Memories of Blue Dendrobiums

Ever bought flowers for someone? Someone whom you love and one who loves flowers? Not those occasional mandatory stuff. Bought flowers because you really felt like, bought it to give it to someone? Probably one of those few times, because everyone else you ever had in your life wasn't really fond of flowers, or you never had the courage to buy them flowers, ever...

Blue dendrobiums are not really blue. They are in fact purple. Since blue looks nice for almost all occasions (according to a florist's website!) the purple Bombay dendrobium is dyed with blue colour, so they can have a purplish blue tinge. Which in fact, looks kind of nice and fit for all occasion. All that is beautiful is fake, all that is romantic must be a short lived illusion. I bought them once and sent them to the one I thought would appreciate them.

Did I love her? Like hell I did!

Hell it was... definitely for me, partly for her too, or so I assumed. Met her on a cyber-trip in search of a stranger. You all know it, and if you're already a blogger like me, you must have had chat-room strangers, early social networking strangers and probably the more sophisticated kind by now. If you haven't, I pity you! So the chitchat grew into casual talks, text messages and phone calls, eventually we met. Our professional lives crossed path, so did our list of friends. We could've met earlier, as we found out later, but fate it seems, never runs out of the sense of irony!

Did she love me? She said so, "not in the way you love me.." she told me. She realised that rather late though. For me, the helpless romantic I am, it was almost insufferable. Met her when she was about to get married, after a long courtship. There was nothing wrong with their companionship. I met the guy, liked him a lot. But I certainly did not want her to get married, not to him. I've been the anti-marriage, anti-family kind of person for long. Age it seems, I felt like marrying her. The funny thing with experiences of life is you are never mature enough. Just the moment you think you've been there, done that, something absolutely new and mind boggling comes up. Life is what happens to you, when you're busy planning other things. Or so they say...

It could've happened that way. But I was never ready to let her go. So we kept in touch. I had definite reasons for it, and let me assure you they were never very innocent or moral. I still don't know why she did that. We went to trips together, fought. Didn't see each other for days. She once took 30 days to reply to one of my texts. She had her reasons, I guess. But then, all you can do is to assume things. As I once understood when I was a student, and later told my students of media, there is nothing called truth, there are only perceptions! I almost stand corrected now, there are only assumptions. We are taught to believe things, have faith. Then comes academics, teaches you to be a skeptic, teaches you to ask questions. And then, if you think like me, you'll discover, when you ask something, most of the time the answer dangles there, in between truth and lie, with a probability of inclining to any which way at any given instance of time. Truth is, therefore, whatever you wish to believe! In the beginning you are so startled to understand this, you almost refuse to succumb to it. But then slowly, it settles in. After a point, you happily believe whatever you wish to believe and continue your happily ever after.

Not a skeptic like me. One of the (dis)advantages of being a skeptic is you see so many versions of the same 'truth' from such vicinity that it feels too close for comfort. But let me keep the analyzing part at bay for a while. After quite a considerable amount of time in her marriage, she realised I wasn't as bad as I seemed in the beginning and I was in fact kind of a nice, harmless guy. I can be a good friend and the occasional shoulder to cry on, when things don't go according to plan. People around me, told me she's using me. I myself felt so on a few occasions. When she felt no one loves her, she asked me if I still love her. Asked me to reassure her that at least I still love her, if not anyone else. I did. But when I felt the same way, she told me it's not a good time, because she's disturbed. Never cared to ask, how I felt when she asked me for love then content, she went back to her man. O she was faithful to him, give and take a night or two...

Point is, I was willing to submit, willing to overlook such anomalies, such lack of respect. You're not supposed to expect things when you're in love. But then, you do expect things.. don't you? She took from me what she needed, because I was willing to give, fair enough. I said I didn't expect, she trusted me. Logical enough. On a logical plane, I can't blame her, nor do I wish to. So, when people told me she was using me, I said, may be I love to be used? But deep inside I knew, how I bled. Why I lost my sleep, why did I keep awake all night and cry, how I craved for her. Never in my life, someone hurt me this much. At times, I thought I'll end my life or her. But I knew that will never happen. I never had so much courage. I stayed out of touch for brief intervals of time, didn't help. I was the first one to help her when she was in trouble, almost all sorts. So, did she care for me? At times it felt she did.

I have a problem. I'm a believer in a skeptic's clothing. I almost believe everything someone tells me. I trust almost everyone and then I trust none. So when people told me she was using me, I trusted them. When she told me she wasn't I believed her. In this process continuous tensions from all sides, I lost too many things. Lost my valuable time for work, my concentration, my ability to think properly, my sleep, my energy, but most importantly I lost my ability to trust, anything and everything. Deep inside I eroded, silently, like a riverbed. My friends told me she was not the right one for me. Not that I didn't know. I always fall for women who are not "right" for me. Maybe this time I went too far. May be there are no right ones?

Towards the end of last decade, her marital problems scaled new heights. But then they subsided, probably for good. So she thinks at least. It was just a matter of time she joined her man in their new 'home'. But right before she did that, she managed to hurt me for one final time. She announced her departure rather dramatically. For once she made me fantacise she's coming back to my city, once and for all. But then I realised, rather painfully that she's not coming back, ever. It was the final goodbye. i still don't wish to blame her for anything she did or said to me.

May be her situations were such? May be she never loved me, may be she did? May be she wanted to, but couldn't? May be she actually used me? May be people are cruel enough to do so and forget? May be they are just helpless as I am? May be I was too desperate,selfish and insensitive to realise she couldn't have done anything else? Who knows? I felt happy about the good times spent together, I feel content with my little victories over the better man she was faithful to. I'm sorry that I almost ruined her apparently peaceful marriage. Sorry, that I stepped down from my disbelief in the marital institution for once and then found it almost impossible to get back to it. But as I bid her the final farewell, I realised I don't the answers to too many questions. I don't know for sure if blue dendrobiums can be kept on the tombstones of unnamed relations. Nonetheless, I'll offer one. I could have said adieu to her a long time ago, I didn't and as I recognise it's a late goodbye, I've learnt to let go...

In search of a recipient

Some nights I browse through my contacts list and I don't see a single friend. What did I do to deserve this?

Love and faith has done more damage to the human race than hatred and skepticism was ever capable of.

Also, no one really reads this blog.. I feel there are two things I can do with it, shut it down or may be it's time to actually express things I usually don't because they are too dangerous for language itself...

Joker

"...Asole joker-er chinhoguli ki ki? Sobai janbe se herow. Se nijeo nishchit thakbe se herow. Tar theke kono threat utsarito hobe na konokaley. Se propose korbe na. Sobbai snatar katle, se pare dnariye thakbe nyala pa cross kore, khali-ga howar sahos nei. Ekta mridu chithi likhbe, dakeo debe, kintu maskhanek bade charline sopate thabra ele borong swasti pabe, noile sei obiswasyo dhon niye tar khoro-basay kon kone rakhto, swechchha-boklos na-boltei golay goliye das-madam natyo shuru korar por obodharito kuthar kobe porto, onek hyapa. Adday se oporiharjo noy, kintu priyo khub. Oi je, prothomei proman kore diyechhe, keu lath khele, se khabe. Se sobar jonne boye ene debe jol, take niyei khnyao-khnyao hasahasi kore dhok gilte giye jokhon kulkuchir moto ento jol chhoriye porbe mejhete, se-i punche nebe mridu hasi osthe mekhe, patta pachhe kotoi na, eto jinis thakte alochonar aykkere moddhikhane tar hablapona, tar kyablagiri, ei tripti-te dogomogo. Take somaje bolbe, khub boddo bhishon bhalomanush..."

"...Se nije balance rakhte pare na, tai tar hate nyasto hoy bhuboner bhar. Running-e se chore porte pareni, line-e dhokar chestao ar kore na gnatiyegnutiye, protijogitar baire dnariye thake onujoghin hasi futiye, dharabahik walk-over deowatai onushilon kore chole, tar bekhappagiri o achabhuyapona nishchoyota peye gechhe, byas, ebar gyandaner license apsei gojiyechhe pechhonpockete. Tar mukhbhorti rong, ekta chokher tolay duto nitol osrubindu anka, jhyakormyakor collar-er opor tar norbore mathay konkra chuler modhyikhane taak, tate progya chokchok korbe na to ki? Hasikanna chhene se tule enechhe chaddi joruri mukto, jibonke reserve bench theke study kore se peye gechhe ei niyomer o foul-er tabot chhoker nikhut samajh, nanga sonyasi jemon guptodhoner sondhan ditey paren obyortho, temon ei hiseb bohirbhutorai tuski mere miliye dite pare bhognagsho o sniribhangar jotiltomo step. Sobhyotar nil-sada kejo routine got-ke ding mere periye jaowar otiloukik moi pagol peyechhe tar osukher doulote, matal peyechhe neshar jore, ar joker peyechhe koutuker habudubu kheliye, tinjonei atmonigroher ticket dekhiye khirkir dor diye ghure eshe ultobagey chand catch korechhe. Joker syayna pagol, swechchha-matal, fole se three-in-one-o bote. Kheurer kholose chironton sach pakhle neowa tar jolbhat, har sondhyer agenda..."

Haha, hoho, hihi o onyanno
Chandril Bhattacharya
Robbar, Songbad Protidin
20 December, 2009

HANGMAN

Hangman
by Maurice Ogden

1.
Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.

The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.

And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.

And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."

And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief

And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.

2.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.

And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.

And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."

He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."

Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"

And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.

That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;

Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.

3.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"

And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."

The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"

The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."

And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.

The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.

4.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all

For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.

He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.

And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.

"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.

For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"

"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."

Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Of loves gone by...

সকলই ফুরায়, ফুচ্‌কার প্রায়, পড়ে থাকে শালপাতা...

The disgusted post

It's not a great feeling for me to post something on my blog after a long time and start it with a disgusted tone. But the fact remains. I can't really 'compose' what I feel right now, but if I don't let it out somehow, it's just killing me. I mean I feel physically ill.

I'm wondering what it means to offer someone something. Something really naive like a gossip session over a cup of coffee or a film that's supposed to hit the screens in a few days. Not that you pick up a random someone and throw a proposal. It's about people you know are likely to enjoy that kind of an experience. Not that I necessarily need a company for such things, but it's always good to have like-minded people for such occasions.

Now the question is, what does it amount to be. When you propose something, anything, to some individual or a group of individuals or an institution, there are two possible answer. It may not always readily opt out to be any one of them, but there is, almost always a chance of negotiation, be it a positive one or a denial. The deal is quite straightforward, I've something to say, you may agree to it, or you may not. Even if you do, we may need to negotiate a few more things. Almost never one does expect an answer that quite clearly is rude, to say the least. But it happens. All of us know that, all of us have faced such situations. My question is, why does it happen?

Clearly one does and does not expect certain things from the other party. Don't give me the crap that expectation is the problem. We all know that, but that doesn't stop any of us from expecting things. So, when you come up with a proposal, you expect both the ends. What you don't expect is the subsidiaries of such outcomes. For example, when a denial comes with a hint of... let me correct myself... with a clear intent of humiliation. As if, there is almost always some sort of an underlined intention to any proposal, that it chooses to hide. I know such things are there but it is not a necessary component every proposal. Some are just dumb enough to be straightforward.

Humiliation as I see it, is the round about way of making one feel guilty of things one has not consciously done. There are things I can not speak of because they lie beyond the domain of language but the feeling is real. At least it feels so.

This post has started sounding like a letter to express personal grudges against people I don't want to intimidate, but if it goes on, take my word for it, I will. Point is I'm fade up of playing the nice guy I'm not and if it hurts you, good for you, I haven't been spared either. You see, you may have been disappointed/disgusted/disoriented for reasons beyond my comprehension, but just because I dropped an sms at the wrong time, doesn't give you the right to humiliate me for no apparent reason. When I feel bad about things, I don't talk to people and tell them I don't want a fight. I believe that's the best way to not hurt each other for reasons that doesn't readily involve both of us. I'm ready to hear, if you have anything against me, come out with it.

Or is it just me, playing the loser? Suffering from all sorts of complex that only jeopardizes my life. Why does it sound like a betrayal every time I offer a friendship to someone. I know it's an insane world out there, but sometimes, humiliation is just the one push that helps one cross the line that marks the abyss of madness! Call me an egotist, or a loser, or insane...

Sincerely, I give a FUCK...