Other things Kept Mum

This is a tale about a girl who tried to kill herself. And in order to kill herself she decided to create poison at home. Needless to say, I was asked by this idiot, "What is the strongest brand of cigarette that makes you cough up?". I said, after a slight bit of contemplation: "I will tell you later."

Now she had not told me what she was going to do with the cigarettes, did she? Naturally, I told her the brand that I thought was the cheapest, most disgusting and irritatingly filled with more sawdust than the real thing.

Had she told me she wanted to create pure nicotine and eat it to die I would have said something otherwise. But people do not specify nowadays.

I am really sorry M. For me, you had to puke out everything you had eaten for the last few weeks, and you are still burping nicotine. Or what is nicotine flavored sawdust.

And I still cannot believe you mixed it with Horlicks.

But oh well, if you had seen your face when you had the first bite off that Pizza which I got you for being alive. It was a moment to look out for.

Doesn't Saying Sorry Help?

I don't know. I just tried it. It does not work apparently.

It is still not alright. How can I make it better? How can I make it better? I ask myself over and over again.

Oh no, oh no ohno.... I will lose another friend. I cannot lose another friend. I cannot. It is going to be too much for me to bear it this time. How can I breathe? I cannot breathe now... I cannot breathe if I lose you. But don't you know you are a part of me now, and parts of me cannot be broken apart like that?

Don't break me. Don't break me.

Just. Please. Don't.

Friends...

Its horrible when they betray you.

Its just horrible.

I love my friends enough to take bullcrap from them. Even when it means I cannot tell someone what a completely supercilious twit he/she is, giving me the holier-than-thou act. Somehow I sense this deep sense of total insecurity in him/her that says that he/she is so unhappy to make his/her choice of path in life that he/she has to put up this front to think he/she is happy.

I feel sorry and that's why I let him/her get away with all that he/she says about me. Which is not nice, so as to tell.

Shows I have a holier-than-thou fixation too.

Well....

I get by with a little help from my friends.

It seems hard but I know that I won't be getting this set of friends who roam around in my mind all the time. I will miss them like hell when I stop looking after them, but life is not about making regrets. Its all about making these little memories... which cling like a silver foil, etching and beautifying.

I suddenly know that I am all right now. I may be a lot of things. But these moments... these memories keep me on. People will leave, but they will leave me with the memory that I will have of them. And in this fleeting life of mine that does not even matter mostly I shall have this... and I don't want any more right now.

Of Instilled Ideas

Some people are biased. Some people possess ideas. A friend of mine holds knowledge to be the ultimate key to find happiness. Another believes that intelligence is the best way to assess a human being.

I would like to take this opportunity to let people know that I have been familiar with extremely intelligent people, and have realized they are just as gullible and stupid as those who decided that intelligence was not their forte.

In some places, I have been called rough, crude and vulgar. In some other, stupid has been the order of my day. But I like the term obtuse. I like it because it can lead into so many different conclusions.

While I do not like passing judgments right and left, I do believe that some people make friends with the "Right", the "Intelligent", the "Cool" and the "Happening" and they refuse to see people who does not go with their formed opinions. I have met people who have judged (among others) me and dismissed, and I have taken real pleasure in making them re-analyze and revise their opinion about me. Gives me a perverse pleasure to see people who at first glance would turn away, turn back and smile or even hold their houses open for me to enter.

Somehow this is turning into a slightly bitter post. Its just that, I really hate people who boxes others up into tiny slots based on their race, sex, nationality, individuality, personality and colour.

27th November: A Day

I cried last night after a long time and prayed that someone called Puloma Baral was all right. Her mother was on the phone and I could not cry because she was and as she talked to me a life flashed before my eyes... in living colours I saw this girl who grew up with me and was the salient member of a gang which we would adoringly call Scarlet.

I have two friends: One at Taj and the other at The Oberoi, Mumbai. Sabrina was accessible and responded immediately to my query. Pulo was not. Her phone was switched off and her mother was hysterical.

We did not know what to do. All I did was stare at the TV to watch the destruction of faith. My friend told me that it made her stomach turn over to see it. I switched off the TV after I saw the hotel room on fire. I could not bear it, and to top it all, news came that five chefs were murdered, and since Puloma's a chef, we were terrified.

I hated the TV channels which try to show reality and end up dramatizing and not revealing the truth. I hate that news man who saw my friend run out of the hotel, with blood pouring out of her head and her ankle and never came to help, though she asked. I will not forgive that person who turned a blind eye (THE CAMERA) to her as she ran out and tried to find help. Now she is safe but what about those hours?

If I sound vengeful and angry, but its reaction, I know.