After A Long Time About This And That

I have been absent for a while, due to some personal and some not so personal reasons. it took me some time to recover from some unwelcoming changes that came to my life. However its summer again and though I hate summers, and this year I am in Burdwan so they are much worse.

Durgapur being a familiar place I knew the little pleasure spots of the city, But we moved out of the city and I thought I had enough of the place and would never miss it again. But with the summers setting in and the memories of that wonderful swimming pool makes me miss the place (Just one of the few things I miss.).
However to make me happy daddy pleasantly surprised me today by enrolling himself and me in the local swimming club in the town and we would be going swimming from next week.

Over the last one year I have changed two houses. We moved out of our 20 years of residence in Durgapur to our flat in Kolkata. Mom worked hard for over a month to make the house a home and she did a commendable job. But as soon as we were settled there and I started feeling at home after arranging and rearranging my room for like the 5th time, I got through the Masters course in Burdwan University. I tried travelling up and down for a few days and realised it was not very possible for me. So I took up a rented apartment in the town and Kolkata is just a weekend runaway for me now.

It took me some time to settle in but I like the course, and the people in my class. We are a small class of fifteen people and hence very close knit. I am getting all the attention from the professors and my Computer professor is really kind enough to give me extra time and extra effort to drill the very innate mechanical ideas into my head. I never understood machines and their process. They scare me.

The university campus is huge and green. There are three ponds in the campus and the buildings are old and thick walled. Its really comfortable in this summer heat.

Since my interaction with the world in particular was completely cut off, I had come close to my family and cousins because they were all I had. My cousins and I made some short winter trips and are planning to do some summer trips now.

Cutting myself off gave me a chance to think and I realised that all this time I was running after a mirage. I was running after and looking for the kind of feeling and companionship which can never exist. It was kind of selfishness that I was looking for. Good that i was hit hard on the head and brought back to reality. No I haven't given up on love but my perspective have changed. I still love but I dont expect to be loved back anymore.

The truth is the more we run after it the further away it goes. The trick is to just let it be. Just enjoy the feeling of love. Happiness is to realise that I was in love with the idea of loving and not in love with any particular person.

It took some time to sink in, but once I understood the feeling completely what I experienced was peace. A peace of mind which is bliss. Its like loving the lord himself and knowing that he is always looking over me. It doesn't matter if he cant be touched and felt.

That's all for now and I promise to be regular again.

People

Over the weekend I was helping Sir with the admissions of the new batch of students. For those of you who don’t know about the madness we faced, read it over here. It is almost the same every year. I won’t talk about this yearly madness and hysteria and repeat what Pupu had already said. Just that over the years, the numbers of students as well as the weirdness of the parents have increased.

I will be talking about my experiences with people. I encountered at least 200 parents over two days, and I met all kinds: the polite ones, the arrogant for no reason ones, the good hearted ones, the “my son is so smart” ones, the hyper ones, the no non-sense ones and the ones who argue without logic and in vain.

The admissions were supposed to begin from 10 in the morning. Some parents were waiting from 7 in the morning! I empathise with the poor kids. I know how irritating it is to wake up early in the morning and especially when it is technically still winter! These are the early birds by the way. They come with the hope of catching the worm, and yes they do so too. They get to choose the best convenient batches for their kids and happily go home relieved. I would put them in the hyper ones category too. They worry too much. For the good maybe. But then waiting there for three hours? What is the point? They could come half an hour before and still catch the worm.

As soon as we opened the gates, a father came rushing to me with a notepad in hand. He gave me the notepad and with a kind but nervous smile said, “These are the boys who will be admitted today.” He had listed fourteen names and thought he could get all the fourteen admitted at once, all by himself. I was so overtaken by his good helpful heart that I had difficulty telling him that we needed all the 14 parents and the boys to be present there. When I finally told him that, he seemed a bit disappointed, but very kindly apologised and said that he would immediately call them and ask them to come over. In my list, he falls under the polite as well as the good hearted ones. I mean, look at him. So kind. So rare.

One very common thing was that, the parents did not bring along their son or daughter. For heaven’s sake, this does not require much brain or logic! They are the ones who would get admitted, not the parents. They would choose the batches. They would read the rules. But of course, how can they come over for even one hour? They have their final exams going on. No not even the board exams. Just the ones which we have to take to get promoted from class 8 to class 9. I wonder what they did all the year round that they can’t even spare one hour for something which they consider so important. I don’t remember studying so much and so hard ever in my life and I was not one of those brainy kids either, and I still sailed through school and college. Either the kids have become unusually dumb or the exams are really tough these days.

Then there was this mother who after looking at the choices of batches, came over to me and said, “Batch four for now.” I tried explaining to her that she can’t decide to put her son in one batch “for now” and then request for a change in mid-session. She was too arrogant to listen (I don’t know where her arrogance came from though.).  She cut me off mid-sentence and said, “My driver is not available on that day. I can’t help it. Sir will have to change my son’s batch. I will make him do it. I did that during my daughter’s time too. And if he doesn't, my son will discontinue from his coaching. Not a big deal!” I was shocked by her arrogance, overwhelmed by her confidence and irritated by her attitude. I sat there gaping at her. Yes I did that. With my mouth open, I stared at her wide eyed. Obviously she was blinded by her own aura to notice me.  Clearly she falls in the arrogant ones category.

While the parents were waiting for their turn to come, I overheard one mother telling another, “My son is so smart; he takes his maths exam by himself.”  Yes of-course she deserves to be proud of her son. Who takes their own exams “by themselves”?  We used to hire people to take exams for us. Hence we passed. Otherwise, our futures would have been in the gutters.

The evenings were the most entertaining as well as tiring. Every child and parent wanted the Sunday batch. Some wanted it because their darling daughters can’t come to tuition without her friends. Some wanted it because then daddy could become the driver. Some wanted it because they stayed too far away (Yes, I don’t know how the distance will be reduced because it is a Sunday.). Naturally, by evening the Sunday batch was full. Some parents were reasonable enough to understand that and choose from the remaining three batches. Some would request in a meek voice with a small light of hope that something could be done. And some would just argue. With us and with Sir as well. As we were trying to explain to one father that Sunday batch is just not available and we could do nothing and there was no point bothering Sir with it, he thought we were not “allowing” him to talk to Sir (I was a little happy inside, because after all he thought I was the boss, and I decide who Sir talks too. I tell you, it is rare that people think of me that way.). In spite of all our tries to explain to him, that there was actually no point, Sir could not help it; he went inside and called for a tongue lashing from Sir. Firstly, for talking to us like that, and secondly for not listening (very few people listen these days, anyway.). This same nagging for the Sunday batch happened repeatedly and every time it got on our nerves, Sir would help us with his most needed stern warnings to the parents. If Sir’s tuition and Sir is so important to anyone, they shouldn't have any problem coming to any batch right? Five years ago, I did not have to nag and haggle and cry and argue.  It just took me five minutes to sign and pay the fees and get out of there.

One father however had a strange reason for wanting the Sunday batch so badly. “My daughter can come to your tuition only by car, and that car is available only on Sunday,” he said. (I gave another of my mouth opened, eyes wide expression.) Also he had the guts to tell this to Sir. Someone, who travelled all his childhood and most of his youth by public transports, Travelled in an A.C compartment for the first time when he was going for his honeymoon, travelled by a car only when he could afford to buy one himself, and never felt the need to send his daughter by car to school or any tuition (Pupu stays in Kolkata now and comes over almost every weekend by bus all by herself to spend time with dad. She is just two years older than this man’s daughter.). I wonder are the kids more nyaka these days or is it the parents who would never allow them to grow up? And then these parents would go out of Sir’s place (after admitting their child anyway), and say, “Suvro Sir is so rude.” Really now! Don’t you think you called for that rudeness? Try talking to him politely and reasonably, you would get the same reception.

 Most of Sir's "friends" who haven't spoken to him for like some 20-25 years, suddenly remember him when their sons and daughters need to be admitted in his tuition. Sir, being the gentleman he is, would smile and treat them quite well. However it became awkward, when those "friends", would come and tell Pupu how he had seen her as a kid and how she played in his lap. Pupu looked at them blankly and gave them a fake smile. That is all they deserved I tell you. It is strange how selfish, people can be. They just remember even their friends only when they need them. They are not even ashamed to come and ask for a favour after not even acknowledging Sir if they happen to pass by him. And then it is Sir who becomes rude, when he refuses to give them a special favour. 

Then there were Sir’s present students from class 10, who had come over to help us. They were our comic relief. One of them, a really smart but humble soul, was so excited every time she saw a car stopping in front of the house, that she would jump up and run towards the gate, shouting, “Look look more students are coming!” No sooner did a parent park his bike, than she would hand him a token and very seriously ask, “Yes, what is the student’s name?” Good for her and for us that the parents did not start thinking that she was handing them parking tokens.

Another one made us laugh and forget our irritations by blatantly passing comments about how fat a dad was or how ugly a girl was, or how short and small a boy was for his age. The best part was she had found at least six dadas cute. She just could not decide who was cuter, and who the cutest. However Pupu pulled the trump card here. We were talking about a certain girl in her school whom she did not like. While commenting on that girl’s nature, she said, “She is nothing more than a fox.”(For my Bengali readers, Khyanksheyal is the exact word she used.) Unfortunately she was staring towards the gate, and her loud uttering of the fox reference, coincided with a father entering. It seemed like she was calling the poor father a fox. I don’t know if he heard her, but if he did, he would surely warn his son/daughter to stay away from Sir’s daughter and all his ex-students.

Coming across all these people was fun, but then it felt strange. Five years ago(it still feels like yesterday though) I was on the other side of this table. I had come over to get admitted, and I was honestly happy, that I had come to a teacher who was not grumpy. He definitely was not rude, like most of my classmates told me, and he was very polite and kind and patient. Now when I am on the other side of the table, I know what it feels like. I know why Sir is rude with some. I know why Sir shouts at some and I know exactly why he is polite and kind to most.

I hope that at least some kids who got admitted, would some day be lucky enough to enjoy what several of us, male and female, 15 to 28, got to enjoy today-- Sir's ability to make us feel comfortable and good around him even while we were working, his own  daughter and us all together. Any ex student of his can get it if s/he wants it, I think: all it needs is a genuine desire to get close to Sir without hangups, which he himself makes terribly easy, actually. If anyone is missing out on that, it's entirely their fault. They never reached out the right way.

When people we know for years can stop talking to us or cut us off completely without any reason, complete strangers can surprise us. Two weeks ago while I was coming home from Sir’s place by bus, I had offered my seat to an elderly man. He was very pleased and we had a conversation. Yesterday, he had come over to my place. He remembered me, took the pain to find out my house and come and pay me a visit. He brought me a small gift too. That was really heart-warming and very sweet of him. Rarely do we meet nice people these days, who mean it when they say that they like you. I am glad that I have been lucky to come across this rare category of nice people in my life. People like my dad, my Sir and this gentleman. And to all those Women, who shout and say, "Men are pigs, lechers and rapists!", I would say, they attract such men towards them. I pity such women. They are deprived from this happiness of basking in the love and care of wonderful men. 

 I have lost track of the categories long back. I think, as you read about the people I have talked about, you can mentally categorise them anyway. It is fun doing that I assure you. Enjoy!

Music... Or the Absence of It!

I happened to come across this song today. I was convinced that it is beautiful, when I thought that there is more to it.  It is peaceful.  This has happened to me before, and now that I think, it has most of the time been either  Robi Thakur or a Baul song, or the Bhajans of Lord krishna.

This song talks about Shyam too. The singer, Parvathy Baul, sings about, how it would be wise to keep the love we have for Shyam, in our heart. Locked and hidden. She represents the love for him in various forms and shows us that it is not always necessary to tell the world that you love someone as great as Krishna. Few people can understand the greatness of love after all. So it is not really worth it.

It is rare that I come across good music today. They don’t make it any more, I guess.  I remember, my brother and I grew up listening Abba and Harry Belafonte and Robi Thakur.  Our teenage years went by listening to Jim reeves, Pete Seeger, Beatles, Bob Dylan and Robi Thakur.  Now we listen to Cohen, Nina Simon, lots of Baul and Robi Thakur. Yes, that wise old man was with us through out. You just can’t do without him. He has written for every mood. He helps you get through tough times. He helps you be happier in your happy days and most importantly, he makes you think.

Kids today grow up listening to terribly disturbing songs like lungi dance and Balam pichkari and Fevicol and Sheila ki Jawani and Munni. They are made to believe that music is all about showing flat (or not so flat stomachs)and hip shaking dances. It is all about sexual innuendoes and all about ear splitting noise. I wonder, if their parents’ ever listened to any good music when they grew up, or did they decide to forget everything and call this cacophony music. I wonder.  The absence of good music makes me sad, but I guess it takes a little effort to find out such hidden gems as Parvathy Baul and Anushesh Adil and the likes. And I must say, listening to them is worth the effort.

Emotional Atyachar

I was scrolling through the channels last evening and stopped when I saw a graphic visual of a red heart breaking on screen and the words “Emotional Atyachar” coming out of the broken heart. I have heard of this reality show a number of times, but have never watched it.

Fifteen minutes through it and I was trying to figure out the point of this show. For those of you who haven’t watched it, this is a show where a heartbroken girl/boy comes over and tells her/his story. The cast and crew of Emotional Atyachar, enacts the story for the viewers’ benefit and through it tries to give a message:  Don’t trust men even though you “love” him. Don’t trust girls because they are likely to go ahead and get pregnant with your best friend’s child. Don’t trust your best friend because s/he will go ahead and fall in love with your lover.

I was so intrigued by the idea of this show, that I spent some time Youtubing some previous episodes of the same programme. In one of them, the girl was talking about how she found out that her boyfriend was “flirting” with her best friend, by checking his text messages.  I was left wondering how jobless can the girl be, that she spent “30 minutes” trying to look through his text messages and then taking a back-up of all these text messages on her laptop.  (Mind you. To spy over someone you need to be technologically advanced. It would have been a failed attempt if I would have tried it. I am seriously in awe of the girlfriend.) In another episode, the girlfriend was cheating the boyfriend. She had slept with his room-mate and the boyfriend found that out when she was pregnant and had told him that it was the boyfriend’s child she was carrying. The boyfriend knew it wasn't his, because as he proudly claimed on camera, “humlog eksath sote the, but mein ek pillow ko hug kiye bina so nahi sakta. Toh aap samajh sakte ho, k humare beech kabhi kuch ho hi nahi sakta.” (we used to sleep together but I cannot fall asleep if I can’t hug a pillow. So you know, nothing could have happened in between us.) I pity the girlfriend really! The poor thing might have tried to seduce the boyfriend, and when she failed, she went ahead and happily slept with the room-mate. Justified she was, I must say.

There were many other stupid problems. (I am telling you, it is highly addictive. Not because they talk about serious things, but because it gives you a good laugh.) I was amused and disgusted at the same time by two things. Firstly, the youths, the “future of our nation” are so helplessly jobless, that they would come on such shows (look at the name), and talk about their “personal problems.” Secondly, how trivial their problems are.

They are heartbroken and depressed because they “loved” someone, and that person cheated on them.  Mind you they are “depressed”. I wonder what would the child on the street who has got no shelter to sleep would have to say about it. What would the three year old, for whom, being loved means  two chapattis and some curry, has got to say about this “depression.”

The main problem lies in the fact that we are privileged. We are privileged to sit and claim that we “love” and we “care”.  And by love and care we mean holding hands and roaming about in shopping malls. We are privileged to refuse to look in to the depth of these words.  We are privileged to shed tears over stupid silly problems about not being “loved”. About not being “needed”.  About our “loved ones” cheating on us.

It is funny, how the thin, hungry, homeless 3 year old still smiles at the world, while the rich, fat 30 year old, sulks and cries all the time. I wonder, if being happy and content is inversely proportional to being rich and privileged. I am sure the less privileged would look at this show, smile and say, "Atyachar it is."

Of Love and Other Things

Why do we fall in love? Do people look for the heart or is it just the carnal need? What exactly is LOVE? Well I have been musing over this for a long time now. Youths:  teenagers claim to love each other. What do they actually mean by that? Is love all about holding hands, taking tours of all the malls possible and telling each other like 48 times in the 24 hours, how much they love?

But then what? What happens next? They get married after staying “in love” for 10 years and then the love disappears like the morning mist. So that brings me back to the question, “what was all that love about?” is it just a pretence? Is it just another way to keep oneself occupied? Or is it that the person I was “going out” with for 10 years suddenly changed when I started living with him?

I have often wondered what makes us fall in love, and I have been told that unlike animals, we humans look for things more than sex in our partner.  But if that is true, then why does one dress up? Why is one coy? Why does one want to smell good? Why does the 14 year old try his utmost best to hide the awkwardness in his voice?  Why does one try so hard to impress the other? And when the other likes these attributes, we call it “turn ons”.

Why do we need these special attributes to express our sexual urges? Are we too ashamed to say it out loud? Or are we scared that we will be misunderstood as complete sex maniacs?

There are two extreme ideas about sex. One group wants to believe that sex is something very bad and shouldn't be spoken about. Another group however is obsessed with sex and can’t think about anything else. But I will tell you what is amusing. To observe the people who have both the extreme ideas packed together in their heads.

They are the most interesting of all. They are obviously a sad case to study, but they are the best example of self-contradictions. On the one hand they can’t help but think only about sex, and on the other hand they scold themselves for thinking that way.  Who are they trying to convince? Themselves?

 “Loving someone” is a lost story nowadays I guess. It all comes down to one thing: getting married, reproducing, getting bored, and getting divorced. What would human beings do without procreation? To stay in love for a long long time, without procreation, one has to pay the price. Romantic dinners, costly gifts. Diamonds and shoes and what not.

Love now means looking at the bright future. otherwise it is a lost cause. A wasted effort. I have heard, girls fall in love after looking at the car the boy owns. They don’t look for the heart any longer. They look for a bright future. The rest will, they say, fall in place.

It is when I muse and ramble and think aloud like this, that I feel that knotted pain in my chest.  The “what ifs” come back to me. What if I was born in another generation, another time, when the attitude towards sex was healthy and love meant doing something for the person I love. Love meant searching for the heart. Love meant talking and listening. Love meant just sitting beside each other and being comfortable. Love meant, bringing out the best in each other.  Love meant longing for your love… feeling the desire to find happiness in making another human being happy.

Adorable Bundles Of Joy

I could not resist sharing this. Animals can be so adorable and full of emotions. Maybe this is the reason I pray all the time that if rebirth is not a myth, I would like to be someone walking on all fours, living in the jungles or flying in the blue sky.Yes I would miss reading maybe, but then, everything else is going to be  bliss. 

The Old Friend I Miss...

One year in Chennai, and the only friend I miss today is the Sea. When I first met him(Yes the Sea was more than just a natural water body.), he was very apprehensive may be. He made me walk for about 15 minutes before I actually saw his waves glittering in the moonlight. It was a full moon night, and I was in Marina Beach (There are three beaches in Chennai, that I know of: Marina, Eliots and Thiruvanmayur.). That was my first and last visit to Marina Beach. Being the lazy person I am, I was not ready to walk so much on the sand, to get to the Sea.

During my 2^nd semester, I was suddenly over taken by an urge for exercise. I remember someone saying that, cycling on the sand makes you really really fit. I decided to go cycling on the Eliots beach. That was just 15 minutes away from my college campus.

I regularly went there before sunrise, but never cycled on the sand. I sat there on the sand and watched the Sea. That was the beginning of our relationship. I remember walking close to the water, and he, came gently near me and kissed my feet. It was such a pleasant and welcoming gesture that I went closer, and then he threw himself all over me. I was drenched to the bone but I was smiling gladly. That was his acceptance.

I was solely dependent on Him, since then. I would go to Him, when I was sad. I would sit by him and  just talk. Looking him in the eye, I would just talk. Sometime in my mind, sometimes aloud (more often than not I would get stares from annas and Akkas for they probably thought I have lost my mind.).

He was my friend, lover and confidant. I would go visit him everyday, tell him everything that was bothering me. Plunge myself in his arms, and just let go off myself, going up and down with the waves. I would pick up shells, with the kids selling raw mangoes. I would run on the beach, chasing the stray dogs. And on some rather lonely day, I would just sit there looking at the vastness and think nothing.

He had his mood swings too. Some days, the Sea would just retreat. Go far away from me and sulk and frown. I just couldn't connect with him on those days. He just won’t listen to me, and I couldn't talk. He behaved like one of those best friends, who would be annoyed with you, but won’t tell you what you have done to annoy him. He just drove me away from him, on those days.

Then came Neelam (The cyclone that had hit the southern coast of India.). My old friend was at his majestic best that day. I had sneaked out of the college, bribing the security anna, with a packet of smoke. As I stood on the road, I saw a different avatar of the Sea. I have never seen anything more beautiful and scary than that. The waves rose almost 6 ft. high and crashed down with graceful anger. The sky was black and the wind blew all the sand up in the air. My friend was in a fury. One of those anger fits when you feel like destroying everything that comes in your way and just establishing your power. Such was the anger of the Sea. That day, I knew, I have seen my friend in all his forms. Calm, annoyed, upset and finally angry.

The Sea was a great teacher to me as well. He taught me first to accept. To accept people in your circle the way they are. Without judging them. He taught me to listen. Patiently. Without interrupting the thoughts of another person. He taught me to take in every word because it was important to listen. He taught me to love selflessly, without expecting anything in return. Loving by just being there.

He taught me to give till it hurts. He gives so much to so many people. He is a means of livelihood for some. Means of entertainment for many, and for the likes of me, a friend, a shoulder to cry on. He just gives, endlessly. He taught me to take a stand. To make myself heard, and to bow down and accept my fault when I am wrong.

When I was leaving Chennai, I knew that If I would miss anyone, it would be the Sea. After one year of leaving Chennai, I still miss my old friend when I am sad, or happy or just need someone to talk to.

The first time I met him on a moonlit night. (Marina Beach)

Before leaving Chennai. (Eliots beach)

A thought on Hemingway

I have just started reading Hemingway's "To Have and Have Not". Hemingway has been my favourite since I was in Class 11 and He has never disappointed me. He is so lucid yet dramatic. The opening chapter of this book, made me wonder, that why haven't any of his novels been made into movies? You can almost imagine the scenes visually as you read through.

Or is it that there are movies made from his stories and I am not aware of it? please do let me know if there are any.  

HOO-AAAH!

That expression tops my list of most-used-word-when-elated for the past few days. I picked it up from the character of Col. Frank from the movie The Scent Of a Woman. The part is played by whom else but Al Pacino.

It’s not the actor or the movie(though the acting is wonderfully flawless and the movie now tops the list of my favourites), but about  the character. The Colonel is a retired army officer, after serving the country for 26 years, and losing his vision. He sits in a room these days, in his niece’s house and drowns himself in about 40 pegs of his favourite “John Daniels”(Jack Daniels whiskey. As he claims, he is an old friend so he lovingly calls him John.).

The first impression of the man is someone very rude. He looks down upon people for being even slightly weak and judges them by their skin. Poor little Charlie, who had come forward to baby sit the blind man on a weekend job for easy money realises within the first 30 seconds of his interaction with the colonel, the money is not going to be really easy.

As we get to know the man better through Charlie’s eyes, we realise that he is really a man of feelings and one with a good heart down there. He puts up this mask of his harsh presence to cover up his shortcoming. To cover up the fact, that he messed it up real bad, when he was at service because he was standing up. Because, he had some principles.

Besides having a strong personality, he has, as he says, a strong liking for women. And a very far second one is Ferraris. He has a talent of telling what perfume the woman has used very accurately. He says he likes all kinds of women: Ones with long hairs, ones with short, and how he would do anything to bury his face in those long curls and sleep forever. He likes women with “big tits as well as small” and he doesn't mind even if the legs are like “Greek Columns” because there is “heaven In between them”. He almost objectifies women, until we get to know the real yearning down his heart: “you know Charlie, what gets me going? The hope that someday I will find a woman, who would wrap her arms around me, and wrap her legs around me, and still be there, smelling like fresh grass, the next morning.”

That changes my perspective of the man. All his life, he has been looking for company. For partnership of that one woman, who is perfect and who will be his. That says something about the man. He could get any woman he wants with that charming powerful personality of his. But if only…

That made me brood about things around me. I have seen people around me who are happily married for over 25 years now. Have they really found their perfect muse? The one with whom they can be perfectly happy? Or is it just another compromise to make themselves believe that they can’t do better? Or have they just given up the hope of getting their dream love and just surrendered to the reality?

A few days back, I was sitting beside the small lake at Lodhi gardens(I often do that because it gives me a certain peace of mind), and I watched two ducks swimming together till the middle of the lake. They seemed like some of the couples who were walking hand in hand on the soft grass ahead of me. And then suddenly, one of the ducks, turned back and started swimming back to join the others, leaving the other one in the middle of the lake. The duck left alone, seemed quite lost.

 It turned it’s head left and right wondering what just happened and then looked at the duck swimming away and gave out a cry, as if saying: “what happened? Why are you leaving me out here?” The other duck just looked back gave a shake of it’s head and continued swimming, as if saying, “you are not the one I was looking for. Move on  buddy.”

It is sad how trivial companionship means these days, or was it always like that? Do my generation really understand the meaning of promises and giving your word to someone? Or is it that my dad’s generation took it too seriously because they knew they had no other choice but to stick to the woman, he has married?

I came across this new term, “casual sex” when I was doing my post graduation from a journalism school. 

Everyone seemed to be or at least appeared to be quite “cool” with having a casual bout of hormones running through them, and they would jump on bed with some random person of the opposite sex, have some “fun” and the next morning they would be strangers. I often wondered is it that easy to just have sex (I would call it intercourse though) with someone without any emotions being involved? Or is it only me who is too back dated to not being a robot? I mean not that I haven’t had sex with people, whom I had no intentions of even dating, but there were emotions involved. I liked the men I took to bed, and we obviously were more than just strangers the next morning.

I always thought that I was not meant for this planet. I have been quite different from most of my peers, (gladly so) and have often been called unhinged or weird. But then as I think about it, alone, but not lonely, staring at the red-orange glow of the cigarette, I just smile and say, HOO-AAAH!! Yes I am different from most of you, and yes I am better.

P.S. this was written originally on 5.6.2013. On reading it now, it seems like I had started it with the intentions of writing a review of the movie, but I ended up just rambling about the thoughts boggling my mind.