most stupid way. Dreams of living in a world that is free in letting its child wander in the woods of aspiration, that is free in providing all the existential subsistence. But mine fades in the thin air even faster than that of yours.

Terribly Tiny Tales:1

Please click the pic to see the story.
I had been writing a bit long essays for last few months. At the same time I was also thinking to start a series of Terribly Tiny Tales. So here comes the first one. 

Just to provide the background. I was posted in Raigarh, a place which is devoid of any human presence. My roommate, Srikanth Sriram and I, were coming back from a brief Chai Sutta session through the main gate of the steel plant. We were discussing on our exes, crushes and more generically "GIRLS". And he fetched that hidden "Chauvinist Pig" in me. This T3 is dedicated to that PIG!

Gripper Drawing Board Clip Unbreakable 4 pcs.

My first lesson

I am travelling in Patna Rajdhani, holding on to this small box. The box had already turned into an artifact. Pretty similar to a fossil. Pressed, torn, off-colored. Why not? It had been more than 9 years when the tryst began. One face of the paper box had all these words in the title cluttered in the most non-fashionable way and that too on a pink background. But the other side restored the golden letters “C D E G A B”. Never imagined that these seven letters will be so important in my life.

Flashes from a 9 year old Frame:

“Dude! Royal Stag Magic Moments. Shanker Ehsan Loy are coming to City Center”. In an hour decisions made and we were bunking classes to listen to them in Salt Lake, Kolkata. 

Both Kishalay and me reached the venue unusually before the time.

Present:

My ipod is pretty intelligent and it understands my mood even better than myself. Now when I am not in a mode to listen to Guetta or Eluveitie or Amon Amarth, its playing “Bezuban” from Piku, “Piu Bole” from Parineeta. (Come on ..my mind was in Kolkata. So it definitely ought to play some odd bong songs). I was travelling even faster than Rajdhani and that too away from rajdhani towards my loving city, Kolkata. I don’t know, may be after a killer thriller scene of “How Kinjal will catch the train” his nerves wanted to sooth in some beautiful reminiscence.

Flashes from a 9 year old Frame:

“Dude. He sounds exactly the same as he sounds in the movies.” Kishalay whispered in my ears restraining himself in the permissible range of frequency which he was allowed. “Whats the next Karaoke?” I asked anxiously of the fact that if some sweet oldy comes up which I am comfortable with I will try to muster all my courage to share the stage with the star triads and sing a few lines. What can be a better experience than this?

“Chookar mere mann ko is the next song. And who will love to sing this one with a little help from none other than Shanker Mahadevan?” the emcee shouted in the most ecstatic way.

“Go fucker. You will never get a better chance than this” I got a terrible push from Kishalay.

Familiarity

The morning seemed extremely familiar. Standing under the running shower, the struggle to reach my upper back and clean them was familiarly difficult. So was the feeling when I boarded the metro for my office. I was holding the complete work of Kafka, as I had been doing for the entire last month. But somehow today I was feeling pretty hollow from inside. I stood at the corner of the sliding door of the metro. A small kid was ambling very cutely holding her mother’s legs who was sitting on the crowded bench. All of a sudden the kid started walking. Snuggling through the forests of legs in the crowded metro he arrived to me. With few small little fingers in her mouth she stared at me with those clear watery eyes. She seemed to have stumbled with all grave awkwardness as if an alien creature is standing in front of her. I was already feeling quite hollow. Now I was even pushed further more to the space of my uncomfortable self. Surreptitiously, the inner struggle floated up again.

I started nagging as usual. Am I doing something meaningful? Am I doing what I am liking? Am I liking what I am doing? All these useless questions started flying around.

The metro reached Kirti Nagar where I was supposed to get down. Surprising the kid with her mom was about to get down on the same station. She was holding her fingers and crying. I wished my mom was here. I wanted to cry holding my mom’s fingers.

I hired an auto rickshaw and reached office with the familiar hollowness.

Tring!!! Tring!!! “INR xx,xxx.00 deposited to A/c No xx8702 towards NEFT Cr-UTIB000***-xxxxxxxx-Kinjal Roy AXTB161768739092 VAL 02_MAY-16. Clr Bal is INR x,xx,xxx.15 subject to clearing.” Ohh!! It was my salary day!!!

Welcome back Mr.Roy!!. Welcome to the NECROPOLIS!!!

NB: Last night I was shopping at a mall with a girl I met on a popular dating App. After I left her, I took a hand pulled rickshaw back to my place.

Dirty Little Secret - 1

The Ears

Probably the best and the most intangible asset that God have created for us is our mind. And probably it’s the only one which pains us and which amortizes at a speed of light years. Loads of books written, movies made, poems recited to frame its intricacies and circuitry.

It just happened to me yesterday.

I was trying to cook pasta in my kitchen. All of a sudden I felt a mild tickle on my foot. Most determinately, I was sure it was some cockroach or some lizard. And yes, it was a small dull yellow colored creature, still resting on the floor without caring my existence. I started my usual caricatures. “Whoosh! Whoosh!” I was flagging my slippers in air around it. It was not moving. I slapped them with my full force on the ground. It still didn’t move. I took my broom stick. Tried to poke it with the smoothest of the touches so that it doesn’t retaliate. That didn’t click either. But what happened, gave me a concrete information.

It was dead. I moved it with the broom stick for a couple of times to confirm that.

I bought two beer cans and my night was about to take off smoothly. Pasta, grilled chicken, beer, music and my cozy bean bag. What can be a better form of loneliness than this? Half an hour, I was done with the food and another can was left. Some sudden thuds in the windows and it assured that it was pouring heavily outside. I went out in my balcony with my beer. Sprinkles of diffused rain drops drenched my face. I was pretty relaxed and suddenly the lights went off. I was feeling even better. Random thoughts, abstract calculations of what I am doing with my life, dreams, wishes and all useless stuffs were roaming and bogging my mind. Fair enough! This is the regular stuff that happens to a 28 years old mind.

After a while, sudden flickers of tube light notified the electricity is back. I looked down. Just in front of my right toe, the lizard was lying. It was, as if, looking at me and asking numerous uncomfortable questions. I closed my eyes for a few seconds. A blurred but a pristine face of my grandpa appeared in front of me. I sensed my sweats mixing with the sprinkled rain water. 

Ahhh!!! I could have been more responsible!!!

N.B.: My grandpa died eight years ago in an old age home which was just twenty minutes away from our house. Courtesy, my father.

The Fault in our STARS!

The Thought

He bent his legs in half-chair position while shifting his body weight tactfully on each of them alternatively. The girl was standing at the corner and watching the act of the guy. A piece of cloth with all possible vibrant colors was lying on the corner of the stage. The guy picked it up and wore that around his head like a turban and started sending streams of flying kisses to the girl.

Well well well! What can be a natural reaction of the girl?

If it was on the stage of Royal Concert Hall and the girl standing on the corner was just waiting for the guy to propose her in the most epic way as it was in Tamasha, its perfect and extra ordinary. If it was some random stalker guy on the roadside, performing this CARICATURE (note the choice of words) for the girl whom he watches daily while she boards her office bus, it’s perversely imperfect and saddeningly extra ordinary. My question is not to find out right or wrong, good or bad or black or white. It is a free world. My apprehension lies somewhere else. If the stalker wished to create that extraordinary dream into reality, will it ever get ornamented so beautifully? May be you will need an Imtiaz Ali and an A.R.Rahman to create that MAGIC!

An Autumn of Loneliness

It was a night that he can never forget. The equi-spaced 600W sodium vapor bulbs on the roadside were producing some mysterious chrome shades which were blending perfectly with the thick mists of the chilly mid-December night. When the hypnotic night was choking his thoughts, sudden flashes of frames in green were lashing the languid clemency of his mental shape.

Yes. It is painful to be gay and that to when the vigor of your body fails to run in tandem with the sexual hunger of your mind. It was happening to him and his marrow was rotting very fast.

I am talking about the professor from Aligarh Muslim University. A very naive person who had a poignant taste for old Bollywood classics of Mangeshkar, dark Hindi poems of Kolatkar and a daily schedule of cheap rum.

I watched the movie in a multiplex in Raipur where the most elite audiences couldn’t keep their laughter in hide. I went alone since I wanted it in some way, challenge me. However modern and cool I try to shape myself there always comes an iota of apprehension when it comes to interacting with people having a homophilic sexual orientation. I wanted to wash that away.

For the people who haven’t watched the movie, Professor Siras, the protagonist of the movie, was caught and videotaped forcefully by two people who entered his house while he was in some sort of compromising situation with a rickshaw puller.

Man in Cafe:

Still the days were beautiful when your Facebook  wall never used to get marred with all those frivolous posts from your friends. I remember the time of the day when I found a pic of the famous painting "Man in Cafe" by Juan Gris on my wall. Its still there in my mind because it was shared by a girl from my class on whom I used to have a secret crush.
Well, good old memories, as they always are. Now I am travelling back to  my city and its the time of dusk. The brightly burned sun is getting ready to dip in the arms of the horizon and I am listening to a beautiful love ballad. So you can get an idea of the bitter sweet mood I am in.
The moments when  you feel for someone are actually very momentary. For the rest of the time your life is etched by the factories, machines and the gears of the cities which keep on counting zeroes for you. And pardon me if I am wrong, its the most neo-realist existence of us. There is a subconscious vicissitude which forces art to evoke multiple emotions in the minds of the their viewers. And this amble is creatively syncopated with the likes and dislikes of our life.

Let it be UGLY

A Fat Bloke, a limp beauty and a Marketeer:

I:

The flab on my neck sometimes come to the brim of my chin when I try to ogle at sexy kinky girls through the corner of my eyes. Look this was just a piece of information for you. I am pretty fine with my flab.

Probably these days, even being on the 369th round of Candy Crush and mind you, without taking any fucking help from my friends, doesn't seem enough to put me in my bliss-mood. Ahhh! What the fuck is happening to me?

II:

The crudest feeling of being a beautiful attractive chick miserably fails when my limp leg sends the sudden sharp chill through my spines. It’s pretty hurting as it puts your body to numb for a few black

A leaf from a lunatic's diary

You told me many a times that I can catch cold when I will be unclad. I never questioned you because you were my mother. But last night again I found out a numerous disrobed soldiers in the coldness of my blanket. Aren't they feeling the same as I am feeling or are they orphans? In recent past I have seen their numbers increasing astronomically. They shout at me, they lambaste me. They threaten me not to sing,  not to draw or even to think. Aren't they too audacious? I think I could have defeated them if I were more cold. But what will happen to my dreams? Won't they freeze?

I dreamt to play Beethoven on my violin for my beloved standing beside the broken roads of Austria where ten thousand Nazi's had marched. I think I can save myself from the blood drenched bayonet of those creatures.

I dreamt to present a blood red bougainvillea to my love on a sunny bright morning amidst the smoking sands of