2nd May 2010: 10pm

“Just when I’ve got loads to write, my connection takes flight.” Filling in the unseen blanks, and disrupting the rhyming, “Just when I’ve got loads to write on my blog, my net connection deserts me.” Okay, I’ll be posting this much later than I wish to. For the time being, it’s Microsoft Word. Shauvik came in the afternoon, with his father (who looked anything but like Shauvik), and packed his books away. I was scared when the alcohol bottles under my bed made tinkling noises, as Shauvik scoop[ed his books away from the very place. Nothing happened though. Not a single sentence of conversation took place between the three of us. I planned to walk upto a certain distance, to save money, and therefore, I left home early. I didn’t have to walk much, auto-s were available. I reached Anshul’s place early. And he was wide awake, and in a state of super-excitement, so it all went well. Note-worthy things at today’s class are: 1. He loves Green Lays. 2. He is worsening at the greater-than-lesser-than thing. He started measuring the size of the numbers on either side of the blank, in order to find out which number is greater, and which, smaller. He out-wits me, clearly. 3. I got my fees. Anyway, I left his place at 5:30pm, exact, because the sky was darkening, and thundering, and I was scared that I wouldn’t reach Disha’s place in time. As soon as I came out in the open sky, I saw the horizon being ripped apart by a branched-vein of purple light. The dark grey clouds growled angry threats to the earth, and I, almost instantly, told myself, that I hate monsoons. This was, supposed to be a Kalbaishakhi, the evening spell of convectional rainfall that tropical summers experience. Not a “monsoon”. As I walked upto the auto-stand, the wind carried the flying debris and hurled it behind my back. Walking in a storm feels fun. This is how I always pictured apocalypse. Destruction all around (both arificial and natural), and me, walking down, amidst all of it, untouched, unscathed. The wind gained momentum, I went an sat inside an auto, hoping that it would get filled up very soon. A boy of my age, followed me in, and kept grumbling about the weather. He said things like “Case ta ki holo?” and pissed me off by his very vocubulary. Then the rain poured in. Being at the edge of the seat, I pushed my head out, and let the rain fall on my face., on my closed eye-lids. Just when I was entranced completely, he called me and said, “Bhai, ei chhata ta naao toh, tomar dik ta dheke raakho, khub jol dhukchhe.”. I smiled with pity, and obeyed him. The umbrella blocked the heaven out. Fifteen minutes passed by, with npo sign of any other passengers. The rainfall gained momentum. The sound of the huge drops drumming on the tight cloth of the umbrella filled the auto. My sore feet (sore from the blisters of my previous night’s walking) were outside the umbrella, and I let them have the luxury of being washed by cold water. We lost hope, even the auto-driver did so. We boarded the next bus that came along. By the time, I got down at the Jadavpur 8B Bus stand, it was 6pm, already. The rain had slowed down to a drizzle, and then started tossing down again. I boarded the second auto of my journey, and I got the left seat on the front. I hung my entire body outside the vehicle, and let myself get drenched to the skin, and the rushing wind give me goose-bumps. That’s when it happened. I didn’t realise how it happened. It started with distant monsoon memories. Happy ones, sad ones, neutral ones. It led to the memories of the recent past. Before I realised where it would lead to, and stop my un-controlled thought-chains, I found myself day-dreaming. I found myself yearning for new “memories” to be created. The goose-bumps on my skin were no more, because of the combined action of the wind and the rain. It was some distant black hair brushing my arm; some distant black eyes engulfing me in the depth of their intense looks; some distant delirious evenings, some re-lived, some dreamt, half ecstatic, half-fraught. Didn’t I know this would happen? Isn’t this why I’d decided I hate monsoon? In feverish distress, I reached Disha’s place by 6:30pm, and, met “The Child Who Never Smiles”. It was an instant relief, a distraction from the distress. I befriended the 2-year old girl. It was true. She couldn’t smile. I suggested that she should be taken to a doctor, and her facial muscles be examined. After some good food at Disha’s place, I left with her Mum, for Gariahat. We waited for a cab for about half an hour, and then called her Dad to come from his office, and pick us up. Meanwhile, the downpour, which had slowed down a while ago, came back, again, this time, with bigger drops, and greater speed. I held her umbrella out for her, till the car came. Then we hopped in. Disha’s Dad informed us that the entire market at Gariahat has packed off, and shut down for the day. I told them to drop me off at Lord’s More, and be on their own way. I got down, and bathed to the fullest, in the gushing torrents. Much later, I realised that I had an open packet of cigarettes in my jeans pocket. I took it out. I borrowed a lighter, lit one, and tried putting the rest back together. The cigarettes were dry, but the paper packet had completely “disintegrated”. I bought one more packet, for the night, and took a rickshaw. The blister on my right foot got redder and larger, and didn’t let me have the pleasure of walking in the rain. On the rickshaw, I was shivering down to my bone. My teeth chattered, my hands shook, I couldn’t hold the cigarette properly, let alone protect it from the water. I reached the welcoming warmth of my home after a few minutes, made myself some Maggi, with two extra packets of the Masala. Having had it, I sat down to write this, and then Picco came, and then, he went off for dinner, and I asked him not to come anymore that night. I’m going to bed, early, today. I’ll be plugging the finally-found-earphones of my other-wise useless phone, and listening to FM. I’ll fall asleep with some good music, so that the background music of my dreams isn’t “Ke Bin Tere Jeena Nahin…” anymore!