how i lost interest in writing my own journal, 7may'04

7 May' 04: This has been the weirdest week ever. I went out with a girl that I like, got beat up by her friend, and came back feeling guilty of crime. How cruel women are!!! Now I walk around with a brown bag over my head with slits cut out for my eyes and nose - this is the life of a fugitive criminal.

29sept'05: have you met a girl that you knew for a few minutes and thought you want to meet her again, want to know her? That is not a feeling I get very often; infact no one has made me feel that since then.

29sept'05: She never came back or said hello. I knew that night itself that it was over, I also knew that the best way for me to get over the affair rapidly was to talk to her. But as sour as the affair had turned out I new she wil not talk to me again and so I will suffer for a long time. Well she came back only to raise my lost hopes and she said she will stay in touch. When I got back four months later, she was there, some where there. Did I have hopes, I probably harboured some, but realistically I was hoping only to be a friend. but I wasnt given that opportunity to heal either. it took till december before the healing took affect. To the point that the real healing could happen only after she acknowledged me. In March, I just had to say hello to her, I did. I did not expect a response, but she did. She emailed twice and I must have mailed her atlest six times on various trivialities that are of no consequence. But her response to my emails then healed me. I was liberated.

Born again, I do not mind meeting her again (would like to), but have absolutely no urge, none like I had in March. I doubt ever again.

fear, of being forgotten,
of not being known
or remembered
of being lost
with no friends to remember you

Once you get over your fears,
you are king.

HRH

summer'04

summer'04: quite an eventful start it was, that i boarded a plane for the east all battered and bruised.

travelling is always fun especially when you dont know how to get there. its useful to know where you are going, though sometimes that can also be unknown. a few things a traveller must remember when flying long distances such as cross pacific - don't eat too much and relieve yourself as far as possible before every one else. I was fortunate to have the muscle reflexes work while every one was still in bed. post everyone waking up the the reflexes simply cease to trigger – you can only imagine the state of the toilets.

Fortunately the twenty-five hour boring flight breaks in Hong Kong where they have some of the cleanest lavatories I have seen this summer. quite a luxury these are, and the temptation to miss the flight to spend a few more minutes in here is simply irresistible.

The few good things about long haul flights are you can watch as many movies as you can humanly do, there is a lot of wine and liquor to go round as you may be the only one drinking (drinking alcohol should be avoided on flight) and you keep being fed. The down side to all this is when you step off the plane finally you are scarcely different from a gasbag.

Once I was in madras inhaling the warm homely fumes of the desi vehicles, dealing with the draught situation in the state and the general sweat and grime of dealing with people here, I soon got into to gear and hit my first stop the crocodile bank and asked them for money and drank a whole lot that night. Its great to be back with friends, these are people that I have been out with in the wilderness and had near disastrous beach landings. Great to get back here, reliving the experiences we’ve had, it was soon time for me to go on duty

But first, I spent a few days at home with my parents and brother, sufficient to keep them satisfied that the boy still has some senses and still knows the way home. Good home food cooked by Ma, and petting and pamperng from both of mom and dad. followed by a few sessions of nagging the lil boy and riding through the city trafic in the most reckless manner on my friend's motorised two wheeler exploring the new spots that grew out of nowhere in this crowded city and the old spots that have stayed long past a few generations of youngsters.

my first destination was the old city of Kolkata. Until recently it was officially known by its anglicised name - Calcutta. The head quaters of the British East India Company, set on the banks of the Ganges that is locally known as the Hooghly. magnificent city this was once, just due to its history. but the history is long past and today the population is spilling into the river quite literally. The city is a contradiction, a surprising one that knocks your eyes open. Quite incomprehensible it is that in this same city you have the thriving rich driving their fancy imported cars through mazes of narrow roads. roads that are not just narrow but also swarming with pedestrians. the pedestrians as they swarm seem discernible as a prevalaent middle class and an obvious poor. so poor that it shocks you. Obviously the poor of Calcutta have been the most obvious of the poor in India that Mother Teressa adopted the city and set up her mission here. Ironic it seems to me, and at first thought I concluded that this is a conspiracy. I am convinced enough about this conspiracy theory that poverty seen today in this city is not the same as that seen fifty years ago. The city administration is encouraging poverty as it brings in a genre of tourists ...(To be continued)


to be continued/completed (written some time in the summer of 2004)

ceirius

its been ages since i wrote anything. part of the reason was that i was burried deep in my thesis resaerch work. the other part was the preceeding history that raped me of my ability to tell a story (I have to find that story and put it up here). I have to admit I have never been a story teller really, especially bad when you expect me to tell a story. I like to tell my story in my way, of my thought, on my schedule. often times I think I say some rather profound things, but since I am the only person hearing it or that I never said it aloud means that no one else heard my profound psychological mess.
psychological mess - are any of us clear in thought that we know what we want, dunno. I especially feel warped because i see myself stretching out to reach this goal that is soo far, that i have to crawl up scraggles. Resting on the scraggy outcrop i look around and wonder 'why am i the only one doing this, i must be crazy' .
I am at on of those scraggly rest posts of my life now. I look dow to see the precipitous but easy fall, and upward as I already mentioned - the treachery of something. something that may well be called a goal or ambition, or perhaps misguided pursuit. at every point when I look around I see the others going about on their aparaently level posts, happily oblivious, and perhaps intrigued by my scary perch. The reality however is that my perch looks every bit as comfortable to them as theirs does to me.
I have things to write, but not now, will do when the time is right
29sept05