A Travellerspoint blog


It takes a while for that feeling to sink in. Rejection… Denial…

After making love very overpoweringly, we were both gasping for a breather.
I lit a cigarette and kept the ashtray on my belly balancing it in such a way that it did not trip over and spoil the crisp cotton bed sheet while resting my head on his arms.
“When was the last time you had sex?” he asked me.
I thought for a while trying to recall and then I said, “I do not remember”.
In that dimly lit room, I could see the wink in his eyes. He thought I was lying… trying to cover up or sound green.
“When was it that you had sex the last time?” I asked him and without waiting for his answer I continued, “A few hours? Days? Weeks? Months?”
“Three weeks”, he said as he took the cigarette from me and took a puff.
I pulled him close to me and kissed him again. I wanted this moment to freeze. I looked into his eyes and said, “I will fall in love with you…”
And even before I could complete the whole sentence, I heard him saying this,
“No! No! No! Don’t!”, as he moved his head from left to right in disagreement.
“Never do that. I am not the guy you should be in love with”.
I still kept looking at him, kissed him again and then smiled placidly.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing”, I said.
“Come off it, I know that smile of your. Tell me what it is”, he said he wanted to know.
“Put a baby inside me”, I told him.
“Crazy woman”, he said and I felt he wanted to end the conversation.
“What?” he still asked.
“Nothing”, I said.
There was a silence for a few minutes and then I said,
“Don’t worry. I won’t say that I am in love with you. I like being with you. Be it with clothes on or in my nakedness”.
“Me too”, he said.
I found it so hard to believe.
“Don’t worry”, I repeated.
“Why do you keep saying “Don’t worry” all the time?” he retorted.
“….uuummm mmmm… see I won’t behave or … or…act like a possessive and a jealous girlfriend…lover… you do not have to fret. I won’t stalk you either”.
And then we spoke for a long long time. At time he’d sit up and at times he’d lie back along with me caressing my arms, telling me amusing stories about his life, while I was still lying naked on the bed with a quilt covering my bareness.
There were times when I shifted and turned my back on him and also made sure he knew the reason… my troublesome backache.
He came close to me, spooned me and kissed me on my neck and shoulders as we still kept talking.
This is not the first time I am meeting him. We have known each other for about two years now.
Sparks flew from the time we met. He was shockingly flirtatious the first time we met.
The next time around when we met one on one, it was purely lust. Period.
As he left town I had sent him a message inquiring if he had reached home safely. It took him about 72 hours to reply to that message. And I knew it well, that I should not expect anything from this hookup. We were just filling our void. Nothing more, nothing less.
Meetings like such happened a few times thereafter.
And then after a while I did not feel too right about it. Maybe I was dumb…maybe I still am… yet I knew, the only time he longed to make that connect was when he was here. And then for the next few occasions, I always made a reason – genuine or not… I did not want to see him.
Even this time around, the first day I ignored him completely – not because it was a conscious effort, but because I was disturbed mentally, feeling very low about many thing in the personal front.
And then as I came home after watching Whiplash, I replied him shortly, what was troubling me and why I was so distant and aloof.
And the emotional fool that I am, I gave in. I said,
“OK, lets catch up, but we will wind up early…say by 9-ish, if its okay wih you.”
So that was it.
He came over…
We were meeting after a year and a month. He was taken aback to see me so silent …because that is not usually what I am.
Its been five days now that we met, that I got rejected.
There is one particular thing which I liked the most. In the two and hald years that I have known him, he has never done a thing like this.
I was sitting in the balcony talking to a friend of mine, gossiping over somebody not so important in Facebook. I was seated in the old and rickety sofa with both my legs curled to my left side. He was inside. Maybe he had gone to the washroom to freshen up. I am still not aware. But as he walked back to the balcony and sat, I almost removed my feet, making room for him, but he held both my feet with his hands tightly and as I was still speaking to my friend, he kept holding on to my forever cold feet, not letting me go.
He had a dinner invitation that evening.
“I want to spend some more time with you”, he said and added, “ I know its past the deadline you gave me, but still….”
I smiled… and asked him his plan of action.
“…..hhhmmm why don’t you wind up with your chores… and by that time I will attend the dinner and come back. Make sure the gates are not locked. I don’t want to jump over the gate”.
I still kept smiling and said, “Call me if the gates are locked. I have a set of spare keys”.
“Might not be able to call you as my cell phone is almost dead”.
So that was it. He left… I did my last winding up chores.
And then I sat in the balcony again, all alone this time waiting for him… and trust me when I say this, I have never waited so desperately for anybody in my life as I waited for him that evening.
And those moments seemed endless.
I sent him a stinker. Can’t help it. This is so very me. I wrote to him, “I hate waiting games”.
There was no reply from him. His phone must have died a slow death by then.
It was ten past eleven when he knocked on my door and came home back to me.
I am missing him so badly now. Yet I cannot say that. The way he said that I should not be in love with him is so still vivid; I swear on the life of mine, I will never say that I love him.
Yes, he is the wrong guy, yet he feels so right!

Posted by incommunicado 10:41 Archived in India Tagged me sunsets_and_sunrises people night Comments (0)

In The Name of Father

I do not remember which year that was. But yes, I was in class VIII then. I had just stepped onto my teenage years and I was a confused soul. More than what I am today… when I am at the wrong side of 30s.
I don’t know how and when things started falling apart. I was too young to comprehend and decipher. But yes… I knew for sure I did not belong to a “happy” and a “healthy” family. I saw my mom and dad cribbing and fighting day in and day out. At times it was violent. I’d wake up and see my mom with a black eye or sometimes a swollen face.
There were times when I managed the courage to ask her but she never told me the truth. My dad was beyond comprehension for me. He would never try and have an “adult” talk with me when it was about my mom and him.
So I left them at their own devises and I tried to keep myself occupied with Alfred Hitchcock, Sidney Sheldon and at times the Hardy Boys series borrowed from our school library.
So I was in Class VIII … and my mom eventually decided to walk away from this marriage and we packed our bags and moved to our maternal grandparents place. I do not know what the situation was like. It was a joint family with too many people. I was happy to be around my cousins and mingle around. What my mom was going through was perhaps tough and not easy. But that’s altogether another story I will write some other day.
So I was in school. It was summers. As the final bell rang, we said our prayers and walked down to the main gates and then head home.
I remember the huge iron grilled gate. We had to pass through that gate where Sister Theresa would stand like an obedient watch dog and see all the students walk without much fuss and in a single file line. You know how life is when you are in a Convent school. Not that I mean bad but it was too suffocating and claustrophobic. And after that ordeal we would reach the main gate to be outside of our school compound. No one could enter beyond that huge iron railed gate.
And I was walking slowly – I was going home to my maternal grandparent’s house which was a five minutes’ walk from school. Ever since we came to live in with them I walked home alone, missing my other walk-a-thon friends, because they were walking in the opposite way.
As I passed those huge iron grilled gates I spotted my father. Amongst the swarm of parents waiting for their daughters. It was after a long time that I saw him. The moment I saw him, I stopped. I did not move an inch forward. I saw the eagerness on his face. He looked happy. He looked sober. He looked as if he wanted to hold me in his arms tightly and take me back home.
I was always a daddy’s pet. And he knew it too well… there were times when I saw my mom and dad arguing and without even knowing who was right and who was wrong I’d take my father’s side.
But that day was different altogether. The moment I saw him I turned back and ran as fast as I could back to the place where we usually stood for our morning and afternoon assemblies.
I had my classmate Rashida with me. She was clueless about the whole affair. All I remember after this long is she crying out “Nan…Uncle…Unlce… Naaaaaan………”
I do not know how many minutes I waited there in the inner playground. The school seemed empty and then I managed to gather my wits and courage to walk through that gate and finally head home. As I walked though the main gate I did not see my dad.
And when I reached home to my mom, all she did was yell why I got late….
Sometimes things are better left unsaid… but now I seek answers…
I do not know if a “sorry” would be adequate… I lost my dad twenty one years ago.

Posted by incommunicado 09:22 Archived in India Tagged me people Comments (0)

Little Acts of Love - An Obituary

I don’t know from where to start and where to end. In times like this I miss you the most. It was so rude on your part to leave me like this – the way you did.
Nana… I still remember the last time we met… it was one of those hot and humid monsoon days – some day in August I know for sure. You were in town. I did not know that. You had called me a couple of times and I did not take your calls deliberately. And then my phone screen flashed – Nana Residence…. I answered the phone promptly.
“You are in town?” I asked and without waiting for an answer I added, “You should have told me earlier!”
“Earlier?”, he asked with as he rolled with laughter.
There was a long pause.
“I am here since the last three days. I am leaving day after”.
I did not even have the courage to say “sorry”.
I hemmed and hawed for a while. I felt at loss of words.
“I long for the coleslaw and the baked fish”, he said.
“It will be there tomorrow evening”, I replied and we hung up.
Nana came over the next evening, with his cousin – from his father’s side – someone I barely knew. Both the men ate greedily and in minutes the coleslaw and the baked fish were finished.
The meeting was a small one. They stayed for a while – maybe an hour and half. Before he left, he gave me a tight hug and kissed me on my cheeks and said, “Do answer when the pone buzzes”.
And then they left. It was the last time I ever saw Nana. He was wearing a light blue faded denim shirt and a three quart pants. He had put on a wee bit of weight and boy he was looking good.
I wish I had known that it would be the last time I was seeing him ever. But then that’s how life is. You do not know what is in store for you in the times to come.
The days and weeks that followed were not amusing at all. Nana would keep calling me relentlessly at odd hours and kept talking endlessly. Half of the things I did not understood - it is because he usually spoke what was in his mind at that moment. He would not even care to go into the outer periphery of the story to let his listener understand what that was all about. It got a bit too much for me. And then I decided I would “seriously” not take his calls and listen to his nonsense any further.
One fine morning when I woke up and checked my phone I saw I had 127 missed calls from him. It scared me. I sent him a message – a stinker rather and asked him not to call me at odd hours like the way he did. And then and there I added all his phone numbers in my “call reject” list.
I still feel sorry for doing that.
This was about a year ago. And I also got myself a new phone number. No! You are wrong if you are thinking I got a new phone number because I was not looking forward to take his calls. It had more to do with my bill plans.
After my new phone number was fully operational, I messaged it to all my friends except him. I am sorry again Nana.
Yes, after a long time my phone was silent. It did not beep at odd hours. I did miss speaking to him but slowly and slowly I got used to it.
And then one fine day my cousin called up – you know the kind of cousin you normally meet at social and family functions. You exchange hellos yet you are not too friendly to be in touch on a regular basis. So when she called me I was quite surprised. We were talking about everything – the price rise, weather, weight , health – it was basically wasting time and money talking all this out of the blue and I was telling myself at the back of my mind – come to the point without much ado… and my prayers were answered when she said, “Nana is in a rehab, in Cal. Do you know about that?”
There was a long pause and then I said, “No. I did not know until now. The last time I met him was a year and two months ago. I haven’t spoken to him after that.”
She continued, “He will be out of the rehab in three months time i.e. Jan”.
“I hope he does not get back to alcohol once he is back”, I replied and we ended our conversation.
I remembered him as we stepped into a new year and I thought, “He should be out of the rehab one day or the other. I hope he takes care of himself and does not go back to his heavy drinking”. There were times when I had this desperate urge to call him… if not call then at least send him a message and let him know my new number. But I did not.
Days passed on. My life was going through some major changes as well and I was quite preoccupied with that. Staying alone in a city with a six year old daughter has a lot of perils and responsibilities. And I was totally investing my time managing the house and my daughter.
Once in a while I did remember Nana. But I decided I would call him on his birthday and surprise him. Nana’s date of birth is one date one cannot forget easily. It’s on 25th December. Now as you are reading this I am sure even you will remember the date if nothing else. So I waited. I had made up my mind and that was it. I would call him on 25th December and wish him a Merry Christmas and then a very happy birthday.
I wish life was as easy as we plan out.
It was the 21st of November last year. I had just reached home, dropping Nior at school. My aunt – someone I rarely speak to called up. We spoke about everything – like I had spoken to my cousin about everything under the sun and the she asked me,
“Did you get the news?”
“What news?” I asked her.
“Well I am not too sure, I do not know if it is true or not but Nana passed away last night”.
My world stood still and I froze. There was nothing to say.
We hung up. I called up his friend in Shillong and he was as shocked as I was when the words hit me first.
But yes it was true. Nana was no more.
I took the night train the next day to Jorhat with an aunt of mine and our family friend – the writer Uncle. My daughter is to young to understand what death is all about. It did take a lot of effort on my part to tell her that she won’t see her Nana Mama again.

Nana was kept in the morgue. All were waiting for his younger sister to arrive on Sunday.
Dipli, Nana’s sister arrived by one in the afternoon and by that time there were a lot of movements. Some were arranging his “sangi” (the bed made of bamboo straws on which the body is carried to the cremation ground ), Zulu uncle had already left for the morgue. I was getting uneasy. I did not wish to see Nana in that state. He was a very good looking man. I always said he resembled Sly Stallone. And this was not what I wanted to remember for the rest of my life. We came back to the guest house and rested a while.
That same evening we took the train back to Guwahati. I went to visit Dipli and their Dad. And as I hugged her, it was for the first time I broke down.
Its been close to three months now but I am yet to overcome the fact that you are no more.

Nana… your phone numbers are still my call reject list. What is the point now to remove those? I shall never get to hear your voice again. I shall never have the brother whom I loved so much. I will miss the way you pampered me. I remember how much of cajoling and emotional blackmailing I had to do so that you part away from your Ralph Lauren golf shades. You said they were a limited edition and you bought them for 500 dollars. But then you gave me your shades… and I still remember I said, “Aah! These shades! You could have given me one of your tee shirts instead!”
I wanted to learn golf from you. I wanted you to live to see my grand children. I wished you lived long to see me get older and fatter.

And now I know if you really want to speak to someone do not hesitate or wait for the right moment. That might never come at all.
25th Dec from now on will never be the same.
Nana I hope you are in a better and a beautiful world now. You will be missed always.

Posted by incommunicado 00:41 Archived in India Tagged me people Comments (0)

Notes to self

I just need to discipline myself... thoughts are in plenty...brimming
And I need to write!

Posted by incommunicado 07:44 Archived in India Tagged me Comments (0)

From Rejection to the Center Stage.

He is not the regular hunky-dory, muscle flexing, gyrating to music kind of an actor. You might even fail to recognize him if he walked past you or bumped into him while crossing the road. Yet he is intense. Versatility is his keynote. Meet the man of the hour – Nawazuddin Siddique. From a small town named Budhana in Muzaffarnagar district of Uttar Pradesh, hailing from a farming family to the glittering world of Bollywood, his journey was not an easy one.
He began his career as a watchman in Delhi when he decided to move out of his home. His love for stage and acting developed when he began watching plays at night after his duty hours were over and soon joined a theatre group. He enrolled for a course in National School of Drama and after graduating he moved to Mumbai to find greener pastures. However it was not a cake walk for him. In an interview to The Times of India he said he was a “rejected actor” and he aptly describes himself as a “kaala kutta” while speaking to DNA.
It took 12 long years for this fine actor to finally set his foot in the world of Bollywood. From mere roles where you’d miss him at the blink of an eye in movies like Shool (where he is a waiter) and Sarfarosh (where he is a criminal appearing barely for a few seconds) in 1999 to Gangs of Wasseypur, Talaash, The Lunchbox, Bombay Talkies, he certainly has come a long way and with lots of accolades, acceptance and trophies.
He is a man who can fit into the skin of any character with great ease and conviction. Be it Taimur in Talaash as a guy doing odd jobs in a brothel or as Shaik in The Lunchbox, the guy taking Sajjan Fernandes’ (Irrfan Khan’s) job when he retires or as the eccentric and wicked Shiv Gajra with an evil laugh in his latest release Kick.
In Kick where he appears after intermission, he steals the show right away from the biggies like Salman Khan and Randeep Hooda nonchalantly!
Yet you just cannot get enough of him. For here is a man who manages to steal the entire show and attention right from the time he appears and you will be left asking for more.

Posted by incommunicado 20:24 Archived in India Tagged people Comments (0)

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