You were supposed to write me something. Yes i did.
Today the 26th of January, 2011 completes my 6th month of being in a very stable, interesting and amazing relationship with a girl I’m just too crazy about.
All the celebrations are in queue but right now I’m in a pondering state of mind. With a certain level of experience in relationships now I can’t help but wonder who actually coined the term ‘Relationship’.
In a very clichéd sense the dictionary meaning of the word turns out to be, the state of being related by kindred, affinity, or other alliance. Kindred means Kin, Affinity means Attraction and Alliance means a state of being allied to someone. My question. Is a relationship really that simple?
If someone were to offer me a million dollars to fish out of me a definition of the word ‘Relationship’ I think I would pass. I possibly couldn’t fathom the enormosity of the word. It is almost limitless. A relationship has a lot of pros and cons. It frightens me.
Were you reading all of that with utter sincerity? Oops. Fooled you. That is utter bullshit. Nothing is true beyond the first paragraph. I shall mend my ways now. I’ll write the rest of the blog sincerely. I promise. Here goes.
I had always been very curious to get into a stable relationship which had the potential to go all the way. Unfortunately I tried the same approach over and over again and it failed miserably. But that hardly matters now. When you find the right person the past seems so irrelevant. And yet you want to know everything in it. Not because you’re scared of the skeletons in the closet but rather because you fear losing the one you love. You fear someone from the past pointing a finger at you, questioning your love.
Sometimes you feel so guilty that you want to end the relationship. Not because you’ve had enough rather because you think that you’re suffocating the other person. Sometimes you’re so afraid of what the future might bring that you lay down your arms in the present.
You laugh. You cry. You caress. You cuddle. All different forms of endearment. But somehow your hearts get entwined. You subconsciously start thinking about the other person. You feel helpless. You feel restless. You want to be with them now. Just now. Oh god please!
You sometimes question yourself to see if you are worth the love that you are being showered with. There are certain faces when you see yourself as a pitiful tramp and sometimes you see yourself as a gallant king. The king is confidant but the tramp tries to push away the love. Trying to build a cocoon of self respect.
Matter of factly the things I said after the first paragraph did turn out quite right. A relationship is not child’s play. Neither does making out in parks count as a relationship. Relationships are tough my dearies. A girl or a guy simply doesn’t have what it takes to build a relationship. It’s a job for the men and women, for above all else relationships require high amounts of maturity, emotional stability and the willingness to share. A relationship is giving, taking, sharing, caring, loving, and so much more. It is all that I wrote and it is also all the stuff that I didn’t.
You just cannot define love or relationships. No way. But from the past 6 months if I have got any idea about relationships to build my own definition, it will be this.
“A relationship is not about doing the obvious. It’s about doing things that are not obvious but expected. It is about bunking lectures to meet that special person and yet getting scolded by her. It is about being late and yet telling her that you’re almost there just so that she gets mad at you but not as much as she would have been to know that you’re running late. It is about doing things for her and not letting her have even the smallest clue about it. It is about telling what’s wrong by just looking into their eyes. It is all the above and so so much more. But most importantly it is about having the most amazing, the most beautiful, the most charming, the most intelligent and the best woman by your side. But me, I’m special. Most of you just get women. I found my Lilypad!”
Lilypad!
You’re special!
You’re amazing!
You’re a necessity!
The things you do,
The things you say,
My deepest worries,
All shy away.
I think I’ve found it,
True bliss they say,
Yet when I see you,
I feel it’s far away.
A Tribute To My Grandfather!
It was only the other day that I was wondering that I hadn’t written a tribute on my blog. Both ironically and sadly it was somehow intended to be my grandfather.
On the 8th of August 1928, my grandfather Mr. Paresh Chandra Misra was born into one of the wealthiest zamindar families of Bengal in undivided India. I do not know much about his childhood or youth but from what I have heard he played an active part in the struggle for Indian Independence following the leftist communist ideology. He was an avid follower of Jyoti Basu, one of the most famous politicians and leaders in India.
He later joined the FPI and settled down in a job. He became the deputy director and was shifted to the ministry of Food. He was a man of such strong will that he used to walk 10 kilometers home every day from Fresco Street to Raja Basanta Roy Road. I don’t know much more about him in the days before I was born so I shall go ahead to what I remember.
I was the first child in my generation in my immediate family. And 3rd if the extended family was considered. So needless to say I was pampered beyond my wildest dreams. No would could scold me, no one could hit me but if they did it always Dadai (my grandfather) who took my side and scolded the person who took my case.
I was the only kid who had the guts to go into his room and play around with the antiquities hanging on the walls. The others were just too scared of him. Even most of my relatives; and I’m talking about my grandma’s brothers the youngest of whom is 56 now; called him Tiger which aptly suited his persona. My dad still remembers how the entire road on which our house stands used to empty as soon as he was seen on the corner.
My Ammi(grandmother) told me how Dadai single handedly provided the financials required to marry off her sibling. He was a man for whom respect came naturally. So strict and disciplined and yet such a noble man.
When I first joined South Point I used to go to school in the morning by a van and Dadai always used to bring me back home. It used to be an adventure every day, crossing the busy roads of Gariahat, getting on a tram in the middle of the road and then walking from Deshapriya Park to my house. I used to have lunch and then sit in his room while he smoked his Cheroot. He never said much but I always saw his eyes follow me around the room, a playful smile in his eyes as if he wanted to join my play.
One day while returning from school, I jumped onto the steps of the tram. A 3 inch long piece of iron went into my knee. Dadai tried everything but my pain wouldn’t lessen, he even tried closing the wound with his finger but it just pained more. As soon as I got down from the tram he picked me up and carried me home 3 kilometers. That ended our little adventures, he was termed as too old for the duty of bringing me back from school. But I wasn’t ready to give it up. I pleaded and pleaded but to no avail. I was put on the school bus. That somehow increased the distance between us.
A month or so later Mom got transferred to Delhi and I moved to. Now I could only see him only for some days in a year. But he had grown old and kept sick most of the times. I remember fighting him for TV time and my mom scolding me. Then I saw my brother fighting with him for TV time and quite naturally it was me who scolded him. Then came the time when he himself let go of the TV and wanted us to watch. He kept growing weaker day by day and yet every time I talked to him, whether face to face or on phone, he always said ‘God bless you my child!’ He loved his grandchildren like crazy and nothing we did ever could be wrong.
He was very fond of Fish Fry and Sandesh and he always wanted to be amidst lots of people. He loved having people around. Yet his luck was such that his entire kin lived far away from him.
Last time I came to Kolkata in October, I could not give him my full attention as something was ailing my mind. Yet I tried to spend as much time with him as was possible. I held him up, made him sit, something he hadn’t been able to do for months. Seeing his son, daughter, daughter-in-law and his two grandsons gave him the strength and will. He wanted to live beyond a 100.
I met him before I was leaving for the airport. He had tears in his eyes and yet a smile on his lips. He looked at me and said ‘I wish you luck in all your endeavors. I know you’ll make me proud. Best of luck my child.’ He touched my cheek and looked out of the window, he was too proud a man to let me see him cry. And he didn’t see the tears in my eyes either. I got up and left, not knowing that I would never see him again.
He breathed his last on the 19th of January, 2011 at 12:45 pm. He was 83. All the organs had failed and he was suffering from severe septicemia. It was Dad who called to let me know. His voice was shaky. I along with my mom, brother and aunt took the 7:45 flight to Kolkata. The proceedings in Kolkata were waiting for us. We received the body of my grandfather. And there on his face was such a blissful look, like he had attained peace and no one had to worry about him anymore. I brought my brother to see him one last time. He was silent. He didn’t cry but he was silent. I put my arm around him and asked ‘You know what happened, right?’ He calmly replied that he had.’
Then we headed to the crematorium while my brother went home. He quietly asked mom ‘Where have they taken Dadai? To heaven?’
Mom replied ‘Yes!’
With a smile on his face he turned back to watch TV. I guess that’s how life goes on. And we need to learn that from him.
Rest In Peace Dadai. All is good here down below. We are all happy that your suffering ended. May your blessings be with us forever. We all love you.
I LOVE YOU.
Thank You Mam!
Being brought up with 5 girl cousins and many more aunts who are just a few years older than you; takes quite a toll on a guy. I mean, he could basically start getting along with and understanding women. He could potentially be the biggest threat to feminism or even possibly the biggest womanizer ever.
The kid was me and I guess I am not at either of the extremes. Now you would ask why I even mentioned the first line of the post if it did have no effect on me. But it did. Maybe just not so much. I am not Mel Gibson from What Women Want and neither am I Barney Stinson. I just had the uncanny ability to get insights into a woman’s mind which was considered impregnable and quite hostile, the mind that is, not the insights. Turned out it was a very nice place. But there was a pre-requisite to that; a woman should be able to trust you.
I spent endless hours listening to women pour out their hearts to me and it started from a very young age. It was nice to hear them talk, to build upon the trust. I had no ulterior motives never did.
Oh! Wait! I think I did once. But hey, it never worked out. That was the fallacy. Most girls would be pretty pissed by now.
How dare a guy say that he understands girls so much? Who does he think he is?
Well girls, for one you are gravely mistaken! I have no clue what a girl thinks! But I sure do have some idea about what a woman does!
I wanted to write this a thank you note! To the few ‘Women’ that I have or will encounter in my life someday! The girls just don’t matter! All I can say to you is ‘Grow Up!’ because it’s as they say both Wine and Women grow better with age.
Thank you Mom for giving birth to me! You are possibly the woman I’m the most indebted to! From waking me up every morning to that goodnight kiss on my forehead, you did it all and most perfectly! If I ever want a woman to be absolutely perfect then it’s your fault. You sky-rocketed my expectations. Love you mom!
Papa! Though you are my Aunt! But you’re almost like another mother to me! But maybe cooler! You were understanding throughout and always a very good friend! You help me through every up and down of life! If I ever start depending on a woman instead of it being the other way round then it’s your fault!
The countless teachers who have taught me valuable lessons in life! If I expect a woman to be always there for me and to always guide me through then it’s your fault!!
And finally the woman I will marry someday! You will be a unique woman a perfect mix of everything but quite unlike any of the women mentioned above. You have to be all of them and yet be yourself too. Yours is the toughest job of them all. And if I start thinking of you as the best thing that has ever happened to me, then it’s your fault!
Respect Women! No guy would be anywhere without them!
And to quote one of my favourite teacher’s – “A woman will always be the CEO of a man’s life!” And somehow I do not seek to let that be any different in my case.
So.
Thank you Mam.
The Pleasure Of Pain
We walk in endless pathways of silent existence, swim in depthless waters of merciless tears, yes, we often desire to feel pain, to get hurt. We feel happy, we feel hurt. The want to express never goes away. Do we ever feel silence?
The mind plays many games with us. It deceives first; then acts as a friend. And all we do is revel in the hurt and call it our own brilliance. But then when you come to think of it, (Well not you, only I do that) does pain act on its own accord or do we force it on ourselves, like a torn condom?
According to the psychological definition, Pain is defined as an unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage, or described in terms of such damage. People often keep saying that alcohol helps in easing pain, hell since when did alcohol start repairing damaged tissues? It just breaks some more vital ones.
But my post is not about alcoholism. No. It is about the need to feel hurt sometimes. I’ve started believe that pain is something we believe in. Something that we need to revisit once in a while to set things back in motion. Why else would we keep pushing at things till they hurt us?
Sometimes we purposely spoil things or get into arguments that we know would hurt us. And then we sit back and revel in the pleasure of things and look back with a new perspective. We act as if the world has turned against us, we look out windows with anger, and we carry a fire in our eyes. But there’s always a string that roots us to the ground, which brings us back to reality. We keep a check on ourselves, not to improve upon pain, which is the right thing, but rather to antagonize ourselves even more.
In generic human behaviour when we are pissed at someone else, we try as hard as possible to make the other person pissed off too, thus beckoning a round of physical violence. Violence never solved anything, but as for pain, I cannot truly say. It has its benefits.
What then about people with CIP (Congenital Intolerance to Pain)? Don’t they get hurt by anything? Are they always smiling? Laughing? Cheery? I’ll tell you when I meet someone like that. Till then adios.
Prince Of Prose 