So here’s from my most recent visit to the fort Tughlaqabad.
Screaming around <in my head>
With no questions to ask,
And all pain and guilt.
<Six months ago> You made me wipe away my tears,
<Six months ago> You had me smiling again,
<Six months ago> You had me listening to metal!
<Six months ago> You taught me to love…oo oo ooooo….
Love, love, love, <love, love, love, love, love>
Some mystery it is. <How it happened>
You’d know it all better. <Sure you do>
It’s easy to mistake,
But then it never is.
<Six months ago> It all changed.
<Six months ago> You changed it for me.
<Six months ago> You, you, you happened.
<Six months ago> And your cycle became my eternity.
Words, little words, ran out of mind. <my my, my, my, my>
Some mystery that is. <How it happened>
You’d know it all better. <Sure you do>
It’s easy to mistake.
But then is it?
I plead guilty, <I am I know>
But like all crimes, punish me. <Oh, don’t leave me alone>
You cut me off, like I’m made of paper.
You turned away, like it’ll undo the last six months.
<Six months ago> You spoke a spell, <or something like that>
<Six months ago> If you’d remember, we had something to fight for.
<Six months ago> Six months have passed, and it’s just hurting now.
<Six months ago> You killed us but then there’s the ghost of our laughter…
Taunting through the day and haunting the nights,
You’re out there, soaring up on sunny beaches,
With the tides and the sun, while in silence life leaks outta me,
Caught in the perpetual ice storm, you and life conspired to put me in.
<Six months ago> I wished to die, and fade,
<Six months ago> What I feel now.
<Six months ago> You came in and that changed.
<Six months ago> Now you’re gone and won’t come back again.
All I wanna apologize for is,
I really do miss you.
Baby, you were all the good things,
I believe life ever had to offer me, that I will miss.
It’s been almost three years, since the first time my feet touched these peripheries, and it came to own me, even though to be bluntly honest, that first time, I didn’t dream I would be spending all this time here, in Kamala Nehru College. First off, I was so far off from home, and all this while I’ve had just so much going on, on my mind, that inadvertently I ended up not wholly appreciating the privilege I had been goaded with, to be forever, a part of and be one with all the past of KNC, my college, and its future as well.
To the common man or woman it’s just a college, another building in a lush sub-urban neighborhood, but for me, it’s my identity, my bridge towards reality. Every morning, walking through the front gate, out of time and breath, I step in and rush around the front porch and conveniently dash up the stairs in the search for my class. Well, it’s my fault, that I lead two very disjointed lives, that I appear like a lost lampoon at the beginning of every class, but then, that’s my story, and it’s entirely irrelevant here. This is the story of my college. So breathe, I’m almost there.
But I am an observer, I am at one with the human spirit as well as the spirit of all things on the earth and over my time at KNC, I’ve grown closer to nature than to my classmates. The lush campus of my college provided a very good setting for me to explore the minute things of life. The bustle that thrived all around the big college building, always instilled a kind of unusual feeling in my heart, that first year, that coming home for the vacations, I learnt was “homesickness” and my own house, seeming to feel smaller because unknowingly the place had come to own me, made me acknowledge it as my home. I knew I could never be at peace for the months I was away from college.
I am not a very studious person, but I read, oh I read…and reading I’ve spent hours reading, just curling up under the big willowy trees in the fields with yellowed collections of old, very old poetry, and lose track of time entirely. I, who’s usually very concerned about a low battery on my phone, could forget about my dead phone, and let it stay dead for forever, while I lay down on the soft greens of our playground and feel the sun warm my closed lids on a wintry afternoon. I admit it, I am lazy, and I love to waste time – specially, when I am witnessing, or while being a part of, something that with my soul, I wouldn’t hesitate calling beautiful.
The college grounds proved to be a great place for me to practise photography as well, since it was very convenient to carry along my camera for beginners. It was just ridiculous thought that I was found by people to be looking into every crevice, searching for treasure. Haha, that’s just me saying, because with every good shot, I’d be up there, beaming like Napoleon Bonaparte, as if I’d conquered a nation, bursting with glee. Even though I wasn’t really expecting a round of applause from people around, me, I was still a small town girl. But it didn’t take me long to realize there was no one with me in my bubble and I walk around, learning more with every step that took me away…
The canteen was where I always went in search for comfort. People have this strong notion that I eat a lot, and why shouldn’t that notion exist, I am a foodie, and I love good food. And especially it was the aroma circulating around our college canteen that drew me on like a moonstruck vagabond follows the moon goddess. My classmates would testify to the fact that I’m wholly addicted to our canteen, my favourite momos with the red sauce with the lemon iced tea, the chicken tikka rolls of the Coke Studio, the rajma rice, and the perfect combo of the samosa and coffee from the Nescafe stall, that we get after we exact it with the coins – those twelve, well spent rupees, are all the fuel we need to sit through the tiresome back-to-back classes on the late autumn afternoons when the rest of the world is cosily taking a nap in their warm beds…
Now my college days are drawing to a close, and it’s like a cold, harsh gust of wind whipping across my face. I would miss my college and I will miss the people of my class. But then life goes on…like time and tide waits for none. KNC will forever be the longest chapter in my life, my hard earned prized that I forgot to cherish while I had it… But then that’s my story, which is an entirely different one. KNC, will always stand, and I’ve loved it in so many other ways, it’ll always make me speechless; like right now, I don’t know how to conclude this…since the story hasn’t ended, nor, it ever will…
I have spent countless restless nights, waiting, waiting, wishing for the end of the world. Wishing however is not the right word for it, since the word doesn’t cover it, aptly enough, the sensation, the burning desire that has consumed the best parts of me with it, over the centuries (or should I say millennia?)…Hell, it seems I do have lost my count after all! Worthless, futile has been this life, I know, I shouldn’t be allowed to live this life. I shouldn’t exist! Reduced to this weakling, I await death to come personally to drag me to hell, if there exists one, and yet, the wait is endless…
Am I dead? Can’t be, I am talking…but who is hearing? Someone definitely is…otherwise how would you all know about my personal rumblings? Am I alive? I don’t feel so…I have been hiding from all the world, people who are the off-springs of my own bloodline, in darkness, in shadows, I have been creeping around like the monster I am, watching my people die – in my own hands, some passing with time as well, perishing in bodies, fading in names… Watching changes everywhere, new lives, new faces, all the while I remained as I was. A stone. Harder than granite, I cannot fade. I cannot die. Yet nobody remembers me.
I am a monster, yes, I am. Suffering a fate, I’d myself brought upon me, cursed for all of eternity. I’ve just dragged on…without any family left, no friends either – just time and darkness, who’ve kept me company. But, I’ve had plenty of them. I have spent eons in my wait for the end, but fate doesn’t allow it. I have sinned, I deserve to be damned.
No, I deserve to be damned.
Torn in conflict,
Between fire and ice…
So much I want to do, but cant,
So much I have in me, that I cannot write!
But I think I’m a wise fool.
Always in a rush,
Always buried in work.
I cannot even start to forget.
Drip with all your stock of sweet golden honey,
Pour on me with some more of the hopeful bliss…
Lace me up with the bittersweet memory,
Of how we were together, at one, and twice.
Month, year, era, life will passes by,
Twigs, roots and time will intertwine.
We may part, and never meet again,
But this moment, on, will surely live forever.
(From the Diary of Nirmita Sarma, my roommate, my skinmate)
No sleep all night, no stars either.
Wake up with a conscience.
Of classes I’ve missed,
But can’t remember either,
What I’ve gained. Loss, only loss.
Winds beat against the closed window glass;
But no time.No time, to watch the morning birds flock
The barren rooftops.
Coming from the land of tea gardens,
No chance, I have, of finding the cold tea here,
No time to look into the mirror,
To check if I’m not stunted anymore.
The pile of sheets of literary criticisms,
Not quite ready yet, lies under my couch–
Along with a big box of stale cigarettes.
I’m late. No time for a shower.
I’m late!!! No music now too.
Hire a three wheeled cab,
Since I can’t miss another class.
Hand over the change to the greedy cabbie.
Even gave away my favourite lucky note,
On which someone had once scribbled a handsome ‘33‘…
No time to stand and regret at another one of my losses.
Otherwise I would choke.
Then I dash up the stairs, and crash into the classroom.
More, more humiliation. Perfect! Just Perfect.
Laughing quietly, are you bitches?
Well, I don’t really mind. Or care.
You all have no idea,
What I have to go through,
Every. Freaking. Day.
No friends. No gains.
Losses piling up,
Like elephant dump.
When trying to win back a few friends.
They take me out for fun.
Still no friends for me, no gains for me.
My pocket just leaks out more and more.
Late for the next class.
Hire another three wheeler,
But that’d never be fast enough,
To get me away from those shiny shops.
Assignments. More tests, the pun’s on me.
The hours drag, but it’s still not enough
My hands slog. Dizzy in my head,
I wonder when it’s going to get over.
The final thing.
When I’m going to settle bets with life itself.
When I’ll strangle its throat with my own bare hands…
For now, even the coffee shops have closed.
And I am out of change.
I walk out into the storm,
My music strolling along with me.
As the day closes, or maybe it’s the light,
I’m still where I had started this dawn.
Not one credible to be called friend.
A one who knows me, not my lies.
Not one friend, nothing gained.
Just losses and pains piling up.
But in this hour of rush,
I don’t really have the time,
To think about all of this mess,
Or even begin to forget them as well.