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Friday, December 23, 2005

Love not again

Blue Rose

Not so sweet scent of love

This new girl in my life, Pxxx, reminds me of the not-so-sweet scent smell of love which happened a couple of years ago....

Thirteen years ago, it was Priyali when I was just 13-year-old back in class eight. Priya was three-years older, in her first year of college. Priya was very friendly with me, perhaps she found me the most innocent kid around. Every guy in our area would stare her for quite long time (that dirty or passionate look as I understand today). Even I would do the same but I'm sure I was never interested in her body then. Anyways they say an woman understands better what the men want from her than the men themselves. She knew I want to look at her and talk to her. She would oblige to my desperation by smiling and coming close to me every time we meet. Her regular questions would be how am I planning for the boards and how I should stop talking to the local guys who are real-time bad boys. I still remember 1992 December I had my half-yearly examinations when Priya would come to my house as I would be alone then preparing for. She would get fruits or sweets for me. My younger sister would do her paintings as usual on the rooftop.

Being alone I would often feel like talking to her incessantly without blinking my eyes, and I knew she liked it and kept on coming for the whole month in the name of teaching me. She became so much of a practice for my daily life that I would almost cry if she comes minutes late. I never knew what emotional state I was going through. 'Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander' a hindi movie that dealt with school day romance provided me with some 'gyan'. I understood this was called love.

Four months of close bonding. By this time I had started looking at her body too. I can't tell you how I was unable to sleep for those four months. I proposed her one day instantly by saying I like you. She smiled and said I like you too. I was happy. You all know what it would have felt like. But then I overheard my U.S returned cousin brother talking to my parents how he had to propose he would be wife in phases. But the I love you one was the last one, preceded by I like you.

The next morning Priyali was at the cricket ground with Sanat, who everyone used to say was very brilliant as he had passed out from IIT Delhi. I called Priya to a corner and proposed I love you. A quick and extra loud slap was the reply. I cried as she shouted you dirty mind.

I kept weeping the whole night parents tried to find out what happened. I was upset for the next two days. Didn't talk to anyone. But my sister successfully broke me and still does so in difficult times.
That night of confession, we siblings kept on talked to each other for long. My younger sister consoled me.

Next morning I saw Pabitra uncle, Priya's father was crying in our drawing room, and my dad him. "No my son wouldn't known anything," said my dad. Priya would come back, my mom said. But Sudha masi, Priya's mom handed a letter to me saying you knew everything and didn't tell us. I was shocked and couldn't understand.

The letter read....

Dear Sou...

I believed only you in my life, more than my mom. But even you ditched me. Why did you gave the letter packet to father. You know he only cares for money. Sanat is very poor and yet to find a job. And I have never thought of marrying anyone else. I have nothing against you friend I still like you as before but I will never meet you again. Sorry.."

Your friend Priya..

I realised what I did. Priya would keep a packet in my cupboard and made me promise not to open and give to anyone ever. But the day she slapped me I gave it to her father by thinking why should I keep her things with me.

By that evening Priya and Sanat were found dead......

Priya still hunts me and another Pa.... happened to me.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Blogger again after two years

Bear with the unedited first post after a gap of two years

This is two year after my post graduation that I'm resorting to blogging again. The first year, I was suffering from a technological handicapp at one of the deserted tribal settlements in India. Don't curse me it was my passion then to live life analogue. Crude, bohemian close to nature. Fool you may call, I call myself one today. But I was in charge then of what I didn't know, even today I don't. Anyways I will talk about those undefinable eleven months sometimes later. Continuing with why I ceased to become a blogger last year, despite being at the mecca of communication revolution is questionable. I feel I was so carried by my sudden learnings from life that I wasn't even in touch with myself. The mottling my soul was terrible I know it almost killed my creativity for months. I tried rejuvenating my soul a number of times but failed. This year hasn't brought any great change in my soul, but probably it's the nature of the job that gives me time enough to come out with posting whatever I go trough, which is not necessarily my creativity. But I believe if I resume writing I may find my trueself back, someday soon.

Yours in blogging
Sourav Mishra