Distanced

"You enjoyed the chasing more, didn't you?"
"Chasing is fun, yes, but this, when it's officially us, is the real deal. Why would I like to be the one chasing when I can hold your hand and pull you closer?"

One of the many conversations we have every other day. "You don't miss me, do you?" The need to be reassured, this is what distance does to you. You crave, you resist, you hope, you sink, this is what distance does to you. Ask an engineer what distance is & they'll throw a formula at you. Ask the people who're living in a long distance relationship & they'll tell you there's absolutely no formula. It's a trick shot, some miss some hit. No one really knows how?

 We've known each other for more than half a decade now & it's clear that we're absolutely incapable of leaving each other alone. December of 2013, with the chill in the air and miles away, we turned to each other for warmth. I still remember comforting her in the hope that things will be just fine, we'll skype every now & then, we'll still have a life, we'll be okay. A year down the lane, I don't know how much of it's true. We're more in love than we were but we're not okay. We facetime almost every day but we're not okay. We're still alive, but we're not okay.

Why? Why can't we be just another regular couple? Why can't we tug into bed & watch a movie together? Why can't I surprise you with flowers waiting for you by your office? Why can't we dance around in Vegas? Why can't we lie down by the beach & just stay? Why can't we drive to eternity? Why can't I lie in your lap while you read your favorite book?  Why can't I touch you? Why are you so far? Why am I here when you're not? Why?

I know this is a path we both chose. I know I shouldn't be cribbing about it when I already knew that we'll be 13,000 kms away for 11 months every year. I know I should've thought it through. But you know what, this -whatever we have 13K away- is still worth it. She, is worth it. I write because I hope that someday she'll be all mine, not bound by speed, time or distance. I write because for now, that's all I can do.

Live no more, exist, just.

I saw the BBC documentary last night. Slept over it. Or did I? The guilt is unparallel. The guilt of being one of the 'men', the guilt of not knowing what to do, the guilt of not knowing what I could do barring hope, barring pray. Sadly, that's the routine we've inherited, some prey while others pray.

I saw her mother cry tears of humanity. I tried putting myself in her shoes, yet thinking why am I doing this? Why do I have to place myself in a position so that I understand the gravity of a cause? Why can't we just deal with our regular struggles like inflation and traffic and just that? Why is there so much pain around us? If death has to come, if death is already painful, why add to the misery by pulling out organs from their bodies? Why do you get to teach us a lesson? Why do you get to decide that I don't become a doctor? Why do you get to decide that my parents don't need a daughter anymore? Why? Also, why are there people out there who let you?

The lawyers. Thanks to this documentary, the words 'politicians', 'smugglers', and 'gangsters' don't seem so cold. I understand that like a doctor- like Jyoti, a lawyer can't judge their clients & they have to defend them nevertheless. But hi, meet morals, meet conscious, meet sympathy, will you? Is there a strand of shame left on your body? You'll burn my mother, my sister, my wife, my daughter alive for you can? How on earth are you guys even allowed to function for an authority that concerns our laws, our government? Oh I forgot, the government. One that's not hesitant on imposing bans on the use of a transistor radio covering a guy's penus, but can't morally police its own ministers, lawyers and judges representing the idea called India. How are they not fighting their own battle in these courts, charged with instigating riots, publically admitting to the possibility of them committing a crime, publically admitting to women having no place in our society, or for just being alive and breathing amongst us?

I still don't know what to do but to write, to hope, to pray, to educate my near ones, to cry, or to continue living- or just existing for Jyoti's parents? I don't know, I sadly don't. I know what made me write this and yet I regret every bit of it. I regret this happened, I regret I feel sorry for someone, I regret being a man, I regret the world doesn't know what being a man really means. Jyoti, I regret you couldn't set up that hospital in your village, I regret you can't watch any more movies, I regret that you didn't just get hit by lightning instead. Her parents, I regret your problems never met an end, I regret those bastards are still alive, I regret rapes still happen, I regret-I'm sorry your daughter, one of us, is no more.

Amidst

In his soul, there was room for two.
Loved by one, loved by the other.
Inflicted by one, inflicted upon the other.
Engaged by one, engaged with the other.
He was in a ring, with one in his hand.
The choice was his, but the question was who?
You, or you?

Yaarana

'BC, क्या हालचाल?' is promptly what my conversation with my besties flag off with. Blame it on my Punjabi genes or the spoilt kids that we are, we absoefiinglutely love it!

Its been over 22 years that I've blown up in thin air & it'll be only fair to say that my friends have just made the journey worthwhile. They give me immense joy and at times, cause dismay too. They kick me where it hurts the most and slap me when I really need to wake up to reality.  But that is how friends are, aren't they?

As they say, charity begins at home, for me, friendship began at home. I was a little too little when Maa introduced me to Di. From what Maa tells me, she tightly held me in her arms and made an unsaid promise that she'll never let go of me. I blinked too and sealed the pact. Ever since, she's been my sister, my mother & my best friend. She stood for me where I fell. I remember there were times when in the middle of the night I used to crib of hunger, she used to get up and cook Maggi for me, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Also, Maa has never shied away from telling Di that ' तुने ही इसे बिगाड़ा है ', but believe me, she's more than glad to take the blame. My friends don't call me a "Mumma's boy", they rather call me my sister's.

                 

                            I'm glad I had a very enjoyable & playful childhood to my credit. It was well spent with some-very amazing friends & gleefully, some of them have stuck out till date. Those were the times when we didn't have facebook or twitter to find our ways to each other. The day used to pass by in the wait to meet your friends in the park during playtime. We used to fight, we used to laugh our hearts out, we used to compete, we used to dance together. We completed each other. We still do.

                           If there is anything that I would like to thank my college is for the friends I made there. The heavens were kind enough to grace me with some very Very good friends. Some are bound to me by heart, some by alcohol. The sweetheart NG knows what its like to be me. She's like a lesson that I've learnt by heart and one that I would never forget. KC, the rockstar, knows that a pint of beer is all that we need to swing away to glory. The pretty PN knows how her staying pretty can make me smile. RT's awesomeness keeps me going.  NY, NC, KK, PM, AJ, PK and AS are the ones I love immensely. I read a Thomas Fuller quote somewhere which goes like,' If you have one true friend, you have more than your share'. You can see my basket is full enough. Touchwood.

And as the new Airtel advertisement jingles away, 'हर एक फ्रेंड ज़रूरी होता है'