Saturday, November 29, 2014

forgotten melody

Because it's 5:30 AM and I'm up since the last two hours... Because I have been drinking  with my friends last night.. Because I was reading an entirely silly and melodramatic and filmy  love story..  So I have an excuse to tell you this

At times like this, I forget all logic and laws of physics, the earth stops moving and history stops repeating.

I feel like being on my knees, in front of you, asking you to marry me.

But, I don't....

Because I don't want you to reject me again.

Sunday, November 09, 2014

Letter From a MCP

Dear Piu,
I read your post on social network. I really appreciate the way you have spoken your mind. By the way, do you remember me? I’m sure you do not. Well, we too had just an afternoon and let’s face it. I’m not a NRI. You were just busy thinking about picking my flaws to reject me. After all, naturally blessed pretty bongs girls like you prefer to go global the NRI way.

So you said that you have a good sense of humour. But you know what? This sounds better when someone else says that about you. anyway, I’m sure you are good at singing Rabindrasangeet too. No, you are not? That’s a stereotype and you are a modern girl. Great.

Your Mom told me that you are an avid reader, and it seems our tastes match, well, as per as books are concerned. But why didn't we go there Piu? 
Oh I remember. 
You were too busy trying to decipher my salary by guessing the tags of my shirt and trousers. You even asked me the brand of my specs frame. Oh, and the fish fries. Your mom kept on coming with one every 5 minutes and asking me to try that, personally, I think those were a bit overcooked and the kasundi was little watery. You must have got that by putting few spoonful of water into the almost empty kasundi bottle, right?  How do I know?

Well, I’m also not a stereotype.  I read books and love cooking. I know Bengali mustard sauce and English mustard, too. But in an arranged marriage setting the guy is only a projection of his earning, not his interests.

I read how intelligently you mentioned that you are not a virgin. Does it really matter? Well, virginity matters to some people. May be ‘being non-virgin’ is equally important to some. As far as I’m concerned, there are number of factors that are important for me to decide on a partner. Prior sexual experience or lack of that is just not one of that.

You said so much. What do I want, a boy or a girl? Does someone really plan these even before marriage? I mean, Say you want a girl. What would you do if you have a boy? Anyway, let’s not get into that. I’m pretty sure you will have a smart ass answer.

 For almost forty five minutes you talked about your parents and how great they are and about their love story. I understand. But don’t you think that the important thing was to find how great we were together, not your or mine parents.

You know one thing? I liked your profile on the matrimonial site. But meeting the real you was an eye opener. No, don’t get me wrong. You are way better than what you have written. 
But is better always good? 
Not always.  

I would anytime prefer someone who has made a few mistakes and learnt life the hard way. Who has stumbled upon and picked up herself. I would always like someone who is not afraid to go a bit crazy and is game for stepping on the unknown territory. That is why, Piu, I knew we are not fit for each other. After all, I would not like to spend my entire life with some convent educated saintly lady. I would rather be happy with someone a bit damaged.

You want to know my name? Well, I’m Male Chauvinist Pig. Because, whatever my name is, I’m a male. Naturally, to you I will always be a MCP.

Truly glad to be not yours

Saturday, May 03, 2014

A journey to remember

I was already feeling uncomfortable with my decision to go to the other part of the city by boarding a bus. It certainly didn’t help to see the terrible condition of traffic at Baguihati Mor. Thankfully I managed to catch an Air-conditioned Bus and was even surprised to get an empty seat.

Very soon I was lost in my thoughts and didn’t even notice when half of my journey was over. By that time, I was kind of bored with my thoughts and decided to keep an eye on the road. But, a piece of fabric caught my attention.

Cobalt blue flowers on a white back ground. I knew that colour, that pattern very well, very closely. I saw HER in the same salwar suit several times in the years I knew her.

I know, there are a million copy of that material in Kolkata, but about the skin tone that I could see from my seat? A portion of her shoulder with the exact complexion was attracting my attention. The hair, in the exact darkness, growing exactly the way her straightened hair would grow naturally. I could hear her voice, see her from the back side and all these were telling me that it’s HER.

I knew how I could be certain. If only I could see the mole on her back. But trying to locate the mole on a lady’s back in a crowded bus may cause some unwanted problems. Yes, the bus became crowded by that time. And I already had my share of unwanted problems. So I decided to proceed towards the door and try to glance at her face. But as soon as I started moving, I heard something.

She had a friend with her, who sat opposite to her and was constantly talking to her. I even tried to scan her face with the faces of her friends I knew, but “no matches found”. Well, a girl like her makes a thousand friends in a very short time. I heard my name. Her friend was saying something like, let him come back and then you decide. And my name was the ‘him’ in that sentence.

I elbowed a couple of persons, trampled a co passengers feet and ignoring all their verbal protests I moved ahead. I was in front of the door and my destination has almost arrived. But she was looking sideways, so I was praying for a glance.

Then the bus stopped abruptly, the door was opened, I got down and she looked at the door to find the conductor. And… I saw the face.

It was not her. It was another lady.. she was not HER.

I realized I may claim to have moved on. I may find her idiosyncrasies irritating, but there was a time when I was hopelessly in love with her. And some of that I will always be with myself.

I wanted us to be strangers. Now I find her in strangers.