Friday, March 12, 2010
All imaginable puns intended this time. Puspen's style: double meanings, always. She is like a pollution now. An unwanted, unnecessary intrusion on the mind. Even the places, Kolkata, Durgapur. My birthplace, my hometown. The places are all polluted. Because, being in these places are mentally hazardous for me. She has polluted it all. She is the pollution. What happened to my Aal Izz Well plan? One thing outside the plan led to another thing outside the plan. Someone I know gets drunk for the first since I know him. What happens next? One weird night of weird chatting with this weird someone, who kept saying "I'm not going to answer that", thus answering me indirectly; and then the two hours of weird "conversation" the next day, at a weird venue, with a weird someone again. The former happened with me, the latter, not with me. The latter, followed by another weird thing: not by me, again. Removing me from Facebook was intentional. Leaving Orkut was UN-intentional. Blocking me from Gtalk, why now? Why not long ago? Will Buzz follow? Intentional, yeah. But indifference, and not "intentions" was my plan! Then, me. Let me introduce Suchishmita first (not sure of her name's spelling, yet). She was my voluntary date for New Year's eve. I liked her. Her boyfriend shared his name with a weird someone. Never mind. I liked her. Very talkative. Very cool. Very cheerful. Very considerate. Very intelligent. And, she thinks. What more can I ask for? Still, I never bothered to get her number, because I had forgotten about her. I met her after that for the first time yesterday. She kept talking about her boyfriend, asking me to tell her about the other person who has the same name. Then she was flirting with me. Rather, she was responding to my flirting, which seemed to come naturally at the sight of her! Unusual, yeah. But the first thing that came to my mind after I "scanned" her, was The Pollution. Then, she told me that she wanted to meet The Pollution. I told The Pollution's friend about her, and her "desire". Fine, I'm fine. I go to sleep. I have a beautiful dream, which is unfortunately, under the real life circumstances. The other person, the metro, everything, and the passion, to make it beautifully worse. When I dreamt that I was making out with Sritama, a friend, I felt "good", then it felt funny, then it felt nothing. It was a matter of an hour. Period. When I dreamt of making out with The Pollution, I wanted to go back to sleep again, and again, just to re-feel it all over again. It upset me. It made me THINK, goddamn it. I had stopped thinking, hadn't I? That's why I'd stopped blogging, after all! And the plan comes back to me. The dream was just a scene from my plan's visual blue-print. It upset me. If someone makes you want to sleep more than 8 hours a day, what is she but a mental pollutant? Fuck man! Anyway, let's dig deeper and find if there's anything better in life right now. Sayak just said my thoughts aloud. textually. After all these days of "I don't feel it anymore", then BANG, it hits you unaware, the polluting feelings, out of nowhere. If it's anything, it's unfair. No, that isn't good too. I decided to start studying. Sayak was very helpful in this. He volunteered to discuss computer with me, and thus get me into the mood. When I was distracted, I saw Sayak's offline message that reminded me of the computer science practical. I downloaded Turbo C++. I tried installing it. I failed. Now, what's good about it? Nothing. Dig deeper. I watched 1947 Earth, a Deepa Mehta movie. A good movie, because it had a good impact. I dreamt that I'm trying to kill The Pollutant. What else? The poem I've been working on is going on well, though I'm taking 24-hour-breaks between each stanza. Dunno what happened to my two-poems-a-day days! I went to Kumartuli yesterday. Was a good experience. Rode a tram for the third time in life. It was depressing, as usual, so, it was good. That's where Suchishmita comes into the scene, in fact. Abhik's words and deeds were depressing. I lost my data cable, so I can't upload the Kumartuli pictures, which is depressing again. I dunno how much marks I got in the re-test. That's not depressing, that's just sickening. I'll be watching my first match in a stadium this Sunday. That was the only good thing in the last few days, till last night, when I learnt that, like the Mondarmoni business, I have lost a score in this business. Only the highest point of Kolkata has been my winning score so far. The first tram ride, and the Victoria Memorial were poor winning scores. What am I doing? I'm still as immature as I was in class 11. Treating love-triangles as soccer matches. Who gets to score more goals, me or the other. I did that with my previous relationship. And I'm doing it again, ain't I? Damn. Depressing again. Just that, last time, I was conscious of it every moment. This time, I realise it only while I'm writing this. That's neither depressing, nor enlightening. That's just a theory, to be kept in mind. I shouldn't stop thinking. If I do, I won't be the person who knows me the best, anymore. But, why? Why the hell should I want to be the person who knows me the best? What good does it do? All this planning thing is pathetic. I shouldn't even try to have a control of things. I shouldn't even hope. I shouldn't even try to achieve anything, anything on these frontiers (I'm still not letting go of my Identity Disorders and creative ambitions). So, for all other purposes, I don't need to know myself, do I? I don't need The Pollution, do I?