Retrospection

Someone, somewhere, once told me that promises are made/meant to be broken. As I strive to help this "someone" keep the promises she made to me, I break a few promises myself. Like the previous post, wherein I swore to return the same night, but I didn't. My excuses: I had better things to do. I couldn't afford to get addicted to my blog till yesterday. I had this exam, which, as much as I hate to admit, is called a "re-test". I wasn't allowed for the original "test", because of low attendance. I wanted to drop out of college ever since I entered that roomful of girls, on the first day of the University finals, last year. The event of being debarred from exams acted as a trigger. If not for newly-found "friends", and Dad's emotional atyachar, I wouldn't have given this re-test too. I didn't (and I don't) want to waste more time by NOT doing what I want to do. But, then, offsetting all my "what-do-I-want-do-with-my-life" dreams, is my identity disorder, and the five-lakh-surgery looming ahead. So, the dire need for a job, to be able to take a loan, and finish off with this ASAP. The "what-do-I-want-do-with-my-life" plans will be enforced thereafter. The homework and groundwork for the plans, are, well, already in progress. That's almost all about what has been happening to me of late. Other mention-worthy things would be Anshul and Mehan. Two kids. Anshul is five-years old, reading in Upper KinderGarten in South City International School. I teach him all the subjects, namely, English, Mathematics and Bengali. I also take art classes. I am supposed to take art classes on Fridays only, but, as it turns out, he's pretty much like me, so he needs at least 30 minutes of drawing every day, so that he can study! I meet him 4 days a week. Mehan is two and a half years old. I meet him twice a week, art classes only. It's less of an art class and more of an interaction session. What's even more mention-worthy is that both my students' mothers are pretty and hot! Holi was good, with all the sad moments. for that matter, there were sad moments even last year. Last year I had cried; this year I didn't shed a single tear. I can't use that as a measuring rod, because I know I was happy last year, the tears had come at the end of the day, when I realised the futility of the happiness. This time, I had all my emotions turned off! Holi was wild this time. We played it real unsafe. And my eyes were itching even after 48 hours of the mega-post-Holi-bath. Sreeja's birthday was supposedly an important event. But I didn't feel a thing, before, during , or after the whole day. Gublu's birthday was on the same day: 6th March. That was almost similar. I told Disha everything except the Chel-O-Kebab climax. I don't remember things these days. And I know it's because the main aid to my memory, that is my thinking-things-over has stopped completely. Wonder if it's because I'd stopped blogging. I had Facebook on the go, wherein I could update my Facebook status every minute, via Text Message. So I didn't need a blog these days. What else, let me see. I have borrowed Picco's bicycle and I travel everywhere on it these days. Everywhere. In Kolkata. That saves on my transportation costs; that saves on my transportation minutes, and finally, that makes me sweat a lot! And I have realized that I'm still in love with cycling; it's just that this love was overshadowed by other loves! Love IS forever. Cycling makes me go all philosophical and strange revelations dawn upon me when I'm paddling out my sweat. Well, summer is here, and my room is soon turning into an intolerable furnace. Sorry, not a furnace: a boiler. It's more humid than a furnace, in here! Apart from watching the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. trash, I'm watching good movies too. Watched an art film called "Thanks Maa" at a theatre yesterday. Watched this year's Oscar winner "The Hurt Locker" today. Slowly, I'm learning my Dad's way of judging movies. "To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward."